The living incarnation of the goddess stared down at the young woman. Her eyes held mysteries Miranda could only begin to guess, but her face presented a kindly visage. Yet no answer was forthcoming. Miranda pressed on. “A great evil arises here, one that, unchecked, will release forces to rival even your own. I must seek aid!”
For a long moment the goddess studied Miranda; then with an economy of motion she indicated the woman should move to another area. “Seek one not yet come among us.”
Miranda hurried to another quarter of the hall, in which an empty area stood ready, but unoccupied. Shifting her perceptions through each phase of sight she knew, Miranda searched for some hint of what she might find here.
A glyph shimmered in a spectrum of light beyond the ability of most men to see, yet Miranda saw it. She turned to discover the Warden had followed her, floating a foot above the stone floor.
“Who placed such a mark here?”
“One who recently visited, like you.”
“What does the symbol mean?”
“It is the mark of Wodan-Hospur, one of the Lost Gods, whom we await.”
“You await the return of gods lost during the Chaos Wars?” she asked in surprise.
“Everything is possible in the Hall of the Gods.”
“What was the name of this man?”
“I may not say.”
“I am seeking Pug of Stardock,” said Miranda. “At the inn, in the Hall of Worlds, I was told to come here.”
The Warden shrugged. “Such matters are not my concern.”
“Has he been here?”
“I may not say.”
Miranda thought, then asked, “If you can say nothing else, where might I go next to find this man?”
The Warden hesitated. “It may be that you need to look at that place where you were misled.”
Miranda said, “I thought as much.” With a wave of her arm, she was gone, a faint popping sound the only indication of her having been there.
One of the people attending a nearby god turned and threw back his hood. He was short of stature, his eyes the color of dark walnut aged and stained, his beard as dark as that of a lad of twenty, but his manner and size did little to disguise the aura of power that surrounded him.
Stepping over to where the Warden waited, he said, “You’ve served your purpose.” With a wave of his hand the figures in the hail vanished, leaving only a vast emptiness of rock and ice. Cold air rang in through the now unprotected opening and bit with enough harshness to make him gather his cloak tightly around him.
Glancing around to see that no trace of illusion remained, he was raising his hands to will himself to another place when a voice said, “Gods, it’s cold without that illusion.”
The man turned, and standing a yard away was the woman. “Pug of Stardock?”
The man nodded. “Neatly done, lady. There are few who could have seen through the ruse.”
She smiled and something oddly familiar hinted at recognition, then was gone. “I didn’t. But things just didn’t feel right, and I thought if I could seem to have left, then perhaps I might learn something.”
The man smiled. “You simply turned yourself invisible and made the proper noise.”
The woman nodded. “You are Pug?”
The man said, “Yes, I am Pug of Stardock.”
The woman’s face took on an expression of concern, and again there was something hauntingly familiar about her. “Good. We must go. There is much to be done.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Pug.
“Khaipur has fallen and Lanada is undone by treachery.”
Pug nodded. “I know this. But for me to act too soon—”
“And the Pantathians counter your magic with their own. I know. But there is more here than a simple bashing of magics, like rams banging heads in the mountains.” Her breath hung in the frigid air and she waited.
Pug said, “Before I presume to tell you there are forces at play beyond your knowledge, I suppose I should find out what you know.”
He vanished.
“Damn,” said Miranda. “I hate it when men do that.”
Pug had two goblets of wine poured when Miranda popped into existence. “Why did you do that?”
“If you couldn’t follow me, then telling you anything was pointless.” Pug handed her a goblet. “There’s something vaguely familiar about you,” he observed.
Miranda took the wine and sat down on a divan opposite a writing desk; Pug pulled out the stool that went with the desk, and sat down.
“Where are we? Stardock?” She glanced around. The room was small and lacking any decoration. All she could see indicated that this was a library. Books lined every wall, save one narrow space that held a window, and besides the divan, desk, and chair, the room was devoid of furniture. A pair of lamps burned, one at each end of the room.
Pug nodded. “My quarters. No one can get in or out but myself, and no one expects me to visit, as no one has seen me here in twenty-five years.”