How in the Hells do I have a migraine? Mero thought to himself as they continued to go around in circles. This should have been easy.
He looked around the table at the others as he tried to think of a new tack. He thought Evermorn would be all he needed to get through to them, but every new avenue he took was shot down by at least one of the others. He needed them on board, or he would be too low on power after Evermorn to truly compete.
“It’s clear we moved on to details too quickly, again,” he said to the group as they all refused to look at each other. “Let’s try to go back to base principles for agreement, and then try to carry that on. Can we do that?” Alohza tried to suppress a grin, although not very hard. Mero ignored it, as so far she was the only one sold on the idea and he couldn’t afford to go backwards.
Erlig had long sense stopped sitting with them and was back to looking out the window. “You have no principles, Merodach,” he growled. “That is why you cannot succeed.”
“I’m as principled as everyone in this room, Erlig,” Mero replied, choking down a more forceful response. “We are who we are.” He breathed deeply for a moment – he didn’t need to, but it was surprisingly soothing. As he did, he focused on the fact that they were all still here. His worst-case scenario was that they simply walked out on him without listening. That they hadn’t yet meant he still had a shot.
“We’ve come to this point before, but lets do it again just to confirm. Can we all agree – in principle – that the people in this room would create the most acceptable world for the others who do not come to rule?” For the fifth or sixth time, the others nodded or grunted in assent.
Mero started to speak, when Alohza interrupted him. “Yes, Mero, we’ve all agreed to that, and we haven’t stopped.”
“Then why can’t we move on?” he said, just short of yelling.
Nak jumped in for this, “For the ‘smart one’, you aren’t being very smart, Mero. We can’t move on because we don’t trust you. We don’t trust anyone, of course, but we especially don’t trust you.”
Mero stared at the little deity and realized he was right. The problem was him – he always planned, always schemed, always won. And so they wouldn’t play. But why were they still here?
He looked around at all of them, trying to figure it out – what games they were playing that kept them here talking to him as the world ends, what they wanted from it. He looked at each of the others, deities who had spent eternity living around the creatures of this world. For a long time, that has meant humans, and even deities were changed by what they experienced.
Alohza looked him in the eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. In a human, he’d read it as amused by the follies of the people around her. Erlig kept staring out the window, not looking at any of them, although he had shifted his stance when Nak spoke – in a human, it would indicate tacit agreement. Nak kept glancing at both Erlig and Alohza, and Mero thought it looked like a human seeking approval. Is that it? he thought. Are we too human?
“Nak, you’re right. You don’t and normally you shouldn’t. I apologize.” He inclined his head slightly, although he kept Nak firmly in his vision. A human with that body language would be mollified and pleased that someone they see as a rival or bully had been brought to apologize. Oh, my.
“I still believe that this is the right thing to do, but I recognize that I am not the right one to docd it.” Alozha’s smile grew bigger, the smile of someone who is sure they just won something. Mero did not smile, although he was quite sure he had more of a right to it than she did.
He turned to look directly at Alohza, meeting her eyes and holding them. “Alozha, you are the only one I truly trust here, and I think that goes for all of us, right?” He glanced around, and saw he had finally hit it. Nak was clearly buying it, investing trust in Alohza simply to deny it to Mero. Erlig relaxed slightly, and Mero realized that he actually did trust Alohza – a story he’d love to learn at a later date. Taurin had not, unfortunately, adopted human habits, so all Mero could really tell was that he had shifted in stance. “If we can all agree in principle, can we move on if I step aside and we let Alohza lead on the details?”
And suddenly they all tightened up, Mero saw. We don’t trust each other enough for this to work, he thought. It will be war.
The TV flickered in the background as they stared at each other, everyone knowing that they were one step away from killing each other, when everything changed.
It hit them all at once – a wave of energy pouring over them. On the screen, they saw Anastasia stiffen at the same time they felt themselves overwhelmed with a rush of power. Mero lifted a hand and saw electricity arcing from finger to finger. Time slowed down for him as he stared at the arcing energy – he could see individual electrons moving in the light, carrying untold power in each mote. He watched as the electrons blurred together, ceasing to be discrete things and instead becoming an essence of lightning. The energy twined around his fingers and hands, a continuous string promising life and death in his control. Then he let it go, and time returned.
He looked to his fellows, and saw they had changed, becoming more real than before. Erlig radiated the power of a giant, strength and raw power emanating from where he stood. Taurin was barely holding together, his body radiating light and heat. Nak had become more snake-like, the rough patches of skin more clearly scales and his teeth sharper than ever. Alohza’s hair blew as though in an ocean breeze, and she had a far-off look in her eyes. Mero took this all in instantly, and the moment passed.
Erlig was the first to speak. “So it ends. I will agree to the pact, whatever it is.” With that, he immediately turned to the door and left. The four remaining deities looked at the door as it closed behind him.
Alohza was the first to speak. “Well, I think that answers the question of Anastasia definitively. Anyone worried about Erlig?”
Nak smiled a thin-lipped smile, but no one answered. She went on. “Erlig will abide by what we come up with, so we’d best come up with something. I don’t want to be the one to tell him we couldn’t.”
They had moved forward more in the few minutes since the commercial break started than they had while Merodach led the discussion, but their natures continued to get in the way.
Alozha was beginning to understand how Mero had run into problems – Nak was a snake in every possible way and was continually trying to corrupt the process to his benefit, and Taurin was unreadable. Things that as far as Aly could tell were just a slight rewording could completely change their view on it. They had agreed on doing something at this point, and were down to where and how, but where and how seemed to be a sticking point.
Nak, amazingly, was the one to break the stalemate. “We’re going to go around and around on this forever, because there is no way we’re going to find something that will be acceptable to me and be something you won’t worry about Erlig coming after you about.”
Mero grunted before saying, “Yeah, I’ve known that for about an hour now. Doesn’t change a damn thing.”
Nak replied with a sneer, “Yeah, well, you may have ‘known’ it, but you didn’t do anything about it. You just kept trying to find a way to get us all to make a carbon copy of your ideas. Ain’t happening.”
“We sure as Hells aren’t running it your way, snake, so just shut up and –”
Alohza cut Mero off before he could continue, “Stop, Merodach. Do that again and I leave, putting a stop to this whole thing.”
Nak looked at the two of them smugly, before catching Alohza’s eye and realizing he was still on shaky ground as well. “All I’m saying is I’m not running your nice little fantasy world, no matter what benefits you think will come from it. You can try and slice it up any way you want it, but I won’t do it.”
Something clicked for Alohza, and she could see the path. “Hold on Mero, let’s think about this. You and I could work together – our visions are different, but we could bridge the gap. But Nak’s right, we can’t bridge it with him, and I doubt Erlig would be best pleased with whatever you and I come up with.”
“Are you saying we’re done here? We’re going to end up with Calavitio?”
“Not at all,” she replied. “We just need to expand our horizons a bit. Why does Nak need to fit what we do?”
Mero answered quickly, giving no thought to it. “So we can compare! The point of this whole thing, to see who runs a world better, remember?”
“Yeah, see who can run a world based on how you would run a world better!” Nak shouted. “Best case scenario, we beat you at your own game and create a world you want anyway.” Nak stood up, his feet planted in a way that made Merodach sure he was headed for the door.
Merodach held up his hands. “Peace, Nak,” he said. “I’m not trying to force you to do it my way, I’m just trying to ensure it’s fair.”
A flame appeared in Taurin’s hand, drawing the eyes of the other three. They realized that Taurin had changed while they sat there – he had sprouted subtle horns and his skin was tinged slightly red. He looked over his fellow deities as he produced a large cylinder made of some sort of leaf, bit the end off, and then puffed away at it while lighting it with the ball of flame. Once it was burning, a sweet smell filled the room, reminding the others of plants long lost to the world.
“You have become too human, all. Too limited in your outlooks. I blame the Deist, for trying to categorize the wonder.”
Alohza and Nak both nodded along, and Merodach paused to think it through. “Taurin, how would you decide the winner?”
Taurin drew in a lungful of smoke, then blew it out in a cloud that surrounded the deities. Images made of smoke swirled around them, monsters and men vying for supremacy. “The only way we can, Merodach – total war.”
Merodach nodded. “That’s what we’re here to stop. Total war means we fight each other, we drag each other down, and in the end, Colovitio wins. We’d be better off taking each other out now, before Anastasia rises, if we do that.”
Taurin drew another lungful of smoke, and Merodach watched as he continued to become less human and more demonic in appearance. His teeth had grown longer and sharper and changed the shape of the smoke as he blew it out. This time, the image was of five deities, around a game board, moving pieces against each other. Merodach saw that each of the five had radically different pieces, but he soon saw that each side was in balance.
Merodach smiled at Taurin, then looked to the others. “Agreed?”
Alohza nodded, while Nak looked it over and frowned. “Who decides what is balanced?”
Taurin shrugged and blew out the rest of his breath, the shapes dispersing. Merodach took over again, saying, “We define, for the purposes of the contest, a unit of energy. We each take the same amount and use it as we will. Is everyone comfortable with the current numbering system the humans are using? Based on the number of fingers they have?”
The others indicated they were, and Mero continued. “Then I suggest we each get 1 googol worth of magical energy to do with as we will. That’s a 1 with 100 zeroes following after it, allowing us to get really finely tuned.”
Alohza yawned and stretched, happy to be out of the hot seat. “Sounds lovely, Mero, but 1 google of what?”
“Googol, not google, although it doesn’t matter. We get that many base units of magic.”
“What are you talking about? Magic is magic, there’s no base unit.”
“We all know that Nak, but to make this work we need to work together here. Can we all agree that in a one-on-one battle, Erlig can probably beat any of us?” No one responded, so Merodach continued. “If we just allow each of us to do anything we want, the end result will be just us fighting each other. So there has to be a limit, something we can compare our strategies with.”
Nak smiled, showing his pointed teeth. “I suppose we should all be glad Erlig isn’t here right now, eh?”
Merodach smiled back, but was more restrained when he spoke again. “Erlig will be on the same level as us – don’t count him out. We do this fairly, and ‘overwhelming force’ should still be a viable model.”
Merodach paused, considering whether to get lost in the details or push on to ‘where’. He decided pushing on was the way to go – defining the base unit could wait, and he wanted an agreement in place before everything was done. “If no one has further objections there, can we revisit the where?”
Alohza immediately spoke up. “I get the seas.”
Nak stood up and began to wander the room. “We’re not ceding 3/4ths of the world to you, Alohza.”
Merodach looked over at Taurin, trying to get a feel for what the enigma was thinking. He believed that Taurin would end up backing his play, although it worried him that he would. “Nak,” he said. “Would you object to her taking the seas if you get all the land?”
Taurin looked him in the eye, and Mero knew he was on board. Nak sputtered for a moment, then said, “Thanks for that, but only if you tell Erlig about it.”
Taurin laughed and began puffing on his cigar again, clouds of smoke in strange patterns flowing out from him. Mero said, “Oh, Erlig will get his area, too. But Taurin is right – we’re being far too limiting. We can expand far beyond the Earth.”
Nak wandered towards the window, nodding as he went. “And you’re willing to grant Earth to me?”
“I am, and I think Aly is if she gets the seas. Erlig has agreed to anything. Taurin, Aly, what say you?”
Taurin nodded and kept puffing away – they were surrounded by clouds of smoke that swirled around them, masking most of their form. Alozha said, “Give me power over the seas, and don’t complain when I use it, and fine by me.”
Nak was standing at the window, staring out at the city. “What about you two? What about Erlig?”
Taurin spoke up, saying, “I choose to explore the world outside Earth. Anastasia will do little with it, and I want to see what leftovers from the Deist are out there. I will return with an army when the time comes.”
Merodach was as happy as he could be with Taurin’s plan – maybe he’d get lost out there and never return. “I want the Hollow Earth,” he told the others.
Taurin didn’t react, but both Alohza and Nak turned to stare at him. Neither spoke for a moment, until Alohza broke the silence. “Hollow Earth? Sounds like you’re running a game on us, Merodach.”
Merodach raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “No, I’m just playing the odds. I believe Anastasia will recreate the Hollow Earth, because it’s the type of thing that appeals to her. If she doesn’t, I don’t think she will stop me from doing so. If she does, then I’ll lose.”
Alohza drummed her fingers on the table, while Nak turned back to the window. “Does the magic needed to create it count as part of your budget?”
“I would argue no. I think the magical energy we put in place should be the sum of what we imbue the people of the land with. We can spend freely on remaking the world in whatever form we want.”
“Hmm,” Alohza hummed under her breath. Merodach could see that extra little bit was enough to seal the deal. “You may regret that when I unleash kraken upon the world, but fair enough. Agreed.”
Nak was still at the window, looking across the city. “OK, I’m in, too, but you guys need to come look, now.”
The others joined Nak at the window and followed where he was pointing. Merodach immediately realized he was pointing at the Stratosphere, and quickly saw that it was shaking much more than expected from the wind. The four stood in silence, watching, as the tower swayed, leaning farther and farther over. In just a handful of seconds, it leaned past the point it could be seen, and moments later a massive cloud of dust rose up in the sky where it had been. A few seconds more, and their windows rattled, and they faintly heard a crash through the thick glass.
The deities stood at the window, watching, for a minute longer. Finally, Merodach spoke. “Looks like we’re on top again, all. Let’s figure out the details before he gets back.”
