Regi's Goddess, chapter 9 (Patreon)

I'm baaaaccck...

Perhaps it was an abuse of power, but Regi's anxiety over his inability to reach Siger on the communicator led him to request a hover, even before walking down the ramp to reach the ground. Few Kowri could navigate on a hover without endangering either themselves or the pedestrians with whom they shared the travelways. However, Regi had spent his childhood trying to master both the hover and the pebafri in order to improve his odds of serving Gavd. His success with the pebafri had been middling at best, but he had excelled with the hover, the favorite vehicle of Gavd’s devotees when they hoped to move about town with any speed.

Unwilling to wait for the temple acolyte to appear, Regi started trotting toward Siger’s stable. He might have been tempted to break into a run, but the dop which Dante had named Peaches clung to his shirt dangerously close to Regi's cheek. The creature's constant chittering did nothing to soothe Regi's nerves. Whatever was going on, the lady Divashi’s creature was as displeased as Regi.

Regi had left the port behind and was jogging a tree-lined lane when a temple acolyte appeared, darting between common folk as he clutched a hover in his arms. “Exalted! The temple said you sent an urgent request for a hover and that your communication device’s location suggested that you were running. They ordered me to deliver this with all possible speed.”  The acolyte offered the hover.

Regi temp touched his temples. “Thank you for bringing it so quickly. I have some need to get to Siger’s stable, and there is a chance that the situation with the outsider known as Dante a’Texas is—” Regi stopped, unsure what he should say.

He had no evidence that anything was wrong. While communication devices were intended to work across the globe, technology did fail. He remembered his mother's stories of when she had been an acolytes of Otutha and the communicator kept failing to include her any time a pregnant Kowri requested assistance in birth from the growing season temple. Everyone had dismissed it as a simple malfunction in the technology, and it had been. Of course, it had also been the bad luck that signaled that his mother was not an acolyte but an exalted.

All the other devotees of Lady Otutha had been called way to various tasks, but his mother had never attended those requests because the technology that was supposed to group Kowri into logical units in order to facilitate communication – units such as all midwives who worked in a certain town or all Kowri who works at the Siger’s stable– had failed. And so, when the exalted of Ectipic had gone into labor months before her time, only Regi’s mother was available and Otutha had guided her hands to perform a near miracle to save the child.

However, such technology failures were common enough that in her story, every Kowri assumed the technology’s failure had been mundane rather than divine. A technician had taken apart two different transmitters, and a coder had been searching through the command functions to understand how Minaita a’Otutha had become invisible to the communication network. Most technology failure was simply a failure of technology, not a sign that the gods had intervened.

Which logically implied that Regi's inability to reach Dante and Siger was likely unimportant. But the huge old dop who sat on his shoulder still drove his fears. The acolyte watched, his ears forward and his eyes wide with concern.

“Please tell the exalted of Ectipic that there is a situation at Siger’s stable and that his wisdom might well be required later.” Regi trusted Nawr to handle such information without later using it to condemn Regi as hysterical when it turned out that Siger’s communication device had a programming failure and had fallen off the net.

The acolyte’s eyes grew wider. “Should I request Nawr a’Ectipic attend you at the stables?”

Regi wanted to agree with the tacit suggestion. He wished some exalted who had a better understanding of the world would take over all these problems and allow Regi to return to managing drunken crew and Cota’s ridiculous drills. However, that would require denying his god, and Regi was not foolish enough to take such a step.

“Ask what direction his god leads,” Regi said. He gestured at the dop on his shoulder. “Mine leads to the stable.”

Not wanting to waste more time on discussion, Regi stepped onto the hover and, for a moment, struggled to find his balance. He leaned, and the hover careened left before Regi compensated. For one horrible second he thought he was going to land in the dust with a bruised posterior, but he found his balance and his body remembered the tiny movements required to control the machine. Regi focused on a point far down the road and let himself lean slightly forward. The hover responded, and soon Regi was skimming down the walk at an unsafe speed.

Unwilling to give up on that distant point of focus, he dodged around pedestrians and animals using instinct more than forethought. On his shoulder, Peaches clung to his shirt with her tiny paws, her nails scratching at his neck. Her chittering had quieted. Dops were famous for their slow and methodical movements, and Peaches might have been imprisoned in the pirate ship her whole life, but despite the newness of this experience, she kept her quills tucked close, their poison contained. That was enough to convince him that he was on the right track. Peaches had calmed because the lady device she willed it so.

With the advantage of the hover's speed, Regi reached the stable in mere minutes. The corral had been empty this morning, but now a dozen saddled pebafris waited, stamping the ground until dust swirled about their legs and settled on their coat. A young woman with particularly brilliant white stripes finished tightening a bridal before she looked over as Regi stepped off the hover.

“We can give no rides to acolytes of Gavd today,” she said. She must be harried to miss the dop who rode on his shoulder, and that made Regi's stomach sour even more.

“I am a follower of Divashi, not Gavd. And I come here seeking the outsider follower of Texas.”

She whirled about and studied him with wide eyes. “Are you Regi a’Divashi?” The question was foolish given how few devotees of Divashi lived on any given world. Regi was the only one on this side of the planet, so if she knew his name, his possession of the dop should be enough to confirm his identity. However, Regi did not wish to in his excess of frustration alienate the woman.

“I am,” he said. He expected her to offer some words, but she dashed into the stable. Regi's heart constricted until he had trouble drawing a full breath. He was trying to convince his trembling legs to carry him into the stable when Siger appeared at the door.

His gaze searched for Regi, and he brought his thumbs up to his temples when they made eye contact. “Exalted, I had meant to call you, but time is of such importance that I let the task fall to the wayside.”

“What has happened?”

Siger winced. “An excess of bad luck.”

Bad luck and opportunity, the twin blessings of the gods. Regi never should have sent Dante out without him, not when Regi was uncomfortably aware of how difficult the gods could make life when it came to their favorites. Even if no temple would ever recognize an outsider as an exalted, Regi knew that Dante had Divashi’s favor.

“What happened?” he repeated. The words stuck in his throat so he could manage no more than that.

“I was leading Dante on a trail toward Thrice Mountain when I heard a cry behind me. When I turned, I saw that his pebafri had stepped badly and was sliding down an embankment.”

“Dante?” Regi asked with alarm. Everyone who learned to ride the great pebafris had fallen at some point, so falling did not imply that he was dead or even injured. Parents often joked that the bones of young Kowri were made of rubber because of how often Kowri youth fell while being reckless. But Dante was no youth, nor was he a Kowri. He was a medically fragile species with bones that were far less dense and a throat structure where food and oxygen must navigate the same space through means of clever biological trapdoors. Bevti had warned that Dante was far too fragile to risk strenuous activities.

“Where is he?”

Siger winced and his ears dipped in a show of dismay and submission.

Regi took a step forward. “Where is he?” His brain summoned images of Dante broken and gasping, laying on a stable blanket that grew red with blood as they waited for healers to arrive. It was hard for him to breath, and his chest burned with a scream that threatened to escape.

“I was riding Goddess’s Brown, so when I attempted to follow him, I was unable to.”

Dante’s thoughts flickered as the information failed to integrate into the picture Regi had started to form. “Follow him? Unable?”

With a grimace, Siger gestured toward a huge pebafri tethered to the stable fence. “Goddess’s Brown is not fully tamed to the saddle. When I attempted to follow the outsider, Goddess’s Brown objected to the terrain and bolted. My staff tells me that you called for me, but I broke my communicator when I fell from the saddle. And I had to chase Goddess’s Brown for so long, that I was unwilling to risk the outsider's safety by searching for him alone. I required more assistance, so I returned to get help.”

Peaches was growing increasingly agitated, her tiny nails scratching Regi’s neck and shoulder. “Why would you choose an animal not yet broken to the saddle when you were escorting one who has never before been on the great pebafri?”

Siger drew himself up. “Because he is named after your goddess. He is the Lady Divashi's Brown. I had thought it auspicious given that Dante a’Texas has a marked preference for the Lady’s animals.” Siger gestured towards the dop perched on Regi's shoulder. “I should have cared less for superstition and more for the practical realities of the stable, but I had thought for a moment that the gods might have touched the choice.” Siger was angry now, his voice sharp and his ears pricked forward. Regi could not blame him. Having a pebafri named for the Lady of poisons in the stable would have seemed sign to anyone, including Regi. He could not blame Siger for what appeared a rational assumption. Blaming Siger was no more logical than blaming the entire culture for encouraging Kowri to see the gods’ hands in such coincidence.

“What steps have you taken to locate Dante?”

After a brief moment of continued ire, Siger relaxed and his next words carried the gentler tones of appeasement. “The animal I gave him to ride was a slow beast, and unlikely to panic.” He huffed. “It is equally unlikely to hurry in any direction no matter how much his rider urges him. No doubt we shall find Dante somewhere near the original accident. We have only to go back and spread out until we can locate both.”

“I will go with you,” Regi said. Peaches exploded into a chitter of fury, quills rattling and her short claws digging into the skin of Regi’s shoulder. Siger's eyes grew wide and he stared at Peaches with the sort of horror a Coalition member might stare at a piece of unexploded ordinance that they unexpectedly found in their path.

“You should stay here and coordinate communication between the searchers and the temple,” Siger said. “An exalted's call, your call, will receive priority if we have need of medical assistance, so having you relay any requests would prove helpful.” While the request appeared reasonable, Peaches remained adamant in her fury. Her quills rattled and she sat on her haunches, her poor balance making her front legs kick the air. Regi held up his hand encouraging her to step onto it, but her fury was too great to be placated. Something was wrong.

“I shall contact exalted Alb and exalted Sibja to request their assistance.” Peaches climbed into Regi’s hand, gripping his middle three fingersas Regi walked back toward the road. He wished some privacy to speak with the other exalteds.

Behind him Siger called out, “They cannot help with the search. That will require riders atop pebafri and exalted Alb is old enough that her bones would rattle apart if she sat on one. She could get hurt.”

Regi ignored Siger’s protest and signaled his communicator to call the women. Sibja answered first, and Dante summarized the situation and his growing concern given Peach’s state of agitation. Halfway through, Alb joined the call. When Regi attempted to begin his story again, she interrupted him.

“I have heard enough to know that Dante is likely in trouble,” she said. “Will his god intervene?”

Dante had spoken very little of his god. Regi did not even know if his God was the one who had commanded so many of the humans to worship no god before him. Regi had been so concerned about his own theological problems that he had neglected to seek out information which he now needed. “I am unsure. I know the temple has not yet made any decision regarding the outsiders, but the Lady Divashi’s hand is in evidence through her dop’s behavior. We should meet at the cold weather temple to see if exalted Nawr has some insight. I have a hover and I can return to the temple quickly.”

“I do not recommend it,” Alb said. “If, by chance, Dante has suffered an accident, many exalteds might see that as proof of the gods’ displeasure. We should not revealed this to anyone besides those who already know.”

“But if the gods are moving, then surely the temple is the proper place for us to be,” Regi said.

“If the gods are moving, yes,” said Alb. “However, you and I know that the will of the gods is difficult to understand, and exalteds are no different from any other sapient creature. They will interpret signs in a way that best matches beliefs they already hold. If the Lady Divashi leads you to the protection of Dante, we would be best serve the Lady by not allowing too many Kowri to know the truth.”

As much as her words were logical, Regi chafed under her suggestion. When he’d been a child, he had family to support him. As an adult, he could turn to his shipmates, although the amount of support he’d received had been inversely proportional to how prejudiced they were against his species. But now he felt he had no support. Vk and Ter would help if they could, but with the ship grounded on a Kowri world, they had no ability to offer assistance.

He wanted to run to the temple like a child seeking a parent’s arms. He wanted someone to reassure him that he could trust his gods and the fellow creatures who were helping him. However, Alb was right that the political situation was too uncertain to toss more uncertainty into the milieu.

He turned to look at the stables—the staff rushing to their pebafris and Siger calling out commands. Goddess’s Brown stood in the shade of the stable, a tuft of grass sticking outside the side of his mouth as he chewed. After a second, the pebafri looked over at Regi.

No. That would be stupid. Regi had not been on a pebafri in ten years, and even when he had ridden, he had never been a particularly good rider. He had no business on a poorly trained beast not yet used to the saddle.

And yet, like Siger, he was infected with his people’s belief in signs.

“I’m going to go looking for Dante,” Regi said when he realized the communicator was still active. He disconnected and headed toward the giant beast. This was the worst idea he’d had in a long time, but if the Lady Divashi watched out for him, maybe Goddess’s Brown would throw Regi off on the same slope where Dante had lost control of his pebafri.