Chapter Text
The Candles We Light (and Should Regret)
Mikado
🐛 🕯️ 🧵
In Pearl and Cleo’s absence, Scott spent his days tending the sheep, and spying on the god of trickery and innovation. The spirit sometimes took a foxlike form, other times that of a bird, and sometimes walked upright like a man. He labored not far down the road, constructing a home on a lot that had been empty for some time. Scott, who wasn’t sure precisely where Cleo’s planting grounds ended, could only hope in silence the god had the answer, lest he get his ear chewed off by his neighbor across the way.
“What is he doing?” Scott asked Bee one day, for without Pearl and Cleo, he had no one else to talk to. And Bee rarely ever came around when Pearl was not at home.
“Preparing for new arrivals,” Bee replied, leaning back against the fence. They watched in silence as the white-haired stranger moved back and forth. Then, “I shall go and pester him.”
“Don’t frighten him. He’s Cleo’s friend. But if you do go, don’t look to me; I’ll not get dragged into this. But tell me… is that other man with him the god of wood and ore?”
“Not always a man,” said Bee, “but you have identified the one you speak of, yes.”
‘Not always a man,’ Scott thought sarcastically. He did not mean his pettiness, but as he braced a hand against his cheek, slumped against his gate, he wished himself the kind who would not be bothered by a lover who sometimes took a woman’s form. Given how many women dwelt in Never-Was, loving women would be very convenient. He dearly wished this world would stop being so unkind to them, that they stopped flooding the population of this village and their homes could instead be taken up by men so gorgeous, they could no longer stand common society and competed with each other to secure this quiet life. He could be the judge of which one received that prime land beside his house.
And yet, he thought, eyeing Bee’s dark and wood-rough skin (pretending he was not), as ‘convenient’ as loving women might be, I would not trade my lust for anything.
The god of water and search did notice him looking. He flexed his muscles for Scott’s own pleasure, leaving the mortal to fan his face in great exaggeration, but they knew it would go nowhere. Pearl and Bee might have a policy of open doors, but Scott knew that should he lie with his best friend’s husband, he could never look her in the eyes again.
One day, rain struck the village in spite of the protection it often had. After tending to his flock, Scott returned inside to settle with a book. He wasn’t indoors long when a mournful yowling dragged him to his door. He pulled it open and found himself staring into the single eye of a white cat so scrawny, its bones showed through its fur. It hunched into its angles, pressing flat its ears. Where rain fell upon it, steam hissed, for crystals turned to ice.
“Have you no temple to return to?” Scott asked, not cracking the door any wider.
“It is far,” said the god, rather pathetically.
“Very well,” sighed the mortal. He did not understand this argument from a man who could whisk himself away with just a thought, but he was not about to argue with a god. Even the gods were made from silk, and would not fare well if left out in the rain. “For just one night.”
He could hardly complain. In Martyn’s absence, he grew lonelier every day. It used to be that Martyn often visited, for spirits could exist in many places across the land. Even when the god of hearts and husbandry labored at his temple, some cheeky aspect of him would sing songs or bat a hand at the clothes hung to dry, or roll on his back and tease Scott to come and pity him (and bestow on him a cuddle). “To observe your heartbeat,” Martyn was fond of saying. Scott had humored him for more years than he could count. But then, men like him were notoriously bad at maths.
The god of trickery and innovation leapt upon Martyn’s favored chair. He crumpled the blanket in his paws, made himself snug, and lay purring in content peace. Rain lashed against the windows. Scott settled near with a second blanket on his legs. He did mean to go to bed. He put it off, fighting to stay awake so he might not be alone with his unexpected visitor overnight. But when he woke, his candle still burned low, and there was now a white cat upon his chest, curled against his arm. With the blanket between them, perhaps it did not pin the spirit here at the expense of other places?
Or perhaps, he thought, rolling over to blow the candle out, the goddess of rain and prosperity is dancing through many kingdoms tonight, and there is no other place a god should want to be. He fell asleep again, awkwardly draped, with the god nestled against his thick tunic sleeve.
The morning after, Scott rose and ate eggs for breakfast, and fed the spirit too. He then went to look for Bee, but noticed he was gone. The trickster god, however, slunk through the door after him in the form of a man. He stretched his arms, thanked Scott for the lovely evening, and spent the rest of the day laboring to build that house down the way.
Ah, thought the mortal, gazing after him as post-storm breeze ruffled through his hair. He has wormed his way into my home, for he surely knew the god of water and search has no want to linger when Pearl is not around. By slipping in so we might share evening conversation, he has extended me his friendship. I can go and talk with him. In this way, he was not left alone.
“Let me help,” he said the next time he was free, having cared hours for his sheep. One lamb tailed him anyway, trying to bite his clothes. Scott took one end of a heavy board and lifted it, mirroring the spirit who worked beside him. The man glanced at him in some approval. He looked exquisitely like his depiction in that good book Cleo had purchased from a merchant some time ago, with his hair white and floppy and a scar across his eye. He wore a tunic himself, but his was green and tied at the waist, and far looser than anything Scott dressed in on the day-to-day. In fact, it hung forward from his chest in a way that exposed muscle and hair beneath. Scott could not decide whether this had been intentional, and tried not to stare. At least, not so long as he felt the spirit watching him.
“A man and a woman will settle here,” said the spirit, volunteering this without Scott having asked. “He is fond of strawberry cake, and she enjoys a cherry pie. They bring a child with them. You will notice something strange about the little one. You must never ask about this, or the woman will be ashamed.”
“I will remember that.”
Pearl returned home a few days after that. She walked her horse down the road, but when Scott leaned out his door, he did not spy Cleo with her. Thinking Cleo had detoured into the northern town for food to stock her home with, he did not worry… until the day grew very late. Then he went and knocked on Pearl’s door.
“She ran off,” Pearl said, upturning her hands before letting them slap down again. “She discovered my relations with the god of hearts and husbandry and took them as an insult. I haven’t seen her for a week.”
Of course, this struck Scott as alarming indeed. He had expected his neighbor to come home. To abandon Pearl, leaving her to wander home herself, did not sound much like Cleo at all. “How did you tell her of you and that god?” he questioned. Pearl bit her lip and looked away.
“Poorly, I fear.”
“Pe’rl,” he sighed. “Did you go and kiss that man before her?”
“As you say.”
He could not help but shake his head. “I am glad you returned, at least,” he said to her, and kissed her head before he went outside again. The god of trickery and innovation still labored on that other home, but he had made tremendous progress in so short a time. He was up atop the house, working on the roof, but stilled his hammer when Scott walked out to see him, a hand to shield his eyes from sun.
“Spirit,” said the mortal, “Cleo did not return. Do you know their whereabouts?”
“They visit their cousins, the Solidarity princes,” it replied. “They will return, but wandering is in their nature.” Tilting its head, it continued, “They stopped first by my temple and were in good spirits when they left. All is well with them.”
Well. That was some comfort. Scott chewed a moment on that thought of Cleo’s connection to the princes, the youngest of whom he had developed distant fondness for. Then he returned and assured Pearl of Cleo’s safety. They bickered as they often did over Pearl’s infatuation with the god of hearts and husbandry. It ended amicably. Pearl chose a life that suited her. Scott had one that suited him.
He went home after and put himself to bed. His neighbor may have returned, and a spirit may be thwacking a rooftop with a hammer… but without Martyn, and knowing Cleo was somewhere far away, he lay there as cold and empty as a winter pond.
The laboring spirits completed work on that new household soon enough. The god of trickery and innovation even stopped by to inform Scott of it, then went to chase the god of wood and ore, who had turned themself into a chipmunk and already bounded off. That same night, a man and woman moved in, neither with more than one small bag to hold their things. They wore plain clothes, but it did not disguise the thickness of his brown beard, or the lovely ginger of her hair. The woman looked like Cleo, just a bit. Smaller, her hair in plaits, but just as energetic. She carried at her side a sword. Scott had glimpsed her armor before she went inside to strip it off.
Ooh, he thought, peering through his window. This could be very interesting. Were they married? He should assume they were, but how delighted he would be if they were siblings instead.
He and Pearl went to greet them straightaway. There was no denying the tension in the woman’s figure, and Scott made silent note to inform her he did not lust for women, in case that soothed her fear. For now, he let Pearl do the talking while he admired that short but broad-shouldered bearded man. At least, he did until that man finally spoke.
“I am Scott, and this is Gemini, my wife.”
“‘Gem’ now,” she intervened.
Scott’s heart sank within his chest. His wife. Not only had cruel fate set him up with two women for close neighbors, but Martyn was a god, Bee was a god, even the god of trickery and innovation was a god… and now, his new handsome neighbor was a married man. Scott glanced at the lot directly beside his, which still sat empty. Other houses in the village stood within view, but farther down the road; he still lacked an immediate neighbor. Maybe next time.
“My name too is Scott,” he said. “This will become very confusing for us.”
“I have another name,” that man offered. “You can call me Esvee. Many people do.”
That woman, Gem, spoke up then. She had removed her armor, leaving her in green and brown working clothes. She moved a finger between Scott and Pearl. “Are you two…?”
“Married to another,” Pearl corrected, pointing to the pin upon her breast. “He is away, laboring in the Great River kingdoms, but shall return.”
“Unwed,” Scott was forced to admit. “But if you know a man who would enjoy a shepherd lover, steer him my way.”
This comment earned immediate approval from their new neighbors. It passed in silence, but some tension escaped them then. “I am happy in my marriage,” Gem told him, “but had I found a woman to love, I would have married her. I am glad to know my neighbor can appreciate a fine-looking man.”
“Our neighbor Cleo is like you,” he said, and hoped they could all become good friends. Gem went and brought a little girl forward by the hand, and instructed her to say hello. Scott’s eyes widened the moment he laid eyes on her. He said nothing, and was polite. Pearl noticed her strangeness too, but did not let it show. Instead, she clasped her hands.
“Hello! What is your name?”
“Pearl,” said the little one. Many laughs were had, for the only thing more confusing than two Scotts dwelling at this end of the village must be to have two Scotts and two Pearls.
Farewells were had. The door was shut. Scott and Pearl returned up the road without seeing anything inside. “Gem had with her the favor of the god of war and sky,” Pearl remarked, which made him turn his head.
“I did not notice it.”
“It protruded from her pocket. She hid it behind her hand, but I glimpsed it when she turned. How odd.”
“Forgive my nondiscretion,” he said, “but surely I am not mistaken. That child cannot be Esvee’s. It looks nothing like him.”
“No,” said Pearl. “We will not let on to them we know. They are both welcome here.”
“A very strange child,” Scott murmured. “Surely both parents were not silken-made. I have never seen hair so white, nor eyes so black and red.”
“Perhaps her father was glassfolk.”
“Perhaps. I imagine you will keep an ear out and tell me what you learn.”
When Cleo at last returned, Scott received her with embrace. She brought him stories of her travels, and as they did their daily chores together, Scott told her of their neighbors. Cleo took an interest, but moved as though distracted. She did not visit him in evenings, but stayed shut inside her home.
He sought not to take that as a sting. Cleo was entitled to her time, and surely required rest after her trip away. Still, as the weeks drew on, Scott sat by his window with his book, wishing for the sound of rain.
“At least you keep me company,” he said to the cat purring beside him. The spirit opened its eye and fondly blinked at him. It snuggled all the closer, rubbing its head to request a pat. Scott gathered his blanket to settle in. He pet the spirit, of course, and tried not to think too hard of Cleo’s absent mind.
She did not even ask why his livestock had been dyed pink, green, and blue.
Cleo had not been home long before she set out on another journey. Scott detested it, and would have gone with her had it not been for his sheep. She told him she had business with the god of sparks and time. Scott wondered whether her fascination with the spirits came from her past life as a princess. He knew she had grown up studying them, visiting with them often. To her, the spirits were like friends. He might have complained, had he not had a black dog from the pantheon of wood and string on his porch, and nearby a white cat from the pantheon of silk and plays resting on Martyn’s favored chair. Even Martyn had been a god.
“Hurry back,” he told her glumly. She did not kiss his head this time, as she had before. He did not know what to make of it. He returned to his home, and looked with salty disappointment at the cat reclined luxuriously upon his old friend’s seat. Sensing that, the god of trickery and innovation blinked at him.
“Spirit,” Scott addressed it, “you requested I not harm you while you ‘had business’ in this village. I imagine your business was to prepare a home for Esvee and Gem. Would I be forward if I requested that favor you did offer me?”
“Not at all,” it replied. “I linger here largely for your convenience. But once it is claimed, it is not so easy to take back. Are you ready for it now?”
“I am… Spirit, I have no man to love. Many of my neighbors are married, and Cleo tells stories of men whose company she’s kept. I love men, but I have never loved a man. I wish I could marry soon. Perhaps in a few more years.”
The god of trickery and innovation, still lounging upside-down, slowly shook its head. “Do not trade your favor for that request. I will go and speak to the god of hearts and husbandry; you were his friend before you were mine, and were kind to give him roof for many years. He may not have been direct with you, but I imagine he owes you for it. Call to me when I am needed. Pray to that other man for the favor you seek.”
“It is uncomfortable,” Scott muttered, and the spirit laughed.
“Ah, he was your lover past, and your housemate many years. Very well… but answer me this. Where will you go to meet a man? All this time, you have been waiting for one to arrive outside your door.”
“My father rejected me for my love of men,” the mortal said. “He wished I might have children who could inherit the tailor business after me, for my brother did run off. I thought some other man like me would cross my path. I’ve begun to feel I am the only one in all the land.”
“Where will you go?” the spirit asked again.
“Well… I suppose I must go where I can find men who wish to wed.” Scott considered this. A thought came into his head. “I should attend a marital ball, as Cleo had. I need not marry a prince, but will be happy with any man who does impress me, and desires me in return.”
“I will make arrangement with you,” said the spirit. “When you have decided where to travel for certain evenings, call to me and I will watch your sheep.”
Scott sighed, falling dramatically upon the sofa near the cat, which winked in some amusement. “I would rather you led a good man directly to my door.”
“You know your tastes better than I do. I will tend the sheep. Falling in love, well… that is up to you. How wasteful it would be to request favor of me, that I might bring you a man, and then we discover I have brought you a man you could never love.”
“You are very wise,” Scott remarked. “Why is it you and Cleo did not hit it off? They always speak fondly of you. From the way she recounts her tales, I know she cares more than she intends to show. The god of water and search dwells in Pearl’s home. Why is it you dwell in mine?” In teasing, he said, “Do I enchant you more than she? … Oh, do not close your eye at me; I know you are not asleep.”
It was an odd friendship they had. Scott had enjoyed Martyn’s presence terribly, but affection between them had been forever marred by the fact that Martyn would not stay the night in bed. Not if they were not in intimacy. He had a husband, after all, and would choose him over sharing small room with a mortal who did not undress for him. Once upon a time, this had nearly poisoned Scott’s friendship with Pearl, for it cut deeply that Martyn took no issue staying the night beneath her roof. Pearl welcomed him and all his power in a way that Scott could not.
But the god of trickery and innovation showed no such reservation. Could this be called a romance? Scott did not dare, for he trusted no man who called himself a trickster. Only in his loneliness would he have ever permitted this man indoors. Nonetheless, when he fell into bed that night, a scrawny cat wiggled beneath his arm. It turned three times and settled at the curve of his chest. Scott did not dare question it. He wrapped the spirit in his arms, burying his face in white and silver scraps of fur. Warmth surrounded him, and the cat stayed purring until the mortal drifted off to sleep.
For the first time in many months, which had been sprinkled with the absences of both Cleo and Pearl… he did not feel like a cast-off thing.
“You seem like yourself again,” Scott remarked when Cleo returned home after their journey to that distant temple. Cleo sat upon his water barrel, swinging their legs as the sun began to set. They looked at him, caught sideways, and squinted to ascertain what he meant. He clarified, “Your mind meandered for a time, and you shut yourself away in evenings. I did not pester you, but I prefer you more like this.”
“Oh… Forgive me. I have not been attentive as of late. The god of justice and sleep has visited for weeks. He came to court me. I ended it after speaking with the god of sparks and time.”
Scott’s silence became unreadable. Cleo’s heart beat louder in her chest. She leaned closer, attempting to study every feature, as Scott drew careful breath. “I wish you had told me of your visitor. I thought you were pushing me away.”
“Forgive me. If some other starts to visit, I will tell you the morning after. But I may be finished chasing love. It has never worked out for me.”
“You bring challenge on yourself because you flirt with gods.” He held up his fingers then, tapping the center of his palm to draw her attention (though Cleo pretended not to see him, feigning she listened to the shrieks of Little Pearl playing down the road). “Four times you have heeded their charms. Perhaps more you have not told me.”
“They are adventurous and interesting people. Their stories lure me in.”
“Save a few for the rest of us.” Scott replied, hopping on the barrel beside her. “Have you heard from Martyn lately? I have not seen him for a season now.”
“He’s a more persistent pest than any rat I’ve ever known. I don’t expect he’ll stay away forever.”
“Hm,” Scott replied.
At the angle they sat, they watched the sun creep lower in the sky. The world lit up with orange. Pearl was off checking traps in the forest, and Bee had gone with her as far as Scott and Cleo knew. Esvee and Gem had begun to settle in their home. Loud sounds of metal suggested they attempted cooking. Either that or music, though they needed far more practice if they were.
Scott could hear Cleo’s heartbeat like thunder in their chest. He turned to comment on this and found Cleo’s eyes locked not upon the sunset, but scrutinizing him. “What captivates you?” he murmured then. “Besides my exquisite beauty. That stays consistent every day.”
“What reason would I have to not admire your beauty?” Cleo asked, leaning her head up to his. She turned her eyes to the sunset once again. Her hand found Scott’s, and he protested not when she wrapped his fingers up in hers. He did, however, make small comment:
“I love men, Cleo…”
Cleo did not say anything. A few breaths passed before she loosened her hand again. “My misdeed. I thought you would not mind.”
“I allow it, when it’s you,” he told her, staying soft. “I simply had to ask. You and Gem differ from me. You love men and women both while I favor only one. I did not know if you forgot.”
“No, I didn’t… but I have wondered something.”
This time, it was Scott’s heart that picked up in its rapid beats. “Oh?”
“I thought perhaps,” Cleo began, “that you and I could be companions, mirroring husband and wife. We need not be married. We can stay in our separate homes, because we have them, but… we could be closer than we are. We do not need anybody else.”
Pair up with Cleo? As though they were wed? They would not be, but the thought filled his mouth with poison anyway. Scott faced the setting sun again. Its light stretched far, painting pointed treetops.
His father had once begged him to reconsider the life he wanted for himself. When Scott was still quite young, his older brother became corrupted, lured away by the whisperings of people who led him to his doom. In his younger years, once pressure fell on him to carry on the family name and business, Scott began to wish it had been him lured off down trails unknown. He had not seen his brother since, but wondered of him often. To be surrounded by those who treated you as a friend, and encouraged your thoughts and the things you wished to explore, would not be such a bad thing.
“I am happy as your neighbor,” is what he told Cleo, squeezing their hand in his. “So long as you live in this village, consider me your friend. But I still desire marriage, and I’m certain you do too. Go and court those gods you like to chase. I will search for handsome men. We will remain the closest friends, even when we marry other people. Simply promise me you will not cast me from your life, even when you find a husband.”
“I promise,” Cleo said. “You are the dearest friend I’ve ever had. No man or woman comes between us. For as long as we dwell in Never-Was, we have each other.”
“We have each other,” Scott echoed back. He leaned his head to Cleo’s. Cleo leaned theirs on his. Their fingers tangled. The sun settled in the distance, bathing all the world in golden light. They stayed that way until Little Pearl ran up to them, her white hair flying behind her, and begged they join her in a game.
Long days passed, and Scott began to visit in Cleo’s home more than he had done in recent weeks. Knowing now that she had entertained a god, he did not resent her for it, but still lay awake at night worrying he was not enough. Pearl came and went throughout the season, busy with her hunting trips and other things. Bee either traveled with her or retreated to his temple. Gem and Esvee had each other, and all of village life bustled on. Scott poured all his time into his sheep, apart from when a neighbor asked for him. Nosy he may be, he did not press for details of Gem and Esvee’s history. It came out one evening by her own choice, when Esvee was fetching tools from Cleo and she and Scott were left alone.
“Pearl is not my husband’s child,” she told Scott, hanging laundry up to dry. “I was a knight in the grain kingdom many years, but not always respected by the men. They laughed at me; spit on me. One day a man forced me, taking me, and sired child in me.”
“I am sorry,” Scott said, too surprised to know what else to say. “That is an awful thing.” He wondered why she did not unwind the child before it was full-made. He dared not move his lips to ask. That was her own decision to make.
“It was. I knew not what to do, but the god of war and sky pitied me. As cruelty was done to me in service, he came to comfort me night after night, and there I found my peace. I do not consider Pearl sired by that soldier now. I have always told her she was sired by the god of war and sky. He was so kind and intimate with me, she may as well have been.” She sighed, hanging up another stocking. “In a few weeks, she will be learning from the books in Cleo’s home. Cleo does not soften the tales of gods. The god of war and sky was patient towards me, but has performed much trickery in his time. I do not know what I will tell her then.”
“I can speak to Cleo,” he offered, detecting this was the unspoken request. He had never seen Gem and Cleo argue, nor had Cleo ever implied she disliked her new neighbor, but… Cleo could say harsh things, for she did not hide them. “I am glad you found Esvee. I see the love he shows to you.”
“He did slay that man which came upon me when he heard of it,” Gem remembered fondly, and clasped her hands to swoon. Scott lifted his brows at this. Of course, he had no desire to abuse a woman, but he took silent note not to upset Gem anyway, lest he find Esvee breaking down his door. If he truly did slay a man, that would explain why both now hid in Never-Was.
Before he left, he said to Gem, “We are all in this village because we were harmed by the outside world. Come and speak to me if you ever wish discussion. I will listen. Thank you for telling me your truths. I will not share them.” Not with Cleo, who had lost her brother to a skirmish with the grain kingdom. Not to Pearl, who could not shut her mouth (She gossiped with him often about who Little Pearl’s sire could possibly be). This was his secret alone. He guarded it. But privately, it did leave him admiring Esvee all the more.
Send me a husband like that, he thought. I really must attend a suitor’s ball.
Scott had warned Cleo not to fall in love with him. In fact, he felt certain he had clearly set that rule. Admire him in all his beauty, of course; he permitted that. But with how frequently she visited him, and how many hours she spent attached at his side over the next few weeks, he began to wonder if he was being used. He confided to no one, except for Pearl. He approached her while Cleo taught children across the road, for only then could he be certain they would not be interrupted.
“When I first married Bee,” she said, “I too wondered if he saw me as a placeholder. I do not think Cleo clings to you with ill intent. She is lonely. She was a princess once. Perhaps it’s made her awkward.”
“How did you come to terms with it?” he questioned. “You and Bee, who is a god?”
Pearl sipped her tea in silence. They were in her home, crowded among the animal skins that smelled of silk-waste and fur. A dog kept chewing at his boot, another at his hand. “We made arrangements to see other people. I said to him, ‘You are a spirit, and I will never know if you are elsewhere. Let us agree to not be bothered by it. I ask only that I am given the same permission.’ He agreed. I went out at once and danced and teased many men, even though I did not lie with them, and let him watch the way I flirted, and we returned together to our home. When I saw he truly was not jealous, I trusted he loved me enough to return many times over. He has never disappointed me.”
“I told Cleo I desire marriage still. They did not deny they want the same.” Quietly, over the lip of his teacup, “They withdrew from me when the god of justice and sleep came to court them nearly every night. Should Cleo ever marry, I will be replaced for good.”
“You do not hesitate to complain when I offend you. When Cleo is unkind, tell them so. Be happy in the present time. And if Cleo ever falls out with you, I will still be here.”
Indeed, Pearl had lived side by side with Scott for years before Cleo first arrived. There existed differences nonetheless… Cleo had arrived unmarried while Pearl had already pledged herself to Bee. Scott had not worried he would be replaced by another important figure in her life. Pearl had proven very good at balancing.
“Perhaps we were twins in our past life, with how insistently you cling to me,” came his dry remark. Pearl laughed at him. Scott finished his drink and thanked her for her time. He waited until Cleo finished teaching students that eve, then crossed the road to speak with her.
“The god of trickery and innovation asked me for a favor some weeks ago. In exchange for my not shooting him, he said he would watch my sheep the next time I left this town. If we are good friends, let us travel together. You can treat me to some pretty sights.”
A look of surprise came upon his neighbor’s face. She smoothed it, but Scott saw it and wondered what it meant. “I have been wishing to visit that god myself,” she admitted. “I can take you to his mountain. There are pretty towns along the way, and far happier I will be to travel in your company.”
“Very well.” If Cleo had already made herself plans, he could hardly protest to being dragged along like a serving boy. “What thing do you intend to ask of him?”
Cleo turned their head. Scott turned with her. Down the road, shrieking and toying with a goat, there was Little Pearl, while Gem watched from the doorway in her lacy shawl. Two other youth - students Cleo had taught from books for months now - ran about nearby, playing with wood swords.
“Children,” Cleo said. “That is what I want. I am growing older, Scott, and no man nor woman desires me. At least, none that are a fit for me. I have knowledge to pass on. I want child of my own. I might dare to ask for two. There must be orphans somewhere in these kingdoms. I will ask the spirit to lead them here.”
You will have even less time for me with two children to raise, Scott thought in silence. Yet what he said was, “All the better that I join you, then. You can carry one home and I shall hold the other. I will go and pack my things.”
So saying, he kissed her hand in the knightly way. It teased a smile to her face. “Truly you are my best friend,” they said.
“Ever and always,” he replied.
Cleo had not minded traveling with Renward Star, nor the god of trickery and innovation, nor with the god of justice and sleep. But traveling with Scott brought a peace she had not anticipated. He knew how to use a blade, for he had butchered many a sheep or goat or goose in his time. Cleo allowed him to walk both behind and in front of her. She need not struggle to avoid looking at him, as she had with a certain god. After light discussion, she and Scott even agreed to share bed at an inn.
“It saves coin,” Scott said with a shrug, climbing in between the sheets. “I do not mind. Come and cuddle with me; it’s about time you did.”
“I shall not fall in love with you,” she promised him. I have never slept in bed beside a man, she did not say. The god of hearts and husbandry had once knelt at her bedside late into the eve, tending to her head, but had not slid beneath the blankets with her. In her younger years, Cleo had crawled in beside her elder brother. The god of war and sky had sometimes rested beside her, but never for long, for his duties to the sun ever dragged him onward. And never had he lifted the blankets up. She had only slept beside Pearl, and only on their short journey to see the god of hearts and husbandry. Lying so close to such a pretty woman had quickened her heartbeat, though it had been tempered knowing Pearl did not feel the same. She trusted similar circumstances if she lay her head with Scott.
“We travel to the god of trickery and innovation,” he said, “so you might ask him for a child to rear even without a partner. You will have no husband in your bed. I may not be your husband, but I will warm your side tonight.”
In many situations, such an offer would be frightening. But from Scott, who had never spoken to her lustfully, Cleo permitted it… even underdressed in her white slip of a nightgown. Scott’s arms warmed her when they fell around her back. His breath smelled strangely of the salty sea, and something like a mossy cave.
Would that I could stay here forever, Cleo thought, tucking her cheek against his side. Was it foolish to beg the god of trickery and innovation for children, which were loud and messy, and which would surely consume her life? What if she latched only onto Scott, traveling with him often, and felt warm and safe resting at his side? He held no desire to lie with her. He was a perfect man.
Would that Cleo felt content at home, Scott thought, breathing in the flowery scent of their wild ginger curls. He would never strip Cleo of their love for traveling. They belonged to the road far more than they belonged to him. Still, he missed her every time she left, and she had left more frequently in recent months than he had been accustomed to. Perhaps he needed other hobbies. He would not be upset, however, if raising children kept Cleo in the village more often than it didn’t.
Cleo wondered if her request for children would require conversation with the god of hearts and husbandry, even if she requested orphaned siblings to raise up in her home. He had been very distant lately, by his own choice. She did not know if she could forgive the way he had fawned over Pearl upon their visit to his temple not so long ago.
Scott, though he tried to never show it, sometimes felt he had lost Pearl to another man years ago, even if he had no desire to take her as a wife. Would Cleo leave him too, once she stumbled into opportunity? As they nestled together in the bed, he played his fingers on her hand. He would enjoy these moments while he had them. Cleo may not be his wife, for it could never be… but she could be his friend. And until they were both married, they could care for each other like a husband dotes upon his wife.
Days passed in this way. Scott fished in the river, and Cleo shot two rabbits and a pheasant with her careful skill. He knew a town holding small festival this time of year, and they linked arms and danced with locals there. Cleo won a few coins from a pastry-eating contest. Scott won them new clothes in a gambling game. Some pieces did not fit them well, but they left that town laughing, waving at the new friends they’d made while wearing mismatched things.
“I am glad you came to Never-Was,” Scott confessed one night as they strolled uphill against strong wind. He leaned back to catch Cleo’s hand, hauling her up a difficult patch to climb. “Had I never met you, of course I would not know the loss, but something in my heart would have longed for companion like you.”
“I feel the same,” Cleo said to him. “Were I a man, or you a lover of womankind, perhaps it would be different.”
“Perhaps,” Scott replied. “But this is very nice.”
After some time on the path, snowflakes fell around them, even outside the proper season. It was not long before the temple came into view ahead. Cleo requested Scott walk ahead of her, holding her hand, that she might close her eyes and not see the spirit dwelling there. He agreed. They went in through the great front doors, and Cleo heard their shoes echo on hard floor. A servant came and fetched them - From her voice, Cleo thought it might be Upwind - and Scott released their hand.
“I wish to look at the library books. Go and have your private conversation. Find me when you finish, and we can go and dine together.”
Upwind escorted Cleo by the arm through the temple halls. Cleo knew a few of them from memory, for they had stayed here several days on that journey they took after the suitor’s ball. She had never seen inside the spirit’s private office, though. When Upwind informed her that was the door they stood outside, Cleo fought down the urge to peek.
Minutes passed. Cleo did not think she had ever waited so long for the spirit’s attention before, and kept her patience as well as she could. Finally, the office door clicked open. Someone swiftly exited. Cleo, with her eyes shut, did not see whom.
Upwind led Cleo forward, introducing her to the spirit and bowing before it dismissed her to other tasks. Cleo detected at once the tired tone woven through its voice and resolved not to offend it as best she could. It greeted her anyway, even weary. Cleo heard a noise that sounded like spectacles clicking down upon a desk. Did gods even wear such things?
“Your labors have kept you busy,” the mortal said, in compliment.
“My work increases every year,” he replied. “As my deeds become known, I receive more prayers. It is good for me, but my plate is nearly piled full.”
“Oh,” said the mortal. “I should not trouble you. Might my hands be of any service? I worked two years with the god of hearts and husbandry, spending much of that time filling papers. I could be useful here.”
“Perhaps,” mused the spirit. “I will consider it, but I deal in secrets, and it would not be good of me to share them all. Nonetheless, I appreciate your willing offer. And I thank you for the sea glass you gave to me in prayer. You cannot see it with shut eyes, but I keep pieces of it on my desk, and others in my private chambers, and others in my sitting room and upon my bookshelves. All that you gave me, I keep as reminder to myself of that mortal who thought of me as a tumbled, softened thing. It has been good for me.”
“I am glad to hear it. You are worthy of it.”
“Thank you. What comment have you brought me now?”
Cleo stilled their voice in hesitation.
“You look reluctant,” it observed. “Come. Speak.”
“Boldness has left me, spirit. I came to express my frustrations to you, but I wonder if it is not better saved for another time.”
“I’ve known you were coming. Planning is my mastery, and I knew of your arrival the moment you and Scott discussed a route up to my mountain. A version of me now watches his sheep, do recall… but it was very kind of you to travel with him anyway, for I know that he enjoyed it. If I have time for every other mortal who sends me prayers and does not journey in the flesh, I have time to set aside for you.”
“Very well. The god of justice and sleep and I have decided to go separate paths. We parted some weeks ago. I suppose he mentioned it.”
Yes, thought the spirit. As did you, in prayer. I do listen to my prayers. “You were not right for each other. It happens. Pray tell, what ended it? He did not say.”
“He attached himself to schedules, which I suppose is only natural for a clock. He slept often, rarely conversing with me, and left me to clean his messes. I suggested we go and meet the god of sparks and time together, that he might help us with our scheduling.”
“I see.” He could already determine where this journey led. Bringing a servant in contact with his master rarely ends in favor of he who was a servant.
“Perhaps it was unwise. That god lured him away before me, and he accepted those advances.”
Bdubs, sighed the spirit in its head.
“Is that usual, for gods?” the mortal questioned. “Would you, spirit, choose new companion even when a mortal partner hosted and cleaned inside your home?”
The god of trickery and innovation held its silence. It fidgeted a quill upon its desk. After a moment, it said, “I am Cast-Off Things, who feeds the cubs, kits, and fawns left orphaned in the woods. I am caretaker of those who raise their young without other companion, and I am he who tends to many rejected by a mate. That is my duty, unavoidable. Sometimes, those solitary parents I give assistance to call out to me, saying ‘Mate, come and be here with me.’ My labors are sometimes interpreted as a courting gesture. In their short lives, it would not be kindness to deny them company.”
“Ah. Well, I am like those creatures who were rejected by a partner. Spirit, I call upon you in your caretaker state, that you might give to me advice. If you would that I burn your favor to request as much, I will do it here.”
“Cleo,” said the spirit softly. “That favor is my gift to you, that you may call for me at other times I cannot be reached so I might hasten to your side. Do not burn it here. What is wanted? Ask me now, and it is done.”
“I need no personal companion,” said the mortal, very quietly. “I cannot lie with them, and perhaps that life is not for me. Scott is like a husband, even if he desires only men. In place of marriage, I wish instead for children. I did not think I did, when my loom was broken. I knew it was not to be, so I wanted it no more. Not only that, but I lived in a castle. Any children of mine were to be raised as heirs, just as I was. Now I am happy in my cottage… and very lonely. I spend my days laboring in my fields, watching neighbors in their marriage, and teaching children not my own. When I reap excess grain, I bake it into excess bread. I look about me and have none to feed, for the village you have placed my cottage in is so plentiful, there are none in need. The gods are much too kind; I suspect they bless the land I live upon so I might want for nothing. Every day is perfect and entirely the same.”
“This is true,” said the god reluctantly. “You have rejected the others’ advances, but while you are unmarried, many will vie for prayer and attention by sending blessings to better your life. I fear that if you build a life outside of Never-Was, they may turn to using curses. The gods are kind, mostly, but jealous and greedy, and they do not innovate. They see only two options to pursue their goals, as this has always worked for them before. You are not the first mortal to be desired of the spirits. In Never-Was, you are protected from their angry powers. I hope you dwell there a few years more.”
The mortal fell quiet momentarily before speaking up again. “I know this chance was taken from me when you returned my life, spirit, weaving me of your silks. I am grateful for what you have done, yet I long for children to raise. I wish this regardless of curses and trials that may find me in future seasons. If no man will sire babes for me, I will become like you and mother the orphaned offspring of someone who cannot.”
The spirit shifted its weight, metal clacking into metal. “I am a wild god who leaps with fish, soars with birds, and runs with beasts. I know little of silken children… I have acolytes, but they’ve always gone away in private to care for new lives they weave.”
“Spirit, you are skilled in your mastery. Surely you can guide lost children to me. I was once a princess, and am not blind to the troubling affairs of my people or the families they’re born into. It is my duty to help those who are still in need. There is a road that passes near my cottage in the village of Never-Was. I can step beyond the wall and find any children you guide near. I will open my door and welcome them.”
The spirit considered this unusual opportunity. Its name was Cast-Off Things, but rarely did a silken child fall under its domain. The god of war and sky was the domestic spirit, as well as caretaker of children conceived or dead in war. The god of sparks and time was a man of hospitality. The goddess of stone and harvest acted like a mother, shepherding lost infants to her breast to feed on milk just as she fed the moon. Beyond this, the god of hearts and husbandry was the Ever-Sire and the Omni-Dam, and children were most often rendered unto him.
When the god of trickery and innovation spoke again, it was with a level tone… even as a thought crested his brow and his hands began to tremble. “You no longer desire a man to dwell with you? Only that you might raise children by your hand? Surely my powers are of no use to you.”
“I do not praise the god of hearts and husbandry,” Cleo said. “A trickster will be the first to help me. I am a simple woman in small village, and no longer a princess. I do not need some false prince to claim my hand. Spirit, lead to me a child, or multiple, and I will raise them as if they were my own.”
I do not know abandoned children, thought the spirit, but threw its mind to the trickery for which it earned its name. The god of hearts and husbandry could bring forth children… but Cleo would not desire his weft yarn touch her loom. What if…
… What if the shuttle of creation was stolen from him, and put to use by other hands? A child could then be brought into existence, perfectly made for Cleo, untouched by that god she quarreled with.
“Cleo,” said the god again. “If I provide for you a child that you might raise it as your own, even if no husband dwells beneath your roof, is this truly your desire? You will not have regrets?”
“Spirit,” said the saddened mortal, “I do not beg this request lightly. For some time now, I have known it. I am lonely. I have taken in cows, horses, chickens, sheep, and dogs, and I have made myself a teacher of the village children. Yet I still wish for children of my own. My talents are wasted in my present life. Do not claim your well of ingenuity has run dry. I will give to you all that you desire, even if I must pluck it from the temple of another god, if you would grant me this request.” And if it be your will, the mortal thought within their head, then I shall never ask favors of you again. After all, this is not a small request.
“Very well,” it said upon a moment’s thought. “I will go to the god of hearts and husbandry, for children are rendered unto him. Return to your cottage. I will visit you when my preparations are complete.”
“If that god asks after me,” said the mortal, “I hope you might tell him exactly where he can shove his-”
“-I will. Now, listen to me with care. I have preparations to complete. I plan to visit Never-Was for many nights, that I might do what must be done. I will labor for you under cover of night. Shut your windows and do not seek to find me, or your eyes shall expose my nakedness, and I will be ashamed. At times, I will stay there very late. You must not rush to throw your windows open in the morning. Light no candle when you know I’m near.”
Cleo tilted their head. “Very well. After twilight, I will stay in my bedroom, away from my windows. But spirit, when morning comes, I must wander my village, complete my chores, and visit with my friends. How will I know when you have gone? I will be inside.”
The spirit shifted, and the sound of clicking coins echoed from somewhere behind him she did not see. “In your hair, you wear my favor, sewn green and black after my silken colors by my own hand. Go and hang it from your bedroom window. In the morning, if that cloth lies upon your pillow, I have placed it there and departed to my temple for the day. When you find it there, you may watch the village as you wish. But you must swear never to look for me if it is not, or I will be ashamed.”
“And you recall which home is mine?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Every log in your cottage, I placed by my own hands, that you might have your peace. Now, rest easy for the night. I have much to prepare. You should never be ashamed to speak kindly to the gods, Cleo. We are given rank by the moths that we might provide you joy. We do the work we love. To follow after us, or give your thanks, is appreciated and plentiful. We love to hear your words.”
“Thank you, spirit,” Cleo murmured, and departed into the hall. Only once she was outside, the door safely shut, did she dare open her eyes.
The spirit watched her go, its hands clasped down at his waist. And then… it took a breath, and steadied itself, and went to its chambers to plot out its next task.
The god of trickery and innovation hatched a scheme. Four nights later was the thirty and first day of a certain month. He attended, Upwind beside him as she often was. He did not speak of his plan to her. She would not approve. He knew she had noticed the knife he carried with him, but she made only one comment on it: “Shall I sharpen it, Master, before we go?”
In the palace of the god of sparks and time, many merry exchanges were had by all. It was that time of season when silken people and beasts alike were prone to praising the pantheon, though the god of trickery and innovation received as many angry protests for the flocks and herds he led away. The goddess of echo and memory poured thanks from her oinochoe, filling goblets ‘til they nearly overflowed. The god of trickery and innovation caught her in the hallway, holding lightly to her shoulder as he passed. That small moment would be captured in a painting someday, when this story made it to the books.
“Lady False, I cannot be the only one to notice how you perk your ears at every story the god of hearts and husbandry tells of the hunting prince. Give to me your pitcher, and I will pour the drink while you sit and revel with him.”
The goddess considered him a moment, studying him as though she questioned his intent. She did agree, however, and passed the vase that he might take it by the handle. She went away to sit. The god of trickery and innovation walked quietly across the room, for the god of war and sky had just upheld his goblet for a refill as he lounged upon a couch.
“You will get in quite a bit of trouble soon,” that god murmured as thanks poured from pitcher to his drink.
“Maybe so. Now, give me mine.”
The god of war and sky switched the cups in his hand, exchanging his glass of shining cod scales for the stained glass one gifted to the trickster god. The god of trickery and innovation filled that too. After the god of war and sky had enjoyed a sip, the glass was refilled. He then stood and walked away quickly to hide them both, as they had so planned. That god may have shed half his mastery so the new spirit might ascend, but his first name had been Cleverness-In-Schemes. A man of good humor, he would participate in jokes when he was asked.
The goddess of rain and prosperity rested on the seat beside them, her flame-colored hair wrapped in a plait upon her shoulder. She may not have been a trickster god, but she was a rebel sort, and mischief ran within her silk. The god of trickery and innovation filled her goblet (which had once been abandoned on a night like this, and swiped by him, and later returned by Cleo’s hand). She feigned interest in conversation for a moment, but when she felt it safe, she disappeared to hide her glass. The god soon returned the oinochoe to the goddess of echo and memory, but all throughout the night, quiet looks were exchanged between he and his companions, who plotted and schemed.
“Have you the pearls I asked about?” he whispered to his conspirators. They each nodded heads, and opened pouches at their sides to show small pearls smuggled from the mining kingdom just across the eastern sea. Such pearls had been, at some point this night, rubbed upon the skin of the god of sparks and time and the god of travel and arts. This was done in subtle ways, that they did not notice.
Later that night, as many spirits began to speak of sleeping, the plan was struck. The god of trickery and innovation caused small distraction with an animal that drew attention to another room. The god of war and sky and goddess of rain and prosperity loosed their pearls in the waterfall that sped them from the god of sparks and time’s floating palace to the mortal world below. Those pearls tumbled, bouncing off each other, and when they hit the earth, they whisked the god of sparks and time and god of travel and arts immediately after them, with no warning or word. In that other land, pearls like those were used to call the spirits in place of burning favors. They would be confused and misplaced, but otherwise unharmed.
In these distracted moments, it was very easy to take the thanks of three spirits combined and pour them all in the god of hearts and husbandry’s abandoned glass. At a certain point of evening, the goddess of echo and memory would surely have cut them off, but they had hidden them, that they were unknown to her. As a spirit’s goblet came from magic, it did not overflow even with three goblets poured within it. The color darkened, but the god should not detect it… especially if distracted, wandering about in search of his husband as the minutes drew on.
“Thank you,” the god of trickery and innovation murmured to his companions, who grinned at him with sharpened teeth.
“It is funny,” said the goddess of rain and prosperity. “It will knock him down a peg.”
“Carry the torch that I once did,” said the god of war and sky, and went off to join the search for his friend the traveling god, and further distract the god of love with his loud inquiries.
With careful planning, careful words, the spirits of the pantheon at last split ways to go to sleep. The god of war and sky captivated the god of travel and arts with questions of carts and many lovely sights, which delighted him, and they went off together. The god of trickery and innovation courted the god of hearts and husbandry into some corner, and they talked of deep and thoughtful things.
“Martyn,” said he, “you told me once, on a night at the palace just like this a few short years ago, that were you to rob me of my power even for an hour, you would be a happy man.”
“I might recall,” slurred the drowsy god. He lifted his goblet, nodding upward in an approving way. “I believe I told you that with the power of innovation, I would make love to my husband in ways even you could never dream about.”
“I believe you did.” He spoke encouragingly, in pleased tones, and saw the other spirit’s mouth form a smile. “I have given it some thought, and I have come to make a bargain with you. An hour of my power exchanged for an hour of yours.”
“That would be agreeable,” said the other. He held his thumb and forefinger then, squinting at the fox god with one eye closed. “And now, I squish your head… It is very easy, for you are a small and squishy thing.”
All this time, the trickster god watched the way his companion sipped his drink, for it was strong… but its strength had been well hid. He did not seem to notice. He waved his hand about, speaking loudly as they continued this discussion, while the trickster god encouraged it. No other caught this either, how drunk that spirit was.
At long last, the god of hearts and husbandry grew weary. His head sagged forward. His goblet slipped through his fingers and bounced across the floor, spilling dark drink across the carpet that would surely be a struggle to wash out. He sprawled over many cushions in his drunkenness. In the light of low-flickering candles, the god of trickery and innovation watched this as a shadow watches murder. Then he reached down into his boot and drew the knife he had brought for explicitly this purpose.
Now the god of hearts and husbandry had offered up an hour of his power. But see… because he had not thought clearly, he did not set this bargain’s limits. He left all chance to do so in the hands of that trickster god. One hour, he said. And as the trickster god pressed fingers to the other’s head, he said beneath his breath, One hour every day.
The power of that other god came upon him like a shawl. In this, the god of trickery and innovation knew of bodies, and their parts. He knelt at the drunken spirit’s side, the knife in hand. With gentle fingers, he lifted loosened robes. He shifted the god about, unclothing his legs easily. He paused a moment to study that hidden part of him, which was unknown to other gods. A simple touch with dragging finger revealed what he had long suspected. Here, in this place, the god of hearts and husbandry was molded out of clay. Eternally soft clay, which could be reshaped in many ways. Such thing could fit the bodies of silken women, or silken men, or the beasts, fish, and birds that roamed these lands. It was his sacred duty to ever be prepared.
“Forgive me, dear friend,” the spirit whispered. He leveled his knife at the very base of that strange part of him. He pressed it with his thumb, then moved deftly with his hand. And with his cut, he stole that thing he desired for an hour. Soft clay fell into his palm. The trickster spirit did not loiter in that room. He went and hid, and shaped that stolen clay into that shuttle which a silken woman might take within.
But Cleo is no common mortal, thought the man. And just before his hour of stolen power ended, he made adjustment to the clay. He fixed the shape, that it would fit within a crooked place and take the weft thread with it. Such adjustment would not be wise if he were true god of hearts and husbandry, whose mastery extended over all the mortals in the Basin Kingdoms. But for a man intent to lie with only one woman in the land… it would be enough. In his waning power, clay hardened into weaving parts. He felt his thumb along the edge.
Tomorrow. After sunset. Then the power of that other god would return to him. Tomorrow night, the god of hearts and husbandry would discover his trick and howl in rage.
I have much to teach myself of intertwining mortals, thought that trickster god. He stole three books from the library of that god his host, then disappeared into the night as though he’d never been.