Author's Note: This story is the sequel to my previous Mortal Kombat story "Moriturite Salutant" so if you haven't read that already, you'll be very confused by this one. Also, chronologically, this takes place concurrently with Biku's "Moral Konflict" and "Moral Konflict: Kontinuation" and contains major spoilers for both; consider yourself warned. This story doesn't really stand on its own, so you should read those two first. They're good. Read them.

All Mortal Kombat characters belong to Alliance (I think) except the ones Biku and I made up, which is about ninety percent of the universe by this point. Any weird text errors are probably the result of typing this thing on a Japanese-language computer and therefore are not my fault. No reprinting this story without permission of the author. Have a nice day. And now:

Being a goddess, she had nothing to pack.

Lindara stood on a low hill, looking out over the valley. Before her the land sloped gently downward, thickly carpeted with new grass. The scars left by Shao Khan's invasion of her world were healing, and she had done all she could to speed the process; now it was time for her to go.

She took a last look around, turning slowly in place. Nearby, the skeletal remains of Lindara's Tower stood, burnt and crumbling, a stark contrast to the beautiful summer day. Once it had been beautiful as well, the place from which she had ruled, the centre of Ardan Province as Ardan was the centre of the Realm of Agri. Now the Tower was a ruin. Lindara had decided not to rebuild it, not yet; there would be time for that when she returned.

The sky was pale blue, and the sun was warm, and the grass was soft under her bare feet. A breeze ruffled Lindara's dark hair, carrying with it a faint smell of flowers. Lindara took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and willed herself elsewhere.

Camlen looked up as the door of his room opened. It was one of the novices. "She's gone, isn't she," Camlen said quietly.

It wasn't a question, but the boy nodded anyway. "Yes, Father. I saw her myself." There was awe in his voice. "She just vanished. Just now."

Camlen sighed. "All right, thank you, boy. You can leave." The novice bowed quickly and left, carefully closing the door behind him.

The room seemed darker now, the silence heavier. Camlen stared down at his hands, folded together on the worn wooden table. Everything in the room was old, used by generations of priests before him, generations who had lived and died serving the Goddess. Camlen was only twenty-four, but he felt ancient. Everything had changed now, changed before his eyes into something new and strange and impossible to understand. She's gone. The Goddess is really gone.

How had it started? It had been only a few weeks ago that Camlen was a simple priest of the seventh rank, the lowest, newly raised from the novitiate. He had never spoken to the Goddess, not until the day she had appeared and turned his well-ordered world upside down. She had explained nothing, simply informing him that he had been chosen to fight for the Realm of Agri. He hadn't understood--he still didn't, not really--but he had felt so honoured to be singled out for the Goddess' attention, nothing else had mattered.

But then had come the tournament, and other things had suddenly mattered very much. For the first time in his life, he had fought. He had killed people. They were enemies of the Goddess and she had said that that made it all right, but it still frightened him, still woke him every night from terrible nightmares that he could never quite remember. The Goddess' word was law, but the Goddess' law had changed. Only the fact that he was obeying her commands had made him able to fight, had made what he had had to do bearable if not understandable. The Goddess was everything, the Goddess was all that mattered--

And now she's gone.

Suddenly unable to sit still for another moment, Camlen stood and threw open the dark red curtains on the windows. Morning sunlight filled the room. Camlen breathed deeply, felt the sun on his face, willed himself to be calm.

"She's not gone forever," he said aloud. "She's going to come back." Good words, solid reassuring words. "I still serve the Goddess. Even if she's--even if she's not here, I still serve her. I still follow her laws--" The last words hung in the air as he broke off. Camlen wished he could unsay them, but he knew that would make no difference. He no longer knew what the Goddess' laws were. What had happened at the Tournament was against every law he knew, and yet he and the others had done exactly what the Goddess had told them to do. They had done what they had been told, and yet--

There was a tentative knock on his door. "Go away!" Camlen shouted. Footsteps retreated down the hall. He wouldn't be bothered if he didn't want to be; technically he was only a seventh-rank priest, but he had been favoured by the Goddess and that made him important, especially among the others of the priesthood. Here in the temple--the main temple of the town of Towerbridge, the priests' headquarters until the Tower was rebuilt--he was special.

He didn't feel special; he felt lost. The flesh is able, but the spirit is weak--why did she have to leave us, why now? And what do I do until she comes back?

"Lin! Good to see you!" Kerlan gave her a warm smile as she entered the Omniversal Bar. "What'll it be?"

"Actually, I'm looking for Arnie," Lindara answered, seating herself on a stool. "I thought he might be here."

Kerlan shook his head. "He left just now." He took out a glass and began to pour something blue into it. "I heard about the tournament, by the way--congratulations."

"Oh." Lindara shrugged, embarrassed. "I guess Rayden's been talking. He and his mortals really did most of it; I just went along for the ride."

"That's not what I heard." Kerlan stopped. "Did I just hear you say "I"? You? Lindara?" He was grinning. Lindara's face coloured.

"Don't make such a big deal out of it," she said with as much haughty dignity as she could muster. "I just decided it was time for a change."

"Really." Kerlan shook his head, still grinning broadly. "Wonders never cease." He uncorked a bottle and poured a few drops of red liquid into the glass. "And, no," he continued, "Rayden hasn't said anything. He's got problems of his own right now, actually. Not that it's any of my business. Celebria's the one who's telling everybody about your victory. She figures it's at least partly because of you that Rayden was able to defeat Shao Khan on Earth, and I think she's probably right."

"Well, it serves him right," Lindara sniffed. "I mean, he was my brother, but even so, after the way he trashed my Realm--"

Kerlan nodded, all his mockery gone. "Celebria says the same thing. From the way she tells it, you nearly managed to kill him. I don't think even my sister would say something like that if it weren't at least mostly true. Here." He sprinkled something from a carved wooden box into the glass, added a paper umbrella and pushed the concoction over to her. Lindara took a cautious sip. "I have to say, I'm surprised. I didn't think you'd stand much of a chance against him."

Lindara choked on her drink, spraying purple liquid. "We beg your pardon?" she exclaimed indignantly. "We're perfectly capable of handling things in Our own--in my own Realm," she finished, slightly sheepishly.

To his credit, Kerlan didn't laugh. "How is Agri, anyway?" he asked, adroitly changing the subject as he wiped the bar with a cloth. "I mean, if you're out here--"

"I'm trying to improve things," Lindara explained. "That's why I came."

"It's that bad?" Kerlan asked. "Listen, if you need any help rebuilding--"

"Oh, no, it's fine," Lindara assured him quickly. "That's not what I mean. I'm trying to improve things for my mortals."

Kerlan looked speculatively at her. "You have changed," he observed.

"It's Rayden's fault if I have," Lindara answered with a laugh. "He's convinced me that I've got to change the way I've been running things. I wasn't really sure where to start, though--that's actually why I'm looking for Arnie. He lent me some mortals for the tournament, so I figured I'd visit and thank him, and maybe talk a little with him about his Realm at the same time. I'm going to visit Hiko after."

"Mm." Kerlan leaned forward slightly. "Just between you and me, Lin, I'd steer clear of Hiko for awhile. I've heard some disturbing things out of Usirapi lately."

"Usirapi?" Lindara repeated. "What's Cosmos doing? Is Hiko okay?" She liked Hiko; the first goddess was a bit too serious, maybe, but she was a nice person and her daughter Nova was one of Lindara's friends. Lindara had never been able to understand what Hiko saw in Cosmos. "Kerlan? Come on, what have you heard?"

Kerlan shook his head. "Nothing concrete. Third-hand rumours. Even Celebria doesn't know much. But, Lin, I really don't think you should get mixed up in whatever's going on. You know how dangerous Cosmos can be--remember Roma?"

"Yeah--well, if you think it's a bad idea," Lindara said reluctantly. Kerlan was the God of Communication, after all; he usually had a very good grasp of what was happening in the Omniverse. "I'll go see Hiko some other time." She finished her drink and set the glass aside. "So you don't know where I can find Arnie?"

"Hmm," Kerlan said. "He and Juanita had one of their fights just now--Rayden was here a minute ago and he convinced her to go home, after she kicked Arnie out of here. Arnie's probably hiding out in his Realm. I'd guess you'll be able to find him there."

Lindara frowned. "I'm not dropping in unexpectedly. I've had enough of being without my full powers to last me a millennium."

"You're hardly going to lose much in Sennoma," Kerlan pointed out. Lindara laughed.

"That's true. All right, I'll go see if I can ferret him out. Thanks for the drink, Kerlan."

"Always a pleasure," Kerlan answered, tipping an imaginary hat. Lindara grinned, waved her hand and vanished.

"Welcome home, Henri." Dayu stretched up on her toes to kiss her husband's cheek as he came through the door. "How was your day?"

"It's already gotten better," Henri answered with a smile. "I have to say, though, I'll be glad when I can get back to the fields. The new crop isn't going to plant itself. At least we've mostly finished rebuilding the main road, Goddess be thanked."

"Did the priests keep you at the road all day?" Dayu asked sympathetically. "You should tell them you need time for the farm. They'll understand."

Henri stepped out of his muddy shoes and padded barefoot across the carpet to his favourite chair. "Everybody's got to do their part," he said. "Even the priests are out there every day with the rest of us."

"But you've already done your part," Dayu protested. "You went to the tournament like you were told, you risked your life--"

"Dayu, the priests speak for the Goddess," Henri interrupted firmly. "They're trying to rebuild what Shao Khan destroyed. I serve the Goddess and obey her priests--are you saying I shouldn't? That's very nearly blasphemy."

"I--I--" Dayu stammered. "Henri, I'm sorry, I just--I mean, you're the one who was complaining about not getting the crops in--"

Henri sighed. "You're right. You're right. I'm sorry." He smiled at her. "I really didn't mean anything by it, love. I'm just tired, and I'm worried about the farm. But the Goddess will provide. Besides, someone had to clear the roads, and--"

He was interrupted by the front door slamming open. "We're home!"

"Shut the door, Robin!" Dayu called back. "And take your shoes off!"

Their younger son Robin came running into the house, followed by his older brother Denis. "Shoes, Denis," Dayu reminded him sternly, looking distastefully at the mud on the carpet. Denis was fifteen and Robin eleven; both were tall and still growing, and both had their father's red hair and quick energy. There was also, Henri noticed, a rather odd aroma about them. Apparently Dayu smelled it as well. "What have you two been doing?" she demanded.

"Father Mendric had us working at the river all day," Robin explained.

"Doing what?" Henri asked. "Fishing?"

Denis shook his head. "Nah. Dredging. They can't get boats through cause those soldiers' bodies keep washing up in the shallows, so we've gotta go out an' clear 'em."

"That's disgusting," Dayu said, wrinkling her nose. "I want both of you to go outside and take a bath before you do anything else."

"We already washed in the river," Robin protested.

"This is the same river that had the dead bodies floating in it? Go wash, you two." Reluctantly the boys headed back outside. Dayu sighed. "Fifteen years old and he still tracks mud and who knows what else into the house."

"He probably gets it from me," Henri said with a grin. "What's for dinner? I'll help you set the table."

By the time the food was out, the two boys had come back inside, freshly scrubbed. The sun was setting, and Dayu drew the kitchen curtains closed and lit the candles. The orange glow of the fireplace flickered over the walls, the old furniture, the rough wooden beams of the ceiling. Henri, ladling soup from the brass cooking pot into bowls, felt suddenly very much at ease. I've come home, anyway, he thought. He'd been on edge for weeks--since the tournament, really. But he was home, and it was all over: the house was the same, Dayu and the boys were the same, the farm would be back to normal in a few weeks more. Henri smiled. He was back where he belonged.

"Sit down, Henri, let's not let the food get cold." Henri joined the other three at the table. Dayu smiled at him and lifted her bowl. "We receive this food in the name of the Goddess, who blesses us with her bounty. All praise and thanks to her."

"In the name of the Goddess," the other three responded in chorus, and began to eat.

At least, Henri and Denis did. Robin just sat, picking aimlessly at his food. "Robin, are you all right?" Dayu asked, concerned.

"Fine," the boy muttered.

"You look sick. Are you sure you're all right?" Dayu reached over to check his forehead. Robin irritably brushed her hand away.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone." He got up and stumped out of the kitchen toward his room. Dayu looked anxiously after him/

"Denis, is something wrong with your brother?" Henri asked. Denis shrugged.

"Dunno," he said with his mouth full. "He's prob'ly just tired."

"I'll check on him in a little while," Dayu decided. "I hope he's okay."

Lindara stepped out of the portal into darkness.

She blinked, readjusting her eyes to the gloom around her. She was standing on a bare, rocky plain which stretched as far as she could see in three directions. A far-off line of hills truncated the fourth horizon. The sky was black: no moons, no stars. It was, Lindara thought, a thoroughly depressing place.

It seemed very odd to her that Arnie would want to live in a place like this. He was the God of Lamps, after all; shouldn't his Realm be--well, brighter?

There was a click and a flash. "Lindara!" Abruptly Arnie was standing beside her, a slightly dopey grin on his face. "Hi. Wow. This is a surprise. What--uh--what are you doing here?" He looked suddenly worried. "Listen, if Rayden sent you--"

"No, this is just a social call," Lindara assured him. Arnie nodded, visibly relieved. "Why are you so worried about Rayden?" Lindara asked.

"Oh--uh--" Arnie coughed embarrassedly. "It's kind of a long story. I sort of borrowed a few of his mortals for awhile. I didn't think he'd miss them; after all, I did put them right back when I was done."

Lindara sighed. "Why didn't you just ask him?"

"I couldn't find him," Arnie explained, an expression of injured innocence on his face. "Juanita said he was at a tournament or something--"

"He was," Lindara confirmed. "Mine, actually. Say, speaking of Juanita--"

"Anyway," Arnie rushed on, "I couldn't find him, that's all." Obviously Juanita was a sensitive subject. Lindara wasn't surprised. "And then I forgot afterwards." He looked up at her, a hopeful expression on his face. "Maybe he didn't notice, right? I did put them right back."

"I'll tell him that if I see him," Lindara answered. "He hasn't been around lately." She frowned. Where had Rayden been lately? He'd left Agri shortly after they'd defeated Shao Khan's army, and despite his promise to come back in a few days, Rayden had been away for several weeks now. There had been Shao Khan's attack on Earth, but that was over; a few weeks wasn't that long, but still--

"Could you? Thanks. That'd be great. But, you know, don't feel any need to specifically bring the subject up. Just if he mentions it. I don't want Rayden mad at me."

"What did you need his mortals for anyway?" Lindara wanted to know. "I mean, you've got your own, don't you?" She looked around at the desolate plain. "Or did you run out? Was that the problem?"

"No, it was--well, come on, I'll show you." He gestured, and a portal appeared in front of them. Arnie stepped through. Lindara followed him rather than making her own portal; Sennoma was a friendly Realm and Arnie a weak god, but Lindara's powers were still somewhat limited here, especially as she hadn't been invited in.

"See," Arnie said as they emerged, "what I needed was electricians."

He pointed downhill, though that was hardly necessary. The city filled the broad valley above which the god and goddess stood, and every building and every street was brilliantly lit. The glare was almost painful to Lindara's dark-adapted eyes; hastily she adjusted them.

"Good, huh?" Arnie said proudly. "It's the capital of the Realm. I live here most of the time. C'mon, I'll show you my Temple."

He led the way down the hill into the city. The streets were filled with mortals, but none paid the two a second glance. Arnie was generating an illusion around them, Lindara could tell; they looked like the mortals of this world, broad-shouldered and pale. Optical tricks had always been one of Arnie's few talents.

"See," Arnie explained as they walked, "Sennoma isn't an especially high-tech Realm. It's about on a level with yours, actually. My mortals wouldn't've discovered electricity on their own for centuries yet, so I got tired of waiting and decided to speed things up a bit. Rayden's given me permission to visit Earth Realm whenever I want--it isn't like I'd ever be a threat to it, after all." This was said with no small amount of bitterness. That wasn't surprising; it was very rare for such open permission to be granted, since an ally one millennium might be a rival or even an enemy the next. As a rule, it was only granted by the stronger gods, and only to the very weakest, of which Arnie was certainly one. "So I just borrowed some humans who understood electricity so they could teach my mortals about it."

Lindara smiled. She had been trying to think of a way to bring up the reason for her visit, and now it turned out that Arnie had the same ideas she did: he was trying to improve his mortals' lot, just as she wanted to do. "So you brought some mortals from Earth Realm to help your people?" she prompted.

Arnie looked puzzled. "Help them? Well, yeah, I guess it did."

"Well, if you didn't do it to help them, then why'd you do it?" Lindara demanded.

"I'm the God of Lamps," Arnie explained as though it should be obvious. "Electricity makes better lamps. Lightbulbs last longer than torches, and they don't make me sneeze like lamp oil does."

"But it will help them, won't it?" Lindara asked. "I mean, it'll improve their lives, and--and so forth--" She wasn't entirely clear on what electricity was used for, but she knew Rayden's mortals had it, so it was probably a good thing.

"Maybe," Arnie said with a shrug. "Who knows? All I care about is the lamps."

Something of what Lindara thought of that must have shown on her face, because Arnie added defensively, "Don't get all high-and-mighty on me. It's not like you've done a whole lot for your Agrarians."

"Agricolae," Lindara snapped. "And I'm trying to."

"Yeah, well, maybe you can afford to," Arnie muttered. "You don't know what it's like being a tenth-rate god. I've got to hang onto the powers I've got."

"I don't understand," Lindara said.

"Well, of course not. You've never had problems with it." There was a familiar self-pitying note in Arnie's voice. "Look, you're a plant goddess, right? So your mortals are farmers, mostly. Part of your power, probably a large part, comes from them and from the land they take care of."

"I know that," Lindara said impatiently. "What's your point?"

"My point is, what would you do if they all suddenly decided to become philosophers or, or stockbrokers or something? You'd lose a lot of your power, wouldn't you?" Arnie spread his hands. "It's the same with me and lamps. I have to keep my mortals focused on the lamp industry. That's why my Realm doesn't have a sun. My mortals have no night vision, and I've had to take steps to keep them from evolving any, because they wouldn't need lamps if they could see in the dark. It isn't easy for me, you know."

"Wow," Lindara said sympathetically. She was unused to feeling sympathy for Arnie, who had always struck her as a bit of a weasel, but he really did seem to have problems. "I hadn't realized it was all so complicated." Lindara had never given the matter much thought, really; her own powers had stayed the same for so long that she'd almost forgotten they could change.

As if reading her thoughts, Arnie said, "Well, you'll have the same problems in Agri if you really do start trying to change things. Let your mortals start developing it into a high-tech Realm and you'll lose power pretty quickly. I'm a lamp god and I've got to keep them obsessed with lighting fixtures; you're a plant goddess and you've got to keep them tied to the land."

Lindara nodded reluctantly. "I know," she said, "but--I mean, I want to help my mortals. After all, Rayden cares about his mortals, and--"

"And Rayden's humans are doing well, are they?" Arnie asked pointedly. "Besides, it's fine for him. He doesn't need to depend on them the way we do, he's practically as strong as the Elder Gods." Not true, but he was so far above Arnie that it might as well have been.

"I guess," Lindara admitted. "It just seems unfair. I mean, mortals are people too, sort of--" She sighed. "This is all so confusing. It seemed so simple when I started out, but now--"

"Well, why don't you go talk to Celebria?" Arnie suggested. "She's the Goddess of Truth; she's good with these sorts of questions."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Lindara exclaimed. "You're right, of course. I'll go visit Celebria. Thanks, Arn!" She gave him an enthusiastic hug, then, turning away, made a portal to the Omniversal Hall.

The sun was shining.

Henri squeezed his eyes closed and willed it to go away. Birds sang in the trees, and the air smelled like early summer. It shouldn't be this beautiful. Not today. Not today, not ever again.

The priest was speaking, reciting the lines that everyone knew. "Returning these children of the Goddess to the land, we return their spirits to her spirit."

"In the name of the Goddess," the crowd chanted. It was a small crowd, barely two dozen people. Henri had expected more, but then, there had been so many funerals in the last few days.

Medicine and science were rudimentary at best in Agri, and there were no doctors of any kind. The universal remedy was prayer; the Goddess healed the sick, sometimes, and when she didn't, the priests assured everyone that the afflicted person's death was the Goddess' will. No-one knew much about the causes of disease. None of them knew what a bacterium was, or how infection took place. All they knew was what could be seen: that nearly all of those who had died of the plague had been the ones assigned the task of clearing the rivers and fields of corpses.

They, or their families. Henri, still weak from the plague himself, stared numbly at the three shrouded bodies lying on the ground in front of the priest. The red burial wrappings covered them completely from head to foot, mercifully hiding their ravaged features. Henri was grateful for that. It was far better to remember Denis' smile, Dayu's sparkling eyes, Robin's laughter, than to have to look at what the priests had come to his house to take away.

"We return their bodies to her body. We entrust their souls to her mercy, in the name of the Goddess."

"In the name of the Goddess," Henri repeated dutifully with the rest, and suddenly he was furious. Mercy? What sort of mercy was this? He had prayed to the Goddess, begged her to spare them, offered her his life in place of theirs. Robin had died, and then Denis had followed within hours. Dayu had held on for another day and night after that. Henri, fevered and sick himself, had stayed beside her the entire time. Even after Dayu's shallow breathing had stopped, he had continued desperately to pray. The Goddess could do miracles, everyone knew that. Why hadn't she done one for him? Why, Great Goddess? Didn't I serve you? Wasn't I faithful? I did what you told me to!

"But you've already done your part," Dayu's soft voice protested out of the past. "You went to the tournament like you were told, you risked your life--"

And this is my reward? Henri wondered bitterly. I helped save the world, and she wouldn't even save my family.

"We pray to the Goddess to speed their souls to their final destination," the priest intoned. "Great Goddess, whose infinite mercy and justice set an example for us all--"

Henri had no desire to hear any more. Ignoring the puzzled murmurs of the others who were watching, he turned and stalked away from the freshly dug graves. The droning of the priest's voice followed him, growing fainter and more indistinct as it was swallowed by the gentle sounds of a summer day.

As Lindara stepped out of her portal into a corridor of the Omniversal Hall, she was nearly run down by a pair of deities barrelling down the hallway at full speed. "Watch where you're going!" she shouted, but neither seemed even to notice her. Her good mood abruptly shattered, Lindara stalked after them. She turned the corner just in time to see them disappear into one of the many rooms that lined the corridor; without pause, she followed them in.

She was unprepared for the chaos that suddenly surrounded her. Gods and goddesses of every stripe were gathered in the room, shouting orders or scurrying to obey them. "Anything yet?" she heard someone call.

"No sign of them," someone else answered in a strained voice.

"Well, hurry it up!"

Lindara grabbed a passing goddess by the sleeve. "Amai, what's going on?"

"Search and rescue operation," the blonde Goddess of Justice answered briskly. "Let go of my arm, Lin, I've got work to do."

"Who's being rescued?" Lindara demanded. "What's happening?"

There was a sudden shout from one end of the room. "They've found him!" Several other gods cheered. "They're bringing him back now, him and two mortals--nothing on the others yet." Then, "Medi, they need you!"

Lindara saw her uncle, the God of Healing, hurry over to the middle of the room, where a portal was forming. Out of the portal staggered four gods, supporting two mortals and--

"Rayden!" Lindara ran toward him, but Amai caught her arm.

"Leave it. Medicalis knows what he's doing. He doesn't need you getting in his way. Your brother's in good hands."

Lindara nodded uncertainly. She could sense Rayden, this close, and his energy level was lower than she'd thought was possible. Even Medicalis, usually unflappable, had an expression of worry on his face as he directed two other gods to lay Rayden on a cot. "Amai," Lindara said plaintively, "what happened to him?"

Amai sighed, pulling at one of her blonde braids as she watched Medicalis administer an energy boost to the unconscious thunder god. "Rayden and Nova went after Cosmos," she explained. "They--"

"Rayden what?" Lindara demanded at high volume.

"Rayden what?" Rayden asked, sitting up. Medicalis pushed him back down.

"Stay still," the healer god ordered. "You've had a severe shock. You need to rest."

"Medi!" someone called. "We've got the other two!" A second portal opened and two gods emerged with Nova and a mortal. Lindara frowned. She recognized him; he was one of the ones Rayden had brought to the Mortal Kombat tournament in Agri. Now that she thought about it, those other two had been there as well, hadn't they?

She put them out of her mind and hurried over to the cot where Rayden lay. "What were you thinking?" she yelled at him.

Rayden winced. "Could you be a little quieter? My head's still spinning."

Lindara nodded, taking a deep breath. She wasn't going to lose her temper. She could be perfectly reasonable with him. "Are you completely insane?" Or not. "You nearly got yourself killed just now, We hope you realize that! Whatever stupid plan you were trying to pull off--"

"I thought you'd given up that "royal We" thing," Rayden said mildly, but Lindara plowed right over him in her most imperious tone.

"We want to know what's going on! Why in the Omniverse would you go up against Cosmos--Cosmos!--with practically no backup at all! Nova and mortals! You must be crazy!"

"Lin," Rayden said patiently, "you don't understand what's going on here--"

"Well, do you know why We don't know what's going on?" Lindara wailed. "Because you never told Us! You just ran off for whatever stupid reason and didn't even say what you were doing! The first We heard of this was when you showed up here just now, practically dead--"

"I was not practically dead," Rayden said, indignant and a little embarrassed.

Someone put a hand on her arm. "Lindara, please, stop bothering my patient." Medicalis frowned at her and Rayden both. "You, rest. You, go make yourself useful."

"I'll find her something to do," Amai promised. "Come on, Lin."

Lindara reluctantly followed Ami out into the corridor. She was about to speak when Amai abruptly whirled to face her. "Just what in seven hells did you think you were doing in there?"

Taken aback, Lindara said, "What?"

"We're in an emergency situation here, and the last thing we need is you coming in and distracting everyone. Your little histrionic display didn't impress anyone, least of all your brother." She glared at Lindara. Amai was very formidable-looking when she chose to be. "Rayden was right. You have no idea what's going on here."

"So explain it to me!" Lindara snapped. Amai did the glare again and Lindara added, more quietly, "Please. I just want to know what's happening. Why is Rayden going after Cosmos?" She was already intensely embarrassed about losing her temper; she was trying so hard to be mature about things, especially in Rayden's eyes, and she thought after the Agri tournament she had managed that, and now--

Amai nodded slowly. "I guess that's fair. You deserve to know as much as the rest of us. Not that that's very much. I don't know all the specifics, but somehow Cosmos has been gaining power at an incredible rate. We think Hiko's involved in some way; she is his wife, after all, and she hasn't been seen outside Cosmos' Realm much lately. Rayden's taken it on himself to stop him, or them, or whatever."

"Oh," Lindara said. "That's not too specific, is it? I mean, why's Rayden decided to go after him?"

"Your guess is as good as mine on that," Amai admitted. "You'd probably better ask Rayden--but later, all right?"

The door of the room opened and Medicalis poked his head out. "Amai, I could use your help."

"Right." Amai followed him back inside, closing the door behind her.

Lindara stood disconsolately in the corridor. Part of her--a large part--wanted to run after Amai and offer to help too, but that would just be proving what Amai had said, wouldn't it?

Distracting everyone and being useless. Lindara kicked the wall angrily. It made her feel slightly better, so she did it again, and then headed upstairs to the Omniversal Bar.

"Camlen?"

Camlen lifted his head from his desk. There was someone outside his door. He considered telling them to go away, but he recognized the voice: Narva, a priest of the third rank. Too high for Camlen to order out with impunity. Wearily, he called, "Come in."

Narva pushed the door open, looking around the room. His eyes rested a moment, puzzled, on a smashed vase lying where it had fallen after Camlen had thrown it against the wall. Not one to be distracted by irrelevancies, though, Narva cleared his throat. "Camlen. I need your help."

"With what?" As little interest as he had in helping anyone, Camlen decided whatever it was would probably be better than sitting here staring at the walls. He hadn't done any actual work in days.

"I received a message today," Narva said officiously, "from one of our brothers in Cevar Province, from a village called Stonyfield on the southern border."

Camlen frowned. "There's plague in Cevar Province, isn't there?"

"Yes, but it seems to have subsided. Brother Mendric's message is something else. There's a man in his village called Henri--"

"I know him," Camlen said.

Narva blinked, surprised. "You do? That explains why Mendric asked for you. Are you two friends?"

"We met at the tournament," Camlen answered, meeting Narva's gaze levelly. Narva looked away. The reaction amused Camlen, even as used to it as he was.

"Ah. Ah, yes. Of course. Well, ah, Brother Mendric asked for you to come and deal with him. This Henri seems to have been spreading lies and blasphemy, saying terrible things. Mendric wants to stop him, but Henri fought in the, ah, the tournament and he's something of a hero, so he has to be handled delicately--"

"In other words, by another hero," Camlen said sardonically. "All right." Maybe this was what he needed: something simple and straightforward to deal with. "Tell the Archpriest I'm going to Stonyfield, then. I'll leave tomorrow morning." Narva nodded and turned to go. "Oh, and send up one of the novices on cleaning detail, will you? I seem to have knocked over my vase."

Lindara sat at a table in the Bar, staring into her glass of nectar. Kerlan wasn't around, which was unusual, so she'd helped herself to a drink. The Bar was mostly empty, and so was her glass--she wasn't sure if it was her third or her fourth.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Mind if I sit down?" Lindara shrugged. Taking that as a yes, Celebria slid into the seat opposite.

"So have you heard the latest?" she asked.

"I've been a little out of the loop," Lindara admitted.

Celebria's eyes sparkled. Nothing got the Goddess of Truth talking quicker than admitting you weren't up on the newest Omniversal gossip. "Well, this whole Cosmos thing--you know Rayden went after him, right?"

Lindara sighed. "I think I was the last one to find out," she said. "But nobody can tell me why he did it." She looked up hopefully. "I don't suppose you have any idea?" Celebria's information wasn't always accurate, but she could usually be counted on to have some.

"Well," Celebria said in a confidential tone, "certain sources say it's because of Nova."

"Nova?" Lindara repeated.

"Mm-hm. It's so obvious she and Rayden have something going on."

"Celebria!" Lindara exclaimed. "He's old enough to be her father!"

Celebria sniffed. "That's such a mortal way of looking at it. They're both adults, after all. Besides, what other reason could there be for Rayden's little crusade? He's obviously mad about the way Cosmos treats Nova. And Hiko, too, of course."

"Well, maybe," Lindara admitted, though privately she had some doubts.

"No maybes about it. It's true. I'm the Goddess of Truth; would I lie?" She smiled. "Of course, this thing with Nova is just because he's trying to pretend he doesn't have any feelings for me. Like I was saying to Kerlan the other day--" She looked around. "Say, where's Kerlan? I need a drink."

"Help yourself. That's what I did."

Celebria went to the bar and returned with a bottle of nectar and a glass. She filled it, then refilled Lindara's. "So what're you so gloomy about? Rayden is okay, so what's the matter?"

"I don't know," Lindara said unhappily. "Everything's so confusing. I left Agri to try to figure out how to improve it, and then I ran into this mess, and I still haven't accomplished a thing."

"You're improving Agri?" Celebria asked. "That sounds like fun! But I don't see what's so complicated about it. Just get Karoshi or Adiutor to send over some of the Omniversal Landscape Artists, they'll fix you up in--"

"No," Lindara said quickly, "no, that isn't what I mean. I'm trying to improve it socially. For my mortals."

"Oh!" Celebria giggled. "Why?"

Lindara started to answer, then stopped, a puzzled expression spreading over her face. "I'm not completely sure," she admitted. "I just--Rayden said--his mortals--I don't know."

"Well, that's what you should figure out first, then," Celebria said decisively. "You can't fix something until you know what's wrong with it. I mean, take my Realm. I don't need to improve things, because my mortals are perfectly happy."

"They are?" Lindara asked. "What's your Realm like?" She didn't think she'd ever been there.

"Oh, it's a nice place," Celebria said with a smile. "Very beautiful. Lots of fjords. I got Karoshi to do the fjords for me; he's really good at them. And the mortals know their place and they don't bother me."

Lindara frowned. "Well, how do you know they're happy, then?"

"I assume they must be, otherwise they'd be showing up at my temple to complain, wouldn't they?" Celebria said logically. "But all they ever pray about is harvests and babies and pedestrian mortal things like that. If there was a war or a plague or something, I'd intervene, but I don't have time to bother with minor matters." She giggled again. Celebria had a very high-pitched giggle. "There's so much going on in the Omniverse that's more interesting, don't you think?"

Lindara nodded slowly. Celebria had a point--indeed, before the Mortal Kombat tournament, that had been almost exactly what Lindara had believed. She'd sometimes answered prayers on a random basis, to hone her healing abilities and practice with her powers, but by and large the mortals themselves had meant very little. It was hardly worth getting to know them, after all; they were there one century and gone the next. She said this to Celebria, and the Goddess of Truth agreed.

"But I got to know some of them at the tournament," Lindara added. " Rayden brought some of his mortals to help me, and they seemed different somehow. They had personalities, they had goals--I mean, they were mortals, but they were people, too."

"That's a funny way to look at it," Celebria said, tilting her head to one side. "But maybe you've got a point. Still, everyone knows Rayden's mortals are a little strange. I've heard most of them don't even know who he is!"

"That's true," Lindara confirmed. "But some of my own mortals are the same as Rayden's. There was one, a girl named--named Aile, I think. I wouldn't have believed it, but she was braver than most of the gods I know. She sacrificed herself to save me from Shao Khan." Lindara shook her head. "If a mortal would do something like that--well, if they're people, then they deserve better than to be ignored. I feel like I owe them more than that."

"You have got some funny ideas." Celebria finished her drink and poured herself another. "Want some more nectar?"

Lindara shook her head. "No, thanks, I--"

There was the sudden whoop of a siren. Celebria dropped the bottle and it shattered on the table. Lindara recognized the sound first. "We're under attack!"

Celebria gasped. "But who would dare--"

They realized the answer at the same time. "Cosmos," Lindara said grimly.

"Let's go." Celebria snapped her fingers and vanished. Worried, but glad to have something useful to do at last, Lindara followed.

The two goddesses rematerialized in an already-crowded room which was apparently serving as a temporary military headquarters. Most of the deities were gathered around a large table map of the Omniverse. Lindara elbowed her way through the crowd until she had a clear view. When she could see the display, she was shocked. A blue-coloured section, already swollen to immense size, was gradually spreading like a stain to absorb the Realms around it. It was growing at an incredible speed, swallowing Realms in seconds.

"That was Calor," someone said as another Realm turned blue. Lindara looked up and saw Arnie standing nearby, a stricken look on his face. "Juanita must be--"

"Friends!" Kerlan called from the front of the room. Rayden and the three mortals were standing beside him. "Friends, deities of all ranks, please listen to me." The crowd quieted. "Thank you. Friends, it seems we are under attack. Now, we all know that a frontal assault would be useless--we cannot confront such power like that. However, there are other ways. I propose that a team should be led into Cosmos' citadel itself, and disarm him from there. He can be defeated. He's not that omnipotent."

In the midst of the tension, this struck Lindara as very funny, and she began to giggle and missed what was said next.

"We have our team!" Kerlan announced, bringing her back to herself. "Rayden, Lord of Earth, and three mortals!"

Amid the cheers, Lindara stared in disbelief. They were sending Rayden again? Right after he'd nearly gotten himself killed the last time? That couldn't possibly be a good idea. She opened her mouth to say so, but was interrupted by a shout of "No!" as Nova burst out of the crowd. "No! I'm going as well! I was there since the beginning, I deserve to go!"

Kerlan took her by the shoulders, saying something quietly. Lindara couldn't hear him, but she guessed he was telling Nova she couldn't go, judging by the expression on Nova's face. Lindara wondered why Nova was so insistent on going, anyway. She glanced at Rayden, standing beside Kerlan. Was it possible Celebria was right?

"Friends!" Kerlan said loudly. "We have our team!" Lindara cheered with the rest of the crowd. "However--"

Everyone was abruptly quiet, wondering what more there could be to say. "However," Kerlan continued, "you all know the importance of this mission. The entire omniverse is at stake. But we can't very well send in a god whose powers halve every time he steps out of his Realm, can we?" The crowd agreed enthusiastically that this was a bad idea, each, no doubt, willing to support whatever Kerlan said as long as it meant they didn't have to personally participate in the attack. "But no-one else has volunteered, so, perhaps, we can bend the rules a little?"

Everyone cheered. Lindara leaned toward Arnie. "What does he mean?"

"Rayden's going to get full Omniversal powers," Arnie explained. He grimaced. "He's going to need them. This is practically a suicide mission, I know it is."

Lindara recognized the expression on his face. "Juanita's going to be all right, Arn. You'll see. Rayden and his mortals will save her." She was actually a little dubious about the mortals, but, after all, they'd proven themselves more than once.

Arnie nodded uncertainly. "I hope you're right."

By the time Camlen reached Stonyfield, it was past sunset. The temple--the largest structure in the village, as was usually the case--was ringed with torches, but most of the houses were unlit or their windows curtained. As he walked down the main street, Camlen noticed strips of red cloth hung beside several doors: the symbol that someone in the house had died recently. The plague's been here, he thought uneasily.

He entered the temple, ducking his head to pass through the low doorway, and waylaid the first novice he saw. "Where's Brother Mendric? Take me to him."

"Right away, Father," the shaven-headed boy answered in a slightly squeaky voice. "I'm not sure where he is, but I'll see if--"

"No need, Feram." Mendric, a large florid man in his early fifties, appeared out of an archway as if by magic. "Go on about your duties. I'll speak with our visitor." The novice nodded and darted out of sight down the hall."

"I'm surprised you arrived so quickly," Mendric commented as he ushered Camlen into his study. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. But it's as well you've come now. The situation is rapidly growing unmanageable."

Camlen nodded, seating himself in a carved wooden chair. "So. I'm here. What do you want me to do?"

"Convince Henri that what he's saying is doing no good and a great deal of harm." Mendric settled himself on another chair. "He's telling the people that the Goddess doesn't plan to return, that we've been left on our own. Ordinarily people would laugh at this, but she is gone temporarily, everyone knows that, and now with the plague--well, you can see how this might weaken people's faith. A lot of them are listening."

"That's bad," Camlen agreed. "All right, I'll talk to him. Where does he live?"

"I'll take you to him tomorrow. He'll be out on the commons talking, he's there every day now. You can talk to him then, make him change his mind publicly, and then he'll tell everyone to stop thinking blasphemy and go back to their normal lives. Isn't that a good idea?"

Privately, Camlen thought it was a stupid idea, but he was too tired to argue. "All right," he said. "Tomorrow."

"I'll have one of the novices take you to a room, then, you should get some sleep now." Mendric beamed at him. "I'm sure everything's going to be just fine now that you're here!"

The village commons was a grassy hillock just past the last row of houses. A crowd had gathered there already by the time Mendric led Camlen out of the temple. "There he is," the heavyset priest said, pointing at a dark-haired man in their midst. "That's Henri."

Camlen studied him. He remembered Henri as a quiet, pious man, a farmer. He hadn't said much about himself, and had struck Camlen as a bit simple. Hardly the sort to incite a theological revolt, and yet there he was on that hill.

"Well?" Mendric demanded. "Go on! Go!" He sounded impatient, and excited. Camlen frowned at him. The senior priest looked as eager as--as the spectators at the Mortal Kombat tournament had been. Camlen shivered and wondered what sort of battle Mendric was expecting to see.

"I want to hear him first," Camlen told him shortly. "I want to know what he's saying." Mendric nodded with obvious reluctance.

Henri looked around at the crowd. Outwardly he seemed the same as the man Camlen knew; mid-thirties, tall, brown hair, an angular face with a long straight nose. Henri was thin, too thin, probably still recovering from plague. His expression could have been carved from stone as he surveyed the people gathered around him.

"My friends." His voice was rough and not very loud, but everyone was completely silent, listening. "It's good to see you. It's good to have to all here. Now more than ever, we have to stick together. We have to stand by each other, help each other, because the Goddess isn't going to help us anymore."

Murmurs of agreement from the crowd. "I'm telling you, my friends," Henri said, warming to his subject, "we're on our own now. The Goddess is gone, she said so herself. Prayers can't bring her back. The priests can't bring her back." Camlen caught himself nodded and mentally rebuked himself firmly. The man was a blasphemer, not to be heeded.

"So what should we do?" someone called from the crowd.

"Things are changing," Henri said, turning to face the speaker. "We have to change with them. We have to realize that nobody's going to help us when we're in trouble." His voice was bitter. "The Goddess doesn't care about us. She won't help us. We've got to accept that and move on. We've got to give up our old ways of thinking, our old institutions--" here he looked directly at the two priests in their distinctive robes, "--which served a useful function in the past but are now only parasites trying to disguise the fact that they've become obsolete!"

Most of the crowd cheered at that, but many were casting uneasy glances at the priests, whom they hadn't noticed before. Camlen was encouraged by this: Henri might be committed to his cause, but obviously his followers had doubts.

"So what should we do, friends?" This seemed to be a rhetorical question. "We have to accept in our hearts that the Goddess is gone. And since she's gone, we have to decide that we aren't going to pretend anymore, we aren't going to accept the leadership of those who haven't got any power anymore. It's hard, my friends, hard to accept change, but together we can make a new world and a better one."

"And who's going to rule it? You?" Camlen called. heads turned, seeking the source of the interruption. Henri merely smiled tolerantly.

"I have no interest in power," he answered. "I'm only trying to tell these people the truth. I'll leave the ruling to those more suited to it."

"That's not how it looks from here," Camlen shot back. Mendric was nodding encouragingly, obviously enjoying the argument. Irritably Camlen moved away from him and began to climb the hill. A few of the crowd moved to block his path, but at a nod from Henri they stepped aside.

"Camlen, my friend," Henri said warmly as Camlen reached the top of the hillock. "I haven't seen you lately. I see you're still in the priesthood."

"Of course," Camlen answered. "Where else would I be?"

Henri sighed. "You'll see your mistake soon enough."

Camlen barked a laugh. "I'm the one who should say that, Henri. When the Goddess comes back--"

"She's not coming back!" Henri snapped. "Admit it to yourself! She's abandoned us, Camlen, and the sooner everyone realizes that, the better!"

His voice dropped. "You know I'm right," he said softly. "You were at the tournament too. You fought for her, too. We saw friends of ours die for her. We all risked our lives, and for what? As soon as she didn't need us anymore, she abandoned us."

The words struck Camlen deeply. He tried to answer, but he couldn't think of anything to say. At the foot of the hill, Mendric strained to hear.

"She's going to come back," Camlen managed, but it came out weak, unconvincing. "She said she'd come back."

Henri's answer was simple. "She lied."

Camlen gasped. "You dare call her a liar?"

"She changed her mind, then," Henri said easily. "Admit it. She changed her mind. She does that sometimes, doesn't she, Camlen?"

"I don't understand," Camlen said, and then he did.

"Tell me, priest," Henri said, "what's the Goddess' first law? You're a priest, you should know." Camlen didn't answer. "You will not kill. That's the first law, the first command in the books of law you keep in every temple. And then, as soon as it becomes inconvenient--" He snapped his fingers. The sound made Camlen flinch. "Then she changes her mind! She doesn't care about us, not really. We're just toys to her, or tools to be used, and now she doesn't need us anymore and she's just abandoned us."

"I won't listen to this!" Camlen shouted, and whirled and ran back down the hill. Henri's voice floated mockingly after him.

"Don't listen, then! It doesn't matter! You know I'm right!"

Camlen didn't stop running until he reached the village temple. There he halted, leaning against the door, trying to catch his breath.

Mendric came hurrying up, puffing and panting, his broad face red. "Brother Camlen! Brother Camlen! What happened? I couldn't hear. What did he say?"

"Lies," Camlen answered raggedly. "Lies and blasphemy. You were right, Brother Mendric. He's a dangerous man."

"So--so what do we do?" Mendric asked nervously.

"Banish him," Camlen answered. "Send him out of the village. Anyone else that supports him, too. Warn all the other villages nearby not to let him in. Warn everyone."

"That's a very severe measure," Mendric said, clearly uneasy. "Are you sure--"

"I'm sure," Camlen said harshly. "He can't be reasoned with. Do as I say." Mendric still looked hesitant. "You asked me here to solve your problem. I'm solving it. The man's an enemy of the Goddess. Banish him."

Mendric nodded. "All right, it'll be as you say, Brother Camlen. I'll go write out the orders." He disappeared into the temple.

Camlen closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the wall. Great Goddess, help me, he prayed silently. Forgive my doubts. Help me. Henri's words echoed in his head. "Help me," he whispered aloud. "He's wrong. He can't be right. Great Goddess, come back--"

The atmosphere in the strategy room was tense and fearful. Every eye was riveted on the map display in the middle of the floor.

"Why doesn't something happen?" one of the watching deities murmured. "What's going on out there? Something must be wrong."

"Quiet," Kerlan said firmly. "If nothing's happening, that's good news. Cosmos can't have defeated them or he'd be back to grabbing Realms again. As long as that map doesn't change, they're still fighting."

"What do we do if he wins?" asked Amai, her nervous tone of voice belying her Valkyrie appearance. "If we see the map change?"

It was Celebria, the leader of the Council, who answered. "We fight," she said. "I know we aren't fighters, mostly, but if Rayden doesn't succeed, Cosmos is going to be here next and we'll have no choice." The crowd of gods and goddesses shifted uneasily.

"Look!" someone exclaimed suddenly. "What's happening?"

Light flared out from the map, dazzlingly bright, then faded. When they could look again, the watchers saw that the blue area was rapidly decreasing, and as it retreated, the Realms underneath it reverted to the rainbow patchwork of individual Realms that filled the rest of the map. At the same time, there was an unmistakable sense of exultation, coming from--

"Hiko!" Nova realized. "It's Hiko!"

"They did it!" Lindara exclaimed. Cosmos was dead, so that meant Rayden had to be all right. She frowned. It did, didn't it? Sensing people wasn't her strong suit, but she assumed she'd be able to tell if he was dead--but she hadn't sensed anything when he'd been hurt before, after all, and it was Hiko that everyone was sensing now--

"Come on, everybody, let's go congratulate them!" Celebria exclaimed, and the rest of the deities enthusiastically took up her suggestion, portalling out en masse. Lindara followed Celebria, certain she was worrying for nothing but worried nonetheless.

They winked back into existence on a broad, grassy plain. Around them was a crowd of deities, including--yes, there was Juanita, and Karoshi, and Lars, and all the other gods and goddesses whose Realms Cosmos had taken. They'd all come back. But where was Rayden?

There was a flash and Lindara turned, expecting to see him, but it was Arnie. "Arn, have you seen Rayden?"

The God of Lamps smirked. "Yep."

"Well, where is he?" Lindara demanded.

"Rayden," Arnie said, "is with Hiko. And I don't think they want to be disturbed."

Celebria, overhearing, giggled and vanished, presumably to go tell everyone who would listen. Lindara was a little slower to figure out what Arnie meant, and when she did, her face turned bright red.

"Rayden and Hiko?" she exclaimed. "I never expected that!"

Narva glanced up from a sheaf of papers he was reading as Camlen came into his office. "Ah, I see you're back. How was your trip?"

"Successful, I hope," Camlen answered. "The problem's been dealt with."

"Good work, good work," Narva said, chuckling. "I'm impressed with your skill. So is the Archpriest, as a matter of fact. I've spoken with him, and he agrees that you should be promoted. You'll be raised to the sixth rank in ten days from now." He studied Camlen's face. "Is something wrong, Brother?"

"I'm honoured," Camlen said. "But I know the ceremony. The promotion takes place in the presence of the Goddess. How do you propose--" He stopped. "Has there been any word?" he asked eagerly.

Narva sighed. "Ah, no, nothing. But the Goddess is immortal, you know; a month or so simply must not be as much to her as it is to us. And even in our terms it isn't that long, after all. We must be patient and have faith. The Goddess will return."

How easily he says it, Camlen thought. Aloud, he said, "So how do you plan to hold the ceremony, then?"

"It will be held in the Tower, you see," Narva explained. "We can take that as being the place of the, ah, the spiritual presence of the Goddess, even if she isn't physically there."

"I see," Camlen said, though he didn't, not really. He supposed it was a necessary compromise, though; after all, if a month was only an eyeblink to an immortal as Narva said, might not a year be similarly short? Or a decade, or a century, even--He rejected the thought. The Goddess would come back in his lifetime. She would come back soon, very soon. He just had to wait a little longer. "Thank you. I should go and make my full report to the Archpriest, then." Narva waved a dismissal and Camlen bowed his way out.

That afternoon he went to the Tower. It was falling to pieces, slowly but inevitably. A heap of crumbled masonry lay all around the walls. Camlen bent down and picked up a stone about the size of his hand. It was warm where the sun had shone on it and the heat seeped into his palms, warming flesh he hadn't noticed was cold.

He didn't go into the Tower; there was no point. It was thirty stories high, but a person could no longer go past the fourth floor unless he brought his own ladder. The Tower had once been forty-nine stories, but the brief battle with Shao Khan had destroyed the top half of it and damaged the rest. The outside staircase was ash now and most of the interior was rubble; only the stone skeleton remained, charred and slowly crumbling but, for now, still standing.

Camlen stood there on the hill until the sun set. He could feel no spiritual presence, no sign that anything of the Goddess was there. Finally, when the last rays of sunlight had vanished and the lights of the town twinkled in the valley below, he set down the stone he was holding on the now-cool grass and turned and headed for home.

Time passed. The gods marked it, but rarely paid it any attention unless there was some special need to. Lindara, travelling from Realm to Realm as she had taken to doing, wondered once whether that was why the Creator had appointed a mortal Guardian of Time rather than a god: mortals had a far keener knowledge of Time than those who had been gifted with a potentially infinite span of it.

Still, time passed, nonetheless. Rayden, declaring that he needed an extended vacation, returned to his Realm and took up residence at the Temple of Light, and Hiko joined him there shortly afterward. Lindara visited them once or twice, and they seemed happy.

Arnie and Juanita, after another fight that left Arnie limping and the Realm of Calor in chaos, decided they needed some time apart. The series of reconciliations, breakups, recriminations and bickering that followed strained even Celebria's ability to keep track. None of the other gods bothered to do so; the pair's stormy relationship was old news.

Celebria was tied up with Council business: the Council was debating the case of a god who had challenged another to Mortal Kombat despite the fact that neither Realm had any mortals in it. The involuted arguments made by both sides bored Celebria immensely, and she took every opportunity to slip off to the Omniversal Bar, which her brother Kerlan continued to tend with his usual skill.

Lindara travelled. She asked for visiting permission from every god and goddess she knew--and, even if permission was refused, was as likely as not to turn up anyway. She even visited Outworld, which had gone untenanted since Shao Khan's death at his brother Rayden's hands. Rumour had it that the Council had offered the Realm to the two gods' younger sister Meimei, who had taken one look at the mess Shao Khan had made of the place and then flatly refused it. Standing on a dark plain under a bruised violet sky, Lindara had understood Meimei's decision completely. Gaping ruins stretched to the horizon, towers standing upright like rotting teeth in a giant's skull--and Lindara had shivered and hurriedly portalled out, thinking thank the Creator he never had a chance to make Agri like this--

But most of her visits were more pleasant. "It's certainly a unique idea," Amai said as they sat together on the edge of a rust-red cliff and watched the waves of the Realm of Hamura's ocean crash against the rocks below. "I used to have mortals myself, you know. Once--oh, it's been awhile, now. A few millennia at least. But they required too much supervision, and my Omniversal duties kept me away so often. Eventually I just decided I couldn't do both anymore, and I exported the mortals to whatever Realms would take them. This place is so much quieter now. Still, they were interesting while they were here."

"Did you ever try to improve their lives for them?" Lindara asked, as she asked everyone. Amai smiled.

"You could say that," she said. "But it wasn't like what you're trying to do. I experimented with changing them physically, making them more suited to different environments. My father Timbo was the God of Science, you know, back before the--incident, and I've always been interested in the subject." She laughed softly. "Your brother's Realm took in some of my more exotic creations, as I recall. They must have terrified his humans. Mortals that were half-horse or half-fish or half-wolf--I had quite a talent for design in those days. I don't think any of them survive in Earth Realm now, but they lasted quite a while."

Lindara was fascinated. "I never thought of changing them that way!" she exclaimed. "Maybe I should do something like that!"

"Maybe," Amai said, "but in your case, there probably isn't much point; after all, your mortals don't have any trouble surviving in Agri right now, do they? Besides, a new physical form would probably require a completely new social organization, and that would negate most of the rest of what you're trying to do."

"Oh. Right." Lindara tossed a pebble over the edge of the cliff. It clattered onto the rocks and rolled into the water. "I just can't think of what to do. Everyone has all these ideas that sound really good, but when I try to put them together, they all sort of cancel each other out."

"You might as well just leave the mortals alone," Amai suggested. "No matter what sort of system you give them, they'll change it in a few centuries unless you keep a close watch on them, and you told me that's just what you don't want to do. Just let them do their mortal things and don't bother with them unless you have to."

This view seemed to be shared by many of the deities Lindara talked to. Some stayed out of mortal affairs because, like Rayden, they believed this was best for the mortals concerned, but most of the others simply couldn't be bothered to take an interest in the inhabitants of their Realms.

"I hate mortals," Kenduff, the God of Rocks, said bluntly when Lindara asked him. "Worst idea the Creator ever had, in my opinion. What good are they? Tell me that. I only keep 'em around because of the Mortal Kombats--which are also a bad idea, let me tell you. Had to import 'em when the Creator came up with the Kombats, just to be safe. Stupid idea. Stupid name, too. If the Creator's so omnipotent as everyone says, why can't he spell? Tell me that. Not that any of it would be necessary if certain deities had a little self-control. Too many gods with ambition and too damn many mortals, that's what's wrong with the Omniverse these days."

"Everyone's very interested in what you're doing, Lindara," Medicalis told her when they met in the Bar. "A lot of them also think you're crazy, mind you. But don't let that bother you."

"I don't," Lindara assured him. "This is something I want to do. And besides," she added with a toss of her head, "it isn't as if they don't do strange things once in a while. If nobody's bothered by Shemali's boyfriends or Arnie and Juanita's fights or Roger's--or Roger just being Roger, then they shouldn't have any problem with my plans either."

"I used to have mortals once," Mangala, once the Goddess of Metals, said wistfully, as she and Lindara stood amid the colourless grey ruins of what had once been Mangala's Realm. It had been one of the first Realms Cosmos had taken, and the battle had nearly destroyed it utterly. As it was, it was damaged far beyond repair. Great rips of nothingness shredded the sky and the ground both; only a god could survive here now, as the destroyed Realm faded slowly back into primal chaos. "This was a city, I think." She touched a standing pillar and it crumbled under her hand. "Yes, I rmember it. There were fountains, and bridges, and over there was a temple. The mortals made temples to me everywhere. All gone now. All dust."

"I sympathize completely," Lindara said, and privately decided it had been a mistake to come here. Mangala spent most of her time here now, trying with what little power she had left to hold the remnants of her Realm together. It was futile, but no-one could convince her of that. "Well, I'd probably better be--"

"Dust," Mangala said louder. "All dust. Cosmos knew. He knew what he was doing. All the cities gone, all the people, nobody left but me." She began to laugh hollowly, rocking back and forth on her heels. "Nobody but me. Nobody left but me."

"Mangala," Lindara said gently, "Cosmos is dead, you know. Why don't you come back?"

Mangala shook her head, looking sadly up at the dissolving sky. "You go ahead. I'll just stay a little longer."

Lindara made a portal back to the Omniversal Hall. As she left, the last thing she saw was Mangala trying to pile some of the grey stones on top of each other. The pile fell over, little clouds of dust rising where the stones hit the earth. Mangala sighed and began to make another attempt. Lindara stepped into the portal and disappeared.

Time passed, even for the gods. The incident with Cosmos, though not forgotten, became less important with each passing day. The other gods whom Cosmos had defeated repaired their Realms and went on with their lives. Cosmos' Realm of Usirapi, which by Omniversal law would be inherited by his daughter Nova, was held by the Council until Nova should choose to claim it. That Realm had had no mortals, and Lindara had no interest in visiting it.

From time to time, she wondered how Agri was doing. Sometimes she even thought of going back, just for a brief visit to see how things were. Each time, though, she changed her mind. She had promised herself that when she went back, it would be with the knowledge of how to improve things and a firm plan for doing so. And so she stayed away.

Time passed. Summer turned to autumn and then to winter, and spring followed on winter's heels, and in short order it was summer again. The days were long and warm, and the crops were growing, and life in Agri was good, as it usually was.

Camlen awoke one morning in his room in the Temple--the temple of the town of Towerbridge, but everyone just called it the Temple now--and realized with a slight shock that the Goddess had been gone a full year. For a moment he wondered if he was mistaken: it couldn't really have been that long, could it? But it was past midsummer's day, and the late crops had been planted. By the calendar, a year had passed.

He had grown used to the fact of the Goddess' disappearance, and he accepted it now, intellectually at least. The nightmares had never gone away, but they came less frequently now, and he was able to put them out of his mind. His new duties as a priest of the sixth rank kept him occupied, and most of the time he was able to concentrate on his work. He was satisfied, if not happy; he had at least reached an equilibrium he could live with.

The day was overcast, threatening to rain. Camlen dressed in a clean robe and left his room, headed for the Temple's eating hall. Halfway there, he heard someone call his name and turned to see Narva hurrying toward him. Resignedly Camlen waited for the little man to catch up.

"Brother Camlen!" he puffed. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Camlen shrugged. "So. You found me."

"Yes, and I have a message from the Archpriest, and, ah, he's somewhat worried." Narva proffered a slightly sweat-stained sheaf of papers, which Camlen took. "These are from various villages in the northeast, from Cevar and Ardir Provinces, mostly, and Alon."

"Hmm." Camlen flipped through the pages. They seemed to be routine reports for the most part, dealing with local matters. "So?"

"They've all reported that a certain person has been sighted in the area," Narva explained. "Rather, a certain group of persons. Do you recall the village in Cevar where you were sent last summer?"

Camlen frowned. "Where Henri lived?" He couldn't remember the name of the village offhand.

"The same. It seems your friend Henri has gathered quite a following." Narva reclaimed the reports and took out a few. "Ever since you, ah, had him banished, he's been wandering from village to village, preaching this blasphemy of his. People are leaving their homes and following him, sometimes in great numbers. Brother Esbor of Millford even reports that some of the novices have, ah, have left the temple there."

"That's bad," Camlen said drily, amused by Narva's discomfiture. This was a time to be serious, though. "Does anyone have any idea why Henri's message is so popular? There hasn't been a plague or a drought recently, and the people are well fed. Why should they be so ready to give up hope?" Can you explain it? I can't. I've tried.

Narva sighed deeply. "It, ah, it has been a year, Brother Camlen. The more time passes, the more credible this man's, ah, claim seems. To the common people, anyway. We, of course, understand the need for patience." His look seemed significant, and Camlen wondered momentarily if his own doubts were that obvious. "But one can hardly expect the average peasant to be as intelligent. In a way, the fact that the year has been good may be helping this man. The people see that even without the Goddess, life goes on as usual, and they are more ready to believe this Henri's vicious lies that the Goddess and her priests are unnecessary."

"I see," Camlen said, nodding. "So. He's wandering around up north. What should we do?"

"We were, ah, hoping you might have some suggestions as to that," Narva admitted somewhat sheepishly. "The Archpriest told me to speak to you, since you're--since you were Henri's friend. He thought you might know how to deal with him."

"I can't see why," Camlen said. "I only met him shortly before the tournament, and we weren't close. I don't think I'd have any better idea of what to do than the Archpriest would."

"Yes, of course, of course. Terribly sorry. But, still--if you think of anything--"

Camlen's stomach growled. "Right now, I'm thinking of breakfast," he answered with a slight smile. "Yes, I'll tell the Archpriest any ideas I come up with. But what have you done about this so far?"

"Ah--nothing, actually," Narva answered.

"And so far, aside from the runaway novices and wandering peasants, nothing's happened?"

"Well, no, but there are hundreds of them! Who knows what they might do?"

"I'll tell you what they'll do," Camlen answered. "They'll keep this up for another few months, and then when winter comes and Henri doesn't have anything to feed them on, they'll go home. I'd be surprised if he has even twenty followers left by spring."

Narva looked relieved. "You think so?"

"I'm almost sure of it," Camlen answered. "I'm guessing he only started collecting these large numbers of followers this spring?" Narva nodded. "There you go, then. They haven't had to sit out a winter yet. They'll go home."

"But what if this just starts up again the spring afterwards?" Narva asked uneasily.

"We can send someone to him this winter," Camlen pointed out. "After he sees his people deserting him, he might be willing to give up this nonsense. And besides," he added, "maybe the Goddess will come back by then. All we really have to do is keep him from disrupting things too much until she returns."

"That's true. That's true." Narva was looking much happier. "Thank you, Brother Camlen. You've been, ah, very helpful. I'll report your, ah, suggestion to the Archpriest at once. I'm certain he'll be glad to hear it." He turned and bustled away. Camlen watched him go, then, dismissing the matter from his mind as best he could, went to get something to eat.

Now summer was over, and the days were starting to grow imperceptibly shorter. This was not, as on Earth, due to an elliptical orbit; Agri was in fact not a planet at all. Many Realms weren't. Agri was a flat plane bounded on all sides by forest, with a land area approximately equal to that of Greece or the Island of Newfoundland. Agri's seasonal and climactic variations had simply been set in place by Lindara in imitation of her brother's Realm, and the sun, two moons and numerous stars really were no more than lights in the sky.

The borders of the Realm were somewhere within the all-enclosing forest. No-one knew exactly where, or even what they looked like; no maps were made of the forest, and by divine edict, people stayed away. Even the ones who lived on the edge of the forest--and aside from Ardan and Cevar, Agri's provinces all bordered on it for some distance, so there were some of those--did not go further in than they could help. After all, the Goddess had told them not to.

Of course, to some, what the Goddess had said made little difference anymore.

"This is stupid," Chai muttered, hoisting the water keg onto her back. "This really is truly stupid. I don't believe I'm doing this. Goddess or no Goddess, this place is creepy."

"Well, our fearless leader says it's safe," her sister Min pointed out, securing the cover on her own water barrel and lifting it onto her shoulders. The two women began walking, heading away from the river along a newly beaten path. The trees were dense here, as everywhere, and seemed to press closely on either side. "Besides, it's a good idea. We've got to go somewhere to make a fresh start, and no-one's going to bother us here."

"Because everyone else has enough sense to stay away from this place," Chai grumbled. "I wish I did."

The camp came into sight. It was situated in a relatively freshly cut clearing, and an air of newness still lingered around the place. Tents were pitched in rows, nearly a hundred tents altogether, and although many of the cut trees had been used for firewood, several wooden structures had gone up and more were being built.

Henri was not a stupid man. He knew that winter was coming; knew, too, that food was going to be a problem in the months ahead. Thus far his itinerant followers had managed to feed themselves off the land, but that would be impossible after late autumn. Nor would most of the roads be passable once the snows came. If the fledgling movement was to keep up its momentum until spring, Henri knew, they needed a place to stay the winter and a good store of food. With the camp well under way and several cleared fields further in the forest planted with late crops, both necessities were being taken care of.

The place he had chosen, aided by some of his followers who had lived in the area, was in the north-eastern province of Alon. This province ended in the forest on the north and east sides; its southern and western borders were formed by rivers, which flowed out of the forest to join together at Alon's southwest corner. From there the single, greater river flowed south along Cevar Province's western edge and continued down into Ardan. The Tower was built on its bank, some two hundred fifty kilometres or more in a straight line southwest from where Henri's people were camped; they had chosen a site in the eastern forest, near the westward-flowing river. There they would stay until spring.

"Hey! Garulf!" Min called as the sisters entered the camp with their burdens. "Where do you want these?"

Garulf, Henri's nominal second-in-command, was the man in charge of the camp while Henri and a small number of the others were out wandering the provinces preaching their message. He was a tall, weathered man with black hair turning to grey and a large crooked nose. He looked up from what he was doing--digging a hole, it looked like--to glare at Min and Chai. "Over there with the others, of course," he growled, in a why-am-I-surrounded-by-idiots tone of voice. "Then you two can take a turn digging. The sooner we get these wells done, the happier I'll be. I want at least four dug by the time Henri gets back."

"Do you know when that'll be?" Min asked, setting down her water barrel under the roof of a nearby open shed that already housed a number of similar casks. Chai did likewise. Garulf frowned.

"Not sure. No more than a week. He's gone west across the river into Cheva Province and he doesn't want to get stuck in the mountains there when the snow comes. A week from now at most. More likely a couple of days."

"Cheva?" Chai said. "Why would he go there? There's hardly enough people to make it worthwhile, is there?"

Garulf shrugged. "Henri wants his message gotten to everyone, and the villages in Cheva are all so remote that they probably haven't heard of him yet."

"It's a good point," Min admitted. "Chai and I had never heard of him until he showed up at Pike Lake." The sisters' home village, Pike Lake in northern Cevar, had been visited in late spring by Henri and his followers, and the two women and some others had gone with him then.

"Well, still, I think he ought to be here," Chai argued. "We left our homes to follow him, not to sit in these creepy woods while--"

There was a sudden commotion from the west side of the camp. Dropping his spade, Garulf headed that way, muttering under his breath. Min and Chai followed.

It was Henri. He and the other twenty who had gone with him had returned--no, there were only eighteen others there. All looked exhausted, and not a few bore injuries, inexpertly patched. "What happened?" Garulf demanded. "Where are Sern and Maric? Why are you back so early, Henri?"

"Sern and Maric are dead," Henri answered flatly. Someone in the gathering crowd gasped. "We were caught in an avalanche in the mountains--five days ago." He seemed to be counting in his head. "Yes, five days. Four days ago we reached the western border of Alon, but we weren't permitted to cross the river. We turned back."

"What do you mean, you weren't permitted to cross?" Chai asked, voicing what everyone was thinking. "Who could forbid you?"

"The priests," Henri answered angrily. "They were waiting on the far bank when we arrived. They said they'd cut the bridges if we tried to cross into Cheva." His voice rose to address the whole crowd. "You see what they do! They're only trying to keep the people in mental enslavement--they can't stand to let anyone hear other ideas! Even though we had wounded with us, they wouldn't let us cross; never mind that the nearest village on the Alon side was nearly a day's journey away!" Murmurs of disbelief came from the crowd. Everyone knew the priests didn't like them or their message, but refusing lodging to injured men was unjust and unfair. "Sern was still alive when we reached the border. If we'd been allowed across, he might still be alive now! As far as I'm concerned, the priests killed him!"

The crowd roared in shared outrage. "We have to do something!" Chai shouted. Min looked uncertainly at her; what did she think they could possibly do?

"My friends--my friends--" Henri raised his hands for quiet. "Rest assured, this will not go unanswered. But right now I need to speak with Garulf, and these men need to rest; we've been walking for days. There'll be time later to decide what to do. Go back to your work. We'll figure out what should be done." Reluctantly the crowd dispersed.

Min, reasoning that she didn't have to help dig wells if Garulf was busy elsewhere, made her way to the wooden building to which the injured were being taken. She knew one of them, a man named Penn who, like Min, came from Pike Lake. There was a long gash along his scalp, wrapped with a cloth bandage. "Didn't even see it coming," he told Min, settling onto a couch. "Snow's already knee-deep in the passes, and in some places it'd piled up in big drifts so we couldn't go through. We were taking a detour around one of those when all of a sudden there was a crash up above our heads and the whole side of the mountain seemed to come down on us. Goddess be thanked, most of us weren't badly hurt--" He stopped, red-faced. "I mean--"

"It's okay," Min assured him. "I do that too sometimes. So long as Henri doesn't hear you."

"Yeah," Penn agreed. "Though I don't doubt there was more than a few of us giving thanks after the air cleared. Maric got knocked off the cliff, we couldn't even see him, but it was a straight drop. The rest of us--Henri said we had to keep going, it'd be all right once we got into Cheva, we'd stop at Westghyll there. So we got moving, and then--"

"And then the priests turned you back," Min said, appalled. "I can't believe--"

Penn looked uncomfortable. "Well, as to that--the truth is, Min, there was only the one priest with them that I could see, it was just a bunch of men from Westghyll mostly. They said they couldn't lodge twenty men, and I have to say, I believe them. Westghyll's only a village of a hundred or so, after all. Henri got angry and started shouting, and that's when they threatened to cut the bridge down. I don't know if they'd really have done it or not."

"Oh," Min said. "But still, they should've let you cross! At least the injured--then maybe Sern would still be--"

"Sern's legs were crushed, Min," Penn said. "He wouldn't have lasted the night no matter where he was."

Min was silent for a few moments, thinking. "Are you saying Henri lied?" she asked.

"Well, not lied, not as such. Exaggerated, maybe. I don't think the people were being as malicious as Henri made out. They turned us back and they shouldn't have, but--" Penn shrugged. "What do I know, though. Henri's the one who knows how the priests really are. He's probably right."

"I don't like it," muttered Garulf. "Snow this early, even in the mountains--it's not natural."

Henri nodded, poking at the fire with a stick. Grey smoke drifted upwards toward the hole in the tent's roof. "The Goddess isn't around to keep the weather under control anymore. We'll have to deal with it becoming more unpredictable, I guess." He looked up at the other man. "It's going to cause problems, though. What's our food supply like?"

"The crops we planted in the summer need another month at the very least," Garulf answered. "If the frost comes early we could lose almost all of them."

"That's what I thought," Henri said. "And we haven't got nearly enough stored food if the harvest does fail. Nor much to trade for it with, either." He sighed. "We'll just have to hope the winter comes at the usual time, and make plans for what to do if it's early. We've gone over some of those already."

Garulf nodded. "Goddess willing, we won't have to use them." He saw Henri's sudden glare and raised his hands. "Joke, Henri. I was kidding."

"It's not funny," Henri snapped. "I don't want to hear that. Not even from you."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood." Garulf picked up a stick from the small woodpile, turned it over in his hands a few times and tossed it into the fire. A puff of sparks went up. "Really, though, let's hope this is all unnecessary."

Henri nodded. "And if it's not--"

"If it's not, we'll do what you tell us, of course. Honestly, do you think we'd be here if we weren't willing to do what you say?" Garulf smiled. "Don't worry about that. Worry about the harvest instead."

Their fears proved well-founded. Less than two weeks after the return of the ill-fated expedition, the camp woke one morning to find the grass covered in spidery white. The temperature had dropped well below freezing in the night. Henri rushed out to the camp's fields, fearing the worst, and saw that his fears were right. He had been a farmer most of his life and he knew a killing frost when he saw one.

Garulf met him back at the camp. "How is it?"

"Bad," Henri answered. "We'll salvage what we can, but that won't be more than a quarter of the crop. A month's food supply if that."

"So what are we going to do?" Garulf asked. Henri was silent a minute before answering, looking out into the trees. He was facing west; that way lay the forest's edge and the province of Alon.

"We've discussed this, Garulf. The Goddess' laws don't make any difference anymore. We'll do what we have to."

Chai poked her head and shoulders through the tent flap. "Min! Wake up!"

"Mmph." Min pulled the blankets up around her ears. Impatiently Chai yanked them away.

"Come on, Min. Henri's called a meeting."

"Another one?" Reluctantly Min abandoned sleep as a lost cause and sat up, pulling a jacket around her shoulders. "Did he say why?"

Chai shook her head. "I haven't heard."

They were some of the last to reach the middle of the camp, and Henri was already speaking to the crowd in the clear space between the tents. "--understand that this is a difficult time," he was saying. "We knew there would be problems when we started. But let's not be discouraged! There are always alternatives, my friends."

"Yeah," someone muttered nearby. "Sit here and starve, or go home."

"What's he talking about?" Chai asked him. The man spat on the ground.

"The food supply. Or the fact that we haven't got one. The frost's ruined the crops."

"That's bad," Min said worriedly. Up front, Henri was calling for quiet.

"Friends! I'm not saying we should give up. I hear some of you saying the only thing to do is to go back to your villages. But there are always alternatives." The crowd was silent, waiting expectantly. "The villages have food stored for the winter, they always do--more than they need. I propose we take what we want from them; there are several nearby that we could reach."

Silence greeted this suggestion. "But won't they try to stop us?" someone asked.

"Of course," Henri said. "But we need the food; they can get more from other villages or from the southern provinces. And I wouldn't worry much about them." He smiled. "I propose to go myself, with Taiga and Arben and Fel." Those three had fought in the tournament, as Henri had; they had been taught to fight by the mortals of Earth. "Of course we hope it won't be necessary to fight, but if they try to stop us, they won't be able to."

"It's wrong to take what belongs to other people," Min called out clearly, slightly surprised to hear her own voice.

Henri looked around, trying to locate her in the crowd. His eye fixed on her. "Is it?"

"Y--yes," Min stammered, suddenly uneasy.

"And who says that?"

"The--" She stopped. Henri was waiting patiently, a faint smile on his face. "The Goddess," Min admitted quietly.

"Exactly," Henri said expansively. "By the Goddess' laws, we should sit here and starve to death instead! That sort of injustice is why we're here in the first place! Isn't that right?" He was answered with cheers.

Min said, "But the priests--"

"The priests would be happy if we did starve!" His voice had hardened, as it always did when he spoke of the Goddess or her servants. "They'd be perfectly glad to let us die! Just like they let Sern die when they turned us away at Cheva!" The shouts of the crowd were angry now, their tone matching his, filled with righteous rage. "The Goddess and the priests have stolen so much from us, it's about time we took something back!"

Min, remembering what Penn had told her about the expedition to Cheva, didn't join the cheers. She was starting to wonder if she'd done the right thing, coming here. Henri's ideas made sense--starting a new life, away from the old hierarchy of power, away from the people who still insisted the Goddess would return--but his hatred seemed to colour everything. The way he talked about the priests, and even the Goddess--and now this. No matter what rationale Henri had decided to give, Min was certain it was a bad idea.

"Things used to be a whole lot simpler," she muttered. She didn't think anyone heard her; everyone was still shouting.

It was a few hours by water to the village of Marchbourne, west along the river from the camp. They left just after midnight to arrive before dawn: thirty men and women, including the four tournament veterans, Henri in the leading boat.

Further back in the file, Min crouched in the bottom of her boat and tried to stay out of the paddlers' way. They were riding five to a boat and rowing in turns so as not to arrive too tired. It would be her turn to row in an hour or so. Meanwhile she wrapped herself in her cloak, listened to Henri's last-minute instructions, and tried not to fall asleep.

The boats pushed off from the bank, and in a few minutes the camp was lost to sight behind them. Night closed around them quickly. There were no stars visible though the forest canopy, though every now and the travellers caught a glimpse of half a moon. Unseen creatures chittered on the banks. The oars splashed softly in the black water.

This close to the headwaters of the river, the current was swift and they made good time, but it would slow as the river widened and shallowed. That was to their advantage; they would have to get away quickly after raiding the village storehouse, and it would be hard to make much speed rowing upstream against a strong current. However, Marchbourne had been built at a shallow place, so they expected no trouble on that account.

"Remember," Henri had cautioned them as they were getting ready to leave, "the plan is to do this as quickly as possible. Everyone ought to be asleep; we'll be quiet and we won't carry torches. There'll be a guard at the storehouse," for although raiders were unknown, animals might go after the stored food, "but if we make certain he doesn't have the chance to wake anyone, it should be all right."

He had sounded very optimistic, but Min still wished she weren't going. She had no idea why she'd been chosen, unless it was some sort of punishment. Other than the three fighters, it seemed the participants had been picked at random. Neither Chai nor Penn was going, and Min didn't really know any of the others in her boat--not that she felt much like talking anyway. The night seemed to drag on forever. Min took a turn at the oars and after awhile gave them up again. The night seemed to be getting colder.

When they came out of the forest, one of the moons had set and the other was low in the south. It was lighter, though, out of the trees, even if dawn was still hours away. They had been rowing in the middle of the river, where the current was fastest and there was less chance of hitting an obstruction in the water; now the order was passed back to move toward the bank. The line of boats swung to the right, into the slight shadow of the shore.

They landed within sight of Marchbourne and pulled the boats up onto the bank--high enough that they wouldn't wash away, but near enough to the water that they wouldn't take long to put back. Henri wordlessly gathered the raiders together, counted heads, then gestured at them to follow. He and Taiga led and the other two fighters brought up the rear.

Min, somewhere in the middle, concentrated on walking quietly. It was difficult in the dry autumn grass, and she felt certain they were about to be discovered any moment. Then the dark wall of the storehouse appeared abruptly ahead of them, and they stopped. There was a creak and torchlight spilled out of an open door--Min tensed, ready to flee, but there was no alarm, just a few indistinct thuds and then silence. The group crowded forward into the building.

"He was the only one here, I think," Taiga was telling Henri. Min saw a red-haired man lying facedown on the dirt floor. She hurt him, Min thought. It's wrong to hit people. She heard Henri's response in her head: And who says that?

"All right," Henri announced in a low voice. "Let's get as much of this as we can to the boats. Keep it quiet."

There was more in the building than they would possibly be able to fit in the boats; Min was relieved at this. Even loading the boats high enough to put them in danger of sinking, they would be taking only about two-thirds of the village stores. Before those ran out, the people of Marchbourne woudl be able to send for more food from the south. So it isn't as though we're doing anything all that bad, after all, Min thought. They aren't going to starve. Feeling slightly silly for worrying about it, Min hurried to help with the work. It wasn't too hard; the stored food was already in barrels or crates or bundled in coarse cloth, and all they had to do was carry it to the river. If they hadn't had to worry about being silent, they could have done it quickly; as it was, the boats were only half-full when they were spotted.

Min wasn't sure afterwards exactly what had happened; voices were suddenly shouting from everywhere at once, and people were running every direction in the darkness. "Get to the boats!" she heard someone call. A hand grabbed her arm and she shrieked, but it was Henri. "Get to the boats, get going!"

She ran, slipping and stumbling on the rough ground, falling and picking herself up and running again. Behind her there was a sudden flare of firelight, and someone screamed. Min looked over her shoulder and saw that the storehouse was on fire. Shadows of people, indistinguishable in the weird light, ran back and forth with seemingly no direction in mind--Min's foot caught on a stone and she pitched forward onto the ground. Her hands sank into mud: she'd reached the river.

Two of the boats were gone already; Min jumped into a third just as it was pushing off. There were eight people aboard as well as the food and the boat was low in the water, but with panicked strength they made good speed up the river. Min, without an oar, stared back into the darkness. The fourth and fifth boats were in the river now. People were running along the bank in pursuit, but whether they were friends or villagers, Min couldn't see. On the bank, the flames had spread to a second building and a pall of greasy smoke drifted upwards to blot out the stars.

One by one the boats rounded the slow curve of the river, and Marchbourne was lost from sight. Against the current they slid under the eaves of the forest, and by the time the sun rose they were almost home.

Camlen was distracted from the papers on his desk by the sound of rapid footsteps outside. He looked up, tiredly ready to respond to the inevitable knock, but instead the door slammed open and crashed against the wall. "You'd better have an explanation for this!" Narva shouted, his face red as he stumbled into the room. He was brandishing a crumpled piece of paper in his fist.

"What?" Camlen said.

"This! This!" Narva threw the paper onto the desk. Camlen carefully smoothed out the creases and read, while Narva watched impatiently, shifting from foot to foot. "Well? You said if we did nothing it would all work out! You said it'd all be over by spring!"

Camlen tapped the paper with one finger. "This comes from Marchbourne in Alon, it says?"

"Yes--yes. The runner from the temple there arrived this morning." Not to be distracted from his anger, Narva glared at Camlen. "You said that if we left them alone nothing would happen! And now this--this! People dead, half a village destroyed--"

"Four dead." According to the report, three villagers had been killed by the fire, and an unidentified person--a raider, presumably--had drowned trying to cross the river. "Have arrangements been made to send help to this village?"

"Yes, yes, food is being sent from Whitehollow and Waterhill, and the buildings will be rebuilt. The villagers will be all right. But that doesn't change the fact that you said--"

Camlen stood, coming around the desk to stand beside Narva. He was head and shoulders taller than the senior priest, and involuntarily Narva stepped back. "We should go and see the Archpriest," Camlen said. "I'll tell him what we should do."

"What makes you think he'll listen to you?" Narva blustered. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't--"

"You agreed with the idea. You're as responsible as I am." Despite his words, though, Camlen's normally flat voice had taken on an animated tone. "Come on. Let's go."

"You're sure you know what to do?" Narva asked hopefully. "Because the last time you--"

"I'm sure." Camlen said it with such conviction that Narva couldn't help but believe him. It was true; he was sure, more sure of this than he had been of anything in the last year and a half. "I know what we have to do. I know what the Goddess wants us to do. I'm only surprised I didn't see it sooner."

He saw Narva's look of incomprehension and said, not unkindly, "Think about it. This Henri and his followers hate the Goddess. They're enemies of the Goddess. What happens to enemies of the Goddess?"

"I--I don't know," Narva admitted. "None of the books of law say anything about--"

"Well, of course they don't. Until recently, the Goddess didn't have enemies." It was all clear in his mind now. There wasn't any uncertainty after all; the Goddess' laws had changed because circumstances had changed, that was all, and there was nothing wrong with that. "But now she does. So what happens to them?"

"Are you referring to the, ah, the tournament?" Narva asked uneasily.

"Exactly. The Goddess' enemies have to be destroyed. Completely and utterly destroyed. That's what she wants." He pressed the report from Marchbourne back into Narva's hands. "Come on. We have a lot to prepare. We'll need to speak with the Archpriest first, of course. Then we should gather up everyone who fought in the tournament; they'll be the start of our--" He wasn't sure what to call it; the word "army" wasn't part of his vocabulary. "Our group of fighters. They'll have to train others. We'll need a lot. We have to destroy Henri's people, destroy them completely."

Narva, looking frightened, clutched the report to his chest. "But--I mean, ah--fighting is against the Goddess' laws, you know, and killing--"

"It's all right," Camlen assured him. "They're enemies of the Goddess. You know she commanded us to fight Shao Khan's people in the tournament; this is the same. Fighting is allowed, if we're fighting enemies. It's the Goddess' will. They have to die."

Shemali sighed deeply and exaggeratedly. "Lin, you're my best friend and I love you, but sometimes you're really weird, you know that?" She frowned at her reflection in the hand-mirror she was holding and began carefully to adjust the intricate plaits of her hair. Like Lindara's, Shemali's hair was jet-black and she wore it long, so that it reached her ankles when it was loose. The two women were cousins, Shemali being the daughter of one of Naturalis' brothers, but they could easily be mistaken for sisters. Unlike Lindara, though, Shemali was fussing with her appearance constantly. Lindara didn't believe she had ever seen her cousin with the same hairstyle twice. "It's true, Lin, admit it. This whole silly fixation of yours--it's been going on too long. Everyone's talking about it. I was talking with Karoshi the other day, and he thinks--"

"I couldn't care less what Karoshi thinks," Lindara interrupted with some heat. "I've seen his Realm. He's got no right to criticize."

Shemali shrugged indifferently. "Well, whatever. But the point is that you're making a fool of yourself. Paying all this attention to mortals is absurd. Haven't you spent enough time on it yet?"

"I don't see why it's so terrible to care about mortals," Lindara said, irritated. "And what else should I be spending my time on, anyway?"

"Something useful! Anything!"

"Like chasing Karoshi? That's your idea of useful?" Lindara smiled to take the sting out of the words, though inwardly she was annoyed at her cousin's casual dismissal of the mortals' importance, an attitude that most of the gods seemed to share. The fact that Lindara herself had held a similar view for most of her life only made it more annoying; she felt privately that if she had changed her mind, they should as well.

"Well," Shemali said with a toss of her head, disarranging her piled braids, "I'm done with Karoshi, anyway. He bores me. His brother, now--" Her eyes sparkled. "I don't usually like tall men, but in Adiutor's case I'm prepared to make an exception."

Lindara rolled her eyes. "You're impossible." She glanced around the room, which was furnished mostly in green and featured several wardrobes and large mirrors. "So is it Adiutor you're dressing up for, then?"

"Don't be silly," Shemali sniffed. "I've got a date with Lars. He's coming to pick me up in a little while."

"Lars?" Lindara repeated. "I thought you hated Lars."

"Oh, well, he's amusing, anyway."

"And your powers are completely incompatible, you know. The Council would have a fit. And so would your parents." As the Goddess of Unseasonal Snow, Shemali's powers were incompatible with most of the Omniverse. Lindara suspected that was why Shemali had never considered having children; her possible selection of marriage partners was depressingly small.

"Come on, Lin. It isn't like I'm planning anything long-term. I can't stand Lars for more than a few weeks at a time."

Lindara frowned at her. "Shemali, you know, if you keep this up, you're going to get yourself into some serious trouble. The Council--"

"Oh, don't be silly," Shemali said airily. "I'm not doing anything stupid. I know the penalties. Believe me, the last thing I want is an unauthorized kid to mess up my life. Don't worry about me, Lin, I'm just having fun." She looked speculatively at her cousin. "We need to get you someone special. That'd take your mind off this obsession."

"It's not an obsession. It's only been a year or so."

"It's been nearly two, and for something this stupid, that's way too long."

Lindara glared at her. "It's not stupid. Spending all your time chasing men, that's stupid."

"Mortals are stupider than anything," Shemali countered.

"Are not," Lindara said automatically.

"Are."

"Are not." Lindara grinned. "Besides, the Guardian's a mortal. Didn't you have your eye on him for awhile?"

"Mm, maybe. But he's different. Not that he ever noticed me--or at least, he pretended not to. I don't think--Lin? what's wrong?"

Lindara shook her head. "I--I don't know." She felt suddenly strange, as though a cold wind had brushed the back of her neck and vanished as quickly as it had appeared. In Agri, Camlen had just made his declaration to Narva. "I felt something--it's gone now."

Shemali touched Lindara's shoulder and her delicate eyebrows went up. "Your energy's all weird. Are you sure you're okay? I can call one of the healers."

"No, it's all right," Lindara assured her. "Really. I don't think it was anything."

"All right, if you're sure." Shemali lowered her hand. "This is what happens if you stay away from your Realm too long, you know. I'll bet you're just tired. You should go back to Agri and rest for awhile."

Lindara rolled her eyes. "If I need a healer's advice I'll ask Uncle Medi for it. Besides, I'll probably go back in another couple of months, anyway. I just want to figure out what to do there first."

"Whatever, Lin," Shemali said. "The sooner you get all this over with, the better." She sat up straight suddenly. "Lars is here! Scuse me. I'll see you some other time." She grinned and disappeared. Lindara, left alone, shrugged and vanished as well, the odd sensation already almost forgotten."

It took Camlen a week and a half to raise his army. Of the thirty-one Agricolae fighters who had survived the tournament, two had died in the past year; four were known to be in the enemy encampment and three others were assumed to be; three could not be found anywhere; and eight had simply refused to come. Including Camlen, then, there were eleven people who had previous experience in fighting.

When the makeshift army set out, it numbered nearly eight hundred. The priests had guess that this was about as many as Henri had, and so it was considered to be the right number to bring. Camlen wasn't sure if they would all fight at once, or if they would take turns, and he was concerned over whether he should bring referees; his ideas of military strategy, being based almost solely on the tournament, were vague.

Still, he had his army, enthusiastic if not well-trained. The majority were armed with hunting spears and knives, and had been given hasty instruction in hand-to-hand combat by the tournament veterans. Most of them were from Towerbridge and the surrounding villages, and a significant fraction had been drawn from the novitiate and the lower ranks of the priesthood. Camlen had wanted more time to train them, but he had been overruled by, unexpectedly, Narva, who had maintained that if Henri had people outside the encampment to send him news, the enemy would hear about Camlen's plans and be prepared. In fact Henri had no such system, though it would have been a very good idea.

But the army was setting out. Because the river this far south was too swift to row against, boats were impractical, even if enough could be found in Towerbridge for everyone. The plan, then, was to go overland and due northeast, and hope to strike the southern border of Alon somewhere near Whitehollow. This was about three hundred kilometres' distance; Camlen estimated it would take them eight or nine days. From Whitehollow a few hours' march east would bring them to the forest.

"Brother Camlen!" Narva called as he hurried across the field where the soldiers and the draft horses and supply wagons were being assembled. "Brother Camlen!"

"Yes?" Camlen said impatiently. "Yes, go and make sure they've loaded everything properly," he told the young clerk who was standing beside him, then turned back to Narva. "What is it?"

"The Archpriest sent me to bless the fighters before you all leave," explained Narva, who wasn't going.

Camlen sighed. He had hoped for an early start--still, it couldn't hurt. "We'll be ready to go in half an hour," he said. "You can do the blessing then."

It was a short ceremony and a familiar one; Camlen had known it since childhood, and obediently chanted the correct responses with the rest of the crowd as his mind wandered. They didn't do this when we left for the tournament--but we had the Goddess with us then, of course. That was summer. I wonder what the weather's like up north? It might have started snowing by now, I guess.

In fact it began to snow several days later. The army, in northeastern Ardir by that time, wasn't seriously delayed by the weather, and reached Whitehollow the following evening.

"We'll camp by the river for tonight and be on our way early tomorrow," Camlen told the priest of Whitehollow. This news was received with some relief; the priest hadn't been looking forward to dealing with several hundred unexpected guests. "Do you know anything about these blasphemers in the forest?"

"Sometimes folks come by from upriver," the priest admitted with a shrug. "Maybe from Marchbourne or Northfast, maybe from this camp you think is up there. Most times they don't stop here, and I've never seen them make trouble." Camlen could learn nothing else of use, and eventually retired to his tent.

For a general on the eve of battle, he was unusually calm. He prayed, as he did every night, but with no special fervour. He was tense but not afraid; he knew what to expect, he thought, and he knew with certainty that he was fighting for the highest cause there was. It was impossible that they wouldn't win tomorrow.

"In the name of the Goddess," Camlen finished praying. He put out the candle and lay back on his bedroll, and very soon he was asleep.

Min and Chai crunched through the snow in their fur-lined boots, leaving a double line of footprints from the main lodge to the edge of the clearing and into the trees. Three wells had been finished before the ground became too hard to dig, but the village--no longer a camp, not really--still drew most of its water from the river. The river never froze all the way through, although the water-carriers needed ice-axes now to break the surface.

"I don't see why we always get stuck with this job," Min complained. "I'm cold."

"You'd rather be chopping firewood?" Chai countered. "This is way better."

"Well, but at least then we'd be in the village and we could go inside if our feet go numb," Min said with a grin. "As opposed to having to stand out here in the snow."

Chai grinned back. "You just want to be in the village so you can stare at Henri."

"I do not!" Min said indignantly.

"Oh, come on, admit it. You're obsessed with him. I mean, you're always following him around--"

"I am not! Besides," Min added, "he's not even that good-looking. He's too thin."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not interested!"

"Right."

Min glared at her. "Oh, let's just get this over with. I don't know why I put up with you." She knelt down on the river bank and began to chop at the ice.

The forest was quiet and sound carried a long way over the river, so the two women heard the approaching people before they saw them. Min straightened up, laying down her axe, and peered downriver trying to see. Whoever it was, they weren't making any effort to be quiet; the women could hear them shouting and laughing, and singing.

"It's a hunting party," Min whispered as the first of them came into sight and she saw their spears.

"Yeah, but what are they doing so far in? Nobody ever comes this far." Then, as more of them appeared, it became obvious that there were too many to be a regular hunting party, but it wasn't clear what it actually was.

One of the ones in front, seeing the women, shouted something in their direction. Min couldn't make out the words, but she was suddenly very frightened. "Chai," she said nervously, "shouldn't we--"

"Right behind you." Snatching up the ice-axes and the empty water buckets, they turned and ran back into the woods. Min could hear some of the pursuers chasing them, crashing through the trees.

She and Chai started shouting as soon as the camp was in sight, but she never knew if the few seconds' warning they gave made any difference. It was unlikely anyone understood what they were yelling anyway; she wasn't sure herself. Then the ones who were chasing them came out of the woods, and it was too late for anything she could do.

The battle was nothing like the orderly competition that Camlen had pictured; even in terms of normal battles it was disorganized. Camlen's forces were undisciplined and, once they had charged into the settlement, essentially leaderless since their leaders couldn't control them. Camlen wasn't even trying; he had waded into the thick of the fight and was laying about him with a spear, his hollow face suffused with religious fervour. No-one seemed to have had any strategy in mind, or if they had, they had forgotten it.

The defenders, for their part, had been caught unprepared, but it didn't take long for them to realize they were in danger, and they fought desperately as men and women defending their lives will. They were unarmed, but they outnumbered the attackers, and in terms of skill they weren't outmatched by very much. The attackers were bent on killing, though, and the defenders mainly on escaping, and that made a difference.

Min found herself in the trees without any clear recollection of when she'd run. She had lost sight of Chai almost immediately. Finding herself on the outskirts of the battle, she'd simply taken the first opportunity to flee. The sounds of fighting were behind her and to the left. She wasn't sure which direction she'd run, but decided she'd better start putting some distance between herself and that. There was nothing shameful, to Min's mind, about running away from a fight; she'd never been in one before.

"Hey!" Others had apparently had much the same idea; she turned, raising the ice axe that she still held in her hands, but it was Garulf and some of the others, fifteen or twenty. Two of them were wounded and being carried. One of those was Henri, Min realized a moment later.

"Min, right?" Garulf said. "Come on. Let's get moving." Without questioning, she fell in beside him. "We're southwest of the fighting, so we're going to head west and aim for the river. We ought to be able to escape that way."

Min frowned. "The first village we come to--"

"Will be Marchbourne. I know. We'll stay on the south side of the river, or try and find boats someplace. It's the best plan I can think of, until Henri wakes up, anyway."

"Oh," Min said. She added hesitantly, "The fight--are many people--I mean, what's happening?"

"I saw a lot of our people escape, going north and west, mostly," Garulf answered. "And I saw a lot of others getting killed. I don't know how many of each."

"We've been picking up strays like you as we go," added a woman in a red scarf who Min didn't know. "Haven't seen any of the people who attacked us out here. Hopefully they're all in the village still; I don't think we want to meet any."

"Probably not," Garulf agreed drily. "Especially since none of us are armed. Except Min, now." He glanced at her axe.

"There's blood on that," a dark-haired man observed quietly. "Did you kill any of them, Min?"

"I don't--I don't think so," Min answered. "I mean--it was a little confused. I don't think I did." She didn't feel like thinking about it. "Does someone else want to carry this?"

"You keep it," Garulf told her firmly.

"There's the river," the woman with the scarf said. They quickened their pace, hurrying towards it. The sounds of battle faded into the distance before they stopped.

The victorious army set out for home the next morning. There was nothing left of the village in the forest; Camlen had ordered it burned to the ground. The bodies--perhaps three hundred of the enemy and half that many of Camlen's own fighters--had been carried into the wooden buildings and burnt along with them, because the ground was too frozen to dig in, even if they had had the time and energy to dig graves for several hundred. Camlen had done the funeral oration--the first funeral he had ever conducted, but he thought he did well enough. He had heavily revised the standard sermon, and he could see some of the other priests looking slightly dubious, but the rest of the fighters seemed to approve as Camlen praised the courage and dedication of the fallen.

Now the army was on the move again. There was no particular reason to hurry, since all the enemy were dead or scattered; still, everyone was eager to get home. They started back along the northern bank of the river, since most villages were on that side.

By mid-afternoon they had reached Marchbourne. As they drew close, there was a sudden shout, and several men leapt out of the concealing undergrowth to plant themselves in front of the leaders. "Stop right there," one of the men ordered. Camlen realized that the men, ten or so, were armed with spears and short hunting bows. "No further."

"It's okay, Jed, he's a priest," one of the others said. Then, with an apologetic look at Camlen, "I'm sorry. There've been a lot of people coming down the river today. We don't want any more of their kind in Marchbourne, not after the way they robbed us. So somebody who saw you folks go by yesterday suggested we put out some guards around the village with weapons."

Camlen nodded approvingly, considering. This was an idea he hadn't thought of. "Very sensible. How many have you stopped?"

"Not many," the man admitted. "Mostly they go by on the south bank. Sometimes we shoot a few arrows, just to encourage 'em to keep moving, but I don't think we ever hit anybody yet. We just want to be left alone here."

"Well, keep up the good work," Camlen said. "Meanwhile, could you have someone run ahead to your village so your priest knows we're coming?" The leader of the guards waved a hand and one of his men turned and dashed off.

Camlen hardly noticed, losing himself in thought as the army started forward again. It really was a very good idea. After all, they had only managed to kill perhaps a quarter of the blasphemers. The others who had escaped would no doubt resurface to stir up more trouble. But if every village was guarded like Marchbourne--here in the north, anyway, where the escapees were most likely to seek refuge--

"Brother Camlen?" one of the other priests said, sounding worried. "Are you all right? You look a little--preoccupied."

Camlen smiled. "I'm fine, Brother." He would speak to the head priest at Marchbourne, find out how things were set up, and arrange to have messages sent out to the other temples. The first battle had been fought and won, but there was still much to do.

"Ouch! Stop that!" Garulf's head snapped around at the unexpected exclamation, and he realized that Henri had woken up. The girl cleaning the leader's wounds--what was her name?--continued working, undisturbed.

"If you hold still, I'll be done a lot faster," she advised Henri. Min, her name was Min, Garulf remembered. "Please, you've been bleeding a lot. Sit still." She put down the wet cloth and began to wind strips of bandage around his midsection, supporting him with one hand behind his shoulders.

"Well, hurry up, then," Henri grumbled. "And send somebody to get Garulf. I need to know what's going on."

"I'm here," Garulf said, hurrying over to the bed. He glanced at Min. "Is he well enough to discuss our situation?"

The girl nodded. "But don't tire him out. He really needs to rest." She sounded more than a little bit protective. Garulf scrutinized her face, wondering if this was merely concern for their leader's welfare or if it was something else. Garulf was Henri's closest friend and knew more of the man's history than almost anyone, and he was fairly certain that any romantic efforts on Min's part would be quite firmly discouraged. Still, one could never tell.

"Is something the matter?" Min asked, blushing under the intensity of Garulf's gaze. She hurriedly finished wrapping the bandages and secured them. "I'll--I'll go fetch something to eat," she said. "Then he should sleep." She turned and left.

There didn't seem to be any chairs nearby, so Garulf sat on the bed. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Henri said, "as soon as you tell me what's going on, and where we are."

"You remember the battle?" Garulf asked. Henri nodded impatiently. "Today is the fourth day since then. We're in the town of Newford--"

"In Raelen Province." Henri closed his eyes, obviously trying to visualize a map. Raelen was west of Cevar and south of Cheva, and the town of Newford was on the eastern border. It was only thirty kilometres or so north of Henri's home village of Stonyfield, on the other side of the river. "How did we get here?"

"By boat. There were twenty-four of us--thirty-one now--so we stole a few boats in Riverfork and headed downriver from there. I decided we'd better not go as far as Ardan Province, so we stopped here."

"Do the people here know--" A fit of coughing interrupted him. Garulf shook his head.

"No, they don't know who you are. A lot of people have been coming downriver; we're just another pack of refugees as far as anyone in Newford knows. I've had a couple of us out on the dock every day, and we've been gathering up any of the refugess who are our people. In another week we might have a hundred with us."

Henri frowned, looking quizzically at his friend. "What do you mean, any of them that are our people? If they're running away, who else would they be?"

"That's another of the things I have to tell you," Garulf said, not sure how Henri would take the next piece of news. On balance he supposed it was good, but-- "A lot of people aren't too happy about Camlen's "glorious victory". There's a lot of sympathy for us up north, and a fair number of people have been declaring for you. It's not easy to separate facts from rumour, but there's been fighting up north. Our people might be involved; we can't know for sure, but it makes sense that at least some of them are still in Alon. Or in Ardir; there've been refugees from the east as well."

Henri was silent for a long time. Garulf, recognizing his expression, waited patiently and let him think.

"How many of us are hurt besides me?" Henri asked at last.

"Nine," Garulf answered. "They'll need at least another week to recover, if you're thinking of moving on."

"I am," Henri agreed. "A week, you said? I don't like to wait that long, but I guess it can't be helped. Keep gathering up refugees; we'll need as many people as we can get."

Garulf nodded. "And where are we going to go?" he asked. Usually he could make out what his friend was thinking, but in this case he had no idea.

Henri shook his head. "I'm not completely sure. I mean, I think I am, but--I have to think about it some more."

"If you tell me, I could help," Garulf pointed out.

"No, not yet," Henri said. "We can't do anything for a week; there's no point in spending the whole time arguing about it. I'll tell you once I've thought it over completely. For now just keep gathering our people, and recruit others if you can."

Garulf nodded reluctantly. "All right. I hope you know what you're doing, old friend."

"We'll see if I do or not," Henri said with a wry smile. "Where's that girl? Didn't she say she was bringing something to eat?"

The time in Newford passed slowly. Each day brought another trickle of refugees, from the north or the east or even sometimes the south, and every one of them brought their stories with them. Their accounts were confused and sometimes conflicting, but Henri and Garulf, trying to build up a coherent picture of what was happening, sifted patiently through all the news they could catch.

...There had been battles in Alon, several of them. Some of the people fleeing from there were for the priests and some were for Henri, but almost all were afraid to remain in their villages any longer. They expected to find safety in the far south, or in Ardan.

...Large tracts of the forest had been burned to the ground. There had been fighting in Ardir, not so fierce as in Alon but more destructive, because in Ardir the land and the fields were dry as tinder and fires which had been set had burned unstoppably for days. Some villages had been destroyed, but what was worse, people said, was that the forest no longer guarded the Realm's borders in some places. Beyond where it had been was--nothing. People had literally walked off the edge of the world.

...The blasphemers or the free thinkers, depending on who was talking, had set up a new stronghold in Ardir, or possibly Cevar. No-one knew exactly where, but unquestionably they were massing for an all-out attack. Henri and Garulf decided this one was unlikely, since everyone had been so scattered and establishing a new base in this chaos would be an insane undertaking. "Well, but we're doing it," Garulf pointed out, and they shared their first laugh in days.

...The mountainous province of Cheva had cut itself off completely from the rest of the Realm. Its bridge were cut and its passes deliberately blocked. The priests there had elected to stay separate from everything, but some people thought there was fighting there anyway--but there was no real news from there at all.

...Ardan was still under the tight control of the priests, and anyone who came through Towerbridge or any of the other towns was being detained and questioned. For those living in Ardan, permits were required for travel outside one's home village, and most people were simply waiting for the trouble to blow over.

...The Goddess had returned and was smiting the blasphemers in Alon. This Garulf dismissed as ridiculous as soon as he heard it. "If she'd really come back, the priests would be shouting it from the rooftops," he pointed out to the others at one of their evening meetings. They had taken to gathering in the common room of the inn where their injured were staying; the owner was sympathetic to their cause and had agreed to lodge some of them. The others, including Garulf and Min, were living in other inns, of which Newford had many. "We wouldn't just be hearing it from one or two people. Everyone would know."

"What would happen if she did come back?" Min asked quietly.

"She won't, Min," Henri snapped, then his voice softened. He sounded very tired. "I almost wish she would. It would end all this."

"I thought you people were enemies of the Goddess," a newcomer to the group said, plainly skeptical.

"We're not," Garulf answered. "We're enemies of the priests, because they've been lying to us. The Goddess isn't going to come back; everything they say is a lie. There's no reason they should keep controlling us any longer. We want to be free."

"And if she does come back?" someone else asked, taking up Min's question. "You don't know for sure that she won't, do you? Not for sure."

"If she came back," Garulf said slowly, looking at Henri, "I think we would do what she told us. I think we would."

"Within limits," Henri said. He looked around at his gathered followers, and his expression was hard, demanding. "Suppose she came back, and suppose she ordered us all to kill ourselves to atone for what we'd done. Who here would do that? Or suppose she told us all to give ourselves into absolute servitude to the priests. Would you obey?" His gaze fixed on Garulf. "Would you, old friend? Or you, Penn, or Natly, or you, Min? I wouldn't. I wouldn't want any of you to, either."

"But the Goddess could kill us," said the newcomer who had spoken before. Henri smiled.

"The priests could kill you, if they knew you were meeting with me," he pointed out, "but here you are anyway. I think that if we aren't willing to be the priests' obedient slaves, we shouldn't be willing to be the Goddess' either." He sighed. "It's all academic, though," he said. "We've got more important things to worry about right now without wasting our time on this sort of thing."

The meeting was over, and the crowd drifted away in twos and threes, many still talking or arguing quietly. Garulf headed outside and back toward the inn where he had a room. It was dark, and the torchlit streets were almost empty. Min was walking a little ahead of him, and he hurried to catch up.

"Garulf!" she exclaimed. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he assured her with a smile. "I was just a little curious. Why did you ask him what you did? Do you believe the Goddess might come back?" He spoke softly; though there were very few people in sight, it was better to be careful.

"No, I--" She looked up at him. "I don't, but what if we're wrong? What if she does come back, and she--I mean, she'd be angry, and if she decided to punish us like Henri said just now she might--I don't know if I could disobey her, Garulf, not the Goddess, not directly like that. Maybe you could, maybe he could, but--"

"She's not coming back," Garulf said. "If you don't believe that, why did you join us?"

"I don't know. Chai wanted to, and Henri sounded like he knew what he was talking about. I believed he was right, about--about being free, making decisions for ourselves. I guess believing him was easier than not knowing what to believe about anything." She shook her head. "It sounds stupid now."

"She's not coming back, Min," Garulf said. Min nodded, but she didn't look certain. "Min," he said as quietly as he could, "do you still pray?"

She stopped walking, an expression almost of fear on her firelit face. Garulf understood. If Henri had asked that question, then--no matter how much she liked and respected him, no matter if the feeling was mutual--there would be only one safe answer. But after a moment she dropped her gaze to the ground and nodded silently.

"I do too, sometimes," Garulf said, putting a hand on her arm. Min looked up at him again.

"I don't pray for things," she said quickly. "I mean, I don't pray for us to defeat the priests, or for my sister to show up here--I haven't seen Chai since the battle--or anything like that. I just--"

"You just pray in case there's a chance she's listening," Garulf finished. Min nodded.

"That's right.