Vagabonds Read online

  She was met by an official, in accordance with what her station as “Jasmine Reith” deserved, but they were deferential as they led her inside, passing another security checkpoint, and down the main thoroughfare. The entire structure had been built from marble an age ago, and the same antique crystal and silver chandeliers hung from the ceiling—albeit with electrical power instead of candles for light. Massive portraits and tapestries hung from the walls and the mirror-polished floors were lined with carpets that lost value with each footstep.

  They went by a number of doors, all intricately carved and large enough to squeeze an elephant through without much fuss, yet they stopped in front of an entrance that was, relatively, modest.

  “The Sovereign’s chambers,” the official said, then knocked three times in a pattern.

  A thick, baritone voice carried through from the other side, “One moment.”

  With a nod the official left, leaving her to stand outside the door. She bristled at the treatment.

  Does he dare play power games? Does he need a reminder of who is superior? She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. A finger drummed an annoyed beat. She shifted from one leg to the other. Another finger took up the rhythm. In the distance a towering clock ticked away, the deep tocks never matching Sejit’s timing.

  Were it not for my purpose…

  Sejit reached for the doorknob, only for it to slip away from her grasp with a clack.

  “Apologies for the delay,” Ifon said with the exasperation of a father who’d just gotten the kids to bed, “Simple mortals have a way of complicating simple matters.”

  It was a rare thing for Sejit to not have to lower her eyes to meet another’s. Ifon’s close-cropped hair and tidy beard had grayed, or, upon closer examination, had been grayed with a face weathered to match.

  It was an interesting trick, and it would be one she’d need to learn once she held the reins of power in Yosel.

  “Ifon,” she said, tersely.

  “You haven’t changed at all,” he noted with some cheer, “Good.” Shutting the door behind him, he closed the distance between the two gods. With a press of his finger on a small black square set on the doorway, several bolts latched into place to ensure none could enter.

  “Are we not meeting in your office?”

  “No. I know why you’ve come, and I’d rather have an appropriate backdrop for our conversation. Please,” he said, gesturing Sejit down the hall.

  “Do you, now? I doubt that.”

  “Given the circumstances, I presume you’ve come so that we might discuss our methods. Or,” said Ifon, a certain glint appearing, “Has the fire been rekindled?”

  Sejit’s upper lip twitched. “Those flames are forever dead. And no, I am here regarding Tess, though I will admit I am curious as to what you mean by our methods.”

  “Tess?” Ifon held her in a sidelong look, “Well, I’m a little disappointed your trip is strictly business. Nonetheless, the methods, our ways. Please,” he said, again motioning for Sejit to follow him.

  As Ifon led Sejit through the halls, guards, officials, and bustling workers bowed their heads to him, even those who knew full well there was no way he could see their gesture. Soon they came to one of the exits at the back of the building, and to Sejit’s surprise, through the gardens, through the rear perimeter gate, and into the city proper.

  At first, the buildings had been modern and new, unblemished. Then, as with most cities, the further they ventured from the economic hub, the more decrepit their surroundings became. Sidewalks were shot through with cracks and breaking apart. Streets pockmarked and potholed. Shops whose windows were barred. Graffiti abounded on any flat surface, be it the side of a dumpster or the back of a road sign.

  After crossing one street in particular, a sort of demarcation into a no-mans-land, they arrived at a vast expanse of tenements. People as disheveled as the crumbling buildings around them sat and lay in shadows and alleys, peering out at the strange pair that’d invaded—the pair that shined, a spotlight highlighting the filth.

  Ifon stopped, “Here we are.”

  “What are you getting at? Moreover,” Sejit said, taking in the poverty, “How have you managed to convince your security to not follow us when this was your destination?”

  “Why, I told my head of security to stand down for our chat because I wished for it to be private.”

  “So your chief of security knows?”

  “That he does.”

  “I would not have expected you to trust in mortals.”

  “I’d rather not, but the captain cannot do everything on the ship,” he shook his head slowly, “Despite my best efforts otherwise.”

  “And how does he take the fact his position is utterly useless?”

  “Not utterly useless. There are others that need protecting. Alas, mortals do need so much satisfaction in their lives.”

  “You say that like we do not.”

  “Not in the slightest,” he said, allowing a smirk to crawl from the corners of his lips, “The difference is theirs is derived from servitude.”

  Around them, an audience of sorts had gathered. They didn’t crowd in, instead preferring to remain unseen. Sejit could hear them, sense them, and worst of all, smell them, as they huddled in the recesses and watched from dirty or broken windows.

  No matter how far away one could be from home, some things never changed. A city was a city. Sioun had not been much different before her infusion of capital, and even then, where wealth moved in, it simply pushed out the have-nots into a ring around the prosperity.

  “You are not wrong,” she said, spying a figure on the third floor of a nearby building peering down at them. Soon as their eyes met, the figure shied away behind curtains. “Though I must ask: Why are we here? What does this have to do with our methods? With Tess?”

  “Because this is the heart of it all,” said Ifon, spreading his arms and turning about to take in all he could see before facing Sejit, “The heart of our… differences.”

  “Is that so? Elaborate, because I am missing the point.”

  “This is what happens when mortals lack guidance.”

  “Yes,” she began, drawing out the S, turning it drier than any red wine, “It is hard to miss the fruit of your policies and your desire for absolute control. As you just mentioned, the captain cannot do everything.”

  “Please. This was an exception. A test, if you will. Around 15 years ago, there’d been a massive push towards redeveloping a run-down business district into housing for the poor. Have these impressive, clean, modern apartments. It was championed as a project to give some pride to the… unfortunate. I told them no, of course, but they were so persistent. So, in a moment of weakness, I decided to allow them their endeavor. Perhaps they’d prove me wrong. Wouldn’t that be something?”

  Sejit shifted back onto one leg, “And I am to believe you did not attempt to sabotage their project? You would have stood to gain even more political capital from its failure.”

  “Have I not always been forthright in our discussions? I allowed them to proceed unfettered. Even lent aid if they appeared to need it, which they always did, but I did not waste resources when it began to fall apart. That doesn’t mean it’s not a painful thing to watch one’s children fail, especially when it’s because they’re too proud to heed your wisdom.”

  An old car, more rust than paint, shuddered to a stop at the intersection behind them. Its four occupants stared at the well-dressed duo.

  “There must be failures before there can be successes. They will learn in their time,” Sejit said. As she spoke, her ears perked, taking in the sounds of people shifting around them, drawing near.

  Ifon vented his impatience with a sigh. “There have always been slums and poverty, war and chaos. There always will be. The moment any one of them is elevated, they do everything in their power to tear each other down. Greed is their nature, and it is their nature because they refuse to learn, to advance beyond their baseness. Left
to themselves, their avarice ensures their destruction. History is full of such empires coming apart because it could no longer support its inbred leadership, or because a break in power at the top sent everyone into a frenzy to be the first to grab it.”

  “You must have been quite the overbearing father, or,” Sejit paused, tapping a finger to her lips, “No, you never were.”

  Disgust curled his face, all the way to his nose. “As if I would father offspring with a mortal. I cannot fathom how the others—how you—allowed yourself to be defiled. As for a suitable goddess… Few have been my equal, worth bearing my progeny.”

  “That is why you do not understand. Without the lessons of failure, they cannot learn. Without the security in knowing someone will help them stand after they fall, they will lack confidence. Dictate their every action, chide them for their failures, and they will never grow beyond infancy.”

  “These children must be led, even confined, for their own good,” Ifon said, gesturing to the shadows bearing down around them, “Let them do as they please and they will find any number of ways to disappoint because they will grow regardless, be it a well-manicured flower or a noxious weed. You would let the child amble into traffic and pick up the pieces, if there would be anything left. I prefer to keep them away from the danger until they gather the capacity to reason out the why. If, after 10,000 years, they still cannot fathom that there must always be the weak for the strong to stand upon, I harbor doubts they ever will.”

  Sejit clenched and unclenched her fists, a phantom tail twitched. He hadn’t changed at all. It wasn’t as if she disagreed with most of his points. Mortals were foolish, greedy, and incompetent, but it was her newfound duty as their figurative mother to see them past their hindering traits—even if it could be incredibly trying and even if, more than sometimes, she wanted to murder them all.

  Though, one aspect she was having difficulty coming to terms with was that, for an economy to grow, it required one class of people have substantially less than others. Someone had to be exploited, to remain hungry. Ifon wasn’t wrong in that regard.

  “I wish to see them grow, so that in 10,000 years’ time, I no longer have to guide them,” said Sejit, “Instead of berating them for their failure here, why do you not use it as a learning experience?”

  “Because they’ve already forgotten now that those who championed the project profited from it,” Ifon said, sighing in disappointment, “Once you’ve ruled for as many years as I have, you will come to understand. Perhaps you still can, here and now. I was hoping we could reach an agreement. United, we could cease all this… maneuvering, all this hiding. Our combined might would be unparalleled, uncontested. Overnight the world would be ours, brought to heel. Made obedient.”

  “Ours…” Sejit trailed off, wistful, until steeled resolve returned, “That can never happen.”

  “We do have history, don’t we?” He said with a wan smile, “Most of those I respect have passed, save you. Perhaps they were not worth respecting after all. And speaking of those unworthy of respect…”

  “Tess.”

  “Yes, her,” he said, body shifting with the sort of exasperation of having to drudge up a matter he considered to be done and over with, “The jackal and the perpetual boy Wophin. And there was one other… Ah, yes. Yf. I struggle to understand why you work with them as you do.”

  “Insulted?”

  “Frankly? Yes.”

  “That is why.”

  Out of nowhere, Ifon belted out a howl of a laugh, both to her surprise and concern.

  “…What do you find amusing?”

  “Do you know how long it’s been since someone’s had the gall to speak to me as you do?” he chuckled, shaking his head, a man who had longed for a joke he never knew he missed.

  Sejit held her tongue in mentioning how she experienced that particular feeling on a near-daily basis, sometimes several times a day. From a mortal.

  “The jackal,” she said, having elected towards a different path, “I have heard you intend to eliminate what remains of her mortal kin.”

  Ifon went silent and assumed a passive, calm mask. “How did you learn of that?”

  “I will say that it came to me through channels I would not have expected.”

  He hummed appraisingly, “Interesting. I’ll have to investigate as to where this leak sprung. That said, yes, I have already given the order. She meddled in my affairs, so I must respond.”

  “She acted upon my orders.”

  A small knot of people had clustered together in a nearby alley, exchanging whispers and shared looks at the foreign pair.

  “So it was your idea, then?” Ifon’s relaxed posture stiffened, “Did you also choose the means?”

  “The gun? Yes, I suppose by asking Tess to perform the deed, I also chose to rely on her methods.”

  “I am… disappointed to hear that. I thought you better.”

  Sejit let out a long sigh through her nose. He could be so difficult about such trivial matters. “What is the point if there is doubt another mortal performed the deed? You engage in mortal means daily in the running of your country.”

  “That you cannot see the difference is telling of how you have fallen,” Ifon said, his voice growing thin.

  “Perhaps, but that does not matter. You exacted your revenge by throwing my plans into disarray with the assassination of Julian. I wish for you to leave Tess’ kin out of it.”

  Again Ifon paused, studied her. Even through the mask set on his handsome, stern features, she could see the gears of thought whirring. Sejit was full of information she shouldn’t possess.

  He licked his lips before speaking, “No. She must learn there are consequences to her interference.”

  Interesting. He didn’t respond to my accusation. …What does that mean?

  “I must say, however, that I am curious as to why you care. It’s not like the Lady of Slaughter to be concerned over a few mortals, especially the progeny of another goddess.”

  “Because if you kill them, Tess will lose her last link to this world. She would likely attack you in the open.”

  Ifon dismissed her words with a snort, even bore an air of offense, as if the mere suggestion that Tess could be a threat was an insult. “Good. Let her seek a fight with me if she wishes.”

  “You will not be able to put her down without drawing attention. She has more fight to her than you give credit.”

  Shadows clouded Ifon’s countenance. Sejit knew she was toeing a thin line. If it came to it, better to get it over with here, even if it meant bringing the city to ruins around them. It’d be easier to mollify Tess if Ifon were to be disposed of, here and now. Though, denying her the satisfaction may exacerbate matters.

  “You would dare? She would be destroyed. You may have bested me before, but do not think me so weak. If you doubt me, I would gladly test myself against you,” Ifon said in a lumbering growl, “It won’t end like last time.”

  Sejit stooped forward, the fabric of her blouse straining against muscle. “Is that so? Please, go ahead.”

  A voice cut between them, dispelling the tension. “Think you two got lost,” said a man, or rather, a caricature of a man. A wanna-be soldier trimmed in hand-me-down fatigues that’d seen many hands while also having seen little of soap. Various patches emblazoned his dirty uniform, marks of allegiance and supposed triumphs. Medals of valor for those without any.

  He swaggered forward, flanked on both sides by a half-dozen similar dressed lackeys.

  “Think you two might need some help getting back home.”

  Ifon rolled his eyes, the darkness at the edges of his visage fading away. “This is what happens when children are not disciplined.”

  “This is what happens when they are not allowed to mature,” Sejit said, finding it difficult to not agree with him.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you,” said the man, in the exact sort of tone expected of him, “Or maybe an old man like you isn’t so good at hearing?”

 
; “Do you know to whom you are speaking? No, of course not, if you did we would not be having this… conversation.”

  The wolf-god hauled himself up to his full height as he spoke, which left him in a position to tower over the small man, but the small man did not back down, because he had been challenged, because he had friends. And because he had the great equalizer, as he demonstrated with a move he no doubt thought dexterous to produce a pistol from a jacket pocket. He leveled it at Ifon.

  “Sounds like you don’t know who you talking to, old man.”

  However, one of his underlings, one perhaps not so high on braggadocio, possessed a shred of intellect. “Ain’t that Ifon?”

  “What? No dumbass, why would he be around here? Besides, he don’t have none of them spooks guarding him.”

  “No, yo! It’s him!” Said the smarter one, even going so far as to pull out a beat-up phone with more cracks on the screen than clear glass and looked up an image. He held it up to the gang leader’s face. “See! That’s him!”

  His enthusiasm at being correct was replaced by the realization he was part of a group that was attempting to mug the country’s Sovereign. The feeling spread to the others like a miasma. The gun wavered.

  “But he ain’t got no guards! Look old man, dunno if you some look-alike stunt double or whatever, but you’re on Gray Soldiers territory now, and you lookin’ like you need some help gettin’ out. We’ll show you out, but we got fees. Know what I mean?”

  “Tell me,” Ifon said, gazing upon the pitiable creature threatening him, but speaking to Sejit, “Do you believe these sorts capable of ever accomplishing anything? Of contributing anything to society, let alone themselves?”

  “The one who thought to look up information before reaching a conclusion might amount to something,” Sejit said, straightening out a few wrinkles on her slacks.

  “Might,” agreed Ifon, “But doubtful.”

  “Hey! Fuckin’ listen when I’m—”

  It was over before they’d realized it began. Sejit had to admit Ifon was powerful as ever, relieved at having avoided a direct confrontation. It would have been impossible to stop their spat from escalating to a point where the whole of the mortal world would come to know of their true natures. And in the wake of that knowledge would come fear, and from fear humanity would attack that which they did not understand.