Wallace

I smiled when I saw the message.

The mall had few meeting places suited to gods. But a mall restaurant was better than the food court or some antiseptic board room, so here we were.

Agamemnon warned it would take a while to get word to everyone, and we were hungry, so we took the opportunity to have something to eat. But here we were, still waiting.

So there I sat, with my jaw resting against my left fist, grinning down at the new message in my tome.

Simon to Wallace: Are you fucking kidding me?

Wow, he got through those movies fast.

Wallace to Simon: Problem?

The timestamp on the message suggested he had sent it a while ago, not long after I'd sent out the messages explaining the hotel would be in the hands of my 'stewards' for the next little while. But if I knew Simon, he'd have one of his toys watching the book for him.

The response came less than a minute later and was not at all what I expected.

Simon to Wallace: Did you really fuck off to go play adventurer and leave someone else to run your shit?

Wallace to Simon: Yeah. Maybe if you could rely on someone other than a bunch of barbie dolls, you'd be able to delegate.

Simon to Wallace: Whatever man. You don't have a whole fucking city looking to see you fail. You try going on vacation when half the fey nobles in the city are looking for any chance to screw with you.

Wallace to Simon: Half the fey nobles in the city are looking for any chance to screw with me. Or have you forgotten about Valentine?

I waited for a while, expecting a response, but the 'gods' began to file in before one arrived.

I turned aside to Val, who was seated to my right, but she shook her head. Amora was not among those present.

Agamemnon came to stand at the end of the table as the others began taking their seats, and began to make unenthusiastic introductions, "Alright. You all know who I am. And most of you have met, or at least heard of, Martin over here. God of dragons-"

"Dinosaurs."

"Sure. Dinosaurs," Agamemnon moved on to indicate the biker looking guy a couple seats down from where Martin rested his head, "This is Brock, he's the God of Earth."

I raised an eyebrow, "Pokemon fan?"

Brock sat, leaning forwards, with his elbows on the table and fingers interlaced. His arms were bare, displaying an extensive collection of tattoos. While he was far from a bodybuilder, he was not a small man. I imagine most people under eight feet wouldn't be in a hurry to piss him off.

"Watched it with my kid. Is that a fuckin' problem?"

"No. Actually, I've got all eight hundred and ninety-three pokemon in my living dex... Are you really not into pokemon?"

Brock gave me a blank stare before leaning back and spreading his arms. He looked between myself and Martin before settling on Agamemnon, "Who the fuck is this guy?"

"He's Wallace, god of patience."

"Patience? More like the god of tryin' my patience. What can you even do?"

"Anything I've got the patience to figure out."

"That doesn't sound at all like vague bullshit."

"Hey, could I at least finish my introductions before everyone starts bitching and we get nothing done?"

Brock waved his hand and leaned back over the table.

"Great, fantastic. This is Roxxy."

Roxxy was your typical goth chick. She was very pale, had black hair and black lipstick, and wore a very ren-faire black corset over her white dress shirt. She sat leaning back in the chair with her boots on the table. Boots that laced up to the knee, had a three-inch heel on top of a two-inch lift, and were far too shiny to be leather.

"She's the god of animals."

"Can you summon them like Martin can?" I asked.

Roxy rolled her eyes and shook her head, "I can control them, which isn't any good in the middle of an empty city."

"You know, I could-" the dragon began.

"Fuck off Marty!" Roxxy snapped.

Martin's ears flattened against his head, and he shrank back from the little woman.

"And this is Thor Odinson, god of thunder," Agamemnon continued.

"Your dad's name is Odin?"

'Thor' certainly looked the part. Tall, long blonde hair, a strong jaw, and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. It made me wonder if that's how he'd always looked or if his appearance had changed when he'd adopted the thunder god mantle.

I guess it could make sense. A god should look the part, but then how broad were their powers? Did they all share the same set of generic god powers, plus abilities specific to their sphere? Honestly, thunder, electricity, and lighting, what was even the difference? Could Thor here throw lighting bolts, or was he limited to sound-based powers?

If there's a god of hammers, I'm leaving. The city can drown for all I care.

"Nah mate," Thor replied, "His name's Oliver."

"Well, surely that makes you Thor Oliverson."

"Is that how that works?"

"Yeah, it's a patronym. Not something they do in Australia, I'm guessing."

"Hey," Thor pointed at me, "Hemsworth is Australian and a national treasure. If he can be Thor, then I can be Thor."

"Alright, Oliverson."

"This is Clyde Mardon," Agamemnon paused, sighed, and continued reluctantly, "The weather wizard."

Clyde looked like your typical skinny nerd who ate too much junk food. He had thin wrists but was carrying a bit of extra weight around the belly. He wasn't a bad looking guy, but he'd not been taking great care of himself, and I took it as a small mercy that he wasn't wearing a patchy neckbeard.

"And finally, this is Mr Castle, god of commerce."

Mr Castle's features were windburnt, and he had salt and pepper hair with a five-o'clock shadow. He'd thrown his suit jacket over the back of his chair and wore dark suit pants and a light blue dress shirt.

Like the rest, he was trying to give an impression of bored disinterest, and just like the others, his acting could use some work. Brock was managing it the best, but I could tell these guys were way in over their heads.

I bet they were living large a couple of days ago, enjoying their superhero fantasies, or in the case of Mr Castle, making a shitload of money.

And now they were wondering how long their food would hold out.

"Now, can we get down to business, or do you want to keep trading pithy barbs?"

Brock pointed at Val with an open hand, "Who's the purple chick?"

I spoke up, "This is Lady Valentine- an actual lady, not a pretend lady -and she's with me."

Brock leaned back on one elbow, "What the hell? I thought this sit-down was for bosses only. Now we're just letting anyone in?"

"I think you know better than any of the others how fucked the city is. Well, Val's the one who knows how to keep you all alive."

"And what do you two get in exchange for being so helpful?" Brock asked.

"I'm being pursued by some jealous suitors with whom I'd prefer not to return home. I will provide the information you require, and in exchange, you will assist us in ambushing them."

"And your boyfriend isn't patient enough to figure out how to do all that on his own? I thought you're supposed to be a god, big guy."

"Val?"

Val withdrew a sizeable stainless steel paperweight shaped like a miniature modern art piece. It was something I'd spotted upstairs, and figuring it would make the centrepiece of a good demonstration, had handed it over to Val.

She placed it on the table, and with a bit of Transform Metal, warped and twisted the chunk of steel into various shapes. She took it through a series of geometric shapes, made it walk around on the table like a man, and finally ended the spell by shaping it into a short sword.

"Magic," she said, by way of explanation, "Lord Wallace- again, an actual lord, not a man play-acting -may be the god of patience, but many of my kind can replicate his powers with the magic present in this world."

I nodded, "One of them reached inside my chest and stopped my heart."

"Are you serious? How the fuck are you still alive?" Brock demanded.

"I got better."

"How many more fey are out there?" Agamemnon asked.

"There's a whole city of them," I replied, "Not all of them use magic, not by a long shot, but it's enough. And they're not the only ones. There's a city full of elves, we'll probably see some elven mercs travelling with the fey, and a third city shared by the gnomes and goblins. And they too can use magic."

"Oh yeah, and you expect us to get in a pissing match with these guys?" Thor asked, "Those lightning and fire mugs killed each other and burnt down half the city when they went at it and these fey sound just as bad. The smart play is leaving the dickheads the hell alone."

"I don't expect you to fight them, but I do need help finding them. I'm the god of patience, not the god of finding people in a hurry."

"I will help, at the very least," Agamemnon replied, "I'd much prefer if these fey don't survive to report what they've seen. But there is a condition-"

"We keep our mouths shut about the city as well?"

He nodded, "Yes."

"Works for me. But you guys need to know, while there is a mountain range between us and the cities, the sky-glow coming off this place at night is kinda hard to miss. And the elven city- Parabuteo -is halfway up those mountains. It's got an observation tower that might be able to see far enough to spot you."

"Then I'll work something out with the city's lighting," Agamemnon decided, "Assuming the city's going to be here long enough for that to matter?"

His tone was questioning, and he cast an eye on Valentine.

Valentine placed her hand on the table, fingers spread, "If you do not seal the far end of the crater, or at the very least find a permanent solution for the erosion, you will need to evacuate the city," she said flatly, "I suggest you attempt to survey for a potential refuge as soon as possible. The tides only reach so high, and there should be safer locales to the north and west. If the fey concern you, then I suggest finding a refuge that is as out of the way as possible. My people can travel only as quickly as their horses carry them. If you ensure your home is over a day's ride from the next, you should be relatively safe."

"Think of the safe areas as a chain," I supplied, "If one of the links is too long to be crossed by horse, then you should be pretty good as long as you can keep them from getting their hands on a car. Assuming they could even figure out how to get one going."

"What about your little steampunk cart?" Roxxy asked, "Did the gnomes make that? If they find out about the place, will we be swarmed by little green men?"

"It's magic, not steam-powered, and no. Right now, the only people who've got anything like it are myself and Simon. He's a human who's picked up on how to use magic, and neither of us are keen to give up our technological advantages."

"And what if we don't want to give up the city?" Agamemnon asked, "What if the next high point is just a patch of grassy field? Will I need to tell my people to get to work farming?"

"Well, you'll probably need to get your people farming regardless, and hopefully what you've got left will last to the first harvest. But if you want to stay, it's not too bad. Yeah, you are close enough for riders to get to you, but it's tight. They'd have to make two separate long-distance runs to make it here and would need to travel real light to keep from exhausting their horses. Not to mention they'd need to pass through my domain without me noticing and stopping them."

Brock threw up his hands, "Why didn't you stop them before you came here and made it our problem?"

"Because when I first saw sky-glow on the horizon, I wasn't expecting a city full of demigods. I was expecting a post-apocalyptic ruin I could use to draw out and destroy my foes. Honestly, yeah, little bit sorry. But the fey chasing Val are slave-driving assholes, and this is our best chance to put them in the ground."

"Fine, whatever. I've been trying to turn the earth at the edges of the crater into stone. Do you think you could help do that?"

"We both can," Val supplied.

"Metal might be better. Even it might get worn away eventually, but it would certainly take the pressure off."

Brock raised his eyebrows, "You can do that?"

"I believe I said that I could do anything. So yes."

"Huh, maybe you're not full of shit after all. Alright, I'll help you deal with the fairy fucks, but after that, we've got to make sure the city doesn't come down around our ears."

Thor slammed his fist down on the table, "Agreed," he boomed, his Australian accent replaced by a poor attempt at something vaguely nordic, "If you stand with us, then Thor Oliverson will lend you his aid."

There was an awkward silence, broken only by Roxxy's derisive chuckle, "We are so gonna die."

Undeterred by Roxxy's thorny exterior, Val went over to speak with her once the others began to go their separate ways, promising to get their followers looking for the fey.

I don't know why I was surprised, but I found myself sighing heavily the moment Val opened her mouth.

"I so love your boots. What is this material?"

"PVC, they also come in leather, but that's not vegan."

"You know, I've been thinking about getting something with a heel, but we have nothing like this in Pelignos- Ah, what's this at the top?"

"Oh, that's where you could put a little lock if you wanted to."

"A lock? Hmmm."

"I can show you where to get boots like these. There's a little store nearby that sells this sort of thing. They've got suits like yours as well if you're looking for something that fits a little better."

Okay, time to go.

I rose as quietly as I could, and though both the table and my seat creaked as I stood, neither Val nor Roxxy commented as I made my hasty escape.

I rounded the corner and entered the hall that led back to the mall proper and stumbled as I tried to stop before ploughing through the group of college students coming the other way.

They froze. Not stopped, froze, and a dozen sets of eyes stared up at me.

"Hi."

One of them spoke up, a woman with her hair mousy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and thick, dark-rimmed glasses on her nose, "Are you Lord Wallace, god of Patience?" she asked.

Goddammit.

"Sure."

They all began to speak at once, and the clamour was utterly incomprehensible.

"Hey, one at a time. You," I indicated the woman who'd spoken first, "What's going on?"

"We were just wondering if you were looking for more worshipers- or maybe if you thought Amora might be looking for more."

"I think I'm good," I replied hesitantly, "But the others just left, ask them maybe?"

The group traded some looks, and one of their number nudged Ms Ponytail.

"We tried that already. Most of them wouldn't even speak with us, and even the ones who did weren't interested."

"Agamemnon said he didn't have any use for us," one of them piped up.

I frowned, "Who were you staying with before?"

"Most of us were with Taranis; he was the god of lightning. When he died, a lot of the others ended up working for Thor or Agamemnon, but nobody was interested in us. Agamemnon's letting us stay at the mall at least, but eventually, he'll get tired of keeping us fed."

I shook my head, "That doesn't make sense. What were you doing for Taranis anyway? I still don't know how you guys in the city are doing this god stuff, does having more worshipers make them stronger?" and then, because I needed to keep my cover, I added, "Because so far all I've needed to get stronger is more experience using my powers."

She rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip, "Taranis was a pervy boomer who had us sit around and play dress up for him. Well, guess what? Now he's dead, and I suddenly don't have any student loans to pay off."

"Girls, I sympathize, but I'm not really in a position to help at the moment. There's a lot of stuff going on right now. Give it a couple of days, and my people will be relying on Agammemnon's hospitality as well."

"Do you think Amora's free at least?" ponytail asked.

"How should I know?" I frowned.

"We've been trying to get a chance to speak with her for the past few days. She's usually pretty open to taking on new people and apostates. But she only just got back to her nightclub, and when we went to speak with her, she was busy with you, and her guards turned us away."

I grew very still. How the hell had they known Amora was rooting around in our dreams, had the guards known and told them?

She must have read my confusion because she continued, "Your steampunk car," she insisted, "It was parked out front."