The Heavenly Host

“Chief Engineer Gnorbert and her ladyship, the Enchantress of the Grove, with her entourage. Permission to come aboard?” Gnorbert called out.

“Ahoy, Gnorbert! Second Mate Trefalger here. By the Captain’s leave, permission granted! Welcome, her ladyship!”

Gastropé blinked as other figures began appearing on top of the cloud with the first officer. Jenn gasped as the aetós began landing on the cloud beside the first officer.

Gnorbert made more gestures and their carpet started rotating sideways; as Gastropé looked to the other carpets, he realized they were all in a long line, side by side, also rotating.

“Ahoy, Nimbus! Battle carpets preparing to dock.”

“Battle carpets, docking stations ready,” said one of several men walking out to meet the carpets. “All carpets aligned, prepare for touchdown!” The sailors? — Gastropé did not know what to call them — walked right up to the edge of the carpets and were suddenly pulling ropes out of the cloud and fastening them to loops on the corners of the carpets.

“Carpet down,” Gnorbert said at normal volume.

Gastropé felt the carpet touch down as if on solid ground, but he could see only fluffy cloud at the edge of the carpet. What were they standing on?

Trevin was standing up free from her harness. She stepped off the carpet and onto the cloud.

“Welcome to the Nimbus, my friends! It’s my home away from home, and I’ve been gone way too long!” The crew of the Nimbus, including the riders on the other carpets, all cheered. Jenn and Gastropé and even Maelen and Elrose were peering suspiciously at the cloud beneath her feet.

Trevin saw them all looking and laughed. “Have no fear — look at the Modgriensofarthgonosefren.” She gestured to the dwarves getting off the carpet with no qualms. “Do you think one of them would be getting off the carpet if the deck beneath their feet was not solid?”

The one named Molche heard and replied loudly, “Aye, but it’s damn unnatural. Dwarves don’t belong in no cloud. If my ancestors could see me doing this, they’d shave my beard for sure!” The other dwarves laughed, and a couple exchanged hand slaps.

“If Hephaestus had meant dwarves to travel in the clouds, he would have forged us some metal wings!” Farswath griped loudly.

Trevin laughed. “Well, you may just get the chance to ask him why he didn’t then! Our quest is to track down one of his good friends and fellow god.”

Carnwath shouted back good-naturedly, “And that’s supposed to make us feel better? Hunting gods in the clouds? Aye, you overdwellers have all been driven nuts by too much fierdshine!” The other dwarves all laughed.

Gnorbert had finished helping the sailors secure their carpet. “During tonight’s card game, I will certainly drink to that!” the gnome shouted to Carnwath.

“We all will!” Trevin shouted in return.

“I have to admit,” Elrose said, cautiously stepping off the carpet, “getting the Modgriensofarthgonosefren out from under a mountain and onto a cloud is nothing short of a miracle.”

Trevin grinned at him. “They’re a good and loyal band. I could not ask for better. Although to be honest, it did take some convincing.”

“And a fair amount of braich!” Carnwath added as he walked by heading for the cargo carpets.

“Braich?” Maelen asked curiously.

“A favorite among the underground peoples,” Trevin told him. “A fermented grain, similar to a whisky.” She turned to the others. “So, are you planning on staying on the carpets for the entire trip, or would you like to see your staterooms?”

∼

“Very interesting indeed,” Moradel said as Hilda finished her report.

“An incredible wealth of information!” Beragamos exclaimed. “We really should have been using our own field agents sooner — far better information than we get out of the Rod or the priests.”

Sentir Fallon was shaking his head. “I find it amazing, Hilda, how you get those people to just open up and tell you this.” He looked to the other avatars. “This is far better than traditional interviews and interrogations.”

Hilda shrugged, happy with their response. “Well, there is that old saying: in wine there is truth.”

Moradel chuckled. “Keep this up, Hilda, and we may have to change your title to Patron Saint of Loose Lips!” They all laughed at this as they sat around a table in the small meeting room.

“Unfortunately, while an incredible amount of information, it still doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Beragamos complained.

“Well, clearly Lenamare was tricked by this so-called greater demon; it must be an archdemon, if not a prince,” Sentir Fallon stated.

“What about this Bastet?” Hilda asked. “Could she be a pagan god up to no good?”

Moradel shrugged. Beragamos grimaced and said, “I doubt it. The Nyjyr Ennead have been gone from all the local planes of reality for nearly a thousand years. I’ll need to confirm, but I believe I read a report that their outer realms had collapsed.”

“That would mean they would have no power base, no place for their god pool or for their dead,” Sentir Fallon stated. “At which point they would be defunct as a pantheon.”