Working God's Mischief Read Free Page A

Righteous of the Grail Empire. Hecht sent men into dire peril all the time but never without soul-searching beforehand and agonizing afterward.
    Heris said, “Can it, Piper. My operation. Be quiet. Do your job.”
    Hecht exchanged looks with his mistress. Anna could not restrain a grin. She enjoyed seeing him be one of the spear-carriers. Or match men.
    Heris asked, “Can we trust them, Asgrimmur?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou understand that your ass is on the line here, too?”
    â€œI do, sweetheart. I’ll be the first to feel the pain if I’m wrong. But something down deep tells me the Trickster is the only one whose word can be suspect.”
    â€œThen release them when you have their oaths. Once you’re absolutely sure. Understand?”
    â€œI do.”
    Piper Hecht stared at Heris. Was there more going on than just the business of the moment? He squinted at the ascendant.
    â€œPiper, for heaven’s sake. Pay attention.” Anna, with a gentle reprimand because he was not watching his targeted alembic.
    â€œHuh? Oh. Right.” Just the right time to get distracted by something stupid.
    Trying to save face, he grumbled, “Asgrimmur, comfortable or not, you need to stay out of the lines of fire.”
    The ascendant eased to the side of the silver glass teardrop. He disconnected it from its petcock, then spun the bottle so its stem pointed between Vali and Anna.
    A puff of dense smoke shot out. It stretched into a vertical bar. The bar dispersed into a bipedal shape, translucent, gained color and solidity, became a well-preserved graying blonde in her forties, five feet tall and naked, who stepped to the side of the alembic opposite Asgrimmur.
    Another puff. This was an Instrumentality with a sense of humor. The puff emerged as a smoke ring, then followed the precedent already set, producing a similar naked form, but darker. Hecht thought she must be aspected to night. He felt creepy, looking at her.
    The first out acquired clothing in a style centuries out of date.
    Third to arrive was a woman with hair a washed-out ginger.
    The second out was fashion-conscious. The clothing she assumed mimicked Vali’s.
    Last out was a tall, thin blonde who seemed terribly worried. Her aspect was younger than the others.
    None of the four projected any strong sense of the supernatural. Dressed appropriately none would have turned heads on a Brothen street. None seemed driven to cloak in a glamour. The last was the most attractive, but in a nonthreatening way.
    The ascendant made introductions. “Fastthal. Sprenghul. Hourli. And Eavijne.”
    The tall woman said, “Eavijne, who must tend her orchard immediately or your work here will have been wasted.”
    Eavijne spoke a dead language but the Commander of the Righteous understood. Meaning reached his mind without troubling his ears.
    Her pantheon depended on her golden apples. They had been away from the fruit for an age.
    Her orchard was in a state so sad it might never produce again.
    Hecht eyed the ascendant. What was his opinion? Heris did the same, and asked, “Asgrimmur?”
    â€œIt’s unavoidable. And we have her word. Release her. Though I can’t imagine where she’ll find the magic she needs.”
    Heris decided. “Go, Eavijne. The rest of you, get out of the way. Back where the floor is painted green.”
    Eavijne left. The Old Ones, tight of lip, moved to the green. Hecht suspected they had tasted the world and had found it unable to deliver any magic. They had no choice but to abide by their word.
    The connection to the alembic in front of Hecht rattled. The silver foil wrapping curled back slightly, revealing a tube gone dark as night. The Trickster’s panic could be felt, faintly.
    Hecht’s son Pella joined his sister Vali. They shifted the aim of her falcon to the rattling bottle.
    The Instrumentality settled down. It could not break the tubing.
    Heris asked,