Comet Fall (Wine of the Gods) (26 page)

"But, but . . . "

The mottled colored great dane, grinned and trotted back to Michael. The big red boxer grinned too, and stayed right where he was.

"Let me introduce you to the God of Just Deserts. Michael, this is Lord Kell, a local landowner. Be Nice. Please."

The god laughed and stuck out a hand, "Kell, just call me Hell. It started as a linguistic misunderstanding, but it's
so
fitting, don't you think?"

"Err," Kell shook his hand carefully, craning his neck. "Old gods! You're taller than him." He jerked his head at the Auld Wulf.

"Hell?" Harry snorted. "I'm surprised we didn't think of that millennia ago."

"How did you find us? Where have you been?" the Auld Wulf asked.

"In the ruins of New Tokyo, all closed up. My little Trump broke through five shields to put me back in touch with the World. She finally decided I was trustworthy enough to trust with the secrets of her home village. You call her Tromp, but I prefer my version. Trumpet the Strumpet, and I'm not planning on giving her back."

"You've come down to owning slaves now, have you?" Harry folded his arms and stared.

"Certainly not! We were made for each other." Hell grinned. "And you want to watch that mouth of yours. Insults, leaping to conclusions . . . very dangerous when I'm in town."

Harry snorted. "It won't work on us, when we're looking for it."

"Nonsense, it even works on me." He looked up the street as a door slammed open.

". . . not going to stay in this poky little village. We're going to Karista."  Tromp had a two year old on each hip.

"Not with my grand-daughters, you aren't!" Idea's voice was rising fast.

"A mother-in-l
aw? My, my, you've been a very bad boy, haven't you, Hell?" the Auld Wulf murmured.

"We could teach you how to shed curses like that," Harry added.

"Nah, makes me feel really strange when I do." He stepped forward, grabbed Idea's hand and kissed it. "I am so honored to meet you. And, please, you must come up and meet your other granddaughters."

"What?" Idea whipped around to glare at Tromp. "You didn't! Twins again?"

Tromp cleared her throat, "Umm, no Mother. Not twins. Do come up, they're little darlings, two months old. We named them Scarlet, Inky, Sandy and Heliotrope."

"But, but, those
names aren't on the list! I mean, we are still doing Hues, but those aren't . . . !" Idea stopped suddenly. "Four? You've only been gone for a bit more than a year, that's not enough time to . . . Four?"

"Four." Hell slipped his arm around Idea's shoulders and steered her toward the alley. "Quite the surprise," He looked back as they walked off. "There are three other shielded centers across the ocean in the ruins of
New Tokyo. Your buddies are trying to open them."

"With luck, they'll figure out how to trigger them, and we can lock you back up." The Auld Wulf called after him.

The red hound had started after them, but turned, lifted a leg and pissed on the Auld Wulf's boot. The boot made contact and the hound yelped indignantly before he trotted off into the twilight.

"Why didn't you let
me
kick that creature?" Kell fumbled angrily with the leashes.

"Because I don't have any sheep for it to eat, and my horse will squash it flat if it tries anything."

"Err . . . " Kell hadn't grown up locally, and still hadn't quite grasped that the gods were something well beyond eccentric local gentry. But he shrugged as the boys brought around his surrey, and with a glare in the hounds' direction he urged his champion purebred sheepdog bitches up into it, to share the seat with him.

Harry shook his head. "Probably big litters, too. I'm not at all sure about breeding the lab animals we rescued."

"Sun Gold's foals have been really nice. I may bring Jet out. That colt of Rustle's is a beauty." The Auld Wulf rubbed his head. "I wish we could remember more."

"I wish we could remember less, sometimes. Those horses are chimeras, you know. Lots of human genes.  Because it was the interaction with the human genes they were studying."

"But they cross with normal horses."

"Do they? There'
s so much of that wine around . . . "

"I . . . think Jet
sired some foals shortly after we arrived . . . didn't he?"

"The first couple of years . . . " They exchanged baffled glances.

"We should warn Giselle and Romeau that Michael's back." Harry scowled up at the mansion on the hill.

"And figure out how to use his talents to do something about the comet. We need all the gods we can find."
The Auld Wulf turned and walked down the street. One boot squished slightly.

***

Tromp was so glad to get to Karista. Their two week visit to Ash had probably been one week too long. Her mother had been tedious, her sister Opinion obnoxious, and Havi's goat father had done something to the dogs. They now fled at the sight of him.

They also got out, first thing, and ran off.

"They'll be busy for awhile," Hell said. "Big backlog."

Karista fairly glittered in
the spring sunshine. The Palace had settled down in a park and they strolled arm in arm down the street. The really neat thing about Hell's home was that time didn't exist inside, if he didn't want it to.

So the girls would be just fine. Frozen, so to speak.

And it produced clothing to order.

And food.

It was the most wonderfully magical thing imaginable, except perhaps Hell himself.

They passed the red dog humping a poodle, and a minute later the two black bitches digging up a beautifully landscaped front lawn.

A carriage rattle up to them and stopped. A man in uniform hopped out. Tromp recognized him, and poked Hell. "That's General Rufi Negue. He's Happy's pet."

The General flushed a bit.
Oops! Oh well.
Tromp sailed on blithely. "General, this is My Kel Hell, the God of Just Deserts."

"Welcome to Karista. Might I inquire as to what part of that was name, and what part title?"

"Oh, it's all name, but please, call me Hell." Hell smiled charmingly and shook the General's hand.

"Would you like a tour of the City? Perhaps lunch?"

"Oh, certainly," Hell's smile widened. "That should remove all your doubts."

The carriage pulled out and the General point
ed out landmarks. He broke off abruptly at the sight of a very fat man up a tree. The gray and black dog leapt and almost reached the man's butt. They could hear the dog's teeth snap as he leaped again.

Hell gave a loud theatrical sigh. "I'm afraid that many of m
y subconscious delivery of just deserts are through the actions of my dogs."

The General leaned back and eyed Hell. "I . . . see."

He probably didn't, but he was polite about it.

They stopped at the Museum of Art, which was actually not the bor
e she'd thought it would be. The ancient fashions were incredible. The sculpture gardens beautiful, although some of the statues were a bit weird, even for her. A man strolled along behind them and slipped in some fresh dog poop. The General looked around, grinned, and muttered something about "reporters."

As they left the grounds a man approached Hell, whisper
ed something. Tromp caught something about ". . . naked . . . " Hell gave him the cold shoulder, and Tromp wasn't surprised to hear indignant yells rise behind them. She didn't look. The General did. He frowned as he handed her back into his carriage. They lunched at a restaurant at the top of a hill, with an incredible view.

The man who escorted them to their table raised a supercilious eyebrow at her. A few minutes later the red dog somehow got in long enough to pee on him. The General nearly choked on his wine at that. "So, may I take it from your association with
Lady Tromp that you've been to Ash?"

"Oh, we met in
New Tokyo, or what used to be the city of New Tokyo, across the ocean. Trump very cleverly managed to figure out the keys to the seals on my home."

"You'd been trapped there?"

"Trapped myself, perhaps. Saved myself? More likely. A dimensional bubble only experiences time to the degree that it is congruent with the World. Five layers down, I wasn't even aware of time. And being a god is hell on the memory, I don't even remember why I did it. I suppose I'd have come out myself, eventually. Who knows how long that would have taken?"

"I've had reports of sealed buildings from there. Yours was one of the three?"

"No, they hadn't found mine. The other three are still sealed," he shrugged. "I know who they belonged to, but not if their owners are inside."

"Do they belong to gods, or just strong wizards, mages and witches?"

Hell pondered that as he ate lobster. Swallowed. "There is, ordinarily, not much difference between a god and a witch or mage. And wizards have apparently gotten stronger while I was, umm, away. We stopped briefly in Ash, so Trump could visit her mother. There were two wizards there that I would not want to challenge. But they cannot do . . . damn. In case you hadn't noticed, we so called gods got our collective asses kicked a long time ago and our minds, especially our memories, have a lot in common with swiss cheese. We can do a class of magic that other Telies cannot. The shields around those buildings, what they really are is of that class. I don't know what or who is in them, but they were
made
by gods."

The General nodded. "Thank you. I think you must be a bit less hol
ey than most of the other gods I've met. You are succinct and clear."

H
ell snorted wine. "Less Holy?" He coughed and cleared his throat. "I think I just figured out why you have such a fine reputation in Ash. Ahem. Well, I'm not sure which gods might be there, but the choice is limited. Peace is the only one truly dangerous to you. Vice is excessive on a personal basis. Fat sadist. Virtue is the same, but he'll beg someone to stop him before he rape-murders a child again. Twin brothers by the way. Not a national threat. Logic, likewise. Mercy, pain in the ass, big mouth that could cause trouble in the long run. Chance just observes. Art. Eternal Youth." He shrugged. "The rest you know. Unless you think the Old Wolf is
against
you, Peace is all I'd truly bother to worry about."

Tromp frowned. "But, I thought the God of Peace was, like, down in Auralia? Giving those stupid speeches?"

Hell blinked at her. "I really do have talk with you, now that you've decided I'm trustworthy. You are a font of information." He looked back at the General. "Does he still spout nonsense about a single Government and equality bringing Peace? Have any of my colleagues actually seen him?"

"The Auld Wulf chased him out of the New Lands about six years ago. And the speeches are . . . strange." The General glanced around the restaurant. The waiter hustled with a check, which the General just signed.

Tromp made note of the signing thing. She bet anything it had something to do with banks. She really ought to have listened to Mayor Agate while she was around.

She'd seen the General note
every spilled drink, every rude diner who dribbled on his or her clothes, the dogs out in the street . . . Through the windows, they could see all the pratfalls, the peeing, the chasing, the biting—although Tromp noted that the dogs did
not
threaten any children. Really, she'd like to know what Havi's father did to them after he chased them out of the school in Ash.

The General
had sent and received several notes during lunch, and finally suggested a cruise on the Emperor's yacht, which was absolutely gorgeous. They stopped at all the picturesque islands where the broad river delta met the salt water of Big Bay.