The boy’s illusions shattered and released a wave of power back to Fingit, who received a thousand times more than he’d given the boy. One-thousand-to-one was the accepted rate of exchange between gods and humans. At least, it was accepted by the gods. No one cared what humans understood or accepted.
The boy pulled away and stared at the Murderer. “You’re crazy! Why did you agree to that?”
Fingit chortled as he drifted away from this conversation and from the world of man. “I made a deal! I got a trade from the little one, the Nub!”
Sakaj turned her back on Fingit. “Why would you call him the Nub?”
“He grabbed that table so hard I thought he was going to tear off his hand and have nothing but a nub left. But who cares? I made a bargain!”
She crossed her arms. “Goody for you.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“I did…” The Goddess of the Unknowable faced Fingit and pouted. “I’m glad you’re having fun. It’s just that I got eviscerated, and I’m not getting anything in return.”
“Just wait. I’ll get the Nub hooked, and then you can take the Freak for everything she has.”
Sakaj smiled and looked almost like her radiant, eternal self. She squeezed Fingit’s hand. “You wouldn’t make me wait, would you? That’s not very gentlemanly. Share just a bit with me.”
Fingit pulled away as if the power was something he held in his arms. “You cow! It’s mine!” Maybe I shouldn’t have said that to her face.
Sakaj took a slow step toward him. “Tosh. You wouldn’t possess any power at all without me.”
“I have plans for it!” I don’t know what they are yet, but when I figure it out, I’m sure I’ll need all this power.
She took another step and touched his arm. “Just a bit, dear. No more than half.”
Fingit opened his mouth, but his indignation was so enormous that words couldn’t even squeak past it.
“That is, if you’d like to return home anytime in the next age or two.” Sakaj patted his cheek.
Smothering Sakaj with a glare of godlike fury and malice, Fingit withdrew half of the Nub’s power and flung it toward her, forcing her to scramble to absorb every drop. She didn’t show even the faintest irritation. Instead, she giggled. “Thank you.”
With the willpower of an immortal being, Fingit forced himself to nod. Mock me now, you demented slice of toe filth. Maybe you think it’s fun to laugh at Fingit, but I’m still a god. I’ll break you.
Six
(Fingit)
Fingit massaged his temples with a low moan and put his spectacles back on. Krak still had Harik pinned to the ground while Gorlana, the Goddess of Mercy, kicked Harik in the ribs and neck over and over. This had been going on for twenty-seven seconds. Fingit had measured it with an engineer’s obsessive precision. He had hoped that Lutigan might intervene in the scuffle, but he just reclined on his gold-inlaid chair, swilled ambrosia, and watched the fight. Fressa, the Goddess of Magic, was crushing the Berries of Immortality into juice, dipping her finger in it, and drawing pornographic images on her arm. Fingit glanced at Sakaj and saw that there was no chance of her interfering, since she squatted under the transparent, crystal table, busy rubbing dirt into her ear.
Gods do not often suffer the maladies of mortals, but Fingit’s head felt like elephants were frolicking inside it. Hosting a party of seven gods, six of whom are insane, can inspire a headache even in an immortal being.
The fight might not have been so disturbing had Harik, the God of Death, not been chortling during the entire brutal assault upon his person. Fingit didn’t know what had set off the altercation. The gods had been gathered around the table in Fingit’s new adamantine gazebo (five gods around the table and one underneath), and the atmosphere had seemed quite convivial. Then Krak had swept Harik off his chair, with Gorlana right behind to deliver a thorough kicking.
As Fingit wondered what to do about all this, Krak released Harik without a word, stood, and wandered back to his chair, with Gorlana trailing him and chatting with nobody at all. Harik rolled on the ground giggling for about ten seconds before he, too, rose and returned to his chair.
Fingit looked down and stared at the gold-inlaid marble floor as he reflected that the other gods who were not present had sunk even deeper into insanity and couldn’t comprehend his invitation to this party. After six uninterrupted days of horror, today Cheg-Cheg had again granted a mysterious respite from dismemberments and slaughter. However, the most deranged of the gods had refused Fingit’s offer and had chosen to celebrate in other ways, some of which involved burning holy writings, old clothing, or servants.
“Well, I’m sure that was fun,” Fingit said, with a weak smile, looking around at his guests. He kept an eye on Sakaj while he continued. “As I was about to say earlier, the Veil may be lifting.”
Huh. She’s just dumping handfuls of dirt into her cleavage. That probably means she’s too crazy to comprehend what’s going on. I wonder what Krak will say about her twitchy little Unicorn Town secret.
“The Veil between us and man is lifting!” Fingit repeated for emphasis.
The announcement didn’t generate quite the roar of excitement Fingit had hoped. Lutigan produced a long, fruity belch. Gorlana asked, “Don’t you have any ginger for this ambrosia? Tink-Tink and I never drink ambrosia without ginger.” Gorlana tossed her head at an unseen person beside her, whom Fingit assumed was her imaginary friend. Harik busied himself slipping pomegranate seeds to Sakaj under the table, which she wolfed as quickly as he offered them.
Only Krak seemed to grasp any of
