from Callas de Navarre's journal, part 21: thresh your soul by the morning lark

1/15/1348
early afternoon
Madrid, Spain

This will be my last entry.

I'm sitting in one of the few buildings in the Temple that wasn't destroyed today; my old room was demolished by a pair of dragons falling to earth. We're getting ready to leave, and I thought I'd take the opportunity to write one last entry so I can leave this journal with the archivists here.

Marcus came to Galvin and Gavião this morning, telling them that the Priory had had a spy on the council--the halfling Morela, who we'd seen making plague cure when we were all dreaming yesterday. She wanted an audience with the Headmaster and Knight Commander. Marcus had suspicions about her, nothing well-founded except for the fact that she'd come up with cures for most of the races for the plague--and she'd never worked on the plague before.

Galvin called us all in and we talked to Morela a while. I determined from talking to Epona that though Morela was telling the truth that she had gotten the plague cures from a divine source, it wasn't Epona, and in fact Epona couldn't really tell if she were a cleric of hers or not, as she claimed. I could tell having to admit that made my goddess profoundly uneasy.

We couldn't think of a tack to question her on that would reveal what we wanted to know, so we left the mystery for the moment, and began to make arrangements to manufacture the plague cure. It's actually a vaccine rather than a cure, which means we may still lose many people, but not nearly the numbers that we might.

And speaking of. Galvin received a letter this morning. His family--two of his sisters, three nephews, and his brother-in-law--have all died of the plague. I held him for a while, for once being the one to comfort him as he cried, especially for his sister Lisel, who he helped raise and who was his favorite. I do not know if the dream I had where his sister was taken was a true one; we will have to see.

Late morning, Armand came to see me, and I and Gavião met with him. Because Lazlo was dead, he was finally free to make his request for information. He wanted to know the keyword to free Sorcha. From what, he could not say, but my suspicion was that it was from the curse that my mother laid upon her so many years ago.

I also bargained with him for the help of his clan in fighting Dushela; he told me that she would probably bring a flight to a flight and a half of red dragons with her, when she came. The terms were much like before, a million gold for every gold dragon that fell, and the destruction of St. George's Lance upon the conclusion of the battle. He also attempted to make an evening of conversation with me part of the bargain, but I refused, and Gavião stared him down until he backed off. I was impressed, honestly. Not many people could make Armand back down when he wanted something.

But before he left, I told Armand that I would, indeed, come have that glass of wine with him. Partially as a gentle rebuke for his attempt at forcing my friendship, well-intentioned as it might have been, and partially because I do like Armand, and thought it would be nice to get to know him as a person rather than a fellow head of state.

About five minutes after Armand left, I was hit by a waking dream, a strong one. A vision of Dushela in dragon form, flanked by other red dragons, in an awful hurry to get somewhere. I gasped and clutched the edge of the table to keep myself steady; my vision swam with the paired images of the room I was in and the wide sky filled with dragons. Gavião put his hands on my shoulders, steadying me, and asked, "Are you all right?"

I breathed out and forced the vision to fade. "I am, but we're about not to be. Call the others. Dushela's on her way, and I don't know how much time we have."

Riyor contacted Tarn, and Gavião called Armand, who said he would abandon stealth and move his people into the city in force. We busied ourselves with evacuating the noncombatants from the Temple and the area of the city surrounding it.

Tarn showed up, his usual unpredictable self, the most cheerful black dragon I've ever met. Actually, I haven't met very many black dragons, but somehow I can't imagine living in swamps leads to good humor much of the time. Aiden did a good job on him, it seems, perhaps too good. When we asked him about Dushela, he said quite cheerfully, "Oh, yes, she's got lots of reds. And lots of desert dragons, too!" I cursed. I'd completely forgotten about Iona. "They've got about three flights' worth. This should be amusing."

Then he spent some time fiddling around with Riyor and the artifacts, wanting to see if he could get some of the artifacts' power for himself. It turned out he could, a little, enough to make him able to cast small spells through an orb.

Riyor rolled his eyes and talked Tarn into helping us during the battle. Gavião contacted Maxime and asked her to come, and bring as many white dragons as would volunteer; the reds overmatched the whites in power, but the whites and the deserts were closer in power. Gemma volunteered for the battle as well; though I rather thought she might do better hiding somewhere, I realized that I can't keep her safe forever. And in Lazlo's body, she could do more good than any three of the rest of us combined.

And then there was nothing to do but wait.

A sharp-eyed sentry saw the first sign of dragon wings in the sky, and called down to us from the tower. We cast protective spells, and then the battle was upon us. The air filled with the thunder of dragon wings.

Armand, Gemma, and Tarn caught Iona in the air as the two sides swirled and came together. Six hundred dragons is an awesome sight; the dragons are huge and so graceful in contrast with their size, their terrible beauty in contrast with the attacks that they dealt each other.

Dushela landed, and we were suddenly too busy to pay attention to anything but her. She ripped off our protective spells, and then the battle was joined in earnest. Riyor was a small gold dragon, swiping at her and trying to get her pouches off her, where we knew she had an orb. Once we could get the orb from her, the battle was only a matter of time...but Riyor grabbed the wrong pouch the first time.

He opened the pouch he did get and then let out a yell of alarm as a trap went off; I could swear I heard Aine's laughter as, startled, he managed to get the opening of the pouch aimed at Dushela. A blast of fury came from the pouch. Dushela staggered and screamed.

I went into Sanctuary as Riyor snatched the two remaining pouches from her. She was casting even as he tried to turn off the orb, and as she finished a shriek came from her throat. I clapped my hands over my ears, recognizing this one as the spell Morgan killed me with a few days ago.

And when I looked up, both Gavião and Galvin lay on the ground, not breathing.

Time stopped as the past, present, and future collided, and I was struggling to keep control. I could feel Dream's power wrapping me as a dream that has been with me since I was very small and that has changed over the recent days slammed into me. Two coffins. Aiden asking, So this is where the path of love has led you. Was it worth it?

I breathed, "Yes." And I found the place in the nightmare where it all hinged, and let go one very small piece of knowledge into it, the one thing that would change everything. The god Smetrios getting up after we'd transferred him into Juri's body, his gift to us all. The knowledge that in a few seconds, Gavião and Galvin would wake.

And the dream vanished...and time began again.

Arnie was flaying the skin from Dushela with his pickaxe, blood flying, and Tamsin was casting, when Riyor looked up, his gold eyes widening. I followed his gaze. Two dragons, one brown, one gold, both bleeding from wounds that had to be mortal, were falling towards the tower of the Temple.

Under which we were standing.

I stood, torn, for perhaps the space of two heartbeats. Then Riyor snapped, "I've got them, move!" and my indecision was broken, and I was running away from the falling tower as quickly as my legs could carry me.

The dragons hit, and Riyor grabbed Dushela and rolled, putting her between him and the falling stones, sheltering the bodies of Gavião and Galvin with his wings. Dushela screamed again. This time I could hear a note of despair in her voice. "Everything--

But what she might have said was lost as a large chunk of wall came down on her head, crushing it. The great red dragon breathed out, shuddered, and was still.

I ran to try and help unearth Gavião, Galvin, Riyor, and Aiden where he'd fallen near the edge of the rubble. Aiden managed to get himself out, and digging out the rest took only a couple of minutes. And then, finally, I looked up. There were no more desert dragons in the sky and the white dragons seemed to have retreated, but the reds were still fighting, the golds falling upon them with a savagery I had never seen from them before. I understood then who the gold dragon who had hit the tower was.

Armand was dead.

And the city of Madrid was burning. The buildings of the Temple were mostly destroyed.

Tamsin walked over to Armand's body, looking down at it; then she pulled out the Ankh, put a hand on his bloody hide, and said in a voice that brooked neither argument not delay, "Live, Armand." And his great gold eyes opened.

He freed himself from the rubble and, nodding to us, took to the air again, to calm his clan and chivvy the remaining reds away to the south, rather than killing them all.

The rest of us were occupied for some time by the fires that had been starting; fortunately, Tamsin could do a large Raise Water which helped tremendously, and the rest of the clerics who were in the city could douse all the rest with Create Water spells. Once that distraction was dealt with, I was standing on a large piece of stone fallen from the tower, shaking my head at the thought of having to rebuild. Riyor said, "Hey, what's this?"

He was pointing at a gem, a sapphire so dark blue it was almost black, hovering about an inch above the ground near Dushela's head, spinning rapidly. Having long experience with things Riyor finds, we assumed it was about to explode, and backed off. Upon closer inspection, Tamsin recognized it as a gem used in a Soul Bind spell, a spell that prevents someone from ever being resurrected. The soul is trapped in the gem, and when the gem is destroyed the soul goes with it, never to be raised or reborn.

Someone had just bound Dushela's soul in this manner.

I still had a couple of divination spells on me, and so I asked two questions: first, who had cast this soul bind?

The answer was, Agia, the Ancient One.

The second question that Riyor gave me was, "Who else has Agia bound in this manner?"

Nechton, Shannon, Belenus, Belisama, Epona, Smetrios, Taranis, Cariwiden.

Eight of the ten remaining gods. The only two not named were Aine and Morrigan. My heart clenched as I heard Epona's name, and I murmured, "Mother..."

But she was not dead. I'd have known if she were. I asked for the gem from Riyor and he gave it to me, looking distracted. I regarded the sapphire, holding it up to the midday sun. "Hello, Dushela. I think I might keep you around for a little while. Some boredom might do you good."

Riyor's voice was strained as he said, "We have...a problem."

We all turned to look at him. In his hand, he held an orb, pulsing with different colors of light. Gavião frowned. "What's that?"

"All the gods except Morrigan and Aine, as far as I can tell."

Mother? Is this true?

Her voice sounded sad, and more tired than I ever remember hearing. Yes, child, it is. We are bound here until the orb is destroyed.

There were tears standing in my eyes as I asked, aloud, "And because your souls have been bound, if the orb is destroyed you all die."

We are already dead, my daughter. Morrigan killed us and placed us in the orb. But she was not counting on one thing--the fact that Aine knew she was coming, and arranged to have the orb stolen. Now...whatever happens is up to you.

There was much energetic discussion of this, fragments of plans and wild ideas for freeing them, or somehow keeping them safe somewhere. But the argument came down to one thing, that Aine reminded us of. If we destroyed the orb...

We would become gods in their place.

We were all shocked silent. And a small voice inside of me said, I never wanted to even be immortal. Much less a god.

And my mother answered, her voice audible to the whole group. "None of you ever wanted to be gods, and that's why you're the ones who will be. All this time you've been chasing down the council, and none of you ever even entertained the notion for a moment that you could truly join them and take our places. We knew our time would come eventually, and so fifteen thousand years ago we put into motion a plan that would allow us to choose those who took our place, unlike the Ancients before us."

I said, "You planned this from the beginning, didn't you? I was always your replacement. You just were waiting until I learned to take my duties to heart."

I could feel her eternal gaze regarding me. "And you needed to learn honor, and love, and trust, and leadership. And how to control that temper that you inherited from me. And so I tried to break you, daughter. Everything I could throw at you, every heartbreak I could hand you, you survived. And, in the last, thrived. I am proud of you, Callas. If you know nothing else, know that."

I didn't even bother wiping the tears that ran down my face. "Mother--"

"It's time, child. Make your decision."

I shook my head. "There is no decision. If I must do this, I must. I swore I would follow this to the end, and here we are." I turned to Gavião. "What about you? How do you feel about becoming a god?"

"I don't like it. But...I suppose better us than the council. It's hard to see a way around it." He shrugged. "It's a new kind of service, after all. I think I can live with it."

"And you, Galvin?"

I could tell he was struggling, his dark eyes betraying his indecision. "If I do not, then I will have the choice of growing old and dying while you are still young--or being dragged through time, as your father was by your mother. Or I lose you altogether. I go where you go, Callas. If it leads me into godhood, so be it."

"Arnie?"

His response was a simple, "Oh, I suppose."

"Riyor?"

He seemed to be arguing with Aine. He threw up his hands and said, "All right. I give up. Yes, I'm in."

"Tamsin?"

Her voice was soft with the sibilants of her native language. "I used to not believe in fate. Unfortunately, it appears to believe in me. I spent three millennia as a statue to bring me here today. I will finish this."

"Gaius?"

He said only, "Yes."

"Aiden?"

He grinned, a little cockeyed. "Sounds like fun. I'm always up for something interesting like this."

"Well..." I looked around. "That's everyone."

Riyor asked, "What about Tarn?"

"Tarn wasn't a good person before Aiden drove him insane. I don't want to spend eternity with him"

Gavião raised an eyebrow. "And you want to spend eternity with us?"

I shrugged. "Can't think of anyone I'd prefer." I grinned briefly at him. "What about Tennant?"

A few of the others shook their heads. "He wanted to be a god, and so he probably shouldn't be," said Gavião.

I nodded. "All right, just checking." I reached out to Dream in my mind. Dream? How about you? You've been around enough artifacts exploding that you should be all right to join us, if you want.

I could hear his snort in my mind as clearly as if he stood beside me. No thanks, Callas. I know what being a god's like, and I don't want any part of it. You go on. I'll be around.

You'd better be. I turned my attention back to the group. "Dream says no. Are we ready to do this?" Everyone nodded. "So what artifact do we sacrifice?"

Gaius held out Lloth's Whip, the snake heads hissing and swaying warningly. "I'm really tired of this thing. It keeps biting me. Can we use it?"

"Don't see why not. Everyone ready? Then...let's do this."

And Gaius brought the whip down on the orb in Riyor's hand.

And the world stopped.

I fell to my knees as I felt my goddess pass from the world. A sorrowful emptiness, a terrible grief, the well inside me where she had always been abruptly running dry. Though I knew--I knew--that in another moment everything would change, for that instant I knew what the clerics of the gods who had died had felt, what every priest in the world was currently feeling. Such desolation. The price of our faith.

And then, fire.

And ice.

And the power filled us.

I heard nothing, saw nothing, felt only the power as it burned its way into me, changing me, opening pathways in my mind that I had no idea even existed.

And we stood together, eight forms glowing, knowing in that instant that there was nothing beyond our reach.

The glow dimmed and then drew back into our bodies as the power finished changing us, taking up residence in us. And there was Aine, standing among us, a startled smile on her face. "I never thought I would survive this. But...it appears that I have."

And we were all laughing, together.

I'm going to have to wrap this up now. We have things to do, and places to go, and Morrigan still needs dealing with. I imagine this will be the last journal entry I ever write, but who knows? Perhaps some day I will return to it.

Clear sailing to you, whoever you are who is reading this. May your journey be less eventful than ours was.

***********

Galvin came up behind Callas. "Ready to go, ma petite?"

"Almost. Give me a couple of minutes, I'll meet you outside."

Matthew was guarding the door of the room, his expression somewhat confused. He seemed to be clinging to his duty as if to a life raft. Callas stepped up beside him, and said, quietly, "Sir Matthew?"

He started, nearly dropping his spear. "Headmistress! Ah. Well."

She shook her head. "No longer, Matthew. Elata's the Headmistress now. I am...otherwise." He was gaping at her, as if he'd just realized what had happened. "I need you to do something for me."

He fell on one knee before her, bowing his head. "My Goddess. Anything you ask, I will do."

Callas looked disconcerted. It's going to take me a while to get used to this, I can tell. She searched for words, and then said, "You've always been faithful from the first, Matthew. Thank you for your service." She leaned over, kissing the top of his bent head. "Please, rise. I'm not standing on ceremony, quite yet."

He stood, an expression of awe on his face. Callas held out her journal to him, and a bag with a set of rods in it. He took both from her. "I want you to find Marcus, and go with him to Cairo, in Egypt, where Elata and Sigurd are with Seraphim in the Temple there. Tell them to come home and begin to rebuild. There is much to be done, and we need to start right away. Give her the journal--read it first if you desire. Tell her to put it in the archives. I'd like it to be kept safe." She raised her hand to Matthew's face, putting her hand on his cheek.

She hesitated, looking into his eyes, reading this serious young man who had been so faithful, despite the fact that he knew almost nothing of the larger events. She reached out and plucked from the air something, which she held out to him. "Matthew, this is yours, should you want it."

He took the object from her. It was a pendant that almost looked familiar; golden horse rearing on a field of green. But instead of the back hooves resting on a sheaf of wheat, as in Epona's symbol, the stallion was footed on the stem of a trumpet-shaped flower that curled up before it. The flower was pure white, except where it was tinged with red at the center. A calla lily.

Understanding dawned on his face. He looked at his goddess, smudged with dirt and blood from the battle she'd just fought, watching him intently with those green eyes. He nodded. "I accept, Callas."

She touched him on the shoulder. "Do good work, then. Goodbye, Matthew. I am sure I'll see you again."

Then she turned, and walked down the hall, and outside where smoke still hung heavy over the city of Madrid.

********

The nine gods stood in the smoking courtyard, rubble surrounding them. Riyor furrowed his brow. "Aine, I think you'd better stay here. You're the only one vulnerable to Morrigan. Let us take care of her."

Whatever Aine was about to say was interrupted by the halfling Morela, who walked around a corner and towards them, waving. She stopped before them and smiled gently, and then...changed.

Several forms shifted by; humans, elves, dwarves; then the outlines of the form shivered and expanded.

Before them stood the deep dragon they had freed so long ago.

Arnie said, "You?"

That deep voice rumbled, "Little dwarfie ant, isn't so little any more." The dragon's voice chuckled, and then he shrank down to be a small man with a heavy brow, dressed in armor none of them recognized. "So you finally made it to the end. I have to say I'm pleased with how things turned out."

"It was you all along, wasn't it? Manipulating us, the council, our gods?"

Agia smiled. "Of course it was. Your gods killed us long before our time, and I have spent the last nineteen millennia bringing about their downfall. And now...it is done, except for a few loose ends." His gaze rested on Aine, his dark eyes thoughtful. "I think I'll leave you this one, since she was clever enough to escape my trap. But there is one more, who inflicted more pain upon us than all of the others put together. I want Morrigan to die slowly, in pain. That is my only request of you."

Gavião said, "I think we can oblige."

Callas asked, "So what happened to Morela?"

Agia shrugged. "She was a spy at first, and then was swayed by the council, falling under their spell. I killed her and then replaced her, using the opportunity to create a plague cure. The plague was never my idea, but I needed Dushela on the council, and the plague was the price I paid to have her." He glanced at Callas' pocket, where the stone that bound Dushela was hidden. "What are you planning on doing with her, anyway? I thought you'd have destroyed her soul by now."

Callas' grin was mirthless. "I haven't decided. I may take a few years to decide. A little boredom would be good for her."

"Hah." Agia looked amused. "My time is long, long past, friends. I am tired. I will cede my power to Aine, and pass on into memory as I should have long ago. My vengeance is nearly complete, and this is your world, now. Take care of Morrigan for me, and all will be complete. I will wait here with Aine, until you are done."

Aine looked askance at the ancient god. "What if I don't want to stay with you?"

His teeth flashed in a grin. "You have no choice in the matter, Love's Mistress. Bid your friends go quickly, and return soon. You and I have some things to discuss."

She rolled her eyes. "Boy, that sounds exciting. Well, you heard him. Get moving. You'll find Morrigan in her realm. Be warned, it's not the most pleasant place in the world."

Morrigan sat at a black stone table, among piles of bones as tall as a dragon. Her realm was empty, and silent. The only sound was her harsh muttering, as she tried to understand what had just happened. Everything, everything ruined. What went wrong? It was so sure.

Silently, the eight new gods appeared. They surrounded Morrigan, who finally lifted her head from her hands, looking up. "What? You--"

"Us." Gavião's voice was flint and iron. "It's time to pay the piper for the dance, goddess."

She drew both of her bastard swords and snarled. "Fools. I still have the source, I am still invincible!"

"No." At the sound of Callas' voice, Morrigan whipped around until she was facing her. "You see, Morrigan...you don't have the source, any more. Because we *are* the source." She held up an orb in her hand, sparkling with magic. "Fallen One, it is your time."

Her voice was an icy wind. "Never." Morrigan charged Callas, who simply disappeared from where she'd been standing and reappeared behind her. Flanking Morrigan, Gavião and Galvin closed in, Arnie not far behind with his pickaxe.

The fight was short and decisive, and at the end of it Morrigan lay on the floor, breathing shallowly. Riyor sat on the stone table, his legs crossed tailor-style, looking at the fallen goddess. "What are we going to do with her?"

Callas stood over Morrigan, regarding her bloody visage. "Justice." She still held the orb in her hand, and said, "I need all of your help. Gather every bit of pain Morrigan has ever caused, every mortal blow that's come before its time. Gather the grief of mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, of every being she's slain, every death that was brought without justice, without mercy. Put all of that pain in this orb, which will be her prison forevermore."

And gather they did, each of them weeping as they felt the edges of the great and heavy pain that Morrigan had caused. The universe shivered slightly and divested itself of just a little evil, distilling it down into the orb. The orb, as it filled, grew darker and heavier, changing from crystal to iron, and Tamsin, with a little push, changed its nature so it would not be vulnerable to artifacts, nor could it be used to drain magic from the world.

Callas knelt beside Morrigan and placed her hand on the bloody cheek, almost tenderly. "Morrigan. Fallen One, wake." Morrigan stirred, moaned, opened her eyes, looking into Callas'. "Morrigan, goddess of death, hear me. For your crimes, you are sentenced to relive the pain of all of your victims, for every moment of every day. I leave you as you left Agia, without friends, without hope, in pain, for eternity." Callas' smile was pitiless. "Forever, Morrigan. Forever. Goodbye."

And she touched the orb to Morrigan's chest. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth stretched to let out a scream that never materialized. A light flashed in the iron orb, and Morrigan's body shuddered and was still.

Callas stood, the orb in her hand. Riyor waved his hand, and the body crumbled into dust.

"It's done, friends." Callas looked around, her voice tired. "It's over."

Aiden's voice was clear and wry. "Did we win?" His teeth flashed white in his midnight face.

Gavião looked around at the silent hall, stacked with bones, and at Callas, Galvin at her shoulder, holding the iron orb. "Ask me that in a century or so, Aiden." Gavião shook his head. "Let's get out of here."

********

When they returned, Agia was gone. Aine said, "Took you long enough. What did you do with her?"

Callas held up the orb. "Trapped her with the consequences of her actions. Forever."

"My poor sister. I never liked her much, and she does deserve it, but... Remind me never to make you angry, Callas."

Callas widened her eyes. "Who, innocent me?" Galvin elbowed her and she broke up laughing. "Okay, what next?"

Aine gestured at the world around her. "Anything you like. Anything at all. Sky's the limit--well, mostly. What do you want to do?" Her eyes sparkled dangerously, and the look on her face was mischievous.

*********

In Cartmage, strawberries fell from the sky.

Tiny, perfect spring strawberries, wonderfully ripe, pattered down on the city that was in the beginning stages of being rebuilt. They piled up in corners and on rooftops, covering the whole area with a sweetly fragrant red blanket. Children shrieked in delight as they ran barefoot though the streets, heedless of the cold, crushing strawberries as they ran.

Princess Lanara of Cartmage, her delicately pointed ears showing through the pale blonde hair that her son had inherited, stood at the entrance of her tent and gazed upward into the sky, which was clear and stained with sunset. The look on her face was filled with dismay. She didn't know what had just happened, but her wayward son who was afflicted with Luck most certainly had something to do with it. "Oh, Riyor."

Then she shook her head and held out her hand. A single strawberry fell into her palm, gently. She raised it to her mouth and took a bite, closing her eyes as the heavenly taste burst over her tongue.

*********

Sorcha moved quickly around her tower, muttering to herself. She was throwing vials and boxes into a pair of large bags, heedless, it seemed, of breakage.

Callas appeared behind her, silently. When Sorcha next turned, she found herself nearly nose to nose with her stepdaughter. She jumped back, raising her hands, beginning to cast a spell.

The younger woman just shook her head.

Sorcha paused in midgesture. Blinked. Lowered her hands.

She said, in a wondering voice that was almost a whisper, "Callas?"

Callas' smile lit her eyes with happiness. "Mother!" She threw herself forward and enclosed her stepmother in an embrace. Both women clung to each other, their eyes wet.

"How did you...what happened?"

"You're free. You'll live out the rest of this life, and then rejoin the wheel. The curse is ended, Mother."

Sorcha took her stepdaughter's shoulders and held her at arm's length, looking at her with a critical eye. "You've grown, daughter. You're almost as tall as your father now. What happened? I remember...being that other woman." Her blue eyes darkened and she looked away from Callas. "I remember evil. I remember being forced to kill Maria and Josephina. I remember trying to kill you. I remember...so many things. So many years. I remember hatred, and love twisted into something else entirely." Her voice dropped, and she sounded exhausted. "So many years now, and all because I loved your father enough to try to convince him to come with me, to grow old and die as mortals do, together."

Callas shook her head. "You're responsible for none of those acts. Truly. That was someone else, someone who will never return. I can remove those memories, but then I'd have to remove Maria and Josephina and all the rest from your memory entirely. It's your choice, and you don't have to make it now." She hugged her stepmother again. "I'm so glad to see you. I thought I was going to lose you, too, along with Father and Epona."

Sorcha shook her head. "But where will I go now? What will I do?"

Callas took her hand. "Come with me, Mother. I have someone I want you to meet. She helped raise me after I left home--and believe me when I say you two will have horror-filled stories of my exploits to swap. I think she can help you. If you're willing."

Her stepmother hesitated, and then nodded. "I will...I will try, Callas."

*********

On board the ArcAngel, the naked form with the great wings that hung suspended in the pale matrix belowdecks twitched.

Then shivered.

And then its glowing eyes, all colors and no colors, opened.

One word hung in the air, a word not made of sound but of the silence after a great bell has finished ringing.

Free.

And the form beat its wings once, twice, and then shot from the matrix, the decks proving no impediment, towards the sky darkening with sunset.

Gavião stood on the deck of the ArcAngel, holding up one of his hands. "Wait, Winged One. A moment of your time."

The angel landed soundlessly on the deck. It regarded Gavião with its gaze that would drive most mortals mad, that Gavião had withstood once and found much less disconcerting as a god than a mortal.

"Winged One, I have a job for you, should you choose to accept. I am in need of a messenger, a proclaimer, someone to carry my word into the world. A messenger that will never be misunderstood.

"I believe you may be the being I need. Our souls have met already, and I know you to be an honorable being--in fact, you are Honor Itself. I will not compel you, but I will ask you. Will you work for me?"

The angel tilted its head, considering. Then a thrumming came from it, and it nodded.

Gavião said, "I look forward to a long acquaintance, Winged One. You'll need a sword. Hm, how about this one?" He unsheathed Hrunting and looked at it critically. "Somehow, it doesn't seem quite right. Not balanced correctly, too heavy. Well." He ran a finger down the blade, which changed, thinning, and then burst into soundless flames. "How's that, Winged One?" The angel took the sword, swinging it experimentally, and then thrummed again, a note of happiness in the sound.

"Good. I'm got some other things to attend to. I'll see you in a few hours." The angel nodded, spread its wings, and took to the sky. Gavião leaned on the railing of the ship, watching it go.

He glanced down, and Galvin was standing on the water next to the ship, looking up at him. "Hail, Gavião. Permission to come aboard?"

"It's your ship, you git. Get up here."

Galvin laughed and swung up to the deck. "I take it you released the angel?"

"That figurehead's just pretty now, not useful. Yes. The angel's working for me now."

"I saw the sword." The younger man nodded, running a hand down the back of a silver feather on the figurehead's outstretched wings. "So what are you going to do now, Gavião? What loose ends are you going to tie up?"

Gavião shrugged. "I could free my father from his infirmity, or give my mother the courage to leave my stepfather. But. It appears I've been given the sphere of Honor, and as such I have to think carefully about what that means. I don't think I can save people from themselves. If my mother were being held against her will, I'd be able to smite the bastard who held her, but as it is..." His smile was wry. "She seems to simply have poor taste in men. It's not a smiting offense, I fear."

"Don't mention your father's foot to Callas if you don't want her to fix it. She's like her mother, she feels she has the right to meddle."

"She's got the Healing spheres. It's probably appropriate for her, but not for me. Speaking of Callas, where is she? I thought you two would be together."

Galvin perched on the railing, pulling one knee up to his chest. "She had a few loose ends to tie up, she said. A few promises she needed to keep. She's been around other people nearly all the time for the last year, and even before that had little time to herself. I think she simply wants a little while to do as she pleases, and so she's taking care of a few things tonight." He cast his gaze up at the sky, where the first stars were coming out. "Things...changed, when we became gods. Nothing changes our feelings for each other, but other things--plans, dreams, things we'd only begun to speak of--all of that was wiped away in an instant. I know she wanted children, but, now...that's the one thing we very likely can't do. We can each have children with mortals, but not with each other." The pain on the young man's face was undisguised, and Gavião placed a hand on his shoulder, silently.

Galvin shook his head. "I'm sorry, Gavião. I'm woolgathering."

Gavião said, carefully, "You do know what one of those promises she's keeping is...?"

"Armand. I know." He ran his hand through his hair, now worn loose around his shoulders. "Armand isn't a threat. Not any more. He holds nothing that Callas might feel compelled to trade herself for. That was the root of my problem with him. I'll never like him, but I think I can keep myself from running him through next time I see him. Or turning him into something very small and harmless. Or into, say, a female gold dragon..."

The older man chuckled in the gathering night. "I like you, Galvin. You're going to be able to keep Callas on her toes, I think."

Galvin sketched a bow. "Why, thank you, Sir Gavião. I do try."

"So what are you going to do, now?"

"I think I'm going to take this ship. And I'm going to sail, for a very, very long time. The ocean's always been my only home. There are seas out there that I've never even heard of, I can feel them. I'm going to see every single one of them. And when I run out of oceans, I'm going to start on rivers, and when I run out of rivers, I'll change to streams. And then I'll start over." Galvin gestured, and tiny lights attached themselves to the rigging, outlining the sails in twinkling white light.

Gavião commented, "Pretty." He stretched. "I'm off, then. Places to go, instructions to write, and such." He looked sidelong at Galvin. "Oh, by the way...about that thing you mentioned before. What you can't do now that you and Callas are gods. Well."

"What, Gavião?"

"I've known a lot of women in my time, son. The kitchen maids in the house I grew up in were constantly getting themselves in the sort of trouble that ends with either a hasty marriage or being quietly turned out with nowhere to go. I got good at spotting the symptoms right away. A little green around the gills in the morning, a little bit of extra crankiness, a little extra exhaustion. And some of them glow right from about the time the child's first sparked." He shrugged. "I could be wrong, but Callas has been glowing for a week and a half now. Ever since the morning after you got back from your little adventure with Nik, actually."

Galvin went pale. "You mean..."

"Like I said, I could be wrong, and if it's true Callas herself probably doesn't realize it yet. I just thought you might want to know." Gavião grinned at the younger man. "And now I really do need to be off. Have fun with your ship, pirate. I'll see you later." The knight faded from sight.

Galvin sat on the railing for a very long time, watching the stars come out above, wheeling overhead.

*****

Down the road Gaius wandered, whistling a little, his cloak thrown back and his bag on his shoulder. For winter in Spain, the air around him was remarkably springlike. Occasionally, interesting things would happen around him--the waterspout that sucked up most of the contents of a duck pond and moved them three fields over, or the sudden hail that beat down the wheat in a field in an amusing pattern.

To the gates of a monestarty he came, hailing the abbot, an old friend of his. Over tea, he told the balding monk, "You're doing good work here. There would be so much knowledge lost if it weren't for places like this one. You know things about shadow magic I don't think anyone else in the world does, and Brother Andrew can make anything grow."

"Friar Andrew is amazing, isn't he? I keep on encouraging him to write down what he knows. He seems to think the most complex things are so obvious as to not require writing down. He just mutters at me and goes back to talking to his plants."

"Hm. There's a place I know in the southern part of Africa that has the most amazing cycle of plant life. It almost never rains, but when it does the whole ecology goes through a short but intense growth cycle that results in some interesting things happening. I know of a gate that's close to there if he'd like to visit it. That way, when he comes back he'll be badgered nearly to death by the botanists here. He'll start writing things down out of self-defense."

The abbot laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I think he'd enjoy that. And I think it would work, too."

Later that afternoon, Gaius was wandering south, vaguely towards Italy. He chuckled to himself as the air itself played around him, the breezes acting like live things, pulling at his hair and his cloak. "This is going to be amusing, I think. The weather holds so many secrets, the air can carry so many messages for me. One secret in the ear of each cleric, I think. There should be one who knows everything, though..."

He stopped in the middle of the road, concentrating. "Ah, that one. He's a couple of centuries off, but he's perfect. So nuts nobody will ever believe him, smart enough to be able to hold everything I'll tell him in his mind." He chuckled, an edge to his voice. "Michel, you and I are going to become very, very good friends, indeed..."

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