Chapter 15

The next day, McAllister climbed back up the hill to the god's home. Most of the women had followed him back down the night before, and returned to their lives. A messenger relay had been set up, and now each hour a rested woman from the village relieved a woman on the mountainside. In this way, the news of the negotiation was borne back down the hill.

Even a god can may tire in such a battle, and McAllister was sure Bronze hated it, though the god seemed to take McAllister's dire warning about the state of his nation to heart. McAllister was certain the combination of pressures on the god would have him agree to concessions and stipulations he scorned and scoffed at a short day before.

At mid afternoon on the lazy southern-hemisphere summer day McAllister heard a commotion, and finally the god burst out of his own home. After a few moments ranting to himself, Bronze walked to McAllister.

"McAllister, if you could only know how much I regret deciding to test your measure," he began.

"Have you found it?" McAllister was genuinely curious.

"No," the god admitted. "I think you're a better person than I. There's no chance you'd stay here?"

"Come the dawn, you'll take me where I need to go, and return to rebuilding your people," McAllister shook his head.

"That is well. Don't admit it to the women, but they make sense."

McAllister smiled, then, a thinning of the lips, though he was amused. "Negotiations at the peace table can win as much or more as the battle itself," he answered, "and it's an art."

He left the god thinking then, while he entered the courtyard. Finding what he sought, he picked up the horn and sounded the officer's call. The women milling about looked up to see the figure of Carus materialize before McAllister. Today, the process was much faster, taking only seconds where before it required minutes.

"How may I help?" the long-dead man asked in Denarian.

"Where's the Rod of Irel?" McAllister demanded. "The Church of the Mother the Rod helped form is broken, and she is barred from her Basilica. I must find it and set this to rights."

Nodding, unsurprised, the other considered McAllister for a moment, taking into note the women in Bronze's courtyard. "In the city of Bhangda, the City of Palaces, there's one such styled the 'Architect's Palace'. I don't know if its still known as such after so much time. That palace was designed to be beautiful, but also to be the strongest building known to Man. At the heart of it is the Rod bound into the stone of the Palace in such a way as to give it unnatural strength." The long-dead Carus regarded McAllister, and then continued. "You should know when I gave it to them, I ordered they do their best to insure that if it were ever pulled from its column, that millions of tons of stone would fall on the spot."

McAllister nodded. "I expected nothing less, to be honest. From a straightforward task, this has become ... less so."

Carus smiled at the understatement. "What will you do with the horn?"

Pursing his lips, McAllister considered. "I can't leave it here. It will take time for the population here to rebuild, and I'd expect those who pursue me to come here in strength hoping to find me here yet. It wouldn't be wise to leave it with the new Church of the Mother in Marcelon, for much the same reason you didn't leave it with the first Church." Thoughts collected, McAllister continued. "I could leave it with the Light of the Western Empire, or even the child-Empress of Han, though they are perhaps overly-casual with objects of worth or power."

The solid ghost gave it consideration. "That may be best. Consider that wherever you leave it, it'll draw you if it's sounded."

McAllister nodded. "I am undead, and am likely to remain this way for a very long time, if I am successful in avoiding capture. Wouldn't it simply call to me and let me know it had been blown? Wouldn't you or another shade answer?"

"I don't know, McAllister. Despite the risk doing so presents to me and the others like me, if I were in your shoes, I would keep the horn by my side." Carus took his leave, then, and McAllister was left with his thoughts.