“A Calamity?” Pellonine yelled.
I wished she wouldn’t. Some of us were trying to sleep here. Honestly, people had no consideration for the enhanced hearing I hadn’t told anyone about.
I grumbled and rolled over. No rest for the wicked.
Dal Salim didn’t notice me leaving the room because I was invisible. I left him asleep in his bunk. For the second time, I crept through the corridors of the Fool’s Errand without anyone being the wiser. I was still in my pajamas, an oversized t-shirt and a pair of exercise shorts.
I’d had a chance to think and plan. I wanted to humanize myself in their eyes. Erid’s feelings toward me were evidently complicated, but the portion in my favor was driven by her tendency to see me as a mentee. I suspected I reminded her of her younger self. The more I kept her conflicted, the more leeway I had to frame the campaign the way I wanted.
Erid had primed Pellonine against me, which I’d played into by fighting with her the moment we’d met. She had the feeling of some officers I’d known, with a heavy focus on regulations and a proportional dislike of me in particular for some reason. She’d gone after me because I didn’t fit into her picture, but she didn’t have all the information. Now she did, and there would be a window where she reconsidered her opinion of me. If I acted now, I had a shot at putting my finger on the scales.
I paused outside Erid’s door, letting Eifni cybernetics scout the battlefield for me.
“—need to know,” Pellonine was saying, keeping her voice low. “It is entirely irresponsible of you to keep this from them.”
“Ain’t my decision,” Erid replied. “Blame Grandmother. She wants this buttoned up for now.”
“How do you know?” Pellonine insisted.
That was my cue. I opened the door and walked on through.
Pellonine jumped; Erid went for her sword. I closed the door, rubbing my eyes.
“Fuck’s sake, Erid put the sword down, I’m unarmed,” I grumbled. My voice was rough from sleep. I turned to Pellonine. “She decapitated my boss last time we were in here. It got all over me.”
“Godsmile, Danou,” Pellonine said carefully.
“The hell are you doing in my cabin?” Erid asked.
“You guys were being too loud,” I said. “Couldn’t sleep. You really had to have this meeting in the middle of the fucking night?”
“Too loud?” Pellonine asked.
“Calamity,” I shot back. “Anyway, to answer your question, Kives wants the whole ‘Calamity’ thing kept secret for inscrutable reasons that support our mission objectives. This is Varas’s campaign; Kives is just facilitating it. And we’re facilitating her facilitation. It’s gotta stay a Varas thing, not a Calamity thing. Your superiors don’t need to know for now.”
Pellonine bristled at that. “This information is too important to hide.”
“No,” I said. “It’s too important to share.”
Erid stared at me. “You know something.”
“I’m just a minion,” I said. “You want the person who knows something, you should have kept my commander’s head.”
Erid tilted her head in confusion. “Why?”
Whoops, I’d forgotten they thought information was stored in the heart. “Uh, forget it. It was a joke from my homeland.”
“Which is where?” Pellonine said. “I’ve never seen clothing like that.”
I leaned against the wall. “Uh, how far west have you guys mapped?”
“You’re not Phrecian,” Pellonine said. “Surely you’re not from the barbarian lands.”
Did that mean Spain? Whatever, they were never going to sail that far in their lifetimes, so I didn’t need to be specific.
“I’m not,” I said. “If you keep sailing west after the barbarian lands, there’s a giant ocean. We’re on the other side of it.”
“So the Calamity is a foreign invasion,” Erid said.
“No no no,” I said. “My country doesn’t invade you unless you burn down one of our landmarks. You’re safe from them.” Also, America was several realities away and thousands of years in the future, but explaining that was a bad idea for several reasons. “I’m just here with the Calamity team to finish the job Kives hired us for. I’m on your side, really.”
“The Trade Fleet is more than capable of dealing with a handful of pirates,” Pellonine said, not as confidently as she could have. “We don’t need… divine mercenaries.”
“Sure,” I said, shrugging. “I’m not here for the pirates.”
“That’s the baldest lie I’ve ever heard from you,” Erid said.
“Okay, okay,” I said raising my hands and laughing. “Officially, I’m not here for the pirates. I’m here to make sure the overall situation goes the way it’s supposed to. I don’t know Estheni military history that well, but have you heard of a place called Vietnam?”
Of course they hadn’t.
“I suppose the Vietnamoi burned down one of your landmarks,” Pellonine said. “Does that happen often?”
“More than you’d think,” I said. “Anyway, I’m not a military historian, but the version I heard is that we went in there and it was just this big jungle. We had way better soldiers and weapons than them, but they didn’t fight us on the battlefield. It was all raids and ambushes. When they weren’t fighting, the enemy soldiers just blended in with the civilians in their villages, so we didn’t know who to fight. We couldn’t deal with it. Eventually we had to just declare victory and go home.”
“What was that word?” Pellonine asked.
Shit, where did I slip? “What word?”
“The enemy soldiers blended in with…”
I boggled. They didn’t have a word for civilians?
“Noncombatants,” I said. “People who aren’t soldiers.”
Pellonine looked confused. How do you explain to someone from before the invention of war crimes that war crimes are bad?
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“For context,” I tried, “we try not to feed Alcebios more than necessary.”
That seemed to satisfy her. I felt anger stirring in my chest, but kept it off my face.
“Strange,” Erid said. “I thought the Calamity was all for Alcebios’s benefit.”
I stole a glance at Pellonine. She’d mellowed out a little, and she was actually listening and engaging. My answer here would inform how she carried out her duties in the future.
“Alcebios thrives on conflict,” I said. “She’s going to try to escalate everything as much as she can. That’s exactly the reason we need to minimize it if we can. I know you guys can do your job. I’m just here to advise on the theological consequences. Is that alright with both of you?”
“I suppose it will have to be,” Pellonine murmured.
“Gotta say, Idiot,” Erid said. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that you’re not on Alcebios’s side.”
“Fuck no,” I said. “I met her once and she tried to eat me. That bitch is going down.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Erid said. Pellonine just shook her head.
“Fantastic,” I said. “Anyway, to get back to my point, you’ve got the upper hand. You can crush these pirates. But if it’s not handled right, this could turn into a Vietnam for you. Kives doesn’t want that. This needs to be a clean victory for Varas. I can help you make it happen. I hope we’re all on the same page about that.”
“Then I look forward to working with you,” Pellonine said with a polite smile.
“Feeling’s mutual,” I said. “In that case, I’m going back to bed. If you wanna keep gossiping about me, keep it down. Otherwise, is it okay if we do these meetings in daylight?”
“Fine,” said Erid. “And stop barging in here in the middle of the night.”
“No promises,” I said, and slipped out the door.
*
The morning found us all out on the deck. Erid had the till, which was a counterweighted lever rather the giant spinny wheel I would have expected. Pellonine stood next to her, while I lounged against the railing on her other side. Dal Salim sat on the deck, whittling a segment of a plank with a knife. The man had been a slave until two days ago and hadn't left my side since then; I had no idea when he'd acquired either of those.
I glanced behind us. Four sephni of the Trade Fleet followed us in loose formation, en route to the first of Horcutio's sacred islands.
The Estheni didn't have cannons. Those ships were full of troops and equipped with boarding ramps. Any pirates we encountered, we'd be fighting hand to hand. And when we reached the island, those ships would disgorge their soldiers and march against the—hopefully disorganized—resistance. Varas's will be done and all that. Blegh.
"You all ever think about how weird it is that we're sailing to attack Horcutio's island?" I asked. Dal Salim glanced at me with a look of interest. "Like, ocean god. And we're on ships."
"The waves are Horcutio's," Pellonine said. "But he has given Varas passage through his waters. It was the price of his freedom at the Godmoot."
She must have noticed the blank look on my face, because she started to explain. "Before the goddesses raised the first women from the soil, they were in constant strife. Alcebios was Queen, in fact if not in title, and forced Androdaima to forge terrible weapons with which to inflict her cruelties on all that lived. She hunted the godessess as if for sport, even raising a hand against her great Mother, who gave life to all.
"But she became dissatisfied, for as she scattered the goddesses, they hid from her wrath, denying her sport. With no one to slake her bloodthirst, she turned her cruelties on herself, subjecting herself to greater and greater tortures. Eventually she came to Androdaima and demanded a weapon greater than any that has ever been built: one that could sunder a goddess. This, too, she turned on herself, cleaving herself in two.
"The greater of her halves subdued the other, bound him, and subjected him to one hundred years of torture. When she had subjected him to every agony she could conceive of, she cut him loose. She named him Horcutio, and sent him to inflict those agonies on all the world.
"But Horcutio, being a man, lacked Alcebios's cunning and patience. His violence was without artistry, and he slew many gods in the pursuit of his task. The Greatmother abides all, but this she could not countenance. Foreseeing the desolation of Horcutio, she planted within herself the seed of a just queen and able warrior, and bore her for one hundred years. And thus was Varas born, to lead the godessess in a war that would topple the Adversary from her throne of strife.
"The Greatmother's champion was victorious. Alcebios was bound and Horcutio diminished. But Varas's wisdom was deep and her judgment discerning, so she gathered all of the goddesses to the Godmoot, for an enemy—thought conquered—is not a subject. It is the nature of goddesses to overflow with blessings, even if those blessings are terrible to our eyes.
"So, in order that all of the goddesses might have dominion yet remain in harmony, Varas implored the Greatmother to bring women forth from the soil for the goddesses to rule. So Kives sowed their menses into the soil and raised the first of the graced from the earth. Alcebios was given leave to inflict her cruelties upon them, but Kives prophesied that if she ever raised her hand against her fellow goddesses, she would die.
"For Horcutio, the harbinger of desolation, a different decision was reached. For he was a man, undisciplined and chained to his emotions, and Varas knew he could not control himself forever. Thus, he was exiled to the seas, to have his dominion there. There he would be free, on the condition that he never raise his hand against Varas or those in her dominion."
I waited until it was clear that Pellonine had actually stopped.
"Uh, cool story," I said with an awkward smile.
"We tell it differently, on the sea," Dal Salim spoke up.
"This should be good," Erid muttered.
Dal Salim paused, but didn't look offended. It looked more like he was gathering his thoughts.
"Always things are in twos," he said eventually. "Man and woman. Slave and free. Expected and unexpected. Kives sets the sail; Horcutio stirs the wind. It has always been so. And in the before, there was balance. Kives creates and Horcutio destroys. She weaves; he rends. The lord of the sea does not rend thoughtlessly; only where there are plans and fortresses. But the children of Kives grow thoughtlessly, claiming more and more of the world for her. The balance shifts until all belongs to her.
"The Tempest could not bear a world where all was controlled. It is not his nature. So he lay waste to their cities and towns and fortresses, toppling thrones and ending the many lines of Kives. She grieved them, as a mother should, but did not relent to her husband. And so she made plans, as she always does.
"She would not face his spear. The war was deep; blood ran like rivers. She sent her Whisperer instead, pouring words into his ear like sweet poison, begging to end his wrath. He relented for love of his wife. Three nights they lay together; three times she drew his seed. On the first night, she drew the might of his arm. On the second, the courage of his heart. On the third, the rage in his spleen. These she bound into a child above all others, Varas, and set her to war against her father.
"When Horcutio found himself betrayed, he went to war. But he could not lift his spear, for his arm was weakened, so he took up his sword instead. He could not assault the enemy, for his courage had fled him, so he brought Varas to the negotiation table. And when at last he laid eyes on his daughter, he lost the will to fight, for his rage now burned in her. He chose exile instead, dominion over the sea and freedom from control. Now the gods do not tread the seas—except Varas, to whom he will not raise his hand."
Erid scoffed. "We don't call Horcutio Grandfather."
"Many things are not named as they should."
"The stories can't both be true," I said, speaking from years of experience hunting for plot holes in movie subreddits and also Sunday school. "If Horcutio came from Alcebios, he couldn't have been married before the god war started."
"The simple will believe anything," Pellonine said, staring disdainfully at Dal Salim.
Circumstances prevented me laughing out loud at the absurdity of that, so I pinged a laugh to Val instead.
"We tell the story differently on Veles," Val replied, tone ironic. "In the beginning, Horcutio and Alcebios evolved into resonant frequencies, which overlap when relativistically analyzed through a Varasite value matrix. But it came to pass that Varas had evolved with a much more useful set of frequencies, such that it deterministically implied a stable equilibrium where she maintains local hegemony. So over millennia she pushed Horcutio to the margins. He now finds himself surviving precariously out of a few havens, lacking the ability to challenge her while she comes for the kill. And once he dies, the stories told about him will change again."
"You left Kives out," I subvocalized.
"I did," Val said. "Extrapolating from growth rates, most of this was decided before she became a pantheon-level deity."
"So much for the Greatmother. More like the Partialmother."
"Remember this, Lilith," Val said. "Look at all the value judgments and moral assumptions contained in those stories. Whenever you feel tempted to indulge their perspectives, remember that their beliefs are only as valuable as the information they possess. And what they possess is simple confabulation, allegedly drawing moral authority from the fictive representation of grand mechanisms whose true nature has nothing to do with the claims they make. They're useful, not true. You know better, and that gives you the power to use them."
I glanced back at the Trade Fleet ships, sailing to conquer the first island. Some of it was financially motivated, but under Varas that was its own kind of devotion. They surged across the waves, propelled by wind and faith, to conquer in Varas's name.
Just how we wanted them to.