WheelingAndDealing(Continued from Nutmeg State Blues II) "Heh. Clothed, yes. This isn't the South of France," Felix says. He waits until clothes are sent up, then insists on making the choices - not that he has exquisite fashion sense in women's clothing, but Galatea has already indicated she hasn't been in the United States recently. Galatea does look bewildered at the set of clothes that the well-tipped and greased concierge brings up. The concierge's tastes, given money to spend, are relatively broad but mostly upscale. What he picks out gives the impression of them as a moderately well-to-do couple, and he's confident that they can act touristy and air-headed enough to stay nondescript. Thankfully, he still has the rental car. If this keeps up, though, he'll have to do some more work soon, or heavens forbid find some way to convert some of the things he took ... Oh yeah. "I saw a picture of you. Statue you," he says. "When I was being asked to buy you. You had some kind of emerald necklace on, and I didn't recognize it. Neither did Mohammed. See, I don't understand that. You're unique, all by yourself. Why put some kind of jewelry on you as a statue?" Galatea thinks about this for a moment, regarding Felix. A slow smile crosses her lips. Dressed in a white blouse and a dark red skirt, she is striking, and just touristy enough to be only remarked as such and not something more. "That seems obvious and easy to me, Felix," she says. "Perhaps Poseidon's daughter was seeking to bring you to her, or bringing me to her, or bringing the two of us to her. "You are a thief, are you not? With an ..." she smiles again, a bit lasciviously, "eye for pretty things? “Bait,” she adds. "One wonders if Mohammed intended to lose me to you, or was manipulated into doing so." "Well, I'm not going back to him in order to ask questions," Felix says. "Even if he doesn't try and call the law. No, I'll get my answers by asking Gilman." He ponders. "I'll let something percolate while we're in transit, though I hate to do it..." Galatea furrows her brow in confusion. "You are going to engage in alchemy?" Grabbing his laptop, Felix starts up one of the complex encrypted routines he uses to contact his 'fences' - in this case, an avid collector of ancient jewelry who expresses a lack of ethics. And sometimes morals. When his anonymous email connection is ready, he offers some of the items he found with Galatea in the storage room. As usual, he tries to sell enough to keep him and his new-found companion going in style for at least the next few weeks. "Okay," he finally says. "I should get an answer off the mirror encryption app off my phone. You wouldn't believe how much that cost. Anonymity is expensive." He smiles. "One of these days I should get a savings account, or something. If you haven't noticed already, I don't keep much of a permanent home. I'm a nomad, going from place to place, town to town, moment to moment. Grab the best in life where you can, when you can. And speaking of, are you ready to travel? Give me a few minutes to get my stuff cleaned up and packed up." "I have no possessions to gather," Galatea says. "Save the clothes you gave me, of course. Whether the necklace that was on me can be considered the property of someone who is often a statue is a matter for legal scholars to debate. So in this case, we are both nomads, carrying only what we can, how we can." She stops, furrows her brow again, and waves a hand and looks toward the bathroom. "I am, err, fully functional, Felix, so perhaps I should see to such things." She saunters off to the bathroom. By the time Galatea returns, and Felix has packed up his stuff, ready to travel, one of his fences (from Westchester) has already responded, very happy to hear from Felix, and would be definitely willing to do some business for some of the jewelry. Felix is greatly pleased by this, and arranges for a partial payment before sending the items through one of his remailing services. "Excellent," he says to Galatea. "I'll be wanting to drop a package off on the way. Let's get going, shall we? The information package I was given on you had the contact information we need." Galatea smiles. "Of course you did. The alternatives would require using those contacts of yours to find Ms. Gilman." The statue-cum-assassin finds Felix's car fascinating, looking it over in a perambulating orbit around it before she gets into the passenger seat and buckling herself in. "An age of wonders, this," she says. Her hands are tactile, exploring, lightly touching everything from the car radio to the glove box door opener. "Where is our intermediate destination?" she asks once Felix is on the road. "And how are you going to introduce me to anyone we meet?" "Westchester," Felix says. "Not far out of our way, of course, not if we're going to New York. And if anybody asks, you're my girlfriend. Everybody that knows me knows I don't have any assistants, I don't play all that well with others." "Well, you can always say that you are keeping me as your mistress," Galatea says. "Oh, wait," she continues almost immediately. "That might not be appropriate in this day and age, is it?" She nibbles her lip thoughtfully. "Not in this country," Felix says. "Well ... not on this coast." Arriving in Westchester to finish the transaction goes without incident, although the delight Galatea has in the travel into New York State, even a traffic jam on I-95 south, is ever fresh. The transaction with the Hungarian-American fence Janos Gabrust to sell off some of his gains for cash goes without much incident. Is Galatea looked over during the transaction (she pointedly refuses to wait in the car)? Absolutely. "Now I know why you need more money, so soon," the dealer laughs. "Keeping this one in fine fit and style." He sobers up his joviality and looks at Felix. "Funny, though, I have been seeing a fair amount of relics and old, old items as of late. Not just from you." Felix immediately frowns, knowing that there are only a handful of people who would fence things here. With this man. And who are even close to Felix's skill to bring items of note. Or maybe, another clue ... "Really," he says. "Anything you could share? I'd hate to learn that the antiquities market is being flooded." "I do try to keep my contacts private," Jason says. "And keep the lot of you from stepping on each others' toes. But there have been months when I hardly can get one of you to offer up anything and I have to make an honest living." He laughs. "And then there is the last month, when a flood of stuff has come through. I only give you the prices I do because yours is the shiny goods. I've been seeing weapons, soldier gear, nothing like pretty things you like to share. "Truth be told, it feels like someone is trying to equip a force of ancient mercenaries brought to the present or something. Perhaps," he laughs, "I read too many fantasy novels." Galatea coughs discreetly. "My pardons, too much dust," she says. Perfect timing. "I warned you, my dear," Felix says. "There's still that water bottle in the car." He hesitates just a second, curious whether his fence will try the gallant route and offer something to drink, or prefer to watch Galatea's backside as they step out for a moment. "Water. Pah. For washing and bathing," Janos says. "For you, my dear, something more fitting." He ducks into the back and can be heard rattling around in a refrigerator. "That's disturbing news, Felix," Galatea says. "He might even be accidentally hitting close to the truth. Ancient weapons imbued with power would do as much to Titanspawn as more modern guns. Oftentimes more. Belief and the power of Scions and titanspawn can empower such things far beyond their appearance. "Mayhap a storm is on the horizon," she says. "A big one. A resurgence of Titanspawn, perhaps." She stops speaking as Janos brings a bottle of Tokay and three tulip glasses. He sets them down and pours three substantial portions of the blue wine and offers them to Felix and Galatea. "As I said, something better than water. I can't get any Palinka here, but this will do, yes?" Galatea sips her wine wordlessly. Felix closes his eyes and shows his wine-tasting skills as he sips. "Exquisite," he says. "As you say, it's not brandy, but, then, I'll be driving." He opens his eyes. "Thanks, Janos. I'll be looking for you, if I have any other shiny baubles cross my hands. And I'm in the neighborhood. I've got to do well so I can keep my girl in high style, right?" He winks at Janos and slips an arm around Galatea, like they're preparing to move on. Janos grins. The fact that he's holding a form-changing assassin statue only makes Felix's muscles stiff for a split second, but he doesn't have time to congratulate himself on hiding his apprehension. "I may not be in this part of the country for a little while, and like you said, there may be markets out there that are glutted. Any parts of the country I should avoid, if I want to maximize my... profit?" "Stay out of the West," Janos says. "Word is, something is happening in and around Vegas and down in Arizona. A fair amount of chatter and traffic in stuff is from the desert. I'd not go within a thousand miles of Sin City if you want to have a long and profitable career. Lots of the stuff on the market is centered 'round there. Much better to stay round these parts, although I hear of strange things happening here in New England. But not as much." "Best you take your girl to New York, show her a real city, where you only have to deal with that autocratic mayor and all the muggers," Janos says. "Always fish there to hook." "New York sounds like the place to be," Felix says. "I like that idea, and I deserve a vacation, anyway. Thanks, Janos. I'll keep you in mind if any other pretty trinkets cross my path." "You do that," Janos says. "You've got an eye for that sort of stuff, always have. Almost as if you had a god-given talent for spotting beauty ..." his voice trails off as he gives a glance over at Galatea. He firmly returns his gaze to Felix and then finishes his glass of wine. "Be safe, Felix," he adds. "Don't get mixed up in any trouble that your curiosity gets you into, either." He waits until both Galatea and Felix have finished their glasses and then rises and bows to both Felix and his companion. Felix smiles and waves to Janos as he escorts Galatea out. It's not until they're both back in the car and moving that he says, "Wow, you really had Janos off his game. I ought to bring you to more of these. You are a show-stopper, after all." He smiles and goes silent, replaying the conversation in his head. Galatea smiles. "I was constructed for this purpose," she says with not quite a smug smile on her face. "My constructors would thank you for the compliment." "So, what have we learned? Somebody's arming with ancient weapons, either for or against these Titans. Before I met you, I would never have said 'magic', but I guess that's what makes them valuable. And all the action is going on out west, and in Connecticut." He pauses. "If our friend in New York sends us anywhere, I guess that's where she'll send us first, considering how close it is." "It is so," Galatea says. "Our contact in New York is likely to send us first to Connecticut, if there is knowledge to be had. Ancient weapons and a war." She taps her lips with a finger. "It is extremely unfortunate that my contacts are decades out of date," she says. "And in the wrong part of the world. Or even still on Earth itself." "I'll just have to show my value in other ways," she adds brightly. "Like with Janos." "I'm shocked," Felix says. "I've been all over the world, met all kinds of people, sampled all kinds of cultures, and yet not heard of you or even the legend of you, outside the story of Pygmalion. And you've been around all this time, centuries, standing out wherever you go, with all kinds of contacts and knowledge ... I guess those long stretches as a statue matter. People, they don't have long memories." "Long periods as a statue make people forget," she says. "And since the Enlightenment, things not of science have tended to be less and less believed. The Victorians were the last who believed what I am." He glances at her up and down. Again. Not like he's stopped since Galatea became mobile. "Mohammed had some guesses, but nothing definite. Who was it that made you? What is it that you can do? It's hard to believe that you've been used as an ... assassin." "I was first made by the Vizier Imhotep in the 17th year of the reign of the Pharaoh Djoser, at the direction of the Goddess Bast. This was before the wars with the Elder Gods, and I was to be a weapon in those wars." She puts her left hand on Felix's right leg. "You may find it difficult to believe, but think, Felix, you are a man, and one attracted to women." She gives the calf muscle a squeeze. "You know that a man, or a male god, or a male spawn of the Titans is at his most vulnerable when he is distracted by the female form. I was constructed to be able to kill those who might slake their lusts upon me. "Other than that, my long life, even with periods as a statue, has given me contacts and knowledge amongst the supernatural community. I do not know if Bast intended me to be immortal, however, when Aphrodite had my body broken down and remade in her image, she definitely intended for me to last the ages, to be a living reminder of her beauty." Felix winces. "I can appreciate the results, but not the methods. You obviously could tell that I kissed you, but I don't know if you felt that, er, makeover. If you did, I'm sorry." "The memory of the pain is a few hundred years old even with long periods as a statue," Galatea says. "I do miss my old appearance, sometimes." He puts his attention back on the road, but doesn't make any effort to dislodge her hand. "There's been debates for, I don't know, a hundred years or more over robots. Heard of them?" "I remember a play." Galatea says. "Rossum's Universal Robots." "I hadn't given it much thought, but I suppose it's the same story that's been around for thousands of years, about creations that were given, I don't know, divine inspiration or whatever. It's just the latest technological iteration. But the point is, and I assure you, I have one, are the questions of sentience and free will. Wow, I mean, I actually have an expert on the subject sitting right with me. How do you think of yourself, if you don't mind me asking? The stories all assume a divine magical spark, and I assume Bast had a hand in that. Are you a person that happens to spend time as a statue and you have this job as a seductress/assassin? If you wanted to quit and become a pastry chef or something, could you do it?" Galatea lets Felix's words sink in for a minute before responding. "It is a matter of training, I think," she says. "I do not think I was designed to the task, although my design does aid in that. Much like the servitors of Hephaestus are designed to aid him in the forge, if one of them were to become a psychiatrist, instead, I do not think that would be impossible. Even if the desire and knowledge would always be there to work with metal, not minds. "Too, my own abilities and skills," Galatea says. "It is not as if being glamorous and beautiful is an advantage to a chef in any way or manner, but I would possess that all the same, if I decided my vocation was to create desserts. "I am a person, even if I am not of the flesh and blood that mortals are. Are you a person, Felix, even if you are more divine than the people we have met?" she says. Felix smiles, even as he keeps his attention on the road. "More divine? That's harder to accept, you know. Yes, I am a person. I've always been a person, always felt that way. The only reason I can accept what you're saying about yourself is because I've seen it with my own eyes. But me? I'm just a guy. Maybe an exceptionally talented one, but just a guy. I'm going along with this until someone proves that I'm more than that." "It is said," Galatea says, "that Scions do not truly start to feel and grow into the glory and position that they have until they meet their divine parent, in all of their panoply. There have been many over the centuries, Felix, who have claimed divine parentage, but without actually meeting their divine parent, it is mostly supposition. "If and when you should meet the Goddess," Galatea says, "your nature and position would be confirmed, especially to yourself. You will find your abilities heightened, and gain ones beyond mortal ken." "Cat goddess, right? Perhaps I'll gain the power to expect to be worshipped at all times," Felix says. "Hah. That's not that bad an idea ..." Galatea snickers. "That doesn't work even for the heads of the various pantheons, much less the ones devoted to cats. Scions of cat gods and goddesses tend to be like you: independent, creative, and inquisitive. "I would not use the word thief, but it has been known to happen," Galatea says. The drive out of the Nutmeg State and into New York City is the usual bumper to bumper traffic that accompanies any expedition into the Bronx and from there to the rest of the five boroughs. The Gilman Gallery is in a gentrifying area of the Lower East Side. Indeed, as Felix had thought earlier, there are hundreds if not thousands of galleries in New York City. The Gilman is not a huge one, but it's in a nice building. Ten or fifteen years ago, Felix would not have wanted to be in this neighborhood after dark. Or even before dark. Now, it's an up and coming place and the less well off are likely already fled for the Bronx and cheaper areas. Once inside, Felix is quickly greeted by Jonah Jones, who has been loitering near the reception desk as if expecting Felix to arrive. He walks over with a grin on his face. "I am pleased to see that you made it here safely," Jonah says. He gives Galatea a look, and then looks back at Felix. "Miss Gilman would be most happy to speak to you now. The both of you, of course," he adds. "Of course," Felix says. The fact that his liason isn't surprised by the presence of Galatea, or looking for a statue under Felix's arm, speaks volumes. Probably knew all along. "Please, lead on." Miss Gilman turns out to be in a second floor office with a glass back wall that allows her to look out over the gallery and its objects d'art. Annie Gilman is an average-sized woman, with dark brown/reddish hair, glasses and a dazzling smile. "Felix," Annie says. "It's a pleasure that you have come." Her eyes flicker to Galatea, and she gives her a nod. She gestures for Felix and Galatea to sit down in the metal-framed, gray padded chairs in front of her desk. "Jonah, please see to the matter we were discussing earlier. Say, in about 5 minutes?" "Yes, Miss Gilman." He gives a nod to Felix and heads down the spiral staircase that leads up to her glass-walled office. "Now, then," she says. "Thank you for the delivery, although you have no doubt learned some unusual things about how things really work. And perhaps about yourself. Haven't you?" "Very much so," Felix says. "At least, that's what I've been told. I might even be a little mad at being manipulated like I was, until it occurred to me that I would have led someone else around the same way. There's so much that you have to unlearn, so much that you have to believe, and it's best to work that out on your own. But, you know, overall, the acquisition was a success! I'll be charging double, of course." Gilman snorts in laughter. "Of course you are. I am certain Jezebel appreciates being active again after for so many years dormant." "I go by Galatea now, Lady," Galatea replies. "Ah," Gilman says. "How time flies." She turns back to look at Felix. "I suppose it would not surprise you, now that you know what you know, to hear that we are related? Welcome to the family. Brother." "Thanks, glad to be here." Felix frowns a second. "Did you mean in a larger, nebulous kind of 'child of a diety' kind of way? Or a more direct, 'we're both Bast's kids' way? I, uh, heard you might be Poseidon's daughter." "Was brother too intimate?" she says with a smile. "Perhaps I should have used the word cousin, although we are of completely different pantheons and that is equally inaccurate. Yes ..." she looks at Galatea and then back at Felix. "I am Poseidon's daughter. Started off in the Coast Guard and decided that was a bit too conspicuously similar to my element, and switched to writing and collecting antiquities. "It's only in the last few years that the number of Scions around and announced and active has increased significantly. Once upon a time, everyone knew everyone, or you knew someone who knew the person you were seeking. We were a small, quarrelsome family. With all the problems of a powerful quarrelsome family. Not so, now. Now we are a growing and sprawling quarrelsome family. "Damn Titans and their spawn," she says, shaking her head. "Such are the times. But speaking of relations, there is someone here of your blood waiting to meet you, if you are ready, Felix. Or perhaps you have more questions of me before meeting Her." The last word is capitalized in her speech. "The Goddess?" Galatea practically squeaks. "The Goddess," Gilman says, looking at Felix. "Huh?" Felix says. "She ... I ... we ... already?" He looks perfectly nonplussed. "I thought there would be more ... time. Vincent and I were ... I mean, no matter how well we were raised, the fact remains that she wasn't ... you know ... there." He shakes his head. "And that assumes I believe all this, and that's still not a given. This is ... crazy." There's a long pause. "Yeah. I mean, yes. I want to meet her." "Good," Anne smiles. "Compared to some of her counterparts, she's positively friendly. There will be Gods and Goddesses, Felix, whom you will decidedly not want to meet if you can help it. Thankfully Bast is not one of them." She gets up from behind her desk and motions for Felix and Galatea to follow her. Down the stairs and into the gallery itself, Gilman keeps up a light banter, pointing out some of the works in the gallery, taking obvious pride in her acquisitions. The eclecticism of the pieces, from Aboriginal weapons to the tools of a tribal Shaman from Siberia, from a (small) Egyptian obelisk to a Mesoamerican calendar stone. Standing next to a sand mandala, leaning against a wall, is a tall woman, with hair halfway between gold and brown. She's tall, six feet, easily, and has a muscular grace about her, and a smile upon her lips. "I'll leave the two of you to talk," Gilman says. "Gallery's closed for the moment. Come, Galatea, let's leave Felix to speak to the Goddess alone." Galatea gives Gilman a nervous look and then looks at Felix. Felix gives Galatea a nervous smile back. "It's fine," he says. "We really are going to need a few minutes to talk. I'll see you on the other side." "Right," Galatea says. Her teeth don't quite chatter. "Good luck, Felix." Bast waits until Gilman and Galatea are out of earshot before moving, casually, from her position leaning against the wall. She walks over to Felix. "Come, walk with me," she says. "This will be easier the more casually we do this." She waits for Felix to start walking with her before she continues. "It's a pity that your brother isn't here," she says. "My tack with introducing him to this wider world has not gone quite as well as yours. I had hoped to coax him here from the West Coast, but my agent there, your sister, has not been able to convince him to do so. "Perhaps I should have had a Scion hire him for a job, as I did you," Bast suggests and then quiets for Felix to respond. "Should have asked me to," Felix says. He walks like he's treading on eggshells, and his muscles are tense. One wonders what he would be like if this wasn't casual. "Vincent and I have always watched each others' backs. Have always gone to help one another. Me more than him, of course. We've only had each other to rely on." He looks away. "Mmm," Bast temporizes. "So," he says after a moment, and looks back, because his desire to see Bast's face overrides all the tangled feelings that have surfaced in seeing her. "I don't remember much, but as I recall the Egyptians and the Greeks, they didn't really know what to do with you. You had a temple and a city dedicated to you. Cats, family pets, people would mummify them in your name. But you were an enigma, they had troubles pegging you. A goddess of lions, or of cats. Goddess of the sun, or of the moon. 'She of the ointment jar,' implying pharmacy, but then they confused that with perfumes. Anubis's mother, or his wife, or even Ra's mother. You've always been a mystery." "All," Bast says. "More the frustrating, really, because our powers do vary depending on how much attention gets paid. Worship is best, something we've had less on Earth the last two millennia, but attention works to sustain our kind. It is being forgotten that truly leads to trouble for our kind. And your kind," she adds. "That blurring of what is known about me and what I really watch over is deliberate, you know, as a way to make what I do easier," she continues. "As far as my purview these days, Fate, Prophecy ..." she shrugs her shoulders. "Espionage, and Secrets are what have always been what I've done well in. No one expects the stray cat to be reporting to a Goddess, or be a Goddess for that matter. I am the keeper of Thoth's Book, the Book that Must Not Be Read. Not until the Time is right, but I fear that time is approaching. "The Norsefolk call it Ragnarok." Felix opens his mouth, then closes it. "If I hadn't personally kissed a statue and watched it come to life, I would find this all very hard to believe. The end of the world. A mother that looks more like an older sister. A mother who happens to be an Egyptian goddess. Banned books from bird-headed gods of magic. No more Twinkies." "I've done better by you than your brother," she says with a nod. "I've eased you into the idea of Mythic Reality, rather than presenting it as a fait accompli. I believe my counterparts are doing similar things." She starts walking again. "A small group of deities, across pantheons, have decided to pool our resources, and our scions, on a project to try and stop the return of the Titans. Every God and Goddess, from the least to the Pantheon heads, want to stop the Titans and the Titanspawn. And nearly every one of them have their own ideas on how to do it. "A few of us have decided to try and do things differently," she says. "We're organizing a summit to hash out the details, but we all agreed to bring Scions to active status as part of our collective effort. I hoped to bring both you and your brother, but I suppose I only have your help to offer the Conclave. "If you are willing," she says. The world is going to end and you want to go and talk? is Felix's first thought. Then the logic of it hits him, and he moves on to, And just what do they want me to do, steal the Titans' credit cards? But all is says is, "Will there be wine and cheese?" "There will be blood, and fire, and high adventure, and possibly death," she says seriously. "But there will be wonders, and riches, and the chance to save the world. No doubt the Titans will try and stop our Conclave, and there will be conflicts before, during, and after it. "Will that suit?" Bast says. "We will have need of someone of quick mind and quicker fingers, someone who would be able to break into the Chateau of Winds. Someone fast enough to outwit the brood of Eurayle. "Someone like you." Felix gives Bast another sideways look, this one skeptical. "All right, I'm in," he says. "Yes. Steal 'em blind, that's me. Though I hope you have a good plan in mind, because I have the feeling immortal snake-hair things are immune to bullets." "Many of the greater Titans do not prove vulnerable to modern weapons," Bast says seriously. "Even a nuclear missile would have difficulty destroying the Great Serpent, were he to rise, awakened, from his deep watery lair. In many cases it would be best to find a way to imprison, bind and make them sleep again. "Some of the wiser amongst us," Bast continues, "warn that we cannot destroy the Titans, without altering the world irrevocably. They embody aspects of the world that, destroyed, lead to even greater dangers. Long ago, my son, a son of Odin One-Eye slew the Frost Giant Ymir. This ended an ice-age, and plunged the world into a Great Flood instead. "I've something in mind for you," she says, producing a necklace with a sizeable tiger's eye set in a filigreed basket at the bottom of the chain. "It is not a weapon, but rather something to help unlock your birthright as my son." She dangles the platinum necklace casually in one hand. Felix blinks a couple of times; despite having a semiprecious stone in it, the necklace looks unique. That usually means 'expensive.' "Unlock my birthright? Oh ... right. And do you know what that birthright might be?" He doesn't reach out, or anything, but is ready to accept it if she hands it over. Reaching out to take things from Egyptian gods somehow just doesn't sit right with him. "You are my son, you are descended from a Goddess whose Domain and Estates include Fortune and Luck, as befits a Goddess of Cats," she says, handing him the necklace at his hesitation to grab it. "This necklace will aid you in tapping into that good fortune. It should also allow you to do some minor shapeshifting. And to improve your reflexes beyond the ken of mortal man. Those two abilities will take some practice and effort on your part. "Like all foci such as thing, as you grow into your power, you will no longer need it to unlock your power, but for now, it is a key to you being able to do so. The gifts are unlocked by you meeting me, this merely allows easier access to them. "It is traditional for a divine parent to give an item such as this when meeting a Scion and finding her worthy of taking up the mantle," she adds. Felix nods and slips the chain over his head, looking a little nervous. "Luck," he says, "and reflexes. I can deal with that. But ... shapeshifting? You mean like into a statue and back?" Then he smiles. "Or a cat, right? That's ... hard to believe." "It may be difficult to believe," Bast says patiently. "However, I daresay you have witnessed strange things difficult to believe in the last few days, have you not? You have brought a statue to life, and met a Goddess. "The necklace will most easily give you cat-forms," she says. "For you, turning into a statue would not be extremely useful, save in unusual circumstances." She smiles. "I would advise practice, and faith in your abilities. A visit to a Mittelmarch world or a Chancel might also be in order, to help reduce your skepticism in the true state of the universe. "My divine cousin Epona has a chancel in western Connecticut, as a matter of fact. I do not think that visiting the Morrigan's world in Maine, or Hecate's realm reached in North Carolina would be wise. Their stances on uninvited guests can be somewhat more ... severe. But an education about such places may be indicated." "Chancel?" Felix looks confused, but only for a second. "Oh, I see. Like the clergy place in a church, but for us. Like a coven, even. That's an appropriate term. But Mittelmarch? World? Wow." He frowns suddenly. "Okay, you sold me. I'll go see this place in Connecticut. Maybe Galatea will come along and be a guide for a little while. But I have to ask, especially since you being here has got everyone on edge, like they've won the lottery. Will I ever see you again? After I leave here?" "Aside from the meeting in Las Vegas?" Bast says. "Oh,I think we will be in contact from time to time. Especially once you get the opportunity and skills to travel the Mittelmarch and come to realms directly under my rule. "Our kind, the true full Gods, cannot remain long here on Earth," Bast says. "Trouble and danger and reality warping follow you, and follow us even more. Such is our nature. You will soon see, if you haven't already. "Thus, we Gods take worlds in the Mittelmarch, or create Chancels. Or both, in some cases," Bast says. "So aside from Vegas, most of our future meetings, my son, will be elsewhere." Bast smiles proudly. "I look forward to seeing how you grow and develop." "Me, too." Felix smiles crookedly, suddenly feeling very awkward. "I suppose I, or we ... should go find the others. Then off to Connecticut. That's one thing I like about the northeast, nothing's really all that far from anything else." "Physically in any event. Temporally and socially, that is another matter entirely. Even if your fellow Scions have moved on from New Deptford, the High Reeve, as my sister goddess is known there, will be able to tell you where they have gone. All roads will eventually lead to Vegas, but the exact paths remain to be seen. "And the paths of those who serve the Titans remain unrevealed," Bast warns. "Do take Galatea with you. Find yourself a blade or weapon. If you can find a Maker amongst your fellow Scions to forge it anew, so much the better." Bast then gives a set of instructions involving strange and specific turns and u-turns on a road and walking around a statue to reveal a path to Epona's chancel. "Follow those directions precisely, and you will find her realm." "I will," Felix says. "Thanks, um ... well, Mother is a little too formal, and Mom a little too informal, isn't it? Or maybe not. Mom, then. I'll get used to it." Bast laughs. "In earlier ages, Mom would be extremely informal, but change has come to the human world in the last century, seemingly greater than any in the previous forty. "Galatea," she calls aloud. "You may return." She returns to look at Felix. "Miss Gilman will remain a useful contact for you, and may have future suggestions for contacts. And the reverse, of course. Go, make me proud." Felix smiles a little quirky smile. "I will," he says. "I'll see you later." And while he still has the courage to leave, he walks on ahead to where he knows the other two are waiting. He doesn't dare turn back around. At the front of the gallery, Gilman and Galatea stand talking quietly. Galatea gives Felix a smile, but Gilman smirks. "See. Not turned into a mouse. All official and everything. One of us, now. How does it feel? And where do you go from here?" Galatea moves smoothly to stand next to Felix. "The first milestone is complete. But only the first." "And now it's time for a road trip." Felix turns toward Gilman. "It doesn't feel the slightest bit different, really. Not yet. The next stop is supposed to be Epona's Chancel, in New Deptford. But before we go, I suppose I should practice something." "The Spiderman moment," Gilman says with a chuckle. "With great power does come great responsibility, not that your mother, or your companion, are likely to understand that sort of reference." "I do not," Galatea admits. "A comic book, dear," Gilman says. "They are amusing in that a few Gods and children of Gods are sometimes found as characters." She turns back to Felix. "I do have a Breakables Room in the basement for when I need to keep my skills up, or just feel like twisting an iron bar. Might I extend you an invitation, Felix?" she asks. "Thanks," Felix says. "I'd be delighted. And Galatea, I'd appreciate if you'd come, too." "I'd be delighted" Galatea says. In short order, Gilman leads Felix and Galatea through an unmarked, locked door (one that Felix notices is far more secure than even a door in a gallery has any right to be), and down a staircase lit by lightbulbs in cages, the Breakables Room proves to be a rectangular room that is a size that is a significant fraction of the main gallery floor. The room has a number of objects d'art, vases, glass cases in the center, as well as a set of Greek-style statues, all armed with weapons ranging from swords and spears to one with a trident and net. On the far wall hangs a set of weapons in turn, with an even wider range. Gilman walks over and picks up a xiphos, a greek double edged single hand sword. She swings it with a practiced flair and points it at the nearest statue. "Awake, child of Cadmus!" she commands, and steps back as the statue, armed with a shield and a short stabbing spear, starts to animate. Felix also notes that three of the other statues have started to animate as well. "Nothing like some live fire practice," Gilman says, laughing merrily. "Choosing a weapon might be wise." "Gah?!" Felix wasn't expecting a fight immediately, and it shows. A pistol appears in his hand almost like magic, and he unloads the clip in the face of the statue nearest him. Then, he does his best to become a panther. Galatea backs up from the line of fire of Felix and the nearest statue. Gilman for her part just watches. And indeed, the statues seem to be focusing mainly on Felix. The shot rings out, striking the statue in the torso. It is slowed, clearly damaged/injured, but not stopped by the bullet. Felix concentrates, willing himself to allow his birthright to come to life. A second statue topples a small glass case in its efforts to close the distance. There are thus two statues, one wounded within reach when the transformation happens. Like in the long ago television show, Felix grows fur, gains mass from somewhere, changes shape ... and becomes a sleek but muscular great cat, in black. What happened to his gun and his other possessions is not precisely clear. They aren't on the floor and he certainly is not carrying them. Gilman claps her hands, once. Galatea gives off a cry of delight. The nearest statue does take a stab at Felix with the spear. Felix is a great cat. The stabbing spear, especially because the statue is wounded, so far misses the mark that Felix can take the over-extension of the statue's missed aim to his advantage, should he press the attack or otherwise react. Since the statue is overextended and overbalanced, Felix takes the opportunity to spring up and over ... clear over the statue's head. The intent is to kick off the thing's back and away from the other statue. After that, it's going to be a game of keep away, since the main advantage of these things appear to be toughness rather than brains or dexterity. Plus, it's completely against Felix's sense of enlightened self interest to get injured in a scrimmage, especially when he's just now experiencing the novelty of four legs and multiplied strength and a completely different center of gravity. It's a good thing that a cat's instinct seems to be on his side ... Felix gets used to his new form very quickly. His plan goes off without a hitch, kicking off and away from the statue easily, and onto a tall case. The statue takes a few moments trying to figure out where Felix went. The second statue is a little more aware, and bounds toward Felix, seeking to knock down the case he is on and bring him to ground. Felix just manages to jump off of the case as the statue brings it crashing to the ground. That definitely would have hurt or even pinned Felix had the now four-footed Felix been a little slower. "Were you planning on actually fighting them?" Gilman asks. "or are you working solely on your shapeshifting and dodging skills? I'll adjust the difficulty slightly." She raises her hand and speaks in some language that sounds like the lovechild of Aramaic and Greek. All but the two statues go inert, the two statues still coming after Felix still are in pursuit, the one he kicked in the head further away and still getting bearings, the case-smasher relatively close. Felix turns his head towards Gilman and tries to say something, but only manages a half-growl. He shakes his head, then leaps back out of the way of the first statue. "Touchy cat," Gilman replies, amused. Galatea's reaction is a mixture of horror and fascination. After that, his strategy is simple; for the moment, stay away from the 'healthy' statue until there's an opening, then pounce on the 'injured' statue and try to take it out. The healthy statue tries to close the distance and catch Felix. He escapes being caught, his keepaway game most effective, allowing him to stalk the injured statue. He finally does get his opening and strike at the injured statue. The statue takes the full weight of Felix's pounce. Its reaction is awkward, and Felix manages to, with claws sharper than a ordinary feline, take the head off the thing. The statue goes inert immediately, Felix riding it to the ground as it falls. The healthy statue starts grabbing random items and throwing them at cases, trying to make the room full of broken glass to make Felix's life harder. The breakables room is certainly living up to its reputation as the statue implacably stares at Felix. Just as implacably, Felix perches on the inert, broken statue and pushes with a leg to scoot around on the thing like a surfboard and clear up glass-free lanes to move around in later. He sticks out a cat-tongue in the girls' direction. As if directed to do so, the statue watches as Felix pushes the broken statue around the area in an attempt to undo what had just been done. Felix may not have done this sort of thing before, but he sweeps the glass well enough to remove it as a real hazard; the statue cannot count on to help it in its conflict with him. As Felix finishes this cleanup, the statue reacts by throwing a vase at Felix The vase hits, sending shards of pottery that penetrate Felix's fur and skin. There are some bleeding cuts from the strike but it's relatively minor at the moment. Diversion over. Felix discovers that his patience has fled with the diversion. He snarls, and growls, and has but a moment to wonder if the animalistic part of him is responsible for this lack of control, but that hurt and this statue is going to pay. He leaps, bouncing from clear spot to clear spot, before a final magnificent claws-splayed pounce. The scream and leap is a glorious as a Kzinti battle warrior might appreciate or hope for. The statue raises an arm and keeps itself from being completely turned to rubble, but the force and skill of Felix's attack, and his claws, are enough to pummel the statue into senescence. It loses half of its head and a chunk of its shoulder, and Felix stands upon the defeated foe, the statue splayed out on the floor. "Well done," Gilman claps. "Well done indeed." She does not move closer, and narrows her eyes at Felix. "You are still in there, aren't you?" "He has to be," Galatea says, stepping toward Felix. "It would be a cruel capricious gift of the goddess otherwise." Felix essays the return back to human form (and discovers, in the process, whether a shape-change does anything for wounds). The shapechanging process does not seem to heal deep wounds, at least as far as Felix can tell. While these minor scratches are healed, and Felix is back to normal as a result, it is a close run thing, and if the wounds were deeper, they would not have healed fully. "That hurt," he says when he is able to talk. "Claws work better than I thought, but I'm going to need a bigger gun. A Casull, maybe, or a Desert Eagle. I don't like the idea of running up to get stabbed." "Welcome back," Gilman says. "Yes, you will find that having a variety of weapons would be a good thing. If you should want ammunition for your gun, when you get it, I can point you to those who sell special ammunition better suited to the types of things you will face in this world." She looks at the wrecked room and tuts. "The ritual to clean this up is going to take days. And it is your fault, Felix." Her tone, though, and her smile belie her words. "We should get going," Galatea says, looking at Felix. "Now that we know Felix truly is a Scion." "I really hope so. It'd be a rather uncomfortable explanation, otherwise," Felix says. "I suppose we do have to go. Sorry for the mess, ah ... those vases weren't genuine, were they? They looked ... expensive." "I could bore you for hours on the subject," Gilman says. "However, let me put your mind at ease. In my line of work, one comes across forgeries, frauds and fakes quite often. It is an amazing cottage industry, especially with Chinese pottery, but any sort of ancient art seems prone to it. "I acquire such fraudulent objects, and report the perpetrators to the appropriate authorities for justice, or offer mine own." She gives a grin, and there is a brief, sharp smell of seawater in the air. "Then, I bring such fake objects here, to be destroyed when the occasion arises. "They are thus quite useful in relieving stress. Or testing fellow Scions," she adds. "I don't feel quite so bad, then," Felix says. "Thank you for your hospitality ... sister?" he finishes, deciding to go with the same familiarity Gilman did. "I guess I had better start looking for the others, considering the plans of these Gods." To his credit, he only hesitates a little before managing to say that. "Father hasn't joined this conclave," Gilman replies. "Or else he would have likely dropped me into the same waters as you are swimming in." She gives Felix the address of a gunsmith near Tarrytown that will have a gun and ammunition for him. "Good luck, Felix. Is there anything else you need?" As if reading his mind and intention, she continues. "Perhaps a weapon for a more civilized age, in addition to getting yourself a gun?" Ten minutes later, Felix has a sword presented to him. Roman style, about two feet long. Despite its ancient style, it looks like it was crafted yesterday. "An old friend of mine, son of Hephaestus, made this, a couple of decades ago," Gilman explains. "He had a touch of foresight, too, said that it wasn't for me, but I would pass her on to someone coming to my shop. I think you fit that bill nicely." "Her name is Acer. He blooded it, or so he said, with the ichor of a manticore he killed after forging it." The sword is as light as a feather, and a test of it shows that it is amazingly sharp. "The scabbard must be specially treated to hold such a blade," Galatea guesses, rewarded with a nod from Gilman. "I ... I don't know what to say." Felix draws the sword out of the scabbard and examines the blade. His expression is completely nonplussed. "This is ... incredible, far beyond my expectations." Deciding he should say something more formal, he says, "I will use it well. And I'll keep in touch, that is, if you want me to." Gilman laughs. "Haven't you figured out the secret yet, Felix? Or perhaps it's so obvious that it should have been mentioned. Scions, Titanspawn, things and people with more reality impinge on the fabric of the world more forcefully. It means the world curves around us, and draws us together. We all meet, even if we don't recognize each other, with amazing frequency. The world works that way. "A scion, now a demigod, of Aphrodite once told me took a pilgrimage to Mecca, disguising himself to do it. In the middle of the Syrian desert, heading south, nowhere near an oasis or other likely meeting spot, he just so happened to run into a caravan heading from Persia to Constantinople, a diametrically different direction. And it so happened that one of the daughters of the goddess Mah was in that caravan. "We won't help but meet again," Gilman says. "I look forward to our next meeting, Felix. Galatea." Felix smiles. "So be it. Take care of yourself, and I'll look forward to seeing you again." Galatea in tow, Felix can return to his car and be on his way. Felix soon finds himself on the Thruway, and headed north and east, eventually angling back in the Nutmeg state again after a stop in Tarrytown at the gunsmith Gilman promised. Felix gets to try out a number of larger guns, and get, according to, Eliot, "the Gilman Discount" for his eventual purchase of guns and ammunition. He doesn't seem to be a Scion, but is clearly familiar with them and their world all the same. It is evening by the time Felix reaches the set of u-turns and odd directional quirks that Bast gave him. Still, like a charm, walking around the statue seems to reveal the path and road that was most definitely not there before. "The Goddess likes privacy for her chancel," Galatea comments on the trip down the new road to the parking lot and the bridge. "It would be unlikely for visitors to this park ever to stumble across the place." At the bridge, a couple of men stand watch. Felix does note a few vehicles, including a motorcycle, are already parked. The 19th century town across the river burns with gas lamps, giving off soft glows of light in the evening. Crickets chirp in the night air. "You must be more of the High Reeve's guests," the shorter, mustachioed man of the pair says. "We were not certain that there were going to be any others." "Seeing as we already have the representative of death before you," the taller, lean man laughs. "Bad luck for you two to follow death." The shorter man elbows him in the side. "That's not funny. She's a witch, that one. She won't turn you into a newt, but you'll wish she did, she hear you talk." "Right, who are you again?" he adds to Felix. Felix raises an eyebrow. "Felix Tycho, scion of Bast. Not as interesting as death, I suppose, but Mom always said I was lucky like that." He holds out both men's wallets. "Did you want these back? There's really nothing worth taking." |
