—
Greta props herself up on an elbow and stares at me. “Are you telling me that you’re responsible for his behavior?”
“Nay, he’s responsible for his own bollocks. I’m to blame for teaching him to question authority, its priorities and motivations, and to fight that authority when he saw it conflicting with Gaia’s interests.”
Me love frowns and gives a tiny shake of her head. “Why would you do that when it could turn him into the same kind of monster that Dubhlainn was—a lawless predator?”
“Because I didn’t want him to become a bitter cynic like me, disillusioned and questioning me whole training like it was all a lie! I wanted him to have the whole truth and be a skeptic, which is a very different thing. And besides, I knew going into it that if he did turn out bad, the Morrigan would make sure he got cut down. But that’s clearly not what happened. The way he tells it, the Morrigan actually wound up protecting him for a long time.”
Greta blinks, trying to absorb that information and make it fit with her experience of him.
“It comes down to the fact that he serves a different value system than any human one. I pointed out that Gaia was interested in protecting the vitality and variety of life on the whole planet. Broadly speaking that’s difficult to argue, because unless you’re falling prey to this predator or that, that basic value is pure and good and beneficial to all concerned, if ye take the long and wide view. But humans, I taught him, rarely take that view. Human laws think of protecting humans first. Though if ye look closely at most human laws, they tend to benefit a narrow few over the good of all humans. I’m sure ye can think of a law or three that protects someone’s personal profit rather than what’s good for everyone.”
Greta rolls her eyes. “That’s easy. The tax code protects the rich, and lots of voting laws protect a white majority, and arbitration clauses protect corporations from getting sued when they rip people off, and we could go on all day.”
“Good, so ye see me point. That’s basically the core of what I taught him: Protect Gaia first, protect humans second, and question everything else. That probably led him to construct a strange moral compass. And looking at Granuaile, I wonder if he might have taught her in an even more extreme fashion—that Gaia’s law is all that matters and human laws are just shite to carefully step over in pursuit of defending the planet.”
“Huh. We kind of think that way too. The pack, I mean. We step around the law constantly to protect our own interests. What I want to know is this: Are you planning on teaching your current apprentices the same way?”
“I don’t know. Well, no—it’s already different. I’m not half so angry as I used to be. I’m still boiling over what’s been done to the planet since the Morrigan put me in long-term storage, but I think I understand that all people are protecting what’s theirs and rarely think beyond what they’re going to eat in the next week. And I understand that training minds to think differently is a long road, but at least I have the time to walk it. These are good kids and we’re in a good place now.”
“Yes.” Greta pats me chest a couple times, falls back and looks up at the sky with me, and sighs her contentment. “That we are, Owen.”
“I’m glad I get to walk this long road with you, love.”
Greta giggles, which is not the reaction I’d hoped for. “Are you getting sentimental on me, Teddy Bear?”
“Nah, I just injured me gob. I have no idea what the hell just happened. I was trying to grunt and it came out all wrong.”
She chuckles and drapes a leg across me, planting a kiss on me cheek. “I think someone’s told you about foreplay.”
“I thought the fighting was the foreplay.”
“Ha!” She kisses me again. “You’re not still bleeding anywhere, are you?”
“I’m good to go.”
She shifts all her weight on top of me, cups me face in her hands, and says nose-to-nose, “Let’s have that long walk, then.”
This story, narrated by Perun, takes place after the events of Staked, Book 8 in The Iron Druid Chronicles.
When I am invited to this thing called “Cuddle Dungeon,” I am thinking perhaps my English still not so good, or maybe these are very strange peoples. Dungeon is prison underground and full of many unpleasant things—rats and bad smells and moist coughing noises. Cuddles is soft and warm times before or after sex. I would not think to put these things together, but these modern peoples do.
My lover, Flidais, tries to say is ironic, a kind of joke, but I am not understanding. So she shrugs and says, “Is Scottish,” which she says about everything I do not understand. But she also says this for things she does not want to explain. Like who invited her to bring me to Cuddle Dungeon: “Some Scottish lad.”
Is very confusing being old Slavic thunder god in modern world, but is good that there are new kinds of dungeons, I suppose. Is consistent with technology culture obsessed with upgrades. They upgrade everything now: even dungeons.
We join line in wet city of Edinburgh, down narrow cobbled alley between old brick buildings where there are stairs leading belowground. Man at front of line holds out hand, and Flidais gives him tickets she buy somewhere before. Man looks at me and laughs and says, “Ye have no fookin’ idea what you’re doing here, do ye?”
I point to downstairs door. “Am cuddling,” I say, and he laughs again and says stream of words in Scottish accent so thick I am not understanding.
I ask Flidais as we go down, “Why does small man laugh at me? What is going to happen?”
“I don’t know, Perun,” she says. “That’s why I’m here. I want to be surprised. I want something new.”
She is old Irish goddess of the hunt, maybe older than me. We do not speak of our many years, of our boredom with routine. We seek new experience instead and see if humans can surprise us. Is very long battle, fighting boredom. Is why when Flidais saw me in leather shop in Prague with the Druid named Atticus she thought we should try leather for sexy times, and I agree very fast because is novelty for me. But leather clothings is only outward sign of a certain kind of play, Flidais tells me. There is rules and behaviors and many, many toys. All we have now is the clothes: We have leathers under long jackets that cover us up, and other peoples in line are covered up too.
I am hoping is much fun behind door. Already going down steps I feel more alive. Anticipation is sweet thing. I am wishing staircase is longer just so I can anticipate for longer time.
Door is metal and loud creaking on hinges. When we open we hear people laughing. Also screaming. Maybe some moaning too, and thumping music. Wall ahead is white and padded like marshmallow room. We have hallway to walk down, and lights get dim as we go. Bright near door, a bit darker down the hall. But wall stays white and fluffy on all sides.