The Heavenly Host

“Yes, and that’s the level I am working with them on, or plan to. It is certainly dire enough. However, in more offhand remarks they mentioned a few other visions, which they made less of than I do. The first was of armies of orcs and armies of alvfar.” Trevin could sense Elraith’s shoulders sinking. “Further, visions of smiths — two smithies, in fact. At least one located under a volcano with large channels and floes of metal. However, they could see only one of the two smiths; the other was hidden from their Sight.”

“Oh, dear,” Elraith breathed to himself.

“And one odd note: this was not clear to them, but they mentioned having a sense of orcs attacking from the skies,” Trevin said.

“Orcs attacking from the sky? They don’t have that kind of magic; at least, not on any large scale,” Elraith stated.

“I know. It means a very sophisticated orc army,” Trevin said.

“And the smiths? The volcano, a smith hidden from the Sight? You think this portends the god Hephaestus?” Elraith paused and added, “Who, as I recall, is also known as pêTah among the Nyjyr Ennead.”

“And one of the preeminent gods of the Modgriensofarthgonosefren,” Trevin said.

“I don’t suppose they saw Hephaestus making alvaren steel by any chance?” Elraith asked.

Trevin could not shake her head in this form. “They did not See that.”

“We have orcs versus alvar, and Hephaestus involved.” Elraith sighed.

“That may mean a bit of tension between the alvar and the dwarves,” Trevin said.

“It is a peace that is not easy to keep,” Elraith said.

“This is why I want to keep this quiet. I want to take the Nimbus near to Jotungard and see if the orcs are rising, see if there is any sign of these visions, or if we can trigger more visions. We will head to Murgandy and Ferundy and see what the situation is.”

“A sizeable portion of your crew is alvaren,” Elraith noted.

“Hence I intend to say we are hunting Bastet,” Trevin explained. “Our visit to the border regions will be but to survey the territory around Najaar; our first stop in looking for signs of Bastet. We have had no major ventures in that region for nearly a century or more. It has been very quiet.”

“Too quiet.” Elraith shook his head. “I don’t know. It seems rather risky. You will have both dwarves and alvar on the ship with you.”

“I know, but can you think of a better plan? The sorcerer and seer are confident that their visions are imminent.”

“You will be bringing the sorcerer and seer with you?” Elraith asked.

“Unquestionably. I will also discreetly ask them to not mention the orc or alvaren armies,” Trevin said.

Elraith snorted, shaking his head. “I think that may get taken from your hands by fate.”

Chapter 84

^{DOF +1}

^{Predawn 15-18-440}

Hilda was running late, but she figured it was worth it. There was a meeting scheduled two Etonian hours before local dawn in Freehold. She’d spent so much time with Master Trisfelt that she barely had time to get home and take a nice long bath, get into some clean clothes and whip up a sugar-and-cinnamon breakfast cake and stick it in the oven for a slow bake before the meeting. It had been worth it, though, in so many ways.

First, the Old Vine Meryst had been exquisite, and when that was gone, Master Trisfelt speedily pulled out a bottle of House Zyrkoft Kabdorgh PV 407, which was really one of the most underappreciated years the house had ever produced. She herself had never previously tried that year, but she’d read about it, of course. The meats and cheeses were both excellent accompaniments; the man was clearly a gourmand after her own heart. He was also witty and a lively conversationalist. It really had to have been one of the most enjoyable evenings she had had in the last century; possibly since her canonization even. Oh, sure, a feast in the Great Hall of Tierhallon was a spectacle most would die to attend, and in fact, she had done just that — but that was beside the point. It was great spectacle, but really not that relaxing and enjoyable on any level.

Hilda was not much for politics. The official dinners were always crammed with people trying to get a witty word in edgewise with one of the higher-ups, honored guests or someone at the political heights of Tiernon himself. It was really too much pressure. Not to mention the effort in terms of wardrobe and makeup, the fear of the wrong word or slip of the tongue. Some of the Host were terribly catty; one small faux pas and they would hold it against you for decades.

Hilda shook her head as she took a seat at the back of the briefing room. Archon Moradel had just finished consulting with a few of his lieutenants and had stepped up to the podium.

“First order of business: the Pool monitors report that the net draw down yesterday morning was equivalent to about two and half miracles, nearly on par with a greater miracle in terms of overall withdrawal,” Moradel stated. There were gasps around the room.

Someone asked, “Clearly not authorized?”