Boom… boom… boom….

Tenthé had to admit, Elishua certainly was persistent. She must have enhanced her pounding in some way, since he could faintly hear it even here in the dining room where he was having breakfast.

As he chewed, Tenthé mulled over his plans for the day. None of which involved attending class. After yesterday’s events, he had things to do.

He finished up, acknowledged the existence of his dorm-mates, and headed out. No-one bothered him as he walked out the front gate and off into the City. There was an advantage to being in an institution where attendance was optional, the idea being that it was up to the student to learn the material.

No regret concerning the gems of wisdom he was missing intruded upon Tenthé’s thoughts as he made his way toward a part of the City he’d never been in before. A couple of guards looked him over as he went through one of the City’s internal gates, but did nothing. It was significantly easier to get into the more affluent neighborhoods when you were dressed as a student.

Tenthé kept trundling along until he reached the stone wall surrounding the house they’d been in yesterday. Standing by the gate, he found the wards conspicuous by their absence. Peering inside, he saw that not much remained. When the portal exploded, the cavern below had collapsed, destroying the house and leaving behind a large depression containing a pile of rubble.

Tenthé entered, walked through the garden, and stood looking into the pit where the house used to be. After a moment, he took off his cloak, then jumped down and made his way over the rough ground to the spot where he thought the dining room would have been. He sniffed a few times, then moved back and forth, still sniffing. Continuing on in this manner for a few minutes, he finally found what he was searching for and began digging. Anyone observing would have seen a very odd sight: a very small person throwing a veritable river of rocks and debris from one part of the pit to another.

In less than an hour, he had moved enough to reach what remained of the double doors to the underground chamber.

He stopped and stood up. Although covered in dust and a little sweat, there was no sign he was tiring. He sniffed again, but then a commotion coming from outside the property caught his attention. Curiosity getting the better of him, Tenthé climbed out of the hole he’d made, then up to the garden level. He walked to the wall and leaped up just high enough so he could grab the top and look over.

A small crowd of people were looking in one direction, also attempting to find the source of various yells and screams.

As the noise grew, a donkey trotted into view, moving down the center of the street with something on its back. Suddenly, a projectile shot out from it, splatting into a nicely dressed lady. Soon afterward, her shouts of indignation were matched by those of her companions. Another object fired out, separating an elderly gentleman from his expensive hat.

By now, Tenthé could make out what was going on. A very filthy Bear was perched on the animal, holding a pail of rotten fruit and vegetables. Every so often he would hurl produce at the well-to-do; usually hitting them in the head or torso. When this happened, Bear would shriek something incomprehensible, while the donkey stoically ignored everything and trotted on.

When a spell was fired back at them, an amulet around the donkey’s neck flashed and the attack would go awry. Most likely, Bear had “found” this object in some Magister’s house. A recurring theme in his occasional jaunts.

What impressed Tenthé the most was the force Bear put into his throws, a feat the toy wouldn’t have been able to match with his previous stubby appendages. Maybe an ability they could use in the future?

After the donkey went past, several City’s finest followed, quite a distance behind. Sweating and swearing profusely, the guards staggered along, focused on apprehending their quarry, their pride long gone.

Once the parade disappeared out of view, Tenthé jumped down and returned to work. For a moment he resumed digging, but stopped almost immediately. He then restarted, picking at the earth carefully.

Moving one last rock exposed a black tentacle. Tenthé put his hand on it, then leapt away as the tentacle shot up and flailed around.

“I know you can see me. You might as well stop,” Tenthé yelled as he deftly avoided being struck. Nothing changed; the tentacle kept whipping back and forth.

Tenthé reached over, picked up a large rock, looked meaningfully at the tentacle, then squeezed. The rock disintegrated.

At this, the tentacle froze, then lay on the ground. Tenthé returned to removing rubble and, after a short while, Mach-Anot was revealed. Tenthé watched as the old god cautiously rose from the cavity where it’d had been trapped.

“I suppose this means you still have a few followers,” Tenthé conjectured.

“Yes,” rumbled the god. “If I were as stupid as they thought, I would have been done for.”

“Yeah, but wherever they are, you can’t have many left.”

“Regrettably true. Sorry about the attack.”

“No problem. Do you want a job?”

“Oh, and what would that entail?”

“Like always, things are complicated. I was wondering if it might be a good idea to have the God of Small Things poking around, trying to find out what’s really going on.”

“Are you sure? I expected you were here to get rid of me once and for all… uh, just because.”

“It’s still possible.”

“Plus, I hate to bring it up, but at the moment I’m not too smart.”

“Yeah. I bet they never did give you many worshipers.”

“How did you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Damn! You see? I should have been able to figure that out!”

“I might have a way for you to get better. Sort of.”

Mach-Anot tried to keep his excitement hidden, but wasn’t doing a very good job as it was writhing energetically.

“Why would you do that?” it asked, cautiously.

“Told you, I want your help. But, I agree, you need to be smarter. If this works out, all of us may be better off.”

“Just to be upfront… you know, when I was strong? I… I was not very nice. Not as bad as some, but not nice. Nope, not at all. Everyone had their dirty little secrets, and I knew all of them. If they didn’t, I would make something up. Who would call a god a liar?”

“Do you really want me to hunt you down?”

“No! I’m stupid. Not dumb.”

“Well, let’s see if my idea works. If not, you won’t feel the end.”

“Um, thanks?”

Mach-Anot followed as Tenthé climbed out of the crater. Tenthé picked up his cloak and cast a do-not-notice on the two of them. They left the property, and once on the street, headed toward the Mission District.

The god peered around. “The City is so clean! Where are the pillories and gallows? How do they keep the people in line? Where do they slaughter the pigs? I love slaughtering pigs.”

It blathered on, not needing anyone else to respond. After a while, though, Tenthé broke into the one-sided dialogue. “I need you to answer a few questions.”

“Um, what?”

“How did the Horde warriors get in? Did you have something to do with that?”

“Oh! Is that all? Yeah, that was me. A researcher from the College asked if I knew any secret ways through the City walls. She said if I showed her, then she’d find me some worshipers. You understand how it is. I couldn’t say no.”

“How did it work? The Magisters guarding the City aren’t entirely stupid.”

“You know that the City walls block the planes? At least the ones that make sense? Well… there’s a place on a plane I know, where someone with the right magic can get through.”

“Oh. So, you brought in the Word?”

“That was the deal. It was all that I could manage. He had enough power to fetch a few more, then they started on the portals to bring in the rest. I have to admit, though, the girl kept her promise and got me the worshipers.”

“Can you tell me her name?”

“Nah, they all look alike to me. Now, if she was a worshiper, that’d be different.”

“Huh?”

“Oh? Something you don’t know? I guess it’s no secret, but if a god makes the effort to know who you are and you’re not a worshipper, then watch out! By the way, some of us have done that; gone through a lot of effort to get to know about you.”

Tenthé mulled that over. Interesting. He’d fought many gods, but hadn’t really thought much about things from their point of view. It made the recent events even more mysterious.

“How are the Houses involved?”

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“Don’t know. I’ve been stuck in that stupid temple for too long. I was working on figuring it out when the roof fell in.”

“Ha, yeah! I have another question.”

“What?”

“How did you, the God of Details, fall? I mean, you should have seen what was going on.”

“Well. It turns out you shouldn’t be looking at the little things when someone fires a massive ball of flame at you. Literally. I was so wound up in my plots and schemes that I missed when a Magister got mad at me and lost it. He walked up to my temple and fired a huge fireball at me. No planning, no plotting, just BOOM!

“By the time I regenerated, everything was gone, except for a very few followers. I hid, and when the last one died, I ended up at the temple of the old gods.”

Mach-Anot waited for another question, but that was all for now. It went back to its rambling monologue. Maybe since it was the God of Small Things, this was how it worked; always observing and comparing what it saw to what it knew. The whole thing was kind of annoying, though.

As they passed through the city, it was apparent that the broadsheet sellers were out in force; the story of what happened yesterday was big news.

Not the real story, but a lot of stories. Some of which were quite fanciful.

One boy was yelling that House Gledhill had fought off the entire Horde by itself, another said that the City was about to fall, but most were hinting that a House war was either going to start, was underway, or was over.

Tenthé asked Mach-Anot what it thought about everything.

The god paused for a moment, then speculated, “Not much. I didn’t see what happened after I was buried, but it’s not like the City has a High Court or anything. Everyone involved will get some type of punishment, but nothing significant. Face it, they were just trying to do something the others would have done if they’d thought of it first. That’s the kind of thing the Dreamer’s supposed to take care of.”

By now they were in the Mission District and the streets were getting busy; more people on the street with less reason to be there. After a few blocks, Tenthé grabbed a tentacle and pulled Mach-Anot into an alley.

Spinning around like it was lost, the god asked, “Where did all this come from? I didn’t even see it, and it’s my job to notice these sorts of things.”

Although it was difficult to tell where the god was looking, Tenthé felt its attention.

After a moment, it spoke. “In spite of everything, I may have underestimated what you are. I suspect that happens a lot.”

Tenthé had nothing to say; he kept walking. This wasn’t a typical alley. The sky’s color was a bit off, the piles of garbage moved on their own, and the very few people they passed didn’t seem to be put together exactly the way they ought to be.

After some time, he stopped in front of a locked gate. There were muted sounds, much like kids playing: a great deal of yelling and laughter; but oddly faint, as if whoever was making the noise was blocks away and not just on the other side of a wall.

As Tenthé opened the door, that all changed. Sound exploded out, almost enough to blow them across the alley. Inside was utter chaos. After entering, Tenthé shut the door and turned to observe.

The Lady’s kids were playing, if you could call it that. They had found some girders encased in concrete, maybe from an old bridge. Kids swarmed the pile and were ripping pieces off, using whatever they could; hands, teeth, siblings, anything and everything that could be used to hit, pry, or stab. The noise was unbelievable.

There wasn’t any point in wondering where they’d found the scrap. What was done, was done. Tenthé caught a piece of girder that had “accidentally” been thrown at him and tossed it back at twice the speed, blasting a few of the kids off the bridge. The rest laughed. More things started flying as a debris fight broke out. Just like a snowball fight, but with chunks of concrete.

Mach-Anot took it well. His seemingly pointless swaying allowed him to dodge the odd projectiles that came in its direction. The two of them made their way through the battlefield to another door, which opened into a large kitchen. The Lady had her back to them, busy preparing something, her arms buried up to the shoulders in an incredible amount of dough.

“Come ter mooch some food, did yer?” she grunted while kneading. Tenthé always assumed the sweat that poured off her made the bread ever so much better.

Glancing over her shoulder, she added, “And, who’s yer friend?”

Mach-Anot pushed past Tenthé. “Madame. I’m very impressed to make your acquaintance. It’s not often that someone such as I have the opportunity to meet a woman of your stature.”

She pulled her hands out of the dough and turned to look. Tenthé had never realized how large the Lady was, but the top of her head was nearly even with Mach-Anot’s.

“What’re you?” she asked. “One of them piddling gods the humans’re always on about?”

To Tenthé’s surprise, Mach-Anot started trilling like a bird. The Lady seemed somewhat taken aback, but after a moment, began trilling too. Maybe they were talking, if there was some way to do it when everybody spoke at the same time.

After a bit of this, the Lady turned to Tenthé.

“An interesting thing you’ve brought me, boy. What’s yer play?”

“Uh, I just figured that it needs people to believe in, uh, itself? Whatever, and you need help keeping away from other people, so I thought you guys could work together. And, Mach-Anot might see what we can’t, and, I don’t know, it seemed right.”

The Lady laughed, “Yer thinkin’s astounding, boy! How in all the hells did yer manage to make it fer this long?”

Tenthé didn’t know what to say, so unlike most, he remained silent.

The Lady sighed and turned to Mach-Anot.

“Yer talks really good. Like home, but don’t get ahead o’ yerself. Ah hated home! What’s yer story? And what the Mother’s bells are yer?”

“As you said, Madame, I’m one of them piddling gods. But, I’ve been around a long time, although I certainly am not what I once was.”

“Yar. Them first couple thousand years are fun, what? But after that, things start to drag a bit, eh?”

“Really?” Mach-Anot responded with surprise. “I would never be so crass as to ask, but if you have that much… mmm… experience, maybe you can understand. The way it works for us gods is that someone has to believe in us with their whole being. In my case, it started with a clerk who held that details were of ultimate importance. He believed it so thoroughly that I was realized. Turns out enough people thought the same, so I grew stronger.

“The clerk became my priest, and he recruited others until we had enough to found a temple. I have to admit, though, that the first few centuries were difficult. The type I attract tend to be murdered by their own families and co-workers.

“My temple was never huge, but it was sufficient. For most gods, the more followers, the stronger we get. I was growing… well, because. You might be surprised, but being the God of Small Things can be very powerful. Contracts, lies, mistakes: a whole host of oft overlooked details.

“Eventually, though, I became so successful that other gods became jealous. They targeted my temple; but even with that pressure, I was sure I could thwart them. I freely admit, in my arrogance, I made a stupid mistake that resulted in most of my believers dying.

“To make it worse, by then, the new gods were becoming popular. You know, the gods of success, beauty, happiness, wealth… big broad ideals. Not focused like it should be! I mean, there used to be gods for shoes, sharp knives, and manners! Things that made sense! Where did everything go wrong? I just don’t know!”

There was a massive crash from outside. Everyone ignored it.

The Lady put a hand on Mach-Anot’s… shoulder? In the general area, anyway.

“So, tell me true. What’r yer really lookin’ for?”

“Lady, I need followers who truly understand what I am all about. The ones I have now aren’t good. They believe, but like they’ve been enspelled. It’s barely enough.”

“I can see where a God o’ Details could be useful, but I ain’t human. How would that work?” the Lady asked.

“Your kind, faery I mean, haven’t any gods, so I don’t know… OH MY!”

Something was happening. Tenthé watched as a connection was formed between Mach-Anot and the Lady. An interesting stream of spells and power flowed back and forth for a while, then the god seemed to… gel. Become more. It shook himself and stood taller. The Lady had a twinkle in her eye.

“I might o’ been havin’ yer on a bit. Ah been around. Still got a few secrets.”

Mach-Anot spoke, somehow sounding much more real. “My Lady! I had no idea! I am ashamed! It’s my business to know this sort of thing!”

The god focused on Tenthé. “Did you know about this?”

“Uh… know what?”

“She just made me part of her… her… pantheon! That’s not right. Uh… her clan, or family, or something. I didn’t know it was possible. It’s… amazing! I don’t need followers anymore!”

Mach-Anot started dancing. “Hahaha! I’m free! Free! Plus, I’m… more like the old me! Now, I can see so much... so very much!”

The god lurched to a halt and managed a fair impression of a bow toward the Lady.

“My Queen! I am so deeply in your debt.”

“Yep… yer are.” She frowned at Tenthé. “You! I hate meddlers! But, in this case, I think yer might’a done somethin’ good. Odd… but good. Yer may have taken a bit o’ weight off’n my shoulders.”

She paused, then changed the subject. “I know yer has a lot on yer mind,” she told Tenthé. “Like I promised, ah’m keeping my eyes out, and I’ve a fair guess that somethin’s comin’. Not that little piddly fight, but lots bigger. Ah’ll try to get word t’yer, but ya ought’r check in on me once in a while. As ah’m plannin’ ter lay even lower, yer gonna have a bit o’ trouble find’n me, next time.

“So. Would the two o’ yer like ta stay fer supper? That is, assumin’ that yer kind eats.” The last part was directed at Mach-Anot.

Tenthé shrugged. The Lady knew he liked her cooking.

The god replied, “I would be willing to partake of your repast, as delectable as I’m sure it will be.”

Tenthé figured Mach-Anot was just being nice, but the Lady gave him a weird look. Didn’t matter. They were getting along.

The old god talked to the Lady as she prepared the meal. While this was going on, Tenthé tried to get his chair to move around the floor by swinging his legs, until both of them yelled at him to quit. He then attempted to contact Bear, but the toy still wasn’t answering.

After a while, the Lady told him to call in the children. Tenthé went to the door, started to open it, and jumped out of the way as a different sort of horde piled into the kitchen.

Everything disintegrated into bedlam until Mach-Anot held a number of the kids suspended in the air, using its endless supply of tentacles. When they wouldn’t calm down, it shook them until they rattled, then deposited the various kids onto chairs at the table.

This was the quickest Tenthé had ever seen the Lady’s kids get ready for supper. She proceeded to serve an excellent meal; fairly basic, but until he’d attended the College, her meals had been the best he’d known.

There was no dawdling; the kids inhaled their supper. In this company, Tenthé was one of the slower eaters since he took the time to chew. Mach-Anot and the Lady ate at a leisurely pace, discussing recent events. The god used a tentacle to transfer food into his body somewhere, while other tentacles were busy intercepting the occasional projectile. When the kids were done, they abandoned the table and raced about the house, supposedly getting ready for bed. As Tenthé finished up the last of his meal, he listened in.

“… yes, I am ashamed about what I did, but I would have done anything to get out of the temple of the lost gods. Given the same circumstances… well, I’d do it again. And, it’s a fortunate thing, since it resulted with the two of us here. Together.”

At that, the Lady actually giggled! Tenthé didn’t know if she was allowed to do that.

Mach-Anot continued, “I gather that you’re here to avoid the attention of your various relatives and, I have to admit, you’ve done an admirable job! Keeping so many kids alive to reach even a few decades of age is quite an accomplishment. I’m deeply in your debt. I’d do anything to assist you.”

The Lady twisted a lock of hair in her hands as she smiled at the god. That was rare. Tenthé couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her really smile.

Giggling and smiling! Maybe he’d done a good thing.

Deciding there was nothing else he needed to do here, he broke into their conversation. “It’s time I got back. If I don’t meet with the Magisters tomorrow, they’ll forget me, and even so, it might be iffy for a few of them. Can Mach-Anot stay here? I haven’t got anywhere else to take him.”

The Lady answered, “Oh… I suppose. We’ll see how it works out. He seems to get along with the children.”

“He?”

“Yes, it’s a he now.”

“Um… okaaay. I’ll be going now. Uh, bye.” Tenthé was not very good at farewells, but figured he’d done enough, and left.

As he was shutting the door, he overheard, “Your tentacles. Very nice. Why don’t we…”

Content, he returned to the College; somewhat distracted as he replayed the complex spell the Lady had performed, trying to see what he could learn from it. The few lurkers who misinterpreted this lack of attention as weakness were shown the error of their ways in a very final manner.

Once he reached the common area of his dorm, he sat in one of the chairs, thinking over the last few days. He concluded he’d done what he could, and things ended up working out okay. At least for now.

Just as he was getting up to go to bed, Tomas walked in and beckoned Tenthé to accompany him, then turned and left.

With less than total enthusiasm, Tenthé followed.