Small Gods (36 page)

“You’re going to die.”

It was hardly a whisper, but it bounced off the bronze doors and carried across the Place…

It made people uneasy, although they couldn’t quite say why.

The eagle sped across the square, so low that people ducked. Then it cleared the roof of the temple and curved away towards the mountains. The watchers relaxed. It was only an eagle. For a moment there, just for a moment…

No one saw the tiny speck, tumbling down from the sky.

Don’t put your faith in gods. But you can believe in turtles.

A feeling of rushing wind in Brutha’s mind, and a voice…

—obuggerbuggerbuggerhelpaarghnoNoNoAargh-BuggerNONOAARGH—

Even Vorbis got a grip of himself. There had been just a moment, when he’d seen the eagle—but, no…

He extended his arms and smiled beatifically at the sky.

“I’m sorry,” said Brutha.

One or two people, who had been watching Vorbis closely, said later that there was just time for his expression to change before two pounds of tortoise, traveling at three meters a second, hit him between the eyes.

It was a revelation.

And that does something to people watching. For a start, they believe with all their heart.

Brutha was aware of feet running up the steps, and hands pulling at the chains.

And then a voice:

I. He is Mine
.

The Great God rose over the Temple, billowing and changing as the belief of thousands of people flowed into him. There were shapes there, of eagle-headed men, and bulls, and golden horns, but they tangled and flamed and fused into one another.

Four bolts of fire whirred out of the cloud and burst the chains holding Brutha.

II. He Is Cenobiarch
And
Prophet of Prophets
.

The voice of theophany rumbled off the distant mountains.

III. Do I Hear Any Objections? No? Good
.

The cloud had by now condensed into a shimmering golden figure, as tall as the Temple. It leaned down until its face was a few feet away from Brutha, and in a whisper that boomed across the Place said:

IV. Don’t Worry. This Is Just The Start. You and Me, Kid! People Are Going To Find Out What Wailing and Gnashing Of Teeth
Really
Is
.

Another shaft of flame shot out and struck the Temple doors. They slammed shut, and then the white-hot bronze melted, erasing the commandments of the centuries.

V. What Shall It Be, Prophet?

Brutha stood up, unsteadily. Urn supported him by one arm, and Simony by the other.

“Mm?” he said, muzzily.
VI. Your Commandments?

“I thought they were supposed to come from you,” said Brutha. “I don’t know if I can think of any…”

The world waited.

“How about ‘Think for Yourself’?” said Urn, staring in horrified fascination at the manifestation.

“No,” said Simony. “Try something like ‘Social Cohesiveness is the Key to Progress.’”

“Can’t say it rolls off the tongue,” said Urn.

“If I can be of any help,” said Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah, from the crowd, “something of benefit to the convenience food industry would be very welcome.”

“Not killing people. We could do with one like that,” said someone else.

“It’d be a good start,” said Urn.

They looked at the Chosen One. He shook himself free of their grip and stood alone, swaying a little.

“No-oo,” said Brutha. “No. I thought like that once, but it wouldn’t. Not really.”

Now, he said. Only now. Just one point in history. Not tomorrow, not next month, it’ll always be too late unless it’s
now
.

They stared at him.

“Come
on
,” said Simony. “What’s wrong with it? You can’t argue with it.”

“It’s hard to explain,” said Brutha. “But I think it’s got something to do with how people should behave. I think…you should do things because they’re right. Not because gods say so. They might say something different another time.”

VII. I
Like
One About Not Killing
, said Om, from far above.

VIII. It’s Got A Good Ring To It. Hurry Up, I’ve Got Some Smiting To Do
.

“You see?” said Brutha. “No. No smiting. No commandments unless you obey them too.”

Om thumped on the roof of the Temple.
IX. You Order Me? Here? NOW? ME?

“No. I ask.”

X. That’s Worse Than Ordering!

“Everything works both ways.”

Om thumped his Temple again. A wall caved in. That part of the crowd that hadn’t managed to stampede from the Place redoubled its efforts.

XI. There Must Be Punishment! Otherwise There Will Be No Order!

“No.”

XII. I Do Not Need You! I Have Believers Enough Now!

“But only through me. And, perhaps, not for long. It
will all happen again. It’s happened before. It happens all the time. That’s why gods die. They never believe in people. But you have a chance. All you need to do is…believe.”

XIII. What? Listen To Stupid Prayers? Watch Over Small Children? Make It Rain?

“Sometimes. Not always. It could be a bargain.”

XIV
. BARGAIN!
I don’t Bargain! Not With Humans!

“Bargain now,” said Brutha. “While you have the chance. Or one day you’ll have to bargain with Simony, or someone like him. Or Urn, or someone like
him
.”

XV. I Could Destroy You Utterly
.

“Yes. I am entirely in your power.”

XVI. I Could Crush You Like An Egg!

“Yes.”

Om paused.

Then he said:
XVII. You Can’t Use Weakness As A Weapon
.

“It’s the only one I’ve got.”

XVIII. Why Should I Yield, Then?

“Not yield. Bargain. Deal with me in weakness. Or one day you’ll have to bargain with someone in a position of strength. The world changes.”

XIX. Hah! You Want A Constitutional Religion?

“Why not? The other sort didn’t work.”

Om leaned on the Temple, his temper subsiding.

Chap. II v.I. Very Well, Then. But Only For A Time
. A grin spread across the enormous, smoking face.
For One Hundred Years, Yes?

“And after a hundred years?”

II. We Shall See
.

“Agreed.”

A finger the length of a tree unfolded, descended, touched Brutha.

III. You Have A Persuasive Way. You Will Need It. A Fleet Approaches
.

“Ephebians?” said Simony.
IV. And Tsorteans. And Djelibeybians. And Klatchians. Every Free Country Along The Coast. To Stamp Out Omnia For Good. Or Bad
.

“You don’t have many friends, do you?” said Urn.

“Even I don’t like us much, and I
am
us,” said Simony. He looked up at the god.

“Will you help?”

V. You Don’t Even Believe In Me!

“Yes, but I’m a practical man.”

VI. And Brave, Too, To Declare Atheism Before Your God
.

“This doesn’t change anything, you know!” said Simony. “Don’t think you can get around me by existing!”

“No help,” said Brutha, firmly.

“What?” said Simony. “We’ll need a mighty army against that lot!”

“Yes. And we haven’t got one. So we’ll do it another way.”

“You’re crazy!”

Brutha’s calmness was like a desert.

“This may be the case.”

“We have to fight!”

“Not yet.”

Simony clenched his fists in anger.

“Look…
listen
…We died for lies, for
centuries
we died for lies.” He waved a hand towards the god. “Now we’ve got a truth to die for!”

“No. Men should die for lies. But the truth is too precious to die for.”

Simony’s mouth opened and shut soundlessly as he
sought for words. Finally, he found some from the dawn of his education.

“I was told it was the finest thing to die for a god,” he mumbled.

“Vorbis said that. And he was…stupid. You can die for your country or your people or your family, but for a god you should live fully and busily, every day of a long life.”

“And how long is that going to be?”

“We shall see.”

Brutha looked up at Om.

“You will not show yourself like this again?”

Chap. III v.I. No. Once Is Enough
.

“Remember the desert.”

II. I Will Remember
.

“Walk with me.”

Brutha went over to the body of Vorbis and picked it up.

“I think,” he said, “that they will land on the beach on the Ephebian side of the forts. They won’t use the rock shore and they can’t use the cliffs. I’ll meet them there.” He glanced down at Vorbis. “Someone should.”

“You can’t mean you want to go by yourself?”

“Ten thousand won’t be sufficient. One might be enough.”

He walked down the steps.

Urn and Simony watched him go.

“He’s going to die,” said Simony. “He won’t even be a patch of grease on the sand.” He turned to Om. “Can you stop him?”

III. It May Be That I Cannot
.

Brutha was already halfway across the Place.

“Well, we’re not deserting him,” said Simony.

IV. Good
.

Om watched them go, too. And then he was alone, except for the thousands watching him, crammed around the edges of the great square. He wished he knew what to say to them. That’s why he needed people like Brutha. That’s why all gods needed people like Brutha.

“Excuse me?”

The god looked down.
V. Yes?

“Um. I can’t sell you anything, can I?”

VI. What Is Your Name?

“Dhblah, god.”

VII. Ah, Yes. And What Is It You Wish?

The merchant hopped anxiously from one foot to the other.

“You couldn’t manage just a small commandment? Something about eating yogurt on Wednesdays, say? It’s always very difficult to shift, midweek.”

VIII. You Stand Before Your God And Look For Business Opportunities?

“We-ell,” said Dhblah, “we could come to an arrangement. Strike while the iron is hot, as the inquisitors say. Haha. Twenty percent? How about it? After expenses, of course—”

The Great God Om smiled.
IX. I Think You Will Make A Little Prophet, Dhblah
, he said.

“Right. Right. That’s all I’m looking for. Just trying to make both ends hummus.”

X. Tortoises Are To Be Left Alone
.

Dhblah put his head on one side.

“Doesn’t
sing
, does it?” he said. “But…tortoise
necklaces…hmm…brooches, of course. Tortoise-shel—”

XI.
NO
!

“Sorry, sorry. See what you mean. All right. Tortoise statues. Ye-ess. I thought about them. Nice shape. Incidentally, you couldn’t make a statue wobble every now and again, could you? Very good for business, wobbling statues. The statue of Ossory wobbles every Fast of Ossory, reg’lar. By means of a small piston device operated in the basement, it is said. But very good for the prophets, all the same.”

XII. You Make me Laugh, Little Prophet. Sell Your Tortoises, By All Means
.

“Tell you the truth,” said Dhblah, “I’ve already drawn a few designs just now…”

Om vanished. There was a brief thunderclap. Dhblah looked reflectively at his sketches.

“…but I suppose I’ll have to take the little figure off them,” he said, more or less to himself.

The shade of Vorbis looked around.

“Ah. The desert,” he said. The black sand was absolutely still under the starlit sky. It looked cold.

He hadn’t planned on dying yet. In fact…he couldn’t quite remember how he’d died…

“The desert,” he repeated, and this time there was a hint of uncertainty. He’d never been uncertain about anything in his…life. The feeling was unfamiliar and terrifying. Did ordinary people feel like this?

He got a grip on himself.

Death was impressed. Very few people managed this, managed to hold on to the shape of their old thinking after death.

Death took no pleasure in his job. It was an emotion he found hard to grasp. But there was such a thing as satisfaction.

“So,” said Vorbis. “The desert. And at the end of the desert—?”

J
UDGMENT
.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Vorbis tried to concentrate. He couldn’t. He could feel certainty draining away. And he’d always
been
certain.

He hesitated, like a man opening a door to a familiar room and finding nothing there but a bottomless pit. The memories were still there. He could feel them. They had the right shape. It was just that he couldn’t remember what they
were
. There had been a voice…. Surely, there had been a voice? But all he could remember was the sound of his own thoughts, bouncing off the inside of his own head.

Now he had to cross the desert. What could there be to fear—

The desert was what you believed.

Vorbis looked inside himself.

And went on looking.

He sagged to his knees.

I
CAN SEE THAT YOU ARE BUSY
, said Death.

“Don’t leave me! It’s so
empty!
”

Death looked around at the endless desert. He snapped his fingers and a large white horse trotted up.