Page 130 of Fortune's Blade

“Not good for what?” Marlowe snapped, losing patience, which was never his strong suit. Something he demonstrated again by not giving the troll a chance to answer. “I need a translation—word for word—not a damned summary! Especially not one like that! What the hell does ‘not good’ mean?”

The troll looked offended, probably because he thought he had been clear. Even in their own language, his people tended to speak in short sentences that conveyed simple concepts. They could go for hours without saying much at all, preferring to communicate through deeds instead of words.

But the spy was not likely to accept that, and I needed to find Mircea, not be here all day. And the more I listened to the language, the more sense it made. I found myself able to decode words and then whole sentences, as if I was remembering a language that I hadn’t used in years.

Of course, I hadn’t used it at all, but the troll had. It wasn’t that different from the tongue his people still spoke in religious rituals. Our mental link must be allowing me to borrow his linguistic abilities, something I had not been able to do on Earth.

But it seemed that I could here, and after listening a bit more, I decided to help out.

“—fifth crossing appears viable both in water and on land,” I said slowly, concentrating on the goddess’s words. “Although in the case of the latter, its speed is outside of acceptable parameters. But its mental state is the most . . .” I searched for the right word. “Undesirable trait, as it does not take orders nor understand them well, or possibly its . . . aggressive tendencies are overriding its intelligence. Recommended fail with possible crossing with a more . . . even-tempered subject with better mobility.”

Marlowe blinked when my partner and I had finished speaking. “Er, thank you.”

The troll inclined his head with dignity.

But then the image faded out, with the goddess’s silvery gown reminding me a little of the Pythia’s as it fluttered into nothingness, which did not seem to please Marlowe.

“Start over,” he said. “Go on, show me all of it!”

But the troll just stood there, not understanding what the human wanted now, as he didn’t realize that he had caused this. Resulting in Marlowe saying a bad word and pushing him to the side, before feeling around on the floor with his foot, looking for whatever had triggered the recording. And succeeding only in stirring up a lot more dust.

I was looking at something else, namely the sides of the chamber, which I hadn’t paid much attention to before. But which I now noticed were covered in indentations of varying heights and widths, with some almost as tall as the fissure, while others were tiny, and so shallow that I wasn’t sure they weren’t mere ripples in the stone. But all were empty, with just the rough, black rock of the wall visible inside them.

All but one.

It was the one the goddess had been projected in front of, and was only about three feet high. But it had the sheen of a ward over top of it, pale blue and almost invisible, especially when her blue-tinged recording had been playing. But now that she was gone, I could just make it out when I moved right, and I didn’t have to ask why it was there.

This alcove was occupied.

I just didn’t know by what.

And I didn’t care, when the troll got a little too close while trying to sidle his way back to the door, and the bumpy, yellowish blob inside suddenly opened one bleary orange eye and lunged for us. We jumped back, just as something mucous-y and tube-like hit the ward where our face had just been. Another dozen of the tube things quickly followed, scrabbling hard against the ward, which was flickering and then burning, with an acrid stench that filled the troll’s nostrils and had him stumbling back.

And hitting down on his behind while still scrambling away, panting and making small, panicked noises that I had never heard one of his kind utter.

Things got a little confused after that, as the troll inadvertently triggered the recording again, causing the goddess to return. And she soon had friends, because Marlowe had noted the place on the floor which had activated the image. And immediately started running around the room, setting off recordings in front of the other alcoves, although we couldn’t understand what they were saying when they were all talking at once!

Even worse, there wasn’t a single recording for each. Ours had only triggered the one, perhaps because the latest occupant was still in place, so there hadn’t been any question of what to show first. But others had a life-sized, merry-go-round of images flash into being in front of them, and not all showed the same person.

Fortuna was prominent among them, but there were others, both men and women, although I could not see all of them very well. The ones in front of the circles were more than life-sized, but those on the sides were smaller and more indistinct, like a necklace with graduated beads. Or they were until Marlowe started scrolling through them, pushing them aside like someone swiping right on an app.

And he was swiping fast, as if searching for something, causing the images to blur together as he sped about the room, and hundreds of voices to echo off the walls. It was a sizable cave, but not sizeable enough with a crowd of oversized, ancient gods suddenly jostling us for space! Or with their voices deafening me as I wrestled with my troll, who had had enough of this weird, scary place.

I finally glimpsed the reason for his panic in his mind, and it was a good one. His kind were taught from the cradle to avoid areas where the old gods had been, as they often were protected by traps that could be deadly, causing curious little troll boys to never be heard from again. And the conditioning had stuck.

He wanted out of here; he wanted out now!

But I wanted to stay despite the chaos, my attention having been caught by the fact that not all of the gods were staying still. Some of the merry-go-rounds were still spinning even after Marlowe moved on, showing flickers of dozens of people and their cut-off greetings as they flew by. But elsewhere had settled on a single spokesperson, who was pacing back and forth in front of their alcoves and gesturing at the things inside, none of which I would like to meet in a dark alley. Still others were panning their cameras, or whatever had been recording them, to the center of the room, where the eggs stood whole and unbroken in the past.

The glowing structures were linked via various tubes to other, smaller versions of themselves hanging in the space above. Sometimes, there were two or three glowing orbs attached; at other times, as many as twelve were visible. And one flickering blue image across the room showed the end result of all this.

Something was emerging from one of the large eggs it depicted and tentatively stepping down to the ground. Something I would never have expected in this cavalcade of horrors. Something . . . familiar.

It was a woman, naked except for a transparent sheen that clung to her, glistening in the bright light, which evaporated as soon as the air touched her. I was having to view her out of the corner of one of the troll’s eyes, as he was still fighting me, but she was nonetheless beautiful. So much so that, after a moment, even he paused and then just lay there, staring.

At long dark hair, still wet with the shimmering substance and falling halfway down her back; at huge dark eyes flicking with confusion over the group of people around the egg; at the heavy breasts, trim waist and shapely hips of a woman grown, which is what she was although she didn’t act like it.

She didn’t seem to know this place or these people. She didn’t seem to know anything at all, because when she spoke, a wordless sort of keening was all that came out of her mouth. Her eyes darted about in confusion and growing fear, and then began to glow, bright, bright, so unearthly bright, that I wanted to shield my face yet I couldn’t look away.

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