Chapter 18

The well-known dining room of Mr Shiverlips restaurant was almost completely shrouded in darkness. The tables and high walls, usually so magnificently lit, were barely recognisable. The large windows were covered with cloth, and no ray of light managed to get in. Shadows followed everyone's every move.

Only in the middle of the room, like a last bastion of resistance, flickered a small light on a table surrounded by half-empty bottles. The wines and schnapps cast faint shadows on the floor, a tired mixture of light and dark.

At this table sat Mr Shiverlip, still looking like a blue-haired elf with a sharp face. Usually, the man in his restaurant looked like a cheeky king on a foreign throne, but now his stature shrank as if he feared a predator right at his neck.

Seroin slowly ventured towards the table, which usually filled the room with a pleasant aroma but now had no scent, seeming unnaturally sterile. All she could smell was the remains of her vomit on her clothes.

As soon as Mr. Shiverlip sniffed, she did the same. ‘Seroin, it's good to see you. Please sit down. Was the bread enough? Or shall I have some meat or something else brought for you?’ The gaunt man forced a smile.

The young woman sat down cautiously and nervously clasped her hands together. ‘No. Maybe. In a moment. You wanted to talk to me.’

‘Of course. First of all, I am so glad to see you still among the living, in this state. Your loss would tear me apart.’

‘And deprive you of a considerable gain. That's why I'm sitting here again, isn't it?’ Seroin gave him an expressionless look, no reproach or anticipation in her voice. ’You want to know what happened? That woman, that demigoddess, she just...’

The click of a high heel on hard floor echoed from the other end of the hall. ‘If you would give me the time, I would very much like to hear this story in detail. If it is not too painful for you to recount.’ A figure, barely recognisable, slowly approached the table, walking with a steady gait and speaking in a firm voice.

Seroin turned hesitantly towards her, a strange realisation dawning in her mind, and the mercenary's eyes widened as never before.

‘I very much suspect that I don't need to introduce myself, but such formalities should not be dismissed out of hand. Dear Ms Seroin, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Bema Sandevi.’

The elf was slender and delicate, dressed in simple but fine clothing. Her straight, blonde, almost green hair fell down one side of her head, the other side was shaved bald. Her one recognisable eye looked calmly at Seroin, with a rarely seen alertness in it.

‘Lady... Lady...’ Seroin couldn't fight the reflex; it was as natural to her as breathing. She stood up straight and performed Badazan's greeting. ’We are the new gods!’

Bema Sandevi smiled in a controlled manner and bowed her head. ‘If only half of today's inspectors had your heart, Lady Seroin, I would never have to worry about my city again.’ The elf sat down on a chair and smoothed her clothes.

Shiverlip immediately bowed. ‘A schnapps, Lady Sandevi, or numbing alcohol, A.M.I.s?’

Bema shook her head, almost out of habit. ‘Neither, never. I only want the taste, not the intoxication. Would you be so kind as to bring me my favourite wine, Shiverlip? That and a jug of water.’

As she said this, the man hurried out of the hall and returned barely three breaths later with the requested items. He placed them carefully in front of Bema, not daring to pour.

‘You're not a man who's interested in the old stories about the Ideas and their children, are you, Shiverlip? Seroin and I don't want to bore you with these tales; you're welcome to take care of the other customs of your restaurant.’

Mr Shiverlip bowed and hurried out of the room again.

Bema waited until the door had closed and poured herself just a small sip of wine into a glass. ‘Good old Mr Shiverlip is always afraid that I expect the finest food and drink here. Sometimes I strongly suspect that he really believes people come here for the food.’ Mrs Sandevi smiled, lifted the jug of water and filled her glass to the brim. The little red wine mixed with the clear, cool liquid, leaving only a hint of pink. ‘I don't like to get drunk, I just like the taste.’

With complete peace of mind, Bema filled Seroin's glass with wine. ‘But I think calming your nerves is good for you right now, isn't it, Seroin?’ Bema reached beside her chair and placed Seroin's small bag of numbing powder and fork on the table. ‘The two of us here and now, just us, we can spare the “Mrs Sandevi” and everyone else. Are you all right? Coming back, how much did it burn?’

Seroin's eyes involuntarily darted to her powder.

‘Please, Seroin, take it. You almost died, if not now, when will there ever be a good time and place for numbing powder?’ Bema pushed the bag towards her and placed the small fork with the handle facing Seroin.

She poured the wine down her throat and stuck two forks of powder into her arm. The sight of her skin, more punctured than usual, filled her with disgusting concern, then indifference overwhelmed her. ‘Thank you, Mrs... Thank you, Bema. Without the G.M.E.s, I would have died, long ago. Can I tell you what happened at the zoo?’

Bema leaned back and nodded kindly.

‘Mula. A child of the Ideas. I don't really know the demigods, nor her. But that didn't matter. She knew I was after an amulet, a black steel chain. My companions and she attacked me from behind and I died on the spot.’

Ms Sandevi tilted her head to one side. ‘And the chain? You must understand, Seroin, that Shiverlips interest in this steel, and therefore your interest, comes from me. I want this chain, very much.’

Seroin poured herself some more wine. ’It will be with Mula or Tomga Balf. I don't know where they are.’

‘Balf, ah yes.’ Bema's eyes darkened. ’A self-righteous relic of a bygone era. He's an elf like me, and we live almost indefinitely, yet he stubbornly refuses to use that time to change.’

‘He has enemies in the city, the Ibis hate him, and apparently the Young Harvest is looking for him too.’

Bema smiled coldly. ‘The Ibis take out their anger at their old war commander, understandable, but stupid. And the Harvest. Well, the Harvest takes in every growth and helps each other. Why they're looking for Mr. Balf, let me put it this way. Mr. Balf came to Badazan to bring back a woman. But she was far from the first bedmate who fled here because of him. And he didn't come for the ones before her. But he and his flaws are of no further importance.’

Mrs Sandevi folded her hands together. ‘Mula, on the other hand, is a problem I thought I had banished, mocked in my zoo. She was already a force of nature back then, in the Daumaje. The stroke of fate, I would have loved to see her fall.’

‘Mula said the chain was like poison to her, it would kill her like an ordinary mortal. If I may ask, what is this steel?’

Bema stood up and slowly strolled around the table. ‘It makes killing demigods so easy. And it's not what's in this chain, but who. In Daumaje, they forged a weapon, a new way to kill gods, the Ideas. Finally, they found a way, born from the body of the first Idea who died.’

Bema closed her eyes briefly, unseen horrors playing out in her mind. ‘Bozan the Wrong. A creature alien to this world, this existence and this nothingness. A reality unto itself, formed from rust, blood and steel. The creature is poison to everyone in this world. Including demigods. But Bozan was defeated and now slumbers, a problem for later times. However, remnants of his steel can still be found, rare, but not lost.’

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Ms Sandevi continued her rounds, half swallowed by the shadows. The clicking of her shoes accompanied her every word. ‘I need this steel for exactly that purpose, for the remaining demigods. For my planned Protocol I.N.G. I have acquired too much power to still need to lie. That is why I speak freely and openly with you, Seroin. However, understand that if a single syllable of this conversation leaves your lips, you have sealed your fate.’

Suddenly, a smile returned to Bema's lips. ‘I have so many enemies, Seroin, so many. Imagine what they would do to you if they knew about our exchange here. That is why it is important to remain silent, for your own protection.’

Seroin downed another full glass of wine. ‘Of course. I understand. I'm surprised you came here alone.’

‘Power, Seroin. Power.’ Bema sat back down in her chair. ‘Power means war, means suffering, means more war. That is what the gods taught us in the first days of this world. The dispute between Diersa the Being and Defala the Nothingness triggered a conflict that burned the entire continent of Auervam. And only because the two decided to leave, along with all the other gods, did we get peace. Imagine that, Seroin, two figures argue and the world burns.’

Bema waved towards the darkened windows. ‘The Ideas are gone, but their children remain here, thinking they can decide our fate, judge us. Thinking we are like cattle and a means to an end. For now, this pack of Idea children still stick together, but what if they start fighting like their parents did? You met Tomga Balf, an elf so blind in his loyalty to the teachings of ideas. Wouldn't he draw his weapon and fight if a demigod ordered him to? Seroin, out there, alone through the presence of the children of Ideas, lies the potential to burn the continent to the ground again.’

Seroin sought Bema's gaze. ‘Protocol I.N.G is...’

‘The death of every Idea Child, leader, king, tribal elder, shaman, clergyman and other figures of authority who are still loyal to the teachings of the Ideas.’ Ms Sandevi poured herself a drop of wine. ‘All in one night. I am robbing the world of its last unjust power. I am robbing war of its potential. I am heralding a new era in which the divine will be banished to legends and myths, in which this world will belong to mortals alone. The book refuses to turn its pages, so I will tear them out!’

‘That is the death of thousands.’

‘Tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands.’ Bema filled the rest of her glass with water and mixed it with the little wine that was left. ’And the greatest crime a single woman will ever commit against the world. But a necessity. I am not blind, Seroin. There will still be war afterwards, of course. As long as there are two figures in this world, there will be conflict. But it will be a war between simple mortal peoples, no longer between gods and the like. Conflict will become simple, straightforward and difficult, no longer harbouring the potential to burn the continent to the ground. We mortals will reclaim war for ourselves.’

She was just about to take the first sip when she lowered the glass. ‘It may sound cruel, and it is. But I am trading one night of calculated suffering to prevent boundless pain. And I know that pain will come.’

Now she sniffed her glass. ‘It was in Daumaje. I served under Orforir, our old city hero. What an elf and what a good friend. Back then, we were filled with pride and loyalty to the cause. Our unit was particularly skilled at finding and killing enemy children of Ideas. Both sides called us assassins, but we didn't care. We were sent out because they didn't want to endanger their own demigods, but we didn't care. Again and again we returned home, and again and again we brought heads with us. And our own side, our idea children and ideas, no, Diersa himself, they were disgusted by us. Mortals who kill gods, simply wrong in their eyes.’

Bema carefully put down the glass. ‘Our tasks became harder and harder, and so our creativity grew even more. With each new mission, we invented new magic, new ways to defend ourselves, to kill the enemy. Children of ideas are powerful creatures, but oh so limited in their powers. What can the demigod of death do but kill, the demigod of fire but burn, what can ice do but freeze? We adapted, and every one of them fell by our hands, by Orforir's blades. His inventions, his steel mask, gave us the foundation to create the G.M.Es today. And with them, to save your life.’

Bema looked into the void with a certain sadness. ‘We received no thanks. We received no glory. The war was over and the children of the Ideas dispersed almost immediately, loving their own kind more than any mortal. And us and our unit? We were pushed aside, forgotten. In the minds of both sides, we were the cruelty of war, we were the image of all evil.’

Once again, joy overwhelmed her face. ‘Now the demigods don't even dare to come near our city. Now our G.M.E.s hunt them down like prey. Badazan is the symbol of resistance. Your symbol and mine, Seroin. How often did that Balf preach the teachings of the Ideas to you? How often did he tell you that your life must be lived among them, writhing and submitting?! Badazan is a clear answer to that, a resounding no. Our city has its problems to overcome, but we put every mortal's wishes and desires in their own hands. Our ranks are growing and thriving while the children of the Ideas are fading away. Both sides still see the other as too powerful. Until I get this steel.’

Seroin had two forks of numbing powder in her body, but a small flame of pride burned in her chest, making her sit up straighter. ‘And this I.N.G. protocol, can it start with the steel?’

Bema nodded vigorously, as if confirming a death sentence. ’Everything is ready. It took a while, but it was worth it. The Young Harvest gang continues to be such a serious disruption in Badazan that the rest of the council had no choice but to grant me more inspectors and G.M.E.s. My arsenal is ready, legal and inconspicuous. After I.N.G., I'll talk to that leader, that Gardener, again and make sure that this little means to an end is quickly dissolved.’

Seroin's astonished look made Bema chuckle. ‘You don't change the world with a spontaneous plan. And not with a single thread alone. Once I have the steel, I'll need less than two days. Two days, Seroin. Then, in one night, the G.M.E.s will take off from The True One, swoop across the continent and spread my will, the will of mortals. Before the sun rises, it will be done. And we will wake up in a free world.’

Slowly, Ms Sandevi leaned back. ‘But for that, I need the steel. However, if the city or too many people find out that I want it, well, you know Badazan, that means finding it will only be more difficult. Three days, Seroin, I'll give you three days to search discreetly. Then I will begin my own search, me and my G.M.E.s. I have already contacted the city gates, every crate that leaves Badazan will be searched three times. I suspect Mula and Balf are still here, they are not stupid. Mula is no match for Badazan's power, she will not attempt a rash escape.’

Bema placed a shell on the table and pushed it next to Seroin's bag of numbing powder. ‘Direct contact with me. No middlemen. You will have my discreet authority and my personal G.M.E.s. Three days, Seroin. If you bring me the chain, I won't just shower you with A.M.I.s, I know that trivial rewards are worth less to you. No, I will bring you into my circle. My business will no longer go through Shiverlip to you, but through you to him in the first place. Or, if you long for it, I'll let an O.I. shine on your chest. Having you back with us would fill me with pride. If you fail, such rewards will of course be forfeited. I'm sure you understand.’

Seroin nodded, feeling herself involuntarily retch, but not out of fear, but out of ambition. ‘You've been planning this for years, if not decades. I'll find her. You've secured the city gates, I'll search Badazan.’ She put the shell in her pocket, it felt heavy in her hands, like a well-deserved medal. ’Find Balf and Mula, find the chain. Is handing it over to a G.M.E. enough?’

Bema nodded cheerfully. ‘Exactly. If you find them, you have my contact. I think we're done here. Shiverlip is probably bored without beautiful company like us.’

Seroin was about to stand up when Bema raised her hand imperiously. “Please, let me.” The elf looked into the darkness. ’Break cover. A unit is to locate the individual in question and bring him here.’

At the same time, nearly a hundred reflective masks of G.M.E.s lit up in the darkness, seeming to have been summoned into existence. ‘Order understood.’

Bema had to smile at Seroin's startled flinch. ’Power, Seroin, power. You don't have to show it to have it. Someone else doesn't have to see it to know it's there.’

Mr Shiverlip quickly stepped back into the hall, glancing nervously at the G.M.E. behind him. ‘Ms Sandevi, my pleasure. I assume you and Ms Seroin had a pleasant conversation?’

‘Very much so, your premises are very inviting. But we ladies tend to keep our chats to ourselves.’ Bema nodded to Seroin with a wink.

Shiverlip wiped his sweaty forehead and forced a grin. ‘You'll be pleased to hear that I've got a place at your table. At the upcoming celebration. Your new flying platform, bigger than ever and full of the finest entertainment. It wasn't easy, but I got a place at...’

Bema's quick raise of his hand immediately silenced him. ‘I am very honoured that my presence is so desired. But no. It would be very unfortunate if a figure from the Sagvi-quarter underworld were to be found at my table. I cannot risk the damage to my reputation.’ Her gaze softened. ‘And you are making yourself a target. Imagine who would want to talk to you, voluntarily or not. No, don't be nervous.’

Bema stepped over to a G.M.E., who gently placed a cloak around her shoulders. ’Give this seat to my cousin Barkra. Invite her to dine here, be charming, and at the end of the evening, share this surprise with her. Barkra is not very gifted intellectually, but she is very attractive, as are her friends. Enjoy yourself a little, but at the end of the evening, she gets your place. I won't be attending the planned celebrations anyway.’ Bema grinned at Seroin. ‘Work has me completely spellbound.’

Shiverlip forced himself to keep grinning, but everything about him betrayed his burning disappointment. “Of course. I understand. That will be done, much smarter, Ms Sandevi, much smarter.’

Bema lifted her chin. ”All units, follow me.’

The G.M.E.s began to form around her.

Bema looked Seroin straight in the face. ‘We... you and I, Seroin... we are the new gods.’