Chapter 75: Book 2, Chapter 17: The Demon and the God of Mund

Bor Jonkins lunged forward, reaching for the demon’s shoulder to pull her away from the window, but he stopped just short of contact, his muscles cramping with the effort of stopping his arm’s movement.

“What is it?” Jack demanded, alarmed.

“Something’s wrong,” Jonkins hissed.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Jonkins grated. “Something. Look at it!”

The surface of the mirror showed a deep bank of swirling white clouds, billowing slowly across its entire surface. Chi had slumped against the glass, but remained standing, both hands and forehead remained where she’d placed them. She was breathing heavily and mumbling softly, her words running together, impossible to understand.

“Remember me?” Jack prompted. “The guy who’s only seen this thing work a handful of times, and all of them with different results?”

Jonkins shot him an impatient look, still poised to yank the demon free, but paralyzed with indecision. “I’ve seen it do a number of things over the twenty years I’ve been guildmaster here, Jack,” he said worriedly, “but never white billowy clouds. And look at her. She’s gone! Where, I don’t know.”

“Gone?” Jack surged forward, only to stop at Jonkins’ upheld hand. “Not gone that way, dummy,” he said. “But she ain’t in the here and now.”

“So what do we do?” Jack closed with the mirror and bent to examine the devil girl. He ignored the guildmaster’s warning gesture and held a hand to her breast. “She’s alive,” he confirmed. “Heart’s beating fast, but smooth. No arrhythmia, at least.” he put a hand to her wrist. “Pulse is strong. But she’s hot as a griddle.”

“She’s a devil,” Jonkins pointed out. “Who knows if that’s even dangerous for her?”

“Fine,” Chi whispered, the first intelligible sound she’d made since touching the window. “‘m fine.”

Jack stood up and looked to the guildmaster. “Did you hear?” he asked. “She says she’s fine.”

Jonkins moved his head slowly back and forth, lifting a hand to run it across his balding pate. “I’d wager she’s anything but,” he observed, “but I’m well out and clear of knowing what’s happening. I say we trust to Jehsha, and see what happens.”

Jack wasn’t a fan of that plan. He looked to Bob, who’d been unusually quiet.

“Can’t you two feel it?” the corgi asked in a hushed voice. “The presence of your god?”

“God?” Jonkins gaped. “Jehsha? He’s here?”

“In there,” Bob corrected. “Seems he’s decided to take a direct hand. Can’t say as I’m all that surprised,” he added. “She is here by his hand, if I’ve got the story right. Just like Jack.”

“He never invited me to tea,” Jack frowned.

Then he remembered the voice he’d thought he’d heard when he’d visited the window that first time. ‘endure,’ it had told him, while frying chunks off his skin. But he couldn’t hear any sizzling, couldn’t see any smoke drifting up from the points of contact. And she was pretty strong.

He sighed. “I guess we wait, then," he shrugged.

So they waited. And waited. And waited.

“I need a drink,” Jonkins announced after some considerable time as his thirst overcame his awe at Jehsha’s presence. “I think that’s more than tea. I think he's invited her to supper.”

Bob had a chuckle at that, but Jack wasn’t so amused. Seeing her like that was doing things to him that he wasn’t ready for. Like his heart was telling his brain to shut the hell up and accept what she was and how he felt. His heart was a jerk like that. He turned to follow the others, hoping his trust in the god of Mund wasn’t misplaced.

* * *

Iktchi-Chi opened her eyes, her head reeling. She felt queer. Unanchored. She seemed to be sitting in an easy chair constructed entirely of condensed mist. In fact, the entirety of her surroundings seemed to be made of the same, billowy white stuff that appeared to be cloud, but was far too warm to someone who’d often flown through the genuine article.

The being seated before her was equally confusing. Given what she’d been engaged in a moment ago, and therefore who this must obviously be.... Well, she hadn’t known exactly what to expect, but to find herself seated across from a middle-aged gentleman in a tailored, pinstriped blue suit hadn’t been high on the list of possibilities.

He was tall, but not unnaturally so. His eyes were sky blue, his close-cropped beard and neatly coifed hair a dark brown, stark white at the temples. There were wrinkles radiating from his eyes, and faint lines across his forehead giving him the air of a serious and thoughtful person.

He was currently seated at ease, one leg crossed over the other, his left hand resting atop the crossed leg. His other held a highly decorated porcelain cup.

“Uhm....” was the best response she could fashion.

“Do you like it?” he asked, his smile crinkling the lines of his cheeks and forehead. “I was going to go for the stern eyeglasses as well, but decided it would be silly for a god to affect such things. Out of character, am I right?”

“Uhm....”

“No?” his smile faltered. “This more what you were expecting?” and suddenly she was beholding an aged figure with flowing white hair and beard, draped in loose white robes.

“Er....”

“Truthfully,” the figure morphed back to the businessman, or diplomat, or whatever the first guise was supposed to convey. “I was never a fan of that one. There’s such a thing as too much gravitas, don’t you think?

“Tea?” He raised an eyebrow.

A billowy table rose out of the surrounding cloudstuff, and a tea cup manifested atop it, filled with an aromatic liquid.

Chi was finally starting to get her bearings. She hadn’t expected anything like an audience. Rosaluna hadn’t suggested anything beyond recognition and, perhaps aid. “Uhm,” she stammered, standing and bowing deeply. “T-Thank you for having me,” before retaking her seat.

The god Jehsha’s grin widened. “And polite, too. I’ve heard that about you. Good to see it wasn’t exaggerated.”

“Heard?” she wondered. “About me?”

“Well,” he admitted. “More saw, actually,” he gave her a wink. “As you might imagine, I’m pretty solidly plugged in to what’s going on in my world.”

“I suppose so,” she nodded carefully.

“Ah,” he nodded. “I see you’re confused. I don’t usually do this, really, so I don’t blame you. You’re the first mortal I’ve spoken with like this in... let me see....” He snapped his fingers and pointing his index finger, “nine hundred and fifty-six years. Give or take a few months.”

“I’m... I’m honored, then,” she bowed her head without getting up.

“Well,” he told her seriously, “you’re a special case, aren’t you?”

Her eyes widened and her body stiffened. “I am?” her voice rose three octaves.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “You’re a demon utterly lacking in evil intent, wandering around acting like a hero for people of an entirely different species. That never struck you as odd?” he lowered an eyebrow, his face going serious.

“I... I suppose I never really gave it much thought,” she said. “Maybe in the very beginning. But then, they were just my friends.”

“Yes, they were,” he grinned wide. “And that’s what makes you special.

“Oh!” his eyes widened. “Your friends are worried for your safety. You need to let them know you’re alright. Can’t have them pulling you away so soon. We’ve things to talk about, after all.”

“H-How do I—”

“Close your eyes and relax,” he instructed. Think of your body. Think of being within it. Picture your surroundings. Tell them you’re alright. After that, just open your eyes and you’ll be back here with me.”

She did as instructed, concentrating on her body in the room of the guild hall. “Fine,” she whispered when she felt it around her. "I’m fine.” She opened her eyes, and beheld the god’s smiling visage.

“And so here we are,” he informed her. “At the place where you explain to me why I should adopt you as one of my own.”

“A-Adopt?” her heart skipped a beat. “L-Lord Jehsha,” she stammered. “I’m... yes, it’s true I’m asking you for help, but I don’t truly want another master. The very thought fills me with dread. I’m sorry if it offends you...."

He waved her off. “What’s the one got to do with the other?” he asked casually.

“Here’s the thing,” he leaned forward, placing both feet on the floor and leaning his elbows on his knees. “There are rules, you see? Even among the gods. Wars have been fought in the past over transgressions, invasions, or theft of disciples. Yes, and worshipers.” he paused for a moment. “I have to know if you’re worth a battle.”

“A b-battle?” She squeaked.

“Of course,” he laughed as if it were of no particular merit. “If the dark god who rules over your people were to contest my taking you, there would, at the very least, be a duel. Poaching is a serious matter."

“Y-You would fight for me?”

The god was suddenly towering over her, sixty feet of him, clad in blindingly bright golden plate armor, grasping a spear that was even taller, its head constructed of pure radiance. “And here’s me wishin' a motherfucker would,” he boomed, his voice echoing through the worldspace.

He only held the pose for a few seconds before shrinking back down to a more human sized form. Now a tall, clean-shaven, blue-haired man with yellow eyes and a gold loop earring in his left ear. He wore a wide collared white shirt, open at the neck, beneath an open black leather vest and tucked into faded blue jeans from the frayed hems of which his feet protruded, clad in scuffed sneakers without socks.

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"If I decide you’re worth adopting, and if your dark god decides to contest my decision, of course.” His smile was casual.

Chi was growing dizzy from his rapid form changes and antics. Even moreso at the notion that a literal god might be willing to fight for her. Where had he been throughout the three centuries of her captivity?

“So, tell me,” he said, his leg up and crossed again, one arm propped on the wing of his chair, his jaw now resting on a fisted hand. “What are you prepared to pay for your freedom?”

“P-Pay?” her voice nearly failed her.

“Of course,” he smiled benignly. “No such thing as a free lunch, right? You’ve been a very bad girl over the years, as I understand it. Can’t have you brought under my wing with those stains clinging to your soul.”

Her whole body deflated and her shoulders slumped. The decade upon decade of her life in thrall to the Demon lord Reylios, who would one day merge with the hero Kanzaki Haruo and become the Dread Lord of Tarr, played through her protesting mind. Tears welled in her eyes, flowing freely, and a soft sob escaped her trembling lips.

“What?” the god demanded sternly. “You didn’t expect to have to perform any penance?”

“P-Penance?” She wiped at her eyes with shaking hands. “Not ransom?”

“Potayto, potahto,” Jehsha waved a hand. “It remains that you’ve the need to cleanse your soul before you may enter the light. As it were.”

She sniffed, and tried to blink her eyes clear. “B-But, you would be my master then?”

“I would be your god,” he corrected. “You would be your master. Free to pay, or free to ignore payment. The difference between the two would come due far down the road of your life, with either your forgiveness or forced restitution in the afterlife.”

His face relaxed then, “But isn’t that always the way of things?” he spread his hands wide “Actions, consequences. Am I right?”

Chi struggled to bring the roller coaster of her emotions under control. Between the demon cage, Jack's sudden appearance, and now this, she felt as though she were soaring through the center of a maelstrom with iced over wings.

On the surface, the god seemed capricious, but she was beginning to see a distinct pattern. “What would you of me, then?” she asked softly.

“Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho!” he laughed. “Not so soon. Have to look under the hood first, don’t I?”

“I’m sorry?”

He sat up straight and steepled his hands together. “You’re not yet my creature, are you, Iktchi-Chi?” he asked. Then, without waiting for her answer, he continued. “Therefore, I cannot see within you. Therefore, I cannot know in their fullness all the crimes for which you need forgiveness, can I?”

Chi blanched orange. The very thought of this god understanding the true depths of her past wickedness terrified her in a way the Dread Lord seldom could. “I... I couldn’t bear for you to see what’s inside me,” she cried. “Please! Please, Lord Jehsha, don’t make me do this!”

“Make you?” he frowned. “I cannot make you, Iktchi-Chi,” he told her. “I am not the Allfather, who may do as he will, where he will, when he will. As I’ve told you, there are rules that even such as I must obey. My own creatures, I may look within whenever I feel the need. For those not of mine, however, I must first ask for permission.”

Still, she couldn’t bear the thought. She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears flowed full force, her shoulders wracked with sobs impossible to quell.

“Iktchi-Chi,” the stern, booming voice forced its way through her anguish. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

She willed herself to open her eyes. He’d changed again. He was now standing upright before his chair, hands on his hips, legs spread shoulder width. A tall, clean-shaven man with short-cropped, curly blond hair. His jaw was square, his body heavily muscled beneath a green tee shirt, camouflage pants, and combat boots. His was a hard figure, showing no hint of softness, no trace of weakness.

“Know this, Iktchi-Chi," his booming voice filled her senses. “I was given this world of mine as a reward for valor on the battlefield as the last war between the gods raged. I was a soldier first. A warrior against the dark gods.

“Understand this, Iktchi-Chi,” he pressed. “Do not mistake me for some pale, peace addicted lesser godling shuffling papers about an alabaster desk within the bowels of the Council halls. I have seen battles the hint of which would snuff out your soul. I have witnessed atrocities that would give the stones of the world nightmares. Nothing you could possibly have done in your fleeting life could come near a pebble’s shadow of the evils I’ve witnessed.”

His face softened, insofar as such a face could, his blazing blue eyes losing their glare. “I’m doing this for you, little girl,” he comforted. “That you may have peace.”

It yet took her some time to regain her composure. It was a monumental task, but the presence of the god in his warrior guise was oddly soothing. As though he were lending her his great strength through his mere being.

“F-Fine,” she gasped, closing her eyes again and tensing her body like a spring. “You m—”

A wave of electricity flashed through her entire body, top to bottom in an instant, chilling her bones and bringing every single hair to a stand. As quickly, the sensation was gone.

“AH HAH!” the booming voice shouted triumphantly. “I knew it! It had to be. Math doesn’t lie, amIright?”

Her eyes opened of their own accord, showing confusion. What was he talking about? What had to be?

He hadn’t changed this time. He was still the soldier. But he’d leaned back in his chair, his whole body relaxed.

“T-That was it?” she wondered, biting her lip. She remained terrified, despite his posture. She couldn’t believe he might accept what he’d seen and still be willing to fight over her.

“Tell me,” he smiled. “What is your earliest memory?”

Recalling it wasn’t much of a struggle. It remained as vivid as the day she’d experienced it.

“Strange metal dragons filling the sky,” she muttered. “Rain. It was raining red fire, and anyone the rain touched died. My older brother, carrying my twin sister and I, running through the forest, with nowhere to run to....” she trailed to a halt, her anguish threatening once more to overtake her.

He nodded, as if she’d confirmed a theory. “Ready to hear the price of salvation?” he wondered lightly.

She nodded slowly, not looking up.

* * *

“Oh,” in the real world, Jonkins snapped his fingers. “What were you yelling about when all of this started?”

They’d dragged a table close to the doorway of the room where Jehsha's Window stood —the Window Room, they called it— so that Jack could keep an eye on what was going on inside. Jack was on his second ale, hard upon six glasses of whatever the hell had been in that dusty bottle, and he was feeling kind of loose around the edges.

“What? Oh!” He rummaged around in the oversized pouch hanging from his belt. It was a much abbreviated version of the bag Rosaluna had made for Chi, with fewer features, and of only average quality, given his relatively recent introduction into the art. But it did work.

He withdrew an object such as the guildmaster had only ever seen before in pictures drawn by the hero. “That’s it, then?” Jonkins leaned forward in wonder.

“The prototype, yeah,” Jack nodded. “Take awhile to get things rolling for a full production run. Hell,” he grinned, “it took me nearly a week to convince old man Ferreyra, the blacksmith, to even try. He wouldn’t believe such a thing was possible, and didn’t see why he should waste his time, even for the money I was offering.”

“How you get him to change his mind, then,” Jonkins wondered as Jack passed the revolving pistol over to him.

“More money, of course,” Jack frowned as he watched Jonkins fumbling awkwardly with the weapon. “Here, gimme that before you drop it on your foot.

“Like this,” he gripped the revolver correctly, laying his index finger along the frame beside the trigger guard. “Use your thumb to press forward on this tab on the frame,” he demonstrated. “And you can swing the cylinder out. Then you press these two tabs on the front of the crane —That’s the part that swings out and holds the cylinder— together, and the cylinder slides off the back of its center pin.”

He tossed the loose cylinder to Jonkins. “I haven’t even started working on brass extrusion,” he lamented, “so this one’s a muzzle loader. You put powder in each of those chambers, mash a bullet down over it, and seal the mouth with some good grease. Percussion caps go on those nipples in the back and you’re ready to go. Fire it empty, change cylinders, and keep going until you run out of loaded cylinders or get killed.”

Jonkins was turning the shiny component around in his hands, examining the details closely. “Powder?” he asked. “You figured that out already, then?”

Jack laughed, shaking his head. “Y’know,” he admitted. “I was wracking my brain trying to figure out how I was going to manage when it hit me that there’s two different alchemists in this town ranked five or better.

"Your goofy king only rounded up the gifted with combat or direct support related gifts. Town’s full of non-combat gifted like the blacksmiths and alchemists. And it’s not like it’s a complicated formula,” he waved a hand. “It’s just tricky to mix and grind without accidents. Which, you might imagine, tend to be shiny and energetic.”

“And you say, with one of these things,” Jonkins tossed the cylinder back to Jack. “Any goober, gifted or not, can fire off a hunk of lead goin’ as fast as a rank twenty wizard can sling a Stone Shard?”

“That’s what I say,” Jack nodded. “Wait’ll I get the rifle done,” he laughed. “Then you’ll see some shhh....” his voice trailed off.

High overhead, near the ceiling, a circular patch of air had begun to shimmer. A few seconds later, an iridescent bird shot free of it, circled the room a couple of times, and landed on the table, regarding its occupants through star-flecked eyes.

* * *

“You’ll lose twenty ranks of experience,” Jehsha informed Chi without buildup. "In addition, you must save ten thousand lives. And you must take a vow of poverty for one hundred years."

Chi looked up now, conflicting emotions warring within her. On the one hand, she couldn’t believe she was getting off so lightly. On the other... “Abject poverty?” she asked hesitantly, “or genteel?”

He laughed, a great, booming sound that filled her with unaccountable happiness, wiping away her desolation as though it had never been. He slapped his knee and another booming guffaw erupted from his throat.

Suddenly, he was a balding middle-aged fat man in a loud checked sport jacket, red pants, white shoes and belt, a white straw hat perched atop his head and flip up sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. “So she’s looking for a bargain, eh?” he chortled. “Wants to deal,eh?

"Tell ya what I’m gonna do, little lady,” he said in a singsong voice, waving expansively. “Genteel, I’ll give you at the greatly reduced price of only fifty extra years!”

She snorted in laughter, unable to help herself, even as the tears continued to flow. “That costume is way out of date,” she giggled, “and ‘used car salesman’ isn’t really a look befitting a god.”

He was the soldier again. “Granted,” he laughed, a much reduced sound compared to his prior display. “Sure, then,” he allowed. “Genteel poverty. Although, I can’t see how that’s much different from the way you’ve been living up ‘til now. You never spend any money on yourself, it seems.”

That wasn’t quite true, but she supposed he did have a point.

“Can I... can I keep my house?” she pleaded.

“No,” he sighed. “You don’t own a house.”

Her face fell.

“Your house, however,” his eyes twinkled, “gets to keep you.”

“I beg your pardon?” her eyes went wide.

“Its name is Hourace,” he told her. “The spirit of your home. The little girl named him almost as he manifested. Couldn’t say house yet, you see, but she had Lesser Spirit Sight down pretty good already. Hourace has been doing a good bit of praying on your behalf himself, and I tend to pay attention to such things. You’ve got friends in many corners these days.

“Now,” he leaned in again. “Deal?”

“And you’re good with fighting the dark god of Aelia if need be?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it, we’re cool.”

She wasn’t sure what he’d meant by that, but given his apparent unconcern, she swallowed her misgivings and nodded. “I accept.”

He stood and sauntered over to her chair, ignoring her obvious apprehension. She bolted upright at his approach. Once he’d arrived before her, he smiled down from his great height and laid his hand on the crown of her head. “Welcome, daughter,” he grinned. "You may call me Father Jehsha from now on. Or, y’know, whatever you want. I’m sure it won’t be anything scurrilous, right?”

Head pats? She thought, rolling her eyes. Seriously? But the thought didn’t detract from the giddiness the feeling of his hand on her hair caused her.

“Now,” he pressed, going to one knee before her. “We have to hurry. Things are happening outside, and there are people who need you. We’ll speak again, rest assured,” he smiled. “There are things I would have you do for me down the road if you’re so inclined. But that will have to wait.

“See," he frowned. “That collar is really starting to piss me off. Almost as much as that jumped up billygoat who keeps poking holes in my spawn portals. But one thing at a time, as they say, right? So we’ll take care of his collar first. Hold out your hands,” he ordered. “Fingers spread. Good.”

He reached out his own hands, placing the pinky, thumb, and forefinger of each hand against her corresponding fingers. A green glow seeped into her body, suffusing her hands and arms, all the way to her heart.

“That collar is pretty strong,” he told her seriously. “Strong enough, I’d say, that the process of making it was a special gift from a dark god somewhere back along the billygoat’s trail. Which is one of the reasons we’re doing this like we are. It’s going to take my direct touch to send it back to that crap gobbler. So casting this spell is probably going to hurt,” he warned. “Quite a lot, in fact.

"It’s also single use. And I mean single. If I were to infuse you with enough mana to do it twice, I’d burn your life force right out. So, be careful. Regardless of how urgent. Regardless of how desperate the need, it’s a one time thing. Use it, then lose it, so choose wisely.

"Place those three fingers of each hand against the collar," he explained. "Invoke my name, and command, begone. Like you mean it," he emphasized. "The intensity of the intent is vital. That should take care of things.”

He stood and gave her another head pat. "Now, go,” he ordered. “You’re needed. Shoo,” he held both hands out and waggled his fingers dismissively.

With a great, heaving gasp, she came to her body in the real world.