“No belief, yet they join the Church.”
“Perhaps I should say that while there is no universal cultural belief, there is a great deal of individual desire for something divine.”
“Yes… I know, too well. I am considering attending the Celebration in California. Would you take care of ticket purchase for me?”
L…
“Certainly.” Drum started to laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
“You say you’re terrified, but you’re going to head right where Bel Marduk can spit fire at you. Either you really don’t believe that they are gods, or something even funnier.”
“What?”
“You do believe, bud, and you can’t pass up the opportunity to see a god in the flesh.”
“Stop laughing!”
Drum stood. “I want to catch the next suborbital. Take care, Daimon. Shall I send your ticket here?”
“Yes.”
“Who do you want it made out to? They’re not general admission.”
“No, I recall that from your report. Can you come up with a false ID for me?”
“For a fee.”
“Consider it paid.”
“Pity.”
“Why?”
“I was looking forward to making out a ticket for Arthur Eden.”
“Drum!”
“Sorry. You didn’t think I knew?”
“I did not!”
“I’ll bet Link has figured it out, too.”
“How?”
“It’s what we do best, figuring out what other people don’t want known. Don’t worn?, Daimon, we haven’t ratted vet. Nor will we. We just get this warm feeling inside from knowing it all.”
“You are insubordinate!”
“Never was subordinate, Daimon. Take care. I’ll be sending the ticket along.”
“Can I trust you?”
“You have been for a long time. Front row?”
“I…” A dry chuckle. “Sure, why not. I’ll figure out a disguise.”
“That’s the spirit, Daimon. Go on out there, be the serpent in their Eden.”
“Ouch!”
“Arigato. Glad you appreciate my jokes. I’ve been waiting to use that one for a long time.”
“You’ll miss your shuttle, Drum.’ “Later, then.”
Once Drum was on the suborbital, he keyed into his mail. There were ten calls, all from Link Crain. Checking, he saw that they had come at prompt ten-minute intervals. The message was essentially the same.
“Drum: Can you drop everything and help me with a crisis? If so, come to the following virt coordinates. Consider yourself hired for triple your normal fee, expenses, and whatever else you want. Link.”
Considering, Drum sent a brief message to Link’s account: “Coming—ETA 30 MIN. Drum.”
As soon as the shuttle touched down, he went to a reliable transfer station, arranged for a long-term couch, and tabbed in the coordinates Link had given him. He drifted up through grey fog into a rose garden. Alice Hazzard—rather than Link Crain—slouched next to a peppermint-striped variety, methodically pulling the petals off a flower.
When he solidified, she leapt to her feet and ran over to him. Her embrace startled him as Link avoided physical contact of all kinds.
“Drum, thank you for coming! We can’t talk here—too public. Come with me.”
Link glanced around the apparently deserted garden, raised a bushy eyebrow, and followed Alice. She was already well ahead of him.
“Where are we headed.” he called, “through the looking-glass or down the rabbit hole? Just a matter of academic curiosity.”
She slowed to let him catch up.
“Behind the North Wind,” she whispered, her mouth close to his ear, “and now you have your first secret.”
Drum blinked, but Alice was off and away before he could ask anything more. He hurried, knowing Alice—or at least Link—well enough to be certain that he would get no further answers until they had arrived wherever it was that they were going. His agile mind was at work, though, considering the implications of Lydia Hazzard’s disappearance into Virtu prior to Alice’s birth, birthday celebrations, and Alice’s mood. When they arrived at the cottage in the orchard and he was filled in on Ambry’s disappearance, he had almost come to expect the information.
When Alice finished her narration, Lydia took over, explaining what she and Ambry had learned during their visit to the Donnerjack Institute. For once, Alice kept her questions until the end of the tale.
“Are you saying that my father is or was a god?”
“I’m saving that Ambry apparently is intertwined into more legends than he realized,” Lydia answered. “Sid didn’t say that Ambry was a god—more like a legend incarnate.”
Drum chuckled. “A virgin gives birth after tarrying with a god. It has a certain resonance. Of course, most of those kids were boys, weren’t they? Looks like you ladies fell down on the job.”
Lydia gaped and Alice kicked him in the shin.
“Drum! You’re mean!”
He just grinned and soon Lydia was laughing with him. Alice stared at the two adults as if they were crazy.
“I’m sorry, Alice, dear,” Lydia managed between gasps. “It must he the stress, but Drum is right. The entire situation is almost too much to believe.”
“While you stand there giggling,” Alice said woodenly, “Ambry is still in trouble.”
“Captive,” Drum corrected, “which is distinctly different. It means that he is in no immediate physical danger.”
“Until the legions of Skyga march,” Lydia said.
“Which—if my guess is correct,” Drum continued, “will not he for some time yet. If Alice would stop scowling at me and put on her Link hat, she’ll realize that we have a pretty good indication of when Skyga will need his legions.”
“For the Elishite Celebration.”
“Precisely. We had hypothesized that the Hierophant of the Church of Elish had to have some backing in Virtu. Skyga fits the bilclass="underline" powerful, influential, and, especially if he envisions himself as a primal deity kept out of his rightful domain, quite likely to benefit from a crossover.”
“So we have time.” Alice relaxed slightly. “I’m sorry I kicked you.”
Drum rolled up the cuff of his pants, revealing a length of pale, hairy calf.
“No bruises, kid. You’re going to need to calm down, though. This isn’t like breaking into other people’s offices to read their files.”
“Alice! You didn’t!”
“Can we discuss that later, Mom?” Alice said quickly. “Okay, I’m calm, Drum. Any thoughts where we should start looking? Virtu’s a big place.”
“Where’s the local equivalent of Mount Olympus or Valhalla or wherever the gods hang their hats when they’re at home?”
Alice and Lydia both shook their heads, but the ants still scavenging remnants of the picnic spelled out: “Mount Meru.”
“Mount Mem,” Drum read. “Great! Any idea how to get there?”
The ants scattered then reformed to spelclass="underline" “Sorry. Don’t move.”
“I doubt we’re going to find this place on any of the usual directories,” Drum said, “and I’m a bit nervous about asking questions of just anyone.”
“We could ask Sid or that associate of his at the Donnerjack Institute—Paracelsus,” Lydia suggested.
“Good idea,” Drum said, “but I’m a bit hesitant. You said that these aions worshiped the gods on Meru—and that they respected Ambry for his role as the Piper. I’m not certain how they would feel about us mucking about their theology.”
“The ants are getting busy again,” Alice said. “Lots more this time.”
“Get Virginia Tallent, Markon’s site,” the genius loci wrote. “VSD.”
“I don’t understand,” Lydia said.
“VSD, that’s the Virtu Survey Department,” Alice said.