Robin mentally reviewed the amount of magical energy he still had at his disposal. Was it worth casting [Lesser Mindreading] in an attempt to get more information out of Fiara? Or would attempting to read the mind of demigoddess, even one as lessened as Fiara, be the height of stupidity?

No risk no reward, but there were risks and then there were risks.

It was better to ask first, Robin decided. The reading of minds was already a complicated ethical issue, no need to get caught up in those weeds right now. For all he knew, Fiara would happily share the information he wanted.

Besides, she was a demigoddess. No need to pick that fight before he had to.

Robin let the illusion around him fade as he walked slowly back to the rest of his party, mind awhirl. Savra seemed to have finished whatever conversation she had been having with Fiara. The seeress was positively glowing.

‘Fiara,’ he said when he drew near enough, ‘how much do you recall of the city before it fell?’

‘Ah,’ the demigoddess said, ‘trust the bard to ask a question like that.’

She smiled and Robin;’s bones turned to water. He almost used his shapeshifting abilities to assume a form better suited to standing. Then he remembered he couldn’t turn himself into a tree. Or a rock.

Not that it would be that much of a shift, considering.

Robin subtly adjusted his trousers.

‘We’ve encountered several visions of the Fall of Tarin-Tiran,’ he continued, ‘and given the nature of the place we were wondering how close the apparitions might be to the historical truth. If it’s not too painful to recall those times, that is,’ Robin added hastily.

‘No, not too painful. Though I’d already encountered the greatest pain of my existence, so my perspective may be rather different than that of another. Nilsiir, for example. I expect you’ve seen visions of them?’

Robin nodded, choosing not to speak in case it revealed that they’d more than seen the High Priest of Rhyth.

Fiara began to spin out tales of Tarin-Tiran from before the fall. Simple things, like what day-to-day life was like, as well as songs and tales popular in the era.

Robin felt his [Bardic Lore] drinking deep from this well of new knowledge. He paid particular attention to those bits of Rhyth’s worship that came up in passing: festivals, holy days, behaviour of the priesthood, and so on.

It was with great reluctance that he spoke up to shif the conversation when a familiar name came up: Melusk.

‘Melusk was involved in the illusions we saw as well,’ Robin said. ‘Melusk and Leivniz. What can you tell us about them?’

He really wanted to know more about Melusk, but still wasn’t quite ready to show his whole hand.

‘Melusk, yes, I am very familiar with,’ Fiara said with a slight smile. ‘He was one of my regular patrons, actually.’ Her face hardened. ‘Given his hand in the Fall of Tarin-Tiran, I’m ashamed to say I did not see it coming. I took his desire for control to be a simple sexual preference, not an aspect of something more.’

‘His devotion to Urkhan,’ Savra said unexpectedly.

‘Yes.’ Fiara’s hair began to rise and dance like flame. ‘The God of Tyranny, who has no room for love of anyone but himself and his own power in his heart.’

‘We’ve heard he had an artefact he used that helped him bring about the Fall,’ Robin nudged. ‘And that he managed to keep several rooms and chambers concealed within the city, hidden even from the master illusionists of Tarin-Tiran and Rhyth’s priesthood.’

‘True,’ Fiara said, ‘though he did not speak of them.’

Robin bit back a curse. He had hoped to find some extra information. You’d think the insight of a demigoddess—

‘Though perhaps there is something I could do,’ Fiara said thoughtfully.

Had he spoken—thought—too soon? Robin glanced at Fiara, hoping the demigoddess would elaborate.

‘He was here,’ she said. ‘He indulged in his desires here. And such a thing is too primal not to leave a mark of its occurrence. There might be enough of his presence left to call an illusion of the man he was at the Fall of Tarin-Tiran back to us to answer some questions. If I can muster enough power.’

Fiara looked at Robin.

‘And if you decide to be a bit more honest with me about what your intentions are in this place.’

Robin froze.

‘Nilsiir sent us,’ he said a moment later. If Fiara could see he was hedging with the truth, the smart play was to give her what she wanted. ‘They need us to alter the runic structures here so they can manifest and take control of the local area. They didn’t say anything about your being here though.’

‘Nilsiir?’ Fiara frowned prettily. ‘Enough of them is left to still exert influence?’

Robin and the rest of the party waited with bated breath to see if this news was welcome or not. An angry demigoddess was not at all what anyone wanted to be dealing with.

Fiara began pacing the perimeter of the church. Brothel. Whatever.

Robin felt his heart begin to thud in his chest, hammering faster and faster. They were trapped in a room with a demigoddess that likely hadn’t interacted with anyone in centuries. There was no telling what she might do.

Fiara suddenly froze, disappeared, then reappeared directly in front of Robin.

He managed not to yelp. Barely.

‘You seem like the sort who enjoys making a deal, bard,’ Fiara said. ‘And I can smell the faintest of sparks of Rhyth’s power in you. So in the memory of one who was kind to me, and in the hopes that one I thought lost might return and restore this city, and my own fortunes, I will offer you a deal. Find a way to restore any measure of my power to me, howsoever small, and I shall aid you in your quest.’

Robin blinked,. That was…reasonable? At least in terms of what she was asking for. He had no idea as to how difficult actually executing the task might be. Divine power didn’t seem to be a thing that was simply left lying around, after all.

‘I’m willing to make the deal,’ he said, grabbing for some time to think, ‘but I would like some time to think over the best way I and my friends might make sure that we can fulfil your request.’

‘Take what time you need,’ Fiara said. ‘The amenities here will be open to you while you debate.’

Then she vanished, though Robin had the eerie feeling that every image of her throughout the temple was watching him.

‘Well,’ he said, turning to Savra, ‘any secrets of the gods and how they gain and amass power you’d like to share?’

The seeress pursed her lips and gave him a look.

‘I’m not trying to cheat anyone here!’ Robin protested, oddly feeling accused. ‘I want a win-win-win situation.’

‘And if one doesn’t exist?’ Drev asked pointedly.

‘We don’t know what does or does not exist yet,’ Robin shot back. ‘That’s why I’m asking for options.’

‘She already has a temple, and some relics,’ Jhess observed. ‘Not sure if we could provide her with any more, even if we have picked up a bit of treasure.’

‘She does lack a congregation,’ Vance said slowly, ‘though I don’t know how we might address that issue.’

‘I cannot divine anything related to the divine, nor would I attempt to even if I could,’ Savra said. ‘All I can offer is that you would do well to treat fairly and honestly with Her Holiness.’

‘Right. Give me some time to think,’ the bard murmured to the rest of his party and began pacing through the temple.

Several thoughts warred for attention in his brain. A few seemed like solid prospects, but everything kept coming down to time and nearby resources. The congregation thing seemed best. Gods drawing power form mortal worshippers seemed like a no-brainer. The problem was Tarin-Tiran was chock full of monsters and scarce on potential converts.

He couldn’t really convert. That would be an easy solution if he could. Fiara hadn’t set a limit on how much power she needed in order to help them. Even the little he might offer should be enough.

But while he really enjoyed sex and the bonds of love, he couldn’t really see himself converting to Fiara worship. And while he could offer her prayers and devotion, something told him it wouldn’t be quite enough to register.

Faith as power was a strange and nebulous thing.

Part of him, small and fearful, whispered that perhaps he could offer to Fiara that tiniest mote of Rhyth’s power that he apparently carried within him, but no. There was no way he would do that. No way he would give that up.

If she would even accept it.

Robin shoved the thought away. It was a nonstarter anyway. And he felt something in him relax as he dismissed the possibility.

Fine. Onto the next thing.

They also didn’t have time to find a new temple location, or hunt down relics from Fiara’s past that might hold fragments of her power, like that shrine of Rhyth he had woken up in.

Robin’s eyes strayed to his surroundings, seeking inspiration. Rooms, the trappings of a temple-turned-holy-brothel, the altar, stained glass windows…

He paused. There, above all, was Fiara’s story, the story that made her a goddess, elevated her to divinity. That was a powerful thing.

Was it a thing that helped gain her power? Could he increase her power by spreading that story?

But that ran back into the problem of converts. The only potential candidates they had seen so far were the hobgoblins, and most of them were firmly in Urkhan’s grip. Even if he could pry a few free it would take time and that was in incredibly short supply with Gis and his party possibly nearing Melusk’s hidden chambers and the artefact the traitor had left behind.

Something prodded at him from his subconscious. Something Fiara had said? Or hadn’t said.

Yes! She hadn’t specified a time limit on when he returned the power to her. Could he argue to her aid on credit, maybe by swearing a binding oath he would share her story far and wide?

Robin examined the idea. It would get Fiara some more followers, inevitably. Especially if he helped things along with some manipulation and illusion to make sure a few matches appeared, as if made in heaven. He could even use his Craft skill and his new [Phantasmal Mouth] skill to create icons that relayed the story of Fiara. Well, snippets of it. Maybe whatever equivalent of short prayers she had.

And if she didn’t like the idea? If she demanded something now?

Robin’s eyes strayed to the altar. Well, there was always the oldest of prayers: sacrifice. Fiara wouldn’t likely want blood or death, but he had experience points he could offer, as much as it would pain him, or even a Perk, if such a thing could be offered up to the demigoddess.

All he could do was ask, really.