9
“Listen,” Magodor snapped. “You get to hear this once.”
Generous. “I’m all ears, Maggie.” I tried to wiggle them encouragingly, but I just don’t have that talent. What an unfair world. A big goof like Saucerhead Tharpe can wiggle one of his ears, but I am stuck with . . .
“Garrett.”
Whoops. “I’m awake! I’m awake!”
“You may not accept it, but we gods have dealings amongst ourselves. Few of your priests are aware of this.”
“Yeah. Mostly they’re big on declaring their own gods to be the only gods.”
“Partly. Some younger religions are intolerant that way. About rules. There is a set that governs the situation that exists now. Additionally, there are custom and past practice. It’s not explicitly forbidden, but past practice is that pantheons don’t fight over places on the Street.”
“Bad for business, eh?”
“You have no idea. Customarily, a committee of more successful gods oversee a competition. Winner takes all.”
“Ah.” That was my polished professional ah, my ah of illumination.
“The competitions are unique each time so the contestants cannot rig the results beforehand.”
“I’ll bet they never even try.”
Maggie smiled me a genuine smile. “Indeed.”
“So what’s the contest? Where do I fit in?”
“The prize temple has been sealed. Neither the Shayir nor we can get in. Somewhere there is a key. Whoever finds it, and recognizes it, can open and take over the temple.”
I used my eyebrow trick. “Oh?” She wasn’t impressed.
“It’s supposed to be ordinary but rendered invisible to immortal eyes. The lock it fits cannot be broken. It will open only to the key. The Board probably expects us to rely on our faithful to do the legwork, but there is no specific prohibition against employing a professional. So we turned to you. And it seems that the Shayir, apparently having gotten wind of our interest, tried to lure you away.”
“I see,” I said, not sure that I saw anything. “I’m supposed to find this key, scoot to this temple, and let you in before the Shayir find it.”
“That’s the meat of it.”
“Interesting.” If I was not caught up inside some bizarre con. That would fit my luck. Time and again I get dragged in where nobody plays me even close to straight.
All part of the business.
I had questions. Were the contesting gods, though discouraged from bushwhacking each other, allowed to make life hard for the opposition’s mortals? I have enough troubles.
Maggie looked at me like she meant to glare a hole through.
“It’s worth thinking about. My weirdest case yet. Great for my references later.” I had to get out without making commitments. I knew I could not get away with a flat no.
“There’s a time limit, Garrett. The sands are running already. We have maybe another hundred hours.”
Gah. “What happens if nobody finds the key?”
“These southern immigrants could bring more gods than Antitibet.”
“Everybody loses?”
“It has happened before.”
“Let’s talk money, then.”
Her face tightened. Prospective clients never want to talk about money.
I told her, “I have a household to support. The usual story stuff—like maybe a night with Star, like a night in Elf Hill, wonderful as that might be—won’t put food on the table.”