Chapter 317

“What do I owe the pleasure, Matthias?” Hastur was clad in simple blue overalls and a button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he tended what appeared to be garden. The garden—a fresh addition since my last visit—seemed to be a better-kept version of the same overgrown vines and greenery emerging from his desiccated corpse. There was a thick layer of dirt now covering the stone floor, complete with plots and various familiar and unfamiliar plants, and the vines had been landscaped into a braided fence that surrounded and protected the garden. The creeping outcrops were greener than before, more than a few sprouting flowers and other growths.

Naturally, there were many questions. But only one that mattered. “I need the necromancer.”

Hastur paused in the midst of a cut, tending an air-seeking shoot in the same manner one might prune a bonsai tree. “Today?”

“Yes.” It had to be today.

“Quite the departure from schedule.” Hastur mused, trimming the vine and moving on to a bag of something he sprinkled over the crops. The stench was rank. “Is there a reason?”

I rolled my eyes, going to great effort to stop my foot from tapping. “Did you already see what happened? Because that would save us a lot of time.”

“I’m aware of your recent victory in the tower, and that said victory has piqued the interest of certain allies. Yet the question remains. Why are you diverting from the plan?”

“Because my control of the situation was already tenuous.” I admitted, already annoyed with the way he was dragging this out. “The smartest thing Miles can do is keep me away from the Overworld until he’s decided. From the way things are going, he’s planning to do exactly that. Can’t risk leaving Vernon with the Order in Aaron’s clutches when I’m not sure if I’m coming back.”

Hastur reached into his pouch and tossed outward, sprinkling dark seeds over the treated plots. “It seems this constable poses an existential threat to your existence, and by extension, our plans.”

I blew out air in frustration. “He’s… well positioned to inflict pain on both me and the people I care about. That reality isn’t lost on me.”

“Which begs the question.” Hastur carried on, seemingly completely unbothered. “Why is he still breathing?”

The comment, and the direction of thought it implied, caught me flat-footed. “Thought you were supposed to be the god of the people.”

“It’s true that my needs differ from the others.” Hastur grunted, uprooting the first of several weeds. “And while I lack the mewling neediness of those who desire to be worshipped above all else, I am not so enlightened to ignore a greater threat to my plans and followers when one arises.” He wiped his brow and looked up at me. “And neither are you. You’ve eliminated others who, comparatively, were far less of a danger simply for the future threat they might pose. But now, with a sword at your throat, you shy from the obvious. Why?”

My brow furrowed. “Because I don’t think Miles’ really wants to kill anyone. Or even expose me for that matter. He’s done a lot of good, protecting civilians from various nightmares the system brought into being. His intentions are in the right place. If we build enough trust for him to be confident I’m on his side, that’ll be the end of it.”

“If you give him a reason, he will.” Hastur warned, with enough confidence to make me wonder if he’d foresaw something he was holding back.

“So I won’t. I’ll keep it clean and buttoned up. Avoid anything he might consider damning.”

“You misunderstand. The threat this constable poses is far greater than a question of binary mortality.” Hastur straightened, hands on the small of his back as he stretched.

“Referencing his patron.” I filled in, my mouth tight.

“Oh yes. And while the constable might indeed be tight-lipped enough to keep an Ordinator’s identity to himself, his patron almost certainly won’t. And that is, in many ways, the greater threat.”

“They already know who I am.” I thought of Nychta, and Nychta’s nameless colleague who assigned my second class. Then the god who contacted me while we paid Miles’ penance. “Maybe not all of them, but the rumor has to be circulating to some extent.”

“There’s a considerable difference between an open secret shared between individuals, and an outstanding issue that everyone collectively understands requires address.”

“That’s the second part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Hastur prompted.

I hesitated. “This is a safe place to talk, right? No one other than the two of us will hear what I’m about to say?”

“Approaching zero.” Hastur tilted his head, holding out a hand, fingers up. My ears popped, and a dull hum throbbed beneath the silence of the room. “And now that chance is nil.” He grinned deviously. “Though if any god or goddess had been daring enough to trespass on my domain, they’d find themselves dreadfully curious of what you were about to say.”

I drew a deep breath. “What I need is information on the gods themselves. The powerhouses who hold sway.”

Hastur regarded me quizzically. “If you’re searching for weaknesses, you will be disappointed.”

“It’s not like that.” I shook my head. “First, I should ask, how possessive are the gods when it comes to their servants?”

“As with all things, that depends.” Hastur answered slowly, searching for the meaning behind my words. “If Nicholas were to approach the Goddess of Luck with an offering to her taste, he’d likely find himself devoid of both the luck he sought and the boons of his patron.”

“So they are possessive,” I concluded, not bothering to hide my disappointment.

“With caveats. I care little for who my chosen worship so long as they retain their loyalty to the greater plan. And there are others who feel similarly.”

“Such as?”

Hastur smiled, amusement dancing across his lips. “Well, simply judging from the way things have played out historically, the Allfather of Chaos likely wouldn’t approve of the far more subtle methods you’ve employed to establish yourself, compared to your more reckless predecessors. Yet here you stand, power intact, unmitigated and uncensured. A god on the precipice of absolution is bound to be too caught up with the remarkable effort required to prolong their own existence. Actively meddling in the affairs of mortals is the hobby of those who have far more time on their hands.”

“So he won’t help me more than he already has, but he won’t go out of his way to punish sleights.”

“Correct. To collective benefit and detriment, you’ve obtained the sort of power that would typically require some sort of pledge to the ethos of a deity with none of the strings, albeit with none of the support. In general, the gods are only controlling of those they’ve bestowed with their own power. Drawing from the earlier example, you could offer the Goddess of Luck a boon one hour, and worship the God of Mortal Bindings the next.” He chuckled, as if amused by the idea. “Though they’d be too tickled by the sheer novelty of an Ordinator showing them deference to compare notes closely.”

Stolen story; please report.

“And that wouldn’t cause friction? When they run into each other in the divine lounge and share the day’s spoils?” I asked.

Apparently it wasn’t subtle enough, because a shadow of realization flickered across Hastur’s expression. “There are… general… guidelines. A minor god should never be shown the same deference as a major deity. If an offering or sacrifice is rendered, the reasonable course of action by one attempting to avoid friction is to provide that offering to the deity’s exact preference. If a minor god considers the blood sacrament of a mid-sized animal a worthy offering, offer it. But never provide a second.”

It took a moment, but I got it. “Because later on, a major god might question why they were only offered a single dragon’s core, with no others to be seen.”