The Heavenly Host

Tom stuck his tongue out at Boggy. “Now, back to the question. Yes, Damien, Vaselle, Tal Gor, Beya Fei Geist, Farsooth GoreTusk and Ragala-nargoloth.”

Boggy nodded. “I’m sure Arg-nargoloth will be thrilled to see her here.”

Tom looked at him, puzzled. “Why, did they not get along?”

Boggy grinned wickedly. “According to Arg-nargoloth, they got along very well; many times, in fact.” He chuckled and said, “I’m willing to bet that if she is at the celebration, they’ll get along several more times.”

∼

Hilda sighed as she waited for the others to arrive in their usual conference room. It was quite odd to have a late-night meeting. She had spent the day — well, technically a good part of the last two days — working with Trisfelt on his new rapid brew process for beer. It turned out that her ability to see and work at the cellular level was of great benefit to Trisfelt in understanding the exact details of the fermentation process. Not only could she help him more accurately measure the effects of different ingredients, she could detect when his magical efforts were causing more problems with the fermentation than they were helping.

She had found it quite exhilarating, a completely new type of research. The best part was that it was centered on improving something important to her: alcohol production. Trisfelt had a very detailed system that, while taking some time to understand, was clearly useful in testing and experimentation. He called it the scientific method, a most wonderful method. Trisfelt had told her that it was the basis of modern wizardry and was why wizardry had progressed so much in the last few hundred years. It was all in the methodology. The method of magic! How glorious!

Of course, based on her experience, such a method might work well in the Planes of Men, but all bets would be off in the Outer Planes. Everything here was pretty much there due to the direct desires of the pantheons and their assistants. Even the refleca-wood chair she was sitting on at the moment. Sure, it looked like wood, as did the table before her, but it was not actually wood. It was but a reflection of wood from the material planes.

That was the secret of the Outer Planes; they were but reflections of the material planes as seen through a god’s eyes. Or the eyes of multiple gods and goddesses, some of whom didn’t always agree with each other as to what the current state of reality should be. That did make things interesting. Thankfully, the disagreements only affected the common regions of the pantheon’s outer planes. Tierhallon itself was pretty stable; or at least, the regions where the avatars lived was stable.

The regions where the “deceased” lived were quite malleable by the gods, avatars and in many ways, the deceased themselves. In the Etonian religions, a good part of one’s afterlife was of one’s own subconscious choosing; subject, of course, to the constraint of one’s particular deity’s overall framework and rules.

The door to the room opened and Beragamos walked in. He smiled to see Hilda, much like a kindly old grandfather, and shut the door behind him. “Good to see you, Hilda!”

“A pleasure as always, Your Lordship,” Hilda replied with a bright smile.

Beragamos chuckled. “Feel free to call me Beragamos in private, my dear.”

“Thank you sir, Beragamos,” Hilda replied with a bright smile. What a great honor this was.

Beragamos sat down with a loud sigh. “If you’ll pardon the expression” — the supreme archon tilted his head to give her a wry expression under his brows — “it’s an ungodly time of night to call a meeting! If you ask me.” He chuckled.

Hilda chuckled as well. “It is a highly unusual time.”

“Is there wine?” Beragamos looked around the room, frowning as he saw none.

“Allow me, your... Beragamos,” Hilda said. “I will retrieve some from my wine locker.” She held her hand out above the table as if holding a bottle of wine by the neck and summoned a bottle of Romden Heart Valley Portsooth, 1470 RV.

The bottle appeared in her hand and she set it down on the table. She had dug deep into her wine locker for this one. It was not every day one got to have wine with a supreme archon of Tiernon. Beragamos clapped as he peered at the label.

“My dear! What impeccable taste you have! Here I had hoped for some simple table wine, and you bring a masterpiece.” He waved his hand and two refleca-crystal wine glasses appeared on the table. After a moment of hesitation, he motioned and two more appeared.

“I will not rush such a fine bottle of wine, so I fear we must be prepared to share it with Moradel and Sentir.” He shook his head. Hilda just grinned and pulled her travel corkscrew from her pocket. One always needed to be prepared.

Hilda had just begun to pour the wine into Beragamos’s glass when the door opened and in came Moradel and a young saint whom Hilda did not recognize.

“Oh drat, a fifth!” Beragamos muttered under his breath.