Dust of Dreams
‘Not likely. It just… takes over.’
‘And then there’s no stopping it.’
‘No.’
‘Sergeant.’
‘What?’
‘We’re going to be exposed, horribly exposed. Like offering our throats to whoever-and they’re probably not merciful types. So, how do we defend ourselves?’
Fiddler glanced across at him, and then edged closer. Ahead was the HQ-they were running out of time. ‘I can’t do nothing, Bottle. Except take the head off, and with luck some of those nasties will go down with it.’
‘You’re going to be sitting on a cusser, aren’t you?’
‘Sergeant, when we get into the room, let me try one last time to talk her out of it.’
‘Let’s hope she at least holds to the number.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Eleven is bad, twelve is worse. But thirteen would be a disaster. Thirteen’s a bad number for a reading. We don’t want thirteen, anything but-’
‘Lostara said eleven, Sergeant. Eleven.’
‘Aye.’ And Fiddler sighed.
When another knock sounded at the door, Bugg raised a hand. ‘Permit me, please, Acquitor.’ And he rose at her nod and went to let in their new guests.
Bugg was grimacing. ‘Acquitor, these are Ursto Hoobutt and Pinosel.’
‘I don’t need a cup,’ Seren said to the woman who was rummaging through a cupboard.
‘As you like,’ replied Pinosel. ‘But you won’t be no fun at this party. Tha’s typical. Pregnant women ain’t no fun at all-always struttin’ around like a god’s gift. Smug cow-’
‘I don’t need this rubbish. Bugg, get them out of here. Now.’
Ursto walked up to Pinosel and clopped her on the side of the head. ‘Behave, you!’ Then he smiled again at Seren. ‘She’s jealous, y’see. We bin tryin and, uh, tryin. Only, she’s this wrinkled up bag and I ain’t no better. Soft as a teat, I am, and no amount a lust makes no diff’rence. All I do is dribble dribble dribble.’ He winked. ‘O’course, iffin it wuz you now, well-’
Pinosel snorted. ‘Now that’s an invitation that’d make any woman abort. Pregnant or not!’
Seren glared at the Ceda. ‘You cannot be serious.’
‘So,’ she asked, ‘what’s happened to them?’
‘Mindful and respectful partaking of their aspects have given way to dissolute, careless excess. Respect for their gifts has vanished, Acquitor. The more sordid the use of those gifts, the more befouled become the gift-givers.’
Ursto belched. ‘We don’t mind,’ he said. ‘Far worse if we wuz outlawed, becuz that’d make us evil and we don’t wanna be evil, do we, sweet porridge?’
‘We’s unber attack alla time,’ snarled Pinosel. ‘Here, les fill these cups. Elder?’
‘Half measure, please,’ said Bugg.
‘Excuse me,’ said Seren Pedac. ‘Ceda, you have just described these two drunks as the earliest gods of all. But Pinosel just called you “Elder”.’
Ursto cackled. ‘Ceda? Mealyoats, y’hear that? Ceda!’ He reeled a step closer to Seren Pedac. ‘O round one, blessed Mahybe, we may be old, me and Pinosel, compared to the likes a you. But against this one ’ere, we’re just babies! Elder, yes, Elder, as in Elder God !’