“Well, make sure you get decent-quality clothes,” I said. “I don’t want my priests to look like cheapskates.”
“Oh, I will, don’t worry, man. I want to look my best. I’ll gather worshipers for you, have them fiending like I used to for greenfoil. Oh, uh, how do I do that, exactly? And, uh, what are the worshipers supposed to do?”
I remembered what I’d discussed with the others earlier, about sacrifices of time in the form of prayers, penance, and pilgrimages. Well, as of this moment, I didn’t exactly have any places a pilgrim could travel to, and I didn’t know what sort of prayers my worshipers could say to me. I was certainly no Blood God, and I didn’t want blood sacrifices.
In return for their sacrifices, whatever they happened to be, I would need to give something back. It couldn’t just be a one-sided thing; it would be unreasonable to expect people to worship me simply because I was powerful. Cranton seemed eager enough to do it without any expectation of getting anything in return, but not everyone was like Cranton.
And that was probably a good thing.
“Vance?” he asked.
I waved him off with a hand. “I’m thinking.”
Before I’d become a god, I’d killed people with Grave Oath, and it sucked out their souls and gave Isu power. I still wasn’t entirely sure of the relationship between souls and gaining power, but I was definitely getting closer to understanding it, especially after having visited the strange tree on the ethereal plane.
But worshipers was an alternative way to gain power. So, what if I found a way to join both harvesting souls and sacrifices? The Temple of Necrosis would be a temple for warriors, for assassins, for fighters. They would kill those deserving of death. And, in turn, I could bestow powers on them, like Isu had done for me.
To do this, though, I’d need to at least give Cranton some sort of minor magical ability. My missionary would have to demonstrate to potential followers that I wasn’t a charlatan.
“Cranton,” I said, “what I’m about to do might seem a little… alarming. Try to stay calm. Remember, I have to do this in order to make you Fated. And it’ll be over before you even know it.”
I had to admit, I was a little nervous. If I fucked it up, well, Cranton would die.
“Uh, all right, man. Are you going to make a cut on my finger and take a drop of blood or something?”
I chuckled and shook my head. “It’ll be a little more intense than that.”
I remembered that when Isu had made me Fated, she’d used acid. I didn’t have any acid, though, and it was probably something that was necessary for this ceremony. As reluctant as I was to ask for her help—not in the least because I didn’t want to owe her any more favors—I’d probably need her assistance here.
“Wait here a moment,” I said to Cranton.
I walked around to the front of the wagon and found Isu idly twirling her dagger. The way she wielded a weapon with such dexterity made my blood boil with desire. She seemed to sense that I was staring, and she turned around slowly. When her eyes met mine, they were burning with a voracious hunger that made me weak at the knees, and the sight of her swelling nipples poking tantalizingly through the black fabric of her dress got me excited enough to almost forget why I had come in the first place.
I reluctantly focused on the task at hand. “When you made me Fated, you used acid. Is that required to make someone Fated?”
“Are you trying to ask me for yet another favor, Vance?”
There was desire in her eyes, yes, but smugness on her lips, and I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of having me owe her yet again. I could figure this out on my own, but I needed a clue, a hint.
“No,” I said bluntly. “Just asking a question, nothing more.”
“Yes, it is necessary. When it comes to death magic, there’s no other way to make someone Fated.”
“Acid, huh? I don’t suppose there’s any just lying around? Or maybe there’s someone who could, you know, make a cloud of it?”
The corners of her full, glossy lips curled up into an even smugger grin. “Ah, so you are asking me for a favor then, Vance. But I suppose I can do this one for free.”
“So, this isn’t a deal? You’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart?”
“You could say that, yes.”
I retrieved an empty bowl from the wagon, and we returned to where Cranton was waiting. Isu stretched her hands toward the bowl and filled it with her acid mist. More mist gathered until it became a shallow pool of liquid. After a few minutes, the bowl was filled with the green substance.
“You’re not playing any tricks, are you?” I asked Isu.
“None at all,” she answered.
“I’d like to be sure.” I used Grave Oath as a lever to pull an iron nail out of the side of the wagon and dropped it into the clear liquid. I was pleased to see the nail dissolve in a froth of hissing bubbles, and after a few seconds, there was nothing left of it at all.
“What are you planning to do with that, man?” Cranton asked me.
“Last chance.” I said, subtly summoning the power of my death magic and feeling its frigidness pooling in my fingertips. “Are you sure you want me to make you Fated? And deal with all the responsibilities that entails?”
“Nothing I’d rather do, man. No question. No question at all.”
“What’s that over there?” I gestured to the forest behind him and did my best to wear a surprised expression.
“Where?” Cranton turned to look.
A swirl of black magic encased my entire hand, making it as solid and as strong as any finely crafted
