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Chapter 20
“... and that's the problem, Mr. President. The old legends have some truth to them – there are elves and dwarves and goblins and werewolves and more. But during the non-magic portion of the cycle, they revert to their roots, either human or animal. Now they are reappearing. We currently have about twenty thousand pregnancies here in the United States alone that will not be born human. There will be humans and dolphins both that give birth to merfolk. There will be basilisks and trolls, sea serpents and dryads, brownies and centaurs. Americans are drawn from all over the world, so we'll probably have naga and kappa and lamia as well.”
President Boehner frowned at his chief witch as he absorbed the information. “Is there anything we can do about it?”
Stardancer shrugged. “To prevent it from happening? No. But we think you should prepare the country for what is about to occur. We don't need people panicking when their babies are born as elves or orcs.”
Lowe nodded. “That's exactly it. They're getting used to Changelings, but they won't be expecting it to affect their own children if they weren’t Changed themselves. So you need to warn them. Reassure them that although they may look different, they're still people.”
“And are they?” The president's tone was curious, rather than skeptical. “Elves and Dwarves and Orcs don't behave like humans in the old tales that -I've- read.”
Lowe chuckled. “Cerrunos assures us that Tolkien didn't get it right. They'll have some of the legendary abilities, but they won't be different mentally. Even the werefolk won't be evil Hollywood monsters, just kids with unusual abilities.”
Stardancer grinned. “And your cubs are just as likely to be were-humans, you realize?”
Boehner chuckled at the look on the wolf's face. “I take it that this isn't an emergency, at least?”
“No, sir.” Stardancer tapped the fourth page of her report. “We should still have a month before even a premature baby is born. You have time to figure out a good way of breaking this news to the public.”
Boehner nodded. “Good. Now... Dr. Lowe – what do you think we should do about China?”
The wolf shrugged. “There is little we -can- do at this point. Wei Lung has taken over the country with surprisingly little bloodshed, and so far seems serious about cleaning up the pollution and the corruption. We'll have to deal with him. He doesn't seem to be any worse than his predecessors.”
Boehner looked at her incredulously. “He ate the head of the PLA on live camera! In two bites, I might point out.”
“Technically, the Vice Chairman, though he was in effect the person in charge. But we knew that General Boxuong was directly responsible for at least one incident of poisoned medicine from a PLA operated factory – killed almost a thousand people in Costa Rica. He had a scapegoat executed, but he was ultimately at fault. I can't say I approve of the dragon appointing himself judge, jury and executioner, but he seems to be honest enough for now. We'll see how things work out.”
“What about Hu?”
“I don't see any problem with giving him asylum. But I suspect that letting him speak to the United Nations would be both a waste of time and annoy the Immortal unnecessarily.”
“That's pretty much what Dr. Rice thinks, as well. All right, we'll offer him asylum on that condition. Next... Ms. Stardancer, Dr. Carpenter - how is Project Mirror coming along so far...?”
The cantina was well guarded, Leonard noted. He nodded to Sharook as they got out of the car and twitched a finger in the direction of a rooftop position across the street. The big wolf nodded back to the lion, making his own sweep before giving a thumbs-up to the agent waiting in the car. He got out and let them usher him into the building, playing the part of a crimelord's lieutenant with panache.
Another Changeling, this one a slender cougar, waited to greet them just beyond the entrance foyer. He ignored the lion and the wolf, but gave the human a fluid bow. “Senor Alvarez. If you would be pleased to follow me...?” He led the way past the restaurant, half-empty this late in the evening, the bar, which was crowded, and up the stairs at the back of the public area to a private room on the second floor. Sharook and Leonard followed behind Alvarez, the wolf staying outside with the cougar to guard while the other two went inside.
The man waiting for them stood as they entered, a smile on his face that did not completely reach his eyes as he stepped forward to greet Alvarez with a Latin hug. “Miguel! So good to see you again. I must admit, I thought Don Aguinaldo's request was a bit odd, but then I remember – he has connections with the Yanquis of old, no? And they will surely pay in gold or diamonds or almost anything one could name to find out what they can of this Quetzalcoatl fiend. Come, sit and we can discuss arrangements...”
Leonard stayed at the back of the room while Alvarez sat down, watching the other occupants. He'd been briefed on what to expect, and with the addition of a Changeling vixen as one of the girls waiting on Esteban Rosas and his guests, it matched what he'd been told. The vixen... he inhaled as she passed him on the way to get Alvarez a drink and caught the telltale scents of gun lubricant and propellant. She acknowledged him with a flick of her ears and continued playing servant.
“It has been months, my friend. With the changes, things have been unsettled for a bit, as I am sure you can understand.”
Esteban rolled his eyes. “Caramba. This is truth, Miguel, nothing but truth. Don San Martin was most put out when the Yanquis dropped that bomb in the desert, I must say. He has interests in Terreon, and when the power and phones went out... things were badly disrupted. Still, he is making good money from the rebuilding now, so he is perhaps more kindly disposed to the Yanquis than he was a few months ago.” He leaned forward, all business now that the pleasantries were done. “We have made inquiries based on what you passed on from the Company, and we may indeed have found something of interest to them. How much are they offering?”
“For true information, Esteban? Ten million in gold or currency. Twice that if you can deliver the one they seek, though I have the impression that he is most dangerous. You know, of course, of the attack on the National Palace? And the one on the American White House?” Alvarez waited for a nod. “They suspect he did both. Don Aguinaldo has told me he would prefer to take ten percent of the smaller amount as a commission and not be involved in trying to capture this one, whatever you plan to do.”
Esteban sat quietly for a time, sipping his drink and considering. “Five percent. There have been expenses, of course.”
“How much have you promised the source?”
Esteban chuckled. “Nothing nearly as much as that. A hundred thousand dollars and papers for he and his family to legally enter the Estados Unidos.”
Alvarez smiled. “The Company can do that better than even your forgers, Esteban. Ten percent, and we will cover the reward you have promised the man and get you some reasonable expenses.”
“How reasonable?”
“Say... a half-million? -If- he is the real thing, you understand?”
“Done, then.” Esteban held out his hand, and Alvarez shook on the deal. “We have checked him out, and are sure he is. You have always been a man of your word, Miguel, and so I will let him go with you tonight. Carmen?”
The vixen turned to Rosas. “Si, jefe?”
“Go find our guest, and bring him here. My friend would like to meet him.”
The campesino was a middle-aged man, a bit worn by poverty and nervous in the presence of wealth, but still proud. “His name is Felix Rico. He left our village shortly after the Change, Senor Alvarez, and was gone for months. And then he returned two weeks after the Yanquis dropped their bomb in the desert, with some most peculiar new friends. Now he has taken over the hacienda of our old patrone and acts as a lord. He wants to bring back the days before the Conquistadors, he says... and to those who refuse him, things happen. Terrible things, involving fire.”
“A coyote, you say?”
“Si. The priest said that those who became beast-men were of the devil. He was wrong, I think – many like that I have found to be good men and women still. But with young Felix, he was right. And the priest is dead now, burned when the church burned down, and his friends teach of the ancient religion, with blood and sacrifices. Rico, he does not care, I think – he wants power in this world, not the next. But his friends do these things and he does not stop them.” The peasant stopped for a bit, fear eating at him even this far away from his village, before he took up his tale again. “My daughter... she is still human, most of the time, but she has begun to change at the full moon, taking the form of a desert cat, like Senor Dominguez. He wishes all the Changed to join his unholy mission, and I do not wish to see her lost to God. Please, Senor, please help us!”
Alvarez looked at Rosas. “You've checked on this?”
Rosas nodded. “It all checks out. We've also found a farmer who dropped him off in the desert - near the point where the Yanquis dropped their bomb. He'd saved the man's daughter by walking into a fire and just... absorbing it.”
Alvarez smiled. “Then I think we have found our source. Felipe, go get your family. We will get you to America by this time the day after tomorrow.” When the farmer had left, he nodded to Rosas. “As you said of me, you have also been always a man of your word. We must wait on the Yanquis still, but I can give you the first million of the reward tonight. Would you prefer gold or cash?”
“Gold, I think. No offense to your Yanqui friends, but gold will hold its value better in the coming days, Don San Martin thinks.”
Alvarez chuckled. “Do not tell them, Esteban, but I think he is right. And so does Don Aguinaldo.”
Rico growled under his breath as the hacienda rattled with yet another minor earthquake. <I wonder if this has something to do with the Change. We had two quakes that I can remember in my entire life before, and now there have been a dozen in the last week.> He returned his attention to the maps spread out on the desk in front of him. Computers would have been easier to use for his planning, but they would not function anywhere near the new scrying pool that Quetzalcoatl's surviving priests had set up for him. <It will soon be time. We have healed from the blow the Yanquis gave us, and gathered our strength. But this time we use stealth. The machines are still strong and I do not wish to risk another nuclear bomb...>
A messenger burst through the door of his study and interrupted his thoughts. “Jefe? The last earthquake, he is opening a chasm in the fields south of the village! Lava comes out, and the crops are burning! You must come!”
Rico sighed. “Show me where.”
The fissure stretched for over a mile through the fields, a crack in the earth spewing ash and steam and molten rock. Two cornfields had already gone up in flames, and the farmers were desperately trying to stop the fires from spreading when the young coyote rode up on the former patrone's prize stallion. He was not truly a horseman yet, and his dismount was clumsy - but no one was watching, even if they had dared to criticize. “Pedro!”
The youngster jumped at the bark, and turned to bow to him. “Don Jefe, I...”
Rico interrupted the apology. “Just take the reins, boy. I'm in a hurry.” He strode into the flames as soon as the boy had done so, and the fires went out as he passed through them. The farmers cheered, and he waved his hat back at them in a jaunty salute. <Still, the biggest part of the job is still to come.> Ahead of him, the fissure vomited up blobs of molten rock, and he threw his hands up instinctively as one of them rocketed towards his head. The heat didn't bother him, of course, but he hadn't considered the sheer weight of molten rock, nor its viscosity, and the shock drove him back a pace and nearly knocked him over.
He growled as he recovered his balance and peeled off the cooling basalt, and sent his awareness into the heart of the magma. <There.> The focal point of the eruption was a single passage two miles deep under the field, and his eyes closed in concentration as he reached down with his mind. With an effort, he drew the heat from that deep tunnel, blocking it with frozen stone, and he smiled as the villagers went silent behind him. <I'm probably glowing like a blast furnace again-->
He yelped and took an involuntary step back when he opened his eyes. The woman climbing out of the fissure had coal-black skin, but her hair and eyes were flame the color of the lava. She was dressed solely in wisps of half-solidified volcanic glass, a thin gray and black beaded curtain that covered little as she moved. He could sense the farmers retreat behind him, humans and changelings alike not wishing to be too close to whatever was about to happen.
She nodded once as he stood there gaping. “As I suspected, young one. You -do- have the power.”
He found his voice on the second attempt. “Who – what -are- you?”
Her laughter held overtones of rock pinging as it cooled. “I am Pele, young one.” She frowned at his puzzled look. “Do they teach nothing to the children any more? We are not -that- far from Hawai'i.”
Rico growled. “An American? What do you want here?”
The woman's laughter was even louder this time. “Hardly that, young one. I was there long before these Americans arrived in my islands, and I shall be there long after they are gone. They seem decent enough for mortals. But they have a certain directness about them and they seem to think you are their enemy.”
“The Yanquis are arrogant and greedy! They oppress the people of Mexico, and even stole much of our land from us! They killed Quetzalcoatl for challenging them, and I will avenge him!”
“They are clever and ambitious – and yes, perhaps greedy fits. But in general they mean well. They did not strike at Quetzalcoatl first, you know. They only responded to his attacks - -your- attacks, I think.” She quirked a flaming eyebrow at the coyote. “They also have a habit of ending fights that someone else has started, on their own terms. Do you really wish to test your abilities against so many, so soon? Even I would hesitate to do that.”
Rico sneered. “You fear them?”
“I see no reason to risk the damage their weapons could cause. Winning a pyrrhic victory does not appeal to me.”
“A what?”
Pele shook her head. “A victory that leaves you badly injured. You need an education, young one. I have come to present you with a choice. Abandon the sick dreams of the snake – he was always twisted, delighting in blood and death, and the priests who now follow you continue his sickness. The Americans know where you are, and who you are, and will refrain from taking further vengeance at my request. You are the first in a long time to share my power, and I offer you an apprenticeship.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I would not cross the Americans again if I were you. My protection will not be renewed should you attack them after this, and as I told you – they already know where you are. They will not need a nuclear device this time.”
“They must be punished for what they have done!”
Pele sighed. “They will be, soon enough. No nation lasts forever, young Rico. Come with me. Learn of the beauty of the deep fires. Outlive the ones you hate. In ten thousand years, they will be all but forgotten, as Atlantis and Lemuria and Uskaraj were before them.”
“Uska-what?”
She chuckled. “See? Already forgotten. Only Creya is left of their wizard-priests, and he may not survive this cycle if he isn't careful. He has made the same mistake as Quetzalcoatl, you see.”
Rico stared at her. “How old -are- you?”
Pele laughed. “I am the Second, now. Only Cerrunos is older, and he has always been the First.” She smiled. “You need not decide today, young one. But remember what I said. The offer will stand, but if you should make the mistake of attacking the Americans again, you will forfeit my protection. And be careful of your subordinates. They do things in your name that you should not wish them to do.” With that final word, the ground at her feet bubbled and melted, and she sank into a pool of lava, which congealed behind her almost as fast as it had melted.
One last gust of steam vented before the fissure went cold. The words hung in the air, voiced with the hiss of the fumarole. "Come with me."
“... and that's the problem, Mr. President. The old legends have some truth to them – there are elves and dwarves and goblins and werewolves and more. But during the non-magic portion of the cycle, they revert to their roots, either human or animal. Now they are reappearing. We currently have about twenty thousand pregnancies here in the United States alone that will not be born human. There will be humans and dolphins both that give birth to merfolk. There will be basilisks and trolls, sea serpents and dryads, brownies and centaurs. Americans are drawn from all over the world, so we'll probably have naga and kappa and lamia as well.”
President Boehner frowned at his chief witch as he absorbed the information. “Is there anything we can do about it?”
Stardancer shrugged. “To prevent it from happening? No. But we think you should prepare the country for what is about to occur. We don't need people panicking when their babies are born as elves or orcs.”
Lowe nodded. “That's exactly it. They're getting used to Changelings, but they won't be expecting it to affect their own children if they weren’t Changed themselves. So you need to warn them. Reassure them that although they may look different, they're still people.”
“And are they?” The president's tone was curious, rather than skeptical. “Elves and Dwarves and Orcs don't behave like humans in the old tales that -I've- read.”
Lowe chuckled. “Cerrunos assures us that Tolkien didn't get it right. They'll have some of the legendary abilities, but they won't be different mentally. Even the werefolk won't be evil Hollywood monsters, just kids with unusual abilities.”
Stardancer grinned. “And your cubs are just as likely to be were-humans, you realize?”
Boehner chuckled at the look on the wolf's face. “I take it that this isn't an emergency, at least?”
“No, sir.” Stardancer tapped the fourth page of her report. “We should still have a month before even a premature baby is born. You have time to figure out a good way of breaking this news to the public.”
Boehner nodded. “Good. Now... Dr. Lowe – what do you think we should do about China?”
The wolf shrugged. “There is little we -can- do at this point. Wei Lung has taken over the country with surprisingly little bloodshed, and so far seems serious about cleaning up the pollution and the corruption. We'll have to deal with him. He doesn't seem to be any worse than his predecessors.”
Boehner looked at her incredulously. “He ate the head of the PLA on live camera! In two bites, I might point out.”
“Technically, the Vice Chairman, though he was in effect the person in charge. But we knew that General Boxuong was directly responsible for at least one incident of poisoned medicine from a PLA operated factory – killed almost a thousand people in Costa Rica. He had a scapegoat executed, but he was ultimately at fault. I can't say I approve of the dragon appointing himself judge, jury and executioner, but he seems to be honest enough for now. We'll see how things work out.”
“What about Hu?”
“I don't see any problem with giving him asylum. But I suspect that letting him speak to the United Nations would be both a waste of time and annoy the Immortal unnecessarily.”
“That's pretty much what Dr. Rice thinks, as well. All right, we'll offer him asylum on that condition. Next... Ms. Stardancer, Dr. Carpenter - how is Project Mirror coming along so far...?”
The cantina was well guarded, Leonard noted. He nodded to Sharook as they got out of the car and twitched a finger in the direction of a rooftop position across the street. The big wolf nodded back to the lion, making his own sweep before giving a thumbs-up to the agent waiting in the car. He got out and let them usher him into the building, playing the part of a crimelord's lieutenant with panache.
Another Changeling, this one a slender cougar, waited to greet them just beyond the entrance foyer. He ignored the lion and the wolf, but gave the human a fluid bow. “Senor Alvarez. If you would be pleased to follow me...?” He led the way past the restaurant, half-empty this late in the evening, the bar, which was crowded, and up the stairs at the back of the public area to a private room on the second floor. Sharook and Leonard followed behind Alvarez, the wolf staying outside with the cougar to guard while the other two went inside.
The man waiting for them stood as they entered, a smile on his face that did not completely reach his eyes as he stepped forward to greet Alvarez with a Latin hug. “Miguel! So good to see you again. I must admit, I thought Don Aguinaldo's request was a bit odd, but then I remember – he has connections with the Yanquis of old, no? And they will surely pay in gold or diamonds or almost anything one could name to find out what they can of this Quetzalcoatl fiend. Come, sit and we can discuss arrangements...”
Leonard stayed at the back of the room while Alvarez sat down, watching the other occupants. He'd been briefed on what to expect, and with the addition of a Changeling vixen as one of the girls waiting on Esteban Rosas and his guests, it matched what he'd been told. The vixen... he inhaled as she passed him on the way to get Alvarez a drink and caught the telltale scents of gun lubricant and propellant. She acknowledged him with a flick of her ears and continued playing servant.
“It has been months, my friend. With the changes, things have been unsettled for a bit, as I am sure you can understand.”
Esteban rolled his eyes. “Caramba. This is truth, Miguel, nothing but truth. Don San Martin was most put out when the Yanquis dropped that bomb in the desert, I must say. He has interests in Terreon, and when the power and phones went out... things were badly disrupted. Still, he is making good money from the rebuilding now, so he is perhaps more kindly disposed to the Yanquis than he was a few months ago.” He leaned forward, all business now that the pleasantries were done. “We have made inquiries based on what you passed on from the Company, and we may indeed have found something of interest to them. How much are they offering?”
“For true information, Esteban? Ten million in gold or currency. Twice that if you can deliver the one they seek, though I have the impression that he is most dangerous. You know, of course, of the attack on the National Palace? And the one on the American White House?” Alvarez waited for a nod. “They suspect he did both. Don Aguinaldo has told me he would prefer to take ten percent of the smaller amount as a commission and not be involved in trying to capture this one, whatever you plan to do.”
Esteban sat quietly for a time, sipping his drink and considering. “Five percent. There have been expenses, of course.”
“How much have you promised the source?”
Esteban chuckled. “Nothing nearly as much as that. A hundred thousand dollars and papers for he and his family to legally enter the Estados Unidos.”
Alvarez smiled. “The Company can do that better than even your forgers, Esteban. Ten percent, and we will cover the reward you have promised the man and get you some reasonable expenses.”
“How reasonable?”
“Say... a half-million? -If- he is the real thing, you understand?”
“Done, then.” Esteban held out his hand, and Alvarez shook on the deal. “We have checked him out, and are sure he is. You have always been a man of your word, Miguel, and so I will let him go with you tonight. Carmen?”
The vixen turned to Rosas. “Si, jefe?”
“Go find our guest, and bring him here. My friend would like to meet him.”
The campesino was a middle-aged man, a bit worn by poverty and nervous in the presence of wealth, but still proud. “His name is Felix Rico. He left our village shortly after the Change, Senor Alvarez, and was gone for months. And then he returned two weeks after the Yanquis dropped their bomb in the desert, with some most peculiar new friends. Now he has taken over the hacienda of our old patrone and acts as a lord. He wants to bring back the days before the Conquistadors, he says... and to those who refuse him, things happen. Terrible things, involving fire.”
“A coyote, you say?”
“Si. The priest said that those who became beast-men were of the devil. He was wrong, I think – many like that I have found to be good men and women still. But with young Felix, he was right. And the priest is dead now, burned when the church burned down, and his friends teach of the ancient religion, with blood and sacrifices. Rico, he does not care, I think – he wants power in this world, not the next. But his friends do these things and he does not stop them.” The peasant stopped for a bit, fear eating at him even this far away from his village, before he took up his tale again. “My daughter... she is still human, most of the time, but she has begun to change at the full moon, taking the form of a desert cat, like Senor Dominguez. He wishes all the Changed to join his unholy mission, and I do not wish to see her lost to God. Please, Senor, please help us!”
Alvarez looked at Rosas. “You've checked on this?”
Rosas nodded. “It all checks out. We've also found a farmer who dropped him off in the desert - near the point where the Yanquis dropped their bomb. He'd saved the man's daughter by walking into a fire and just... absorbing it.”
Alvarez smiled. “Then I think we have found our source. Felipe, go get your family. We will get you to America by this time the day after tomorrow.” When the farmer had left, he nodded to Rosas. “As you said of me, you have also been always a man of your word. We must wait on the Yanquis still, but I can give you the first million of the reward tonight. Would you prefer gold or cash?”
“Gold, I think. No offense to your Yanqui friends, but gold will hold its value better in the coming days, Don San Martin thinks.”
Alvarez chuckled. “Do not tell them, Esteban, but I think he is right. And so does Don Aguinaldo.”
Rico growled under his breath as the hacienda rattled with yet another minor earthquake. <I wonder if this has something to do with the Change. We had two quakes that I can remember in my entire life before, and now there have been a dozen in the last week.> He returned his attention to the maps spread out on the desk in front of him. Computers would have been easier to use for his planning, but they would not function anywhere near the new scrying pool that Quetzalcoatl's surviving priests had set up for him. <It will soon be time. We have healed from the blow the Yanquis gave us, and gathered our strength. But this time we use stealth. The machines are still strong and I do not wish to risk another nuclear bomb...>
A messenger burst through the door of his study and interrupted his thoughts. “Jefe? The last earthquake, he is opening a chasm in the fields south of the village! Lava comes out, and the crops are burning! You must come!”
Rico sighed. “Show me where.”
The fissure stretched for over a mile through the fields, a crack in the earth spewing ash and steam and molten rock. Two cornfields had already gone up in flames, and the farmers were desperately trying to stop the fires from spreading when the young coyote rode up on the former patrone's prize stallion. He was not truly a horseman yet, and his dismount was clumsy - but no one was watching, even if they had dared to criticize. “Pedro!”
The youngster jumped at the bark, and turned to bow to him. “Don Jefe, I...”
Rico interrupted the apology. “Just take the reins, boy. I'm in a hurry.” He strode into the flames as soon as the boy had done so, and the fires went out as he passed through them. The farmers cheered, and he waved his hat back at them in a jaunty salute. <Still, the biggest part of the job is still to come.> Ahead of him, the fissure vomited up blobs of molten rock, and he threw his hands up instinctively as one of them rocketed towards his head. The heat didn't bother him, of course, but he hadn't considered the sheer weight of molten rock, nor its viscosity, and the shock drove him back a pace and nearly knocked him over.
He growled as he recovered his balance and peeled off the cooling basalt, and sent his awareness into the heart of the magma. <There.> The focal point of the eruption was a single passage two miles deep under the field, and his eyes closed in concentration as he reached down with his mind. With an effort, he drew the heat from that deep tunnel, blocking it with frozen stone, and he smiled as the villagers went silent behind him. <I'm probably glowing like a blast furnace again-->
He yelped and took an involuntary step back when he opened his eyes. The woman climbing out of the fissure had coal-black skin, but her hair and eyes were flame the color of the lava. She was dressed solely in wisps of half-solidified volcanic glass, a thin gray and black beaded curtain that covered little as she moved. He could sense the farmers retreat behind him, humans and changelings alike not wishing to be too close to whatever was about to happen.
She nodded once as he stood there gaping. “As I suspected, young one. You -do- have the power.”
He found his voice on the second attempt. “Who – what -are- you?”
Her laughter held overtones of rock pinging as it cooled. “I am Pele, young one.” She frowned at his puzzled look. “Do they teach nothing to the children any more? We are not -that- far from Hawai'i.”
Rico growled. “An American? What do you want here?”
The woman's laughter was even louder this time. “Hardly that, young one. I was there long before these Americans arrived in my islands, and I shall be there long after they are gone. They seem decent enough for mortals. But they have a certain directness about them and they seem to think you are their enemy.”
“The Yanquis are arrogant and greedy! They oppress the people of Mexico, and even stole much of our land from us! They killed Quetzalcoatl for challenging them, and I will avenge him!”
“They are clever and ambitious – and yes, perhaps greedy fits. But in general they mean well. They did not strike at Quetzalcoatl first, you know. They only responded to his attacks - -your- attacks, I think.” She quirked a flaming eyebrow at the coyote. “They also have a habit of ending fights that someone else has started, on their own terms. Do you really wish to test your abilities against so many, so soon? Even I would hesitate to do that.”
Rico sneered. “You fear them?”
“I see no reason to risk the damage their weapons could cause. Winning a pyrrhic victory does not appeal to me.”
“A what?”
Pele shook her head. “A victory that leaves you badly injured. You need an education, young one. I have come to present you with a choice. Abandon the sick dreams of the snake – he was always twisted, delighting in blood and death, and the priests who now follow you continue his sickness. The Americans know where you are, and who you are, and will refrain from taking further vengeance at my request. You are the first in a long time to share my power, and I offer you an apprenticeship.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I would not cross the Americans again if I were you. My protection will not be renewed should you attack them after this, and as I told you – they already know where you are. They will not need a nuclear device this time.”
“They must be punished for what they have done!”
Pele sighed. “They will be, soon enough. No nation lasts forever, young Rico. Come with me. Learn of the beauty of the deep fires. Outlive the ones you hate. In ten thousand years, they will be all but forgotten, as Atlantis and Lemuria and Uskaraj were before them.”
“Uska-what?”
She chuckled. “See? Already forgotten. Only Creya is left of their wizard-priests, and he may not survive this cycle if he isn't careful. He has made the same mistake as Quetzalcoatl, you see.”
Rico stared at her. “How old -are- you?”
Pele laughed. “I am the Second, now. Only Cerrunos is older, and he has always been the First.” She smiled. “You need not decide today, young one. But remember what I said. The offer will stand, but if you should make the mistake of attacking the Americans again, you will forfeit my protection. And be careful of your subordinates. They do things in your name that you should not wish them to do.” With that final word, the ground at her feet bubbled and melted, and she sank into a pool of lava, which congealed behind her almost as fast as it had melted.
One last gust of steam vented before the fissure went cold. The words hung in the air, voiced with the hiss of the fumarole. "Come with me."
Category Story / All
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