Working God's Mischief by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page B

load.”
    Februaren had sieved the material processed in the hammer mill. The finer stuff went into the tube for delivery into the void. Big chunks would take another pass through the hammer mill. “If we mixed this with water it would go through faster.”
    â€œOr oil,” the Bastard suggested.
    â€œOil would create a viscous slurry.” A vigorous debate commenced.
    Hecht wrestled his temper. These men, participating in the industrialized destruction of the Instrumentalities of the Night, were bickering over the easiest way to make an end of the last relicts of entities who might have existed for millennia.
    Did longevity qualify them for special empathy? Their long lives had provided them untold opportunities to rain down misery on mortals.
    â€œPiper, do you know where you want to point that thing?” Cloven Februaren asked.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYour loudmouth toy. You leaning on it has got the business end pointing at the floor.”
    â€œI was going to skip the shot off the deck.”
    â€œA creative approach. But it might do more damage to the good guys.”
    â€œUpon reflection, I agree. How much longer?”
    â€œDepends on your sister. She wants to wrap everything this one trip. I could use a few hours down in the tavern, though. And a good long nap.”
    â€œMust be a trying life, being a bitter old man.”
    â€œDamned straight it is.”
    Heris was right there to hear herself discussed, and to see the ascendant and Bastard nod. She ignored them all.
    The hammer mill made the place shake.
    *   *   *
    Pella dashed in, pushing his way past indignant divinities. “Dad … The bridge…”
    â€œGet some air inside. Then tell it like it’s old news.”
    The boy drew several breaths. “The bridge. That goddess with the apples. She’s stealing the magic from the rainbow.”
    â€œAsgrimmur?”
    â€œDamn! The bridge is the only magic left. But who would think that any of these dimwits could unravel Aelen Kofer work?”
    Hecht said, “We could drag one of these boomers down the hall, tilt it out a window, and take a shot.”
    â€œNot necessary. Let me talk to Eavijne. Heris?”
    â€œGo. I’ll stay and figure out how to fly down.”
    Hecht’s companions were more cautious once Asgrimmur left. No one turned a back on the divinities. But the Instrumentalities had their own problem. The eldest female gestured. The youngest took off after Asgrimmur. Hecht intuited that she had orders to support the ascendant.
    No point escaping prison if you just ended up in a bigger cell.
    The senior goddess said something.
    The Bastard said, “That’s classical Andorayan. The Old Gods still had a rural following when I was young. I might be able to talk to her.”
    Heris said, “Chances are, she’s following everything we’re saying. She wanted to talk to you without the god killers understanding.”
    Hecht said, “A leopard is a leopard and a lion is a lion, Renfrow.”
    â€œFolksy, but what does it mean?”
    Heris knew from her middle-eastern days. “That you’re deluding yourself if you think a lion or a leopard can be turned into anything but a lion or a leopard. A major Instrumentality, even with his balls in a vise, will go right on thinking like a god.”
    â€œUnderstood. And understood.” Renfrow faced the goddess. Who seethed, clearly.
    Hecht expected nothing more. He thought Heris was trying to domesticate leopards.
    Heris picked up the two soul eggs still nearly too warm to touch. “They aren’t gone permanently.” The hammer mill cycled. “But we won’t try to restore them while any of us feel uncomfortable about any of you.”
    Ferris Renfrow asked, “We’re taking hostages?”
    The goddess responded, “Save the bluster. I’m not Red Hammer. An offense to my dignity won’t shatter my reason. I