‘Why is there less destruction here?’
‘A variety of reasons,’ said Ban-ath. ‘As you have no doubt noticed the states of energy are much higher in our realm, the so-called first realm, which by the way is considered the first circle of Hell by those who live in the realm above us.’
Pug laughed. ‘It’s a matter of perspective, I guess.’
‘Very much so.’ Ban-ath’s tone turned sombre. ‘You have been cursed as much as blessed, Pug of Crydee. More than any mortal since Macros.’
‘I’m beginning to understand that.’
‘Macros was an imperfect vessel, our first attempt, and in many ways he was a poor choice.’
‘Why?
‘The things that made him so easy to manipulate: vanity, arrogance, and a fundamental distrust of others. You on the other hand were a new soul, untroubled by so many of the things which marked Macros in previous lives. You are the result of a conspiracy of gods, for we had need of you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you are a weapon, of sorts, and a tool, and you bring the one thing to this situation that no god can: humanity. We are slaves to you as much as being your masters, Pug. The relationship between the gods and humanity is one of a fair exchange. We provide expression for your deepest beliefs and needs, and you give us form and substance.’
‘Why you?’ asked Pug. ‘If I had been asked before which god would be responsible for restoring things to this realm as they should be, I might have suggested Ishap, for balance is crucial. Or among the lesser gods, perhaps Astalon, for his justice, or Killian for her nurturing of nature. But you?’
‘Who else?’ said Ban-ath, giving a deep rumble of a laugh. ‘Macros thought he was somehow working for the lost God of Magic, Sarig, and Nakor thought he was the instrument of Wodan-Hospur, the lost God of Knowledge.’ He paused. ‘You’ve seen only a tiny aspect of the gods, Pug, but you’ve seen more than most. And you’ve heard more, from people like Nakor and Jimmy.
‘You know that even the memory of a god, or a god’s dream, or a god’s echo can take on form and substance, and can act as if the god were still present.
‘I am here presenting to you an aspect of myself, providing an illusion to instruct you, but I am also at the same time listening to a thief in Roldem who is about to be found out by the City Watch, begging me to intervene. I am watching a man lie to his wife as he leaves to meet his mistress, who lies to him about loving him while taking his gold to give to her lover, a thug who doesn’t quite believe in me, but who grudgingly leaves a copper once a month in the votive box in my shrine in LaMut, just in case. I am also listening to the pleas of a gambler about to lose his last coin and who will be beaten and killed later tonight when he can not pay back the gold he borrowed from an agent of the Mockers in Krondor when the Upright Man makes an example of him. I am sitting with a merchant who has placed gold in the hands of one of my priests to beg me to keep my worshippers away as he ships valuable spices from Muboya to the City of the Serpent River. I hear every prayer and answer them all, though most of the time my answer is "no". I also see every act done in my name, and an endless series of possibilities for every choice made. Humanity speaks to me constantly, Pug.
‘All know me by a different name, or guise, or aspect. I am the god of thieves, and liars, and gamblers. But I am also the god of those who undertake impossible quests, and hopeless causes. And that is why it is I who acts on behalf of the gods of Midkemia, for if there was ever a hopeless cause it is stemming the advance of the Dread into our world, Pug.
‘There are rules and they bind the gods as much as they bind mortals, and Astalon and Killian, Guis-wa, and Lims-Kragma – for all their powers – cannot ignore those rules. The laws of the universe say that we are confined to this realm, that no matter how important and puissant we may be in this, our realm, in other realms we are trespassers and hold no sway. So then, who better to enter the other realm and effect change than me?’
‘The god who ignores the law, and breaks the rules,’ said Pug.
‘Yes,’ chuckled Ban-ath. ‘The Trickster. The Cheater. Only I can do what needs to be done, for it is as much my nature as it is the scorpion’s nature to sting that stupid frog to death!’
Suddenly they were standing on a hill, on the edge of a bucolic valley through which ran a stream where fish could be seen jumping.
‘Where are we?’ Pug asked.
‘It’s somewhere you’ve been before, once.’
‘When?’
‘Remember,’ said Ban-ath, and Pug did.