The TwiceBorn

False Gods And Too Many Cats To Count

  In Gareth's opinion, the walk to the Livery wasn't long enough. (The way they looked at her!)  His shoulders stiffened a little more and his smile widened. She was nothing more than a good-looking piece of tail with one finger dipped into the UnderRealms.  Just enough to give the black arts a wink and a nudge.  That was all the peasants needed, especially ones as stupid as Sar.  They thought they could buy courage with ten gold pieces.

                            Gareth paused in front of the Livery, his job done, and watched her dismount.  She slapped dust from her leathers and he laughed at the incongruity of it all.  The fate of Gandoura rested on the shoulders of a girl whose head barely reached  up to his chin and who was now involved in the senseless frippery of untangling her mass of long black curls with her fingers.  For the love of Brede, combine the right amount of ale and superstition and anyone could be a legend.

"Excuse me."

 He tapped her shoulder politely, and hoped he could hold back his laughter long enough to ask her something he was genuinely curious about. She straightened and gave him a wary look.

 "I was just wanting to know what it's like."  Gareth gestured towards the watching townspeople. " Having that kind of power over people."  

Alora snorted in disgust.  A pained smile crossed her face.

"You think fear is power?" She asked.

"Sure it is." He replied."It controls people doesn't it?  It's like being a god."

 How could she not know that?

Alora frowned, silent. He really thought that was all it took to be a god?   She knew of  gods.  Gods that walked wastelands of fire with their eyes sewn shut by fine strands of sinew.  Gods that breathed life into shadows.  Gods that walked in the still night and learned madness from the cold fire of the stars.  The sadness she'd felt earlier came back. It slid darkly over her skin like  oil, and she laughed. The sound of her voice struck an uneasy chord in Gareth.

"Fear's nothing." She answered shakily.  She stood  on her tiptoes and slipped the reins over Loki's head.  She handed them to Gareth.

"Someday you people will realize that if you're unafraid all your demons will disappear."

 Gareth gaped at her. It wasn't the answer he'd expected. He looked at her and suddenly realized two things: she thought she was like everyone else and, because of what she'd stated in such a plain and simple manner, there was no way she could be.  She had power.  A power made more frightening by her easy denial of  it and he grinned, not knowing what else to do. 

  Alora ignored Gareth's dazed expression and gave Loki a final pat.

 "Hold him for me. And don't dig through my saddlebags.  I'll know if you do.

              Of course that was like asking the wind not to blow or the sun not to set.  Alora knew he could no more keep his hands out of her possessions then he could, well, keep them from between his legs.  It was an obvious habit of his she'd tried not to notice.  The smug measure of her character by him made her dislike him even more.  People who believed fear to be power were nothing more than slaves suddenly handed the thick end of the whip. 

"At least he's not cringing like a whipped puppy." She thought and ran a hand through her dark hair. "All he has to do is hold Loki.  He can manage that. Can't he?" 

She knew it probably wouldn't take very long before she found out, one way or the other.

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