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Disclaimer and credits will be found after the end of the
chapter.




           DRUNKARD'S WALK V / OH! MY BROTHER! BOOK II:
            ANOTHER DIVINE MESS YOU'VE GOTTEN ME INTO

           by Robert M. Schroeck and Christopher Angel





3.  In Which The Neighbors Prove To Be More Annoying Than I Care
For


God does not play dice with the universe.  He plays an ineffable
game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the
perspective of any of the other players (i.e., everybody), to
being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a
pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a
Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who *smiles all the
time.*  -- From "Good Omens", by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

Every study of the gods, of everyone's gods, is a revelation of
vengeance toward the innocent.  -- From "A Prayer For Owen
Meany," by John Irving




Tarikihonganji Temple, Sunday, May 11, 1997, 7:31 AM

*I *hate* waking up with a freakin' headache,* Chris grumbled
silently, since he was not yet up to the task of speaking aloud.
*And this is the first one I've had since I got myself into this
gig, so it feels just that much worse.*  On top of that, he
couldn't tell if it were fading or intensifying -- or just
throbbing slowly -- as he staggered slowly down the hallway.

With one large hand rubbing his bleary eyes, Chris stumbled
blindly into the kitchen, following the sounds and scents of meal
preparation.  Eyes still closed, he took a long, deep breath and
frowned.  The smell of breakfast, while not unpleasant, was
unfamiliar.  With an effort, he ignored the pain in his head,
levered open his eyelids and slurred, "Good morning, Bell."

"Good morning, Christopher," Belldandy called out cheerily, all
but singing the words, without turning around from the range top
where she efficiently managed several bubbling pots and one
sizzling pan.

*Uh-oh.*  The bright tone of her greeting coupled with the use of
his full first name jolted Chris into complete and wary (if
painful) wakefulness.  The combination did not bode well.  Nor
did the brilliant but ever-so-slightly mischievous smile she then
favored him with.  A palpable sense of impending doom crept over
him at the thought of a *cheery* Belldandy who was still annoyed
at him.  *This is not good.  This is so very not good.*  Partly
in the hope of distracting her, and partly because he was
genuinely curious, he asked, "Have you seen Doug this morning?
He's not in his room and his futon is folded up."

"I believe he is on the roof," his sister replied, ladling a tiny
bit of a dark sauce into a small, shallow bowl.  Then she sipped
from the bowl and smiled to herself.

"The *roof*?" he repeated after what she'd said sunk in for a
moment.

"Yes, the roof."  With smooth, efficient movements she scooped
several small, golden-brown somethings from the pan and laid them
on a paper towel to drain.  "Would you be so kind as to ask him
to come in for breakfast?"  She glanced over her shoulder and
graced him with another brilliant but worrisome smile.

"Sure," he muttered and turned around to leave the kitchen the
same way as he'd entered.  "What the he... heck's he doing on the
roof?"

                              * * *

Fresh air seemed to help his head somewhat.  At least the
pounding was down to a manageable level that let him open his
eyes and keep them open despite the obscene brightness of the
morning.

*Kata.*  Chris blinked and confirmed what he was seeing.  *He's
doing kata on the roof.  On the ridge.  Along the ridge.  With...
music?*  Chris blinked again.  Doug seemed ... shiny, limned with
a faint silver light against the bright morning sky.  *Is he...
glowing?*

   "...Nooby ooby walla,
    Dooby abba nabba,
    Early morning singing song!

    Good morning, Starshine,
    There's love in your skies,
    Reflecting the sunlight
    In my lover's eyes.

    Good morning, Starshine,
    So happy to be
    My love and me as we sing
    Our early morning singing song..."

The music of course came from his helmet, which he wore -- an
incongruous contrast to the jeans and T-shirt in which he was
dressed.  Watching as Doug danced and spun along the narrow line
of rounded ceramic shingles that capped the peak of the highest
part of the roof, Chris shook his head.  *Well, now I know what
it was that confused Skuld so badly yesterday...  Guy moves like
nothing I've ever seen, god or mortal.*  He smiled to himself.
*Up there he's visible to most of the houses in the area.  Looks
like the neighbors are going to have something new to talk
about.*  One corner of his mouth twitched even higher.  *About
freakin' time.*

Chris stood silently in the yard as he watched Doug continue his
kata, frowning in confusion.  *What *is* he practicing, anyway?
That looked like a kung fu stance, but then he slid into a move I
*know* is from Tai Chi.*  That thought brought to mind the way
Doug had handed off Skuld during the confrontation after his
arrival, a hand-off that had involved moves from three different
martial arts blended into a seamless sequence.  Chris frowned in
concentration.

When the song ended, Doug bowed to the sun, which was not so far
above the horizon that it wasn't obviously in the East, and
reached under his helmet to undo the chin strap.  As he did so,
Chris shook himself from his musings, waved and called out, "Yo!
Doug!  Belldandy says breakfast is ready."

"Great!"  Doug's voice started off muffled by the helmet, but
became crisp and clear when he finished pulling it off.  Then,
without warning, he hurled himself off the roof.

Chris opened his mouth to yell, only leave it hanging open
soundlessly as Doug somersaulted, slammed feet-first into a
nearby tree trunk, ricocheted from there to touch momentarily
against the compound wall, then twisted and landed lightly on his
feet.  He held his helmet's chin strap in one hand still, the
helmet itself swinging wildly from it.  "What's she making this
morning?"

Chris took several moments to gather his wits sufficiently to
process the question, then slumped.  "Probably something I'm
going to loathe," he muttered desultorily.  "She's a bit miffed
at me over something I said."

Doug raised an eyebrow.  "And what, pray tell, did you say that
could upset a woman *that* calm and centered?"

Chris gave him a sidelong look with just a hint of glare.  "I
laughed at what you called her when you first woke up."

"What I called...?"  The older man frowned for several seconds in
obvious concentration, then his eyes shot open.  "Oh!  Oh,
yeah... that."

Snorting, Chris nodded.  "Yeah, *that*."

Doug grimaced.  "Would it help to say I was more than a little
stressed out?"

"Not particularly, but thanks for trying."

                              * * *

*"Vengeance is mine," sayeth the cook,* Chris thought glumly, and
poked at the items on his plate.  The headache had faded away
completely, but his torment was not yet over.  *No doubt about
it.  This is my punishment for laughing last night.*

Belldandy had prepared a sumptuous breakfast, as usual, and his
sisters, Keiichi and their house guest were all tucking in with
varying degrees of enthusiasm.  Not so himself.  Chris studied
the plate in front of him, hoping that the intensity of his
dislike would somehow trigger a heretofore-latent talent of his
godhood that would transmute the ... substance on it into
something he could eat.

No luck yet.

His sister's revenge was both subtle and cruel.  Breakfast was --
as it frequently became in Belldandy's hands -- a foray into the
foods of another culture, prepared with exquisite care and
attention.  However, this was a culture he'd never expected her
to explore.  He was certain the Deep South of the United States
had a great deal to offer the sophisticated palate -- but what
she'd set before him couldn't possibly be it.

The grits he could probably have handled -- as far as he was
concerned they were just another hot cereal.  But the viscous
dark brown liquid ladled into the bowl over them -- he wasn't
sure if it was a sauce or a gravy -- smelled strongly of coffee
and weakly of salt pork, and the thought of the combination made
his stomach lurch.  There were fried slices of something vaguely
meatlike (though not entirely so), somewhere between a dark tan
and a light grey in color.  It reminded Chris a little of
meatloaf, but only in the most general way, and the one piece
he'd surreptitiously lifted to his nose when Bell hadn't been
looking had again smelled more like pork than anything else he
could identify.

He was on safer ground with the golden, bready tidbits that
glistened slightly still with a bit of the oil in which they had
been cooked -- he'd at least *heard* of hushpuppies before, and
actually looked forward to trying the deep-fried blobs of
cornbread batter.  A flick of the wrist and he was able to
confirm that yes, they were as good as he'd imagined:  hot,
sweet, and almost as puffy as a doughnut.

But the thing that worried him most, though, was the pile of
*other* deep-fried tidbits that dominated his plate.  A quick
glance around the table confirmed that, yes, he easily had twice
as many of the small golden-brown disks as anyone else.  Given
his current tenancy in Belldandy's doghouse, this could not
possibly be a good sign.

Chris picked one fried disk up with his chopsticks.  It seemed to
be coated in the same batter that made up the hushpuppies, which
boded well.  Cautiously, he raised it to his lips and took a tiny
bite and chewed.

And stopped as the flavor hit him.  He closed his eyes and forced
himself to swallow the tiny bit of fried vegetable matter because
-- fit of pique or not -- he was not going to insult Belldandy by
spitting it out.  *Damn.  I hate it when I'm right.*

Okra.

Southern-freaking-fried okra.

He hated okra.  And Belldandy knew it.

It was going to be a *long* breakfast.

                              * * *

I'd never had a genuine Southern-style breakfast before, and was
giving it my all despite the unhealthy look of the scrapple and
the weird scent of the sauce on the farina.  But hell, I like
good food, and I'll try anything once -- twice if it doesn't kill
me.  And I've already given my opinion on Belldandy's cooking, so
regardless of what it looked or smelled like, I was more than
willing to go at it with enthusiasm.

Chris looked considerably less enthusiastic.  He took one bite of
the batter-dipped okra and his face went steel-shutter blank --
he obviously didn't like it but didn't want Belldandy to know.
Which failed of course, because if *I* caught on immediately,
Belldandy probably figured it out the day before.  Besides, it
*was* punishment after all.  *Take it like a man, buddy.*

So I dug in while he picked at his plate.  I was about halfway
through the bowl of coffee-bacon-flavored farina when Skuld
finally walked in.  I didn't look up at her, but I did half-
consciously track the progress of the red and white skirt that
was at my current eye level as it made its way around the table.
As I swabbed up a dollop of porkish-flavored grease with a
hushpuppy, I realized the skirt had stopped more or less next to
me and wasn't moving.  I popped the 'puppy into my mouth and
leaned back.

"G'morning, Skuld." I said as my eyes came to rest on Garban,
which was nestled in the little goddess' arms.

Keiichi stopped eating and stared at Skuld with faint dread in
his eyes.  Chris stopped playing with his food to watch us as
well.

"Good morning," she replied.  She didn't say anything else for a
couple of seconds, just stood there studying me.  Then she held
up the toy robot and looked it over.  "I don't usually like
machines that don't do anything useful," she said without
preamble.  "But you didn't know that.  And I think I know what
you wanted to say by giving this to me.  So..."  She took a
breath.  "Thank you."

On the other side of the table, Belldandy beamed as Urd grinned,
dare I say devilishly.  Chris raised an eyebrow and looked
impressed.  Keiichi let out a held breath.

I nodded and smiled.  "You're welcome.  Peace?"

She nodded once in return, vigorously enough to send shimmering
ripples down her long, black hair.  "Peace."

I slid over a bit and patted the empty pillow next to me -- I was
still next to what was apparently her usual place.  "Then sit
down and have breakfast with the rest of us."  As she did so, I
added, "Your sister has gone for the exotic this morning."

Chris started coughing.

"Truly classical cooking," I declared, and held up a piece of
scrapple speared on my fork.  "Bring back the glory that was
grease!"

Skuld snorted, and Urd chuckled, but Belldandy actually giggled.
I caught her eye and got an impish smile in return.  Chris, on
the other hand, scowled at me.  Apparently now that Skuld didn't
need it, it was his turn to use the family scowl.

I wondered for a moment if Belldandy ever used it, then
remembered what Chris had said about the previous night.  *Note
to self:  do not make Belldandy scowl.*  That resolved, I tipped
an imaginary hat to him, and went back to cleaning my plate.

Fifteen minutes later, Chris was still working his way through
his fried okra, but everyone else had finished.  As the rest of
the household dispersed to the four winds, I helped Belldandy
gather up the dirty dishes and insisted on carrying them into the
kitchen for her.  She protested about letting a guest perform
manual labor but I ignored her objections and reminded her that
a) I was more like a boarder than a guest, b) it was part of our
agreement, and c) dirty dishes didn't even rank *anywhere* near
the most unpleasant thing I could do around the house.

This little exchange lasted until we were in the kitchen proper.
After I stacked everything carefully by the sink, I turned to her
and said, "Double portions of okra?  Chris must have *really*
been a bad boy."

Belldandy giggled again, an extraordinarily pleasant sound that I
decided I wanted to hear more often.  "Oh, not really, but I do
have a bit of a temper, and it flared up last night.  This was a
safe way to express it."  An apprehensive look took over her
expressive blue eyes. "You don't think ill of me for it, do you?"

I laughed, then reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"My dear Belldandy, you're a Norse goddess.  I'd've been worried
if you *didn't* have a temper.  And I'm honored that my opinion
means *anything* to you."  Apprehension was replaced by
gratitude, but before she could say anything I went on, "And
you're right, fried okra is *definitely* safer than, say, power
blasts at 20 paces."

She giggled musically once more.  "I suppose I should go tell him
he's forgiven and he doesn't have to finish it all."

"Probably a good idea," I replied, nodding.

Before Belldandy could do more than turn toward the door, though,
an unfamiliar male voice calling out a traditional greeting
echoed through the house.  "Oh," she said brightly, "that sounds
like Louis."

"Louis?"  I asked.

Belldandy nodded.  "One of Chris' friends from school."

                              * * *

Much to Louis' obvious amusement, Chris raised his eyes to the
ceiling and mouthed "thank you!" as soon as Belldandy pulled the
plate with the remaining okra from the table.

With unusual care, the young god slid back away from the table so
he could stand without causing another disaster.  He rose to his
feet, his knees and back popping as he did so, then rolled his
shoulders, and rotated his waist, each one eliciting more cracks
and pops. Finally, he put his hands to his head and twisted it in
a truly alarming fashion.

As each noise echoed in the room, Belldandy winced and grimaced,
her expression becoming more and more tortured until Chris
finished.  With a shudder, she fled into the kitchen, and Chris
grinned evilly after her.  Then he turned to Louis with a
suspicious look.  "You're here awfully bright and early in the
morning," he commented.  "What's up?"

Louis looked away, his good humor draining from his face.  "I
wanted to apologize..."

Chris's face flushed as he exploded with, "Tian-mu's tits!  You
freaking told him!"

With a reluctant nod, Louis said, "Sorry.  I'm sworn to the
service of an Archangel, I really didn't have any *choice* in the
matter.  I had to inform Jean."  A sheepish half-smile flitted
across his lips.  "At least I had the decency to let you know."

"Great," Chris rasped.  "Just freaking great.  Now Jean's going
to tell that prick Dom, and I'll have got a bloody Inquisitorial
Triad on their way, and there's nothing we can do about it.
Neither Urd, Skuld nor I can get rid of them, and Bell *won't* --
she'll just keep serving them tea, no matter how annoying they
get."  Absently, he began to systematically pop his knuckles.
"And I can't rope Thor or Indra into it either because I still
owe them from *last* time!  GAH!  And he's probably going to send
his most annoying trio just to piss me off!"  He clenched his
fists until the knuckle joints popped.  "I really *hate* angels
of Judgment."

"It's not all bad.  I mean, since you're not part of the Choir
they have no real authority over you, right?"

"Yeah, and *I* have no authority over *them*!"

"As long as you don't punch one.  You remember what happened last
time."

Chris glared at his mortal friend.  "As I recall, you were
responsible for *those* nimrods showing up, too.  Remind me why I
keep you as a friend?"

Louis crossed his arms and smiled smugly.  "Because I buy the
beer."

"That'll do."

                              * * *

9:07 AM

Despite my pretty words after breakfast, I still did not fully
trust Belldandy.  It was inconceivable in my experience for a god
-- even an incarnated aspect so clearly acculturated to life as a
human as Belldandy seemed to be -- to honestly give a tinker's
damn about the opinion a mere mortal like myself might hold about
her behavior.  (Yeah, yeah, yeah, Hexe.  But Hexe's *different*.
In all the right ways.  And even then she doesn't give a shit
what anyone thinks of her anyway, so it's a null issue.)

So even as I stood next to Belldandy and helped with the dishes,
I was busy turning her words and actions over and over in my
mind, trying to figure out what her angle actually was.  I didn't
come up with any useable answer by the time all the dishware had
been put away, so I kept on musing on it as I turned to my
primary task of the day -- further work on my bike.

Try as I might, I couldn't figure out what she wanted.  The fact
is, the Three simply *aren't* nice.  Depending on how you looked
at them, they either couldn't afford to be, or didn't want to be.
Remember, these are the same Entities who are also the Furies at
least part of the time, not to mention several other more-than-
slightly bloodthirsty trinities.  (And having had come to mind
the image of a blood-splattered and wild-eyed Belldandy, gore-
dipped sword in hand, sweetly saying, "I'm terribly sorry but I
have to kill you quite horribly now" certainly didn't help me
come to any conclusions, although it *did* give me a fit of the
giggles for a few minutes.)  And in the aspects which inhabited
the avatars with whom I now lived (i.e., the Norse version of the
Greek Fates) they *all* should have been at the best cold and
unfeeling about mortal men and at the worst gleefully sadistic.

So Belldandy not only being as nice as she was but also being
concerned about my opinion of her made absolutely no sense to me,
except in terms of some kind of manipulation.  But try as I
might, wrack my brain as I did, I could not for the life of me
come up with anything immediate and obvious, which left me no
choice but to assume that her goal, whatever it was, was
fiendishly and possibly ineffably subtle.  And I resigned myself
to being bit on the ass by it at the most inopportune time, which
is usually the case.

(Mind you, this doesn't mean I didn't *like* Belldandy -- or her
siblings, for that matter.  Against my better judgment and
against my will, I found that I *did* like them all, however
tentative it was at that early date.

I just didn't entirely trust them.

Yet.)

Oddly enough, coming to this conclusion set my mind at a kind of
fatalistic ease.  The Three were, among their many other roles,
the primary enforcers of Finagle's Law, and the perversity of the
universe was something with which I'd long ago come to terms.
Living with and inside my field had inured me to it even before I
was out of high school -- the only other alternative was to go
loudly and spectacularly crazy.  (No comments from the peanut
gallery, please!)  So anyway, chalking Belldandy's odd behavior
up to business as usual with the universe at large actually
allowed me to relax and devote my entire mind to the real
business at hand -- my bike.

It being a Sunday, no one had classes or much in the way of other
obligations, so I had plenty of hands to help me with the work on
my motorcycle.  But other than Skuld, who had settled in for the
long haul, and Megumi, who was devouring everything we could give
her on gravitics, people tended to drift in, lend a hand for an
hour or so, and drift out again.

Even Belldandy joined the team for a while (in the company of
Keiichi, of course, and don't think I hadn't included *that*
relationship and its oddities in my ruminations about her
motives).  I was surprised to discover that she was no stranger
to this kind of work.  The clean but comfortably-broken-in
coverall with her name neatly stitched in katakan on the left
breast, not to mention her skill with a wrench, made it clear
that she'd worked on engines and vehicles before.

I'd give a blow-by-blow description of the work we did on the
motorcycle, but to be honest it was mostly boring grunt work --
pick a subsection, find the necessary parts among Skuld's rather
idiosyncratic organizational system, carry them to a clear bit of
floor, sit and assemble.  Retrieve tools as necessary, put them
back when done.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

Among those tools was the same cleverly-designed plasma
welder/cutter combination Skuld had been using the day before,
which from its red-and-white coloring and the prominent "S" on
its case I figured was something that she had cooked up herself.
(Also by the way the other members of the household shied away
from it when I powered it up.)  I eagerly looked forward to using
it while reassembling the cycle's frame.

Theoretically, that task shouldn't have been a big deal. Skuld's
exploratory surgery hadn't gotten so far as to render it into
component atoms, at least -- compared to other parts of the bike,
it was mostly intact.  And Skuld had already reassembled part of
it while the rest of us were dealing with those grad-school gits
Ootaki and Tamiya.  On top of that, Megumi had actually found the
remaining parts while getting a running feed on the basics of
gravitics from Skuld and myself.  With Belldandy's help she had
begun laying the pieces out in place.  It *should* have been a
matter of a couple of hours at the most, even if we needed to
weld something that I hadn't noticed.  It *should* have been.

That was before I spotted Megumi studying a piece of the frame
tubing with a funny look on her face.  I didn't give it much
thought, since we didn't need that particular piece yet, and my
attention was primarily focussed on Skuld, who was doing the
actual welding.  But every once in a while Megumi would pass
across my field of vision, a pair of calipers or a micrometer or
whatnot in one hand, and (after the first couple times), Skuld's
computerized Etch-A-Sketch in the other.

The next time I really paid attention to what she was up to,
she'd plopped herself down on one of the stools and had begun
typing away furiously on the flat screen of the device, which
she'd perched precariously on her knees.  Every once in a while
she'd pause and check a piece of paper on the workbench next to
her, then start typing again; her fingertips striking the screen
made a dull, flat noise unlike the clicking keyboards I was used
to.

About that time I'd taken over Skuld's mini-welder and had gone
to work on the turbine mount, and didn't pay any further
attention to what Megumi was up to.  I'd had some ideas for
improving the mount for a few months but hadn't gotten around to
implementing them, and regardless of how I felt about what she'd
done, Skuld's vandalism of my bike gave me the perfect
opportunity to do so.  So it happened that I was busy sculpting a
new mount bracket with quick, deft movements of the welder/cutter
head when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I shut down the device and took off my goggles.  Megumi and Skuld
were standing together next to me.  "We need you to see
something," Megumi said solemnly.

Next thing I know, Skuld and Megumi are bookending me and waving
the plans for the grav drive under my nose, both trying to
explain something to me simultaneously and rendering each other
unintelligible in the process.

I held up my hands.  "Hold on!" I didn't quite bellow, but it was
loud enough to make Keiichi and Belldandy both look up from where
they were piecing together the front fork and its mount.  "One at
a time."

"We have a problem," Megumi said.  "All I know about grav tech I
learned yesterday afternoon and today, so I really don't know
much at all, but I *do* know something about vehicle frames."

"Look here."  Skuld twiddled something on the edge of the
sketchpad and a false-perspective field strength diagram sprang
up over a wire-frame image of the bike.  Then the whole thing
animated.  The simulation's drive spooled up to full power and as
the time progression started going logarithmic I watched in
dismay as the frame slowly warped and buckled.  When all that was
left was a twisted ruin of glowing lines, I hit the big "pause"
button on the screen and checked the projected time.  Five years,
two months, eight days, and a handful of hours.

I suppressed a wince.  "Five years isn't too bad."

"That's a best-case projection," Megumi said.  ""Best case"
meaning that the bike never actually moves in that five years.
You put any kind of stress on the frame, the whole process
accelerates."

"Stress like, say, riding around on it?" I asked.

"Bingo," Skuld replied with a smirk.

"We can't use the bike's original frame," Megumi declared.  "Not
with Skuld's improvements to the grav drive."

I opened my mouth but Skuld didn't let me get a word out.  "And
before you say anything," the girl growled, "we're *not* going
back to your old junkpile.  We'll just have to make a new frame
from scratch, something without microfractures or other flaws
that can stand up to the field stresses."

"*How?*"  I finally got a word in edgewise.

"Leave that to me," Skuld declared airily.  I raised an eyebrow
and she smiled.  "Seriously.  I'll come up with an alloy that
will do the job, trust me."

"And when she knows the properties of that alloy, I'll design the
frame," Megumi added confidently.

"*We'll* design the frame," Skuld interjected, and Megumi nodded
vigorously.

"Okay, right, *we* will design it.  But that's *my* specialty --
mechanical engineering."  She grinned suddenly.  "Besides, just
imagine the challenge:  design a frame for a flying motorcycle
built from an alloy concocted by a goddess?  That's something *no
one's* ever done before.  I can't wait to get started!"

Well, *someone* suddenly had a burst of enthusiasm.  Not that I
objected at all.  Especially since it seemed infectious -- Skuld
almost visibly brightened under the onslaught of Megumi's
eagerness and energy.  (Not to mention the compliment implied by
her obvious desire to work with the girl goddess and whatever she
cooked up in her lab.)

For a moment, Skuld stood blinking with a growing smile spreading
across her face.  Then she grabbed Megumi by the elbow and turned
to drag her back towards the workbench at the rear of the shop.
"Well, let's go, then!  You need to be in on the start of this
then," she declared.

"Hold on!" I all but shouted -- again.  They stopped and turned
back to me and the others looked up from what they were doing.

"Whatever you two come up with," I continued, a little more
softly, "I want to know about it.  *All* the details.  After
all," I added Skuld opened her mouth to protest, "I'm going to
have to maintain it all by myself when I leave this timeline, so
I damn well better know everything I can about it."

Skuld's mouth closed with a snap, and she traded glances with
Megumi.

The mortal girl spoke first.  "Fair enough.  I'm going to have a
whole sheaf of plans when I'm done.  It won't be a problem to
make sure you have a copy of everything."

Skuld nodded.  "And I'll document my alloy for you."

"Good, that's a start," I replied, "but I want to be in on every
part of this process."

Skuld gave me a "you *must* be kidding" frown that was equal
parts precious and intimidating, but before I could react in any
way, it vanished from her face and she nodded shortly, once. "All
right."

Then she turned to Belldandy and Keiichi and said, "Okay, that's
it for now.  We'll have to come back to all that later."

"Really?" Keiichi asked as he helped Belldandy up.  Once she was
standing he shot me an enquiring look.  "Are you sure?"

I shrugged and said, "You heard the lady.  Thanks for the help,
but it looks like the plans have changed."  I grimaced.
"Literally."  As they left, I glanced at Chris.  "What about
you?"

He shook his head with a small smile.  "Skuld knows better than
to tell me to leave.  I'm here because she gets all pouty if I
don't stay for the show."

Skuld made a rude noise and stuck her tongue out at him, and I
chuckled softly.

"Show?" Megumi asked him with a frown.  "What's coming next?"

"This," Skuld replied, stepping to one end of her workbench and
opening a long, narrow panel to reveal a bright red lever.  With
a smirk at us, she reached in and pulled it.

A low rumble shook the shack as the entire back wall of the
structure -- bench, cabinets, and all -- suddenly split apart
along seams that had been up to that moment invisible.  The rear
of the shed became a blur of motion as its component pieces
rotated, slid, flipped and folded themselves like some monster
Rubik's cube.  Sections melted back into the wall, new pieces
extruded forward, and even the floor under our feet rippled,
changing from plain wood to a mix of hard tile and steel that
extended halfway toward the door.

Gone were the wooden workbench and the equipment on and around
it.  In their place a wall of gleaming ceramic plates appeared,
studded by small doors of dark metal with heavy hinges and
latches.  One of these hung open, revealing darkness within.
Along the base of the wall were bins of metal ingots of all
colors and sizes, and over these hung all the tools of a master
metalcrafter.  To the sides, a lathe, drill press and other power
tools of a decidedly futuristic design seemed to melt out of the
walls, those on the right taking their places around the little
fridge which was the only holdover from the previous
configuration.  In the center, an ancient-looking anvil of
battered and scarred black iron rose out of the floor, mounted on
a high-tech hydraulic base.  It thudded to a stop just at waist-
height to Skuld.

Just as the last bits snapped into position and restored a sense
of immutable solidity to the place, the rumble faded away and
there came a clicking sound followed by the almost tactile
*whomp!* of igniting gas.  The dark space behind the one open
hatch in the wall suddenly blossomed with brilliant flame.  A
pulse of heat warmed our faces a moment later.

"Whoa," Megumi whispered.

I nodded in agreement.  "That has to be one of the coolest things
I have ever seen."

Skuld visibly preened.

Chris was shaking his head, a reluctant grin crossing his face.
"My little sister is such a show-off."

The preening vanished as Skuld scowled at Chris.  Then she
stepped forward, closed the open hatch, and turned back to us.
"Now," she said, "we go to work."

                              * * *

"Go!" Skuld spat.  "Now."

Megumi kept her head down and stifled a smile.  She'd seen this
coming, right from the beginning when she'd learned from a
sheepish Doug that he knew nothing about metallurgy except a
little about something called "essential metal" -- which was
apparently a completely magical substance and shouldn't count at
all, in her humble opinion.

"But..." Doug began.

"You're *in* *my* *way*!"

Doug, however, had appeared to be determined to learn all there
was to know about metallurgy in one afternoon by watching Skuld
intently and asking the odd -- sometimes *very* odd -- question.
Megumi had tripped over him herself a couple of times, but Skuld
had it far worse -- and she had finally gotten fed up.

The young goddess carefully laid several ingots on the anvil,
pushed a damp lock of hair out of her eyes, and took a long
breath.  Then she turned to Doug.  "I need 250 cc of dreki blood
for this mixture," she said with an exaggerated calmness that
almost set Megumi to giggling.  "I know Urd has some in her lab.
Could you find her and ask for some?"

Doug studied her for a moment, then nodded.  "Sure.  Dreki blood,
you said?"

"Yes.  250 cc."

"Right.  I'll be back."

When he was gone, Megumi finally let herself look up.  "Do you
really need that, the whaddayacallit blood?"

Skuld shared a conspiratorial smile with her.  "Not for this
test, no.  But if I didn't get him out from under my feet soon, I
was going to take my hammer to him!"

Megumi snickered.  "Well, you can't fault him for enthusiasm."

                              * * *

I found Urd lounging on the engawa.  That wasn't a surprise; it
seemed to be her favorite place to be.  "Ah, there you are."

"Of course.  I'm always here," she said without opening her eyes.
"It's all you other people who go away."

"Cute."  I sat down next to her.  "Solipsism as punch line."

She opened her eyes then swung her legs around and off the edge
of the wooden walkway, levering herself upright as smoothly as
though she'd been sitting in a La-Z-Boy recliner instead of lying
flat on her back.  "I only steal from the best."  She gave me a
long, amused up-and-down look.  "Hm.  No external wounds, but
you're here even though by the sound of it Little Sister is still
hard at work."  Urd raised an eyebrow.  "She got annoyed with you
and threw you out?"

I didn't dignify that with a response.  "She asked me to get 250
cc of dreki blood from you."

Urd closed one eye and laid a finger along her nose.  "She got
annoyed with you and threw you out."

"Hey!"

"No matter."  She hopped to her feet and made a languid "follow
me" gesture.  "Right this way."

                              * * *

After dropping yet another small ingot into the incandescent
liquid, Skuld slid the crucible back into the furnace.  "I think
I have the mix just about right," she said over her shoulder.
"Let it melt and blend for a little while more, and we should be
able to make a test piece."  With a musical clang, she shut the
hatch, and the heat level in the room dropped noticeably.

"Great!"  Megumi spun and studied the wall full of bins.
"Extruder, right?"

Skuld wiped her forehead with the back of one hand as she stepped
back away from the furnace.  "Whew.  Yeah, exactly.  We'll want
our test pieces to have the same crystallization pattern as the
final product."

Megumi rolled her eyes.  "I knew that.  I *am* an engineer, after
all."  She stepped closer and began peering at the tiny lettering
on the labels of the bins.  "So, where is it?"

"Oh!"  Skuld glanced at the wall.  "Third row from the top, fifth
bin from the left."

"Right."  Megumi opened the bin and wrestled the extruder and its
dies from inside.  A moment later they all landed atop the anvil
with a thudding clang.  Megumi studied the base of the device and
the top of the anvil.  With a nod she twisted the extruder
slightly so that it clicked into place on the anvil.  Then she
pulled out the die that was in it and replaced it with one that
would form tubing of the right thickness when the molten metal
was forced through it.  "'Kay, it's ready."

"Great!" Skuld replied.  "Now we wait."  She waved at the bench
across from her.  "Pull out a stool and sit down."

"Good idea."  When they were both seated, on opposite sides of
the small forge area, Megumi leaned back, closed her eyes and
sighed.  "You know, I like being able to talk to you like this
instead of thinking you were just some punk kid who knew a lot
about machines.  This is so much better."

"Thanks, I guess."  Skuld spun in her seat to open the
refrigerator behind her.  Pulling out two bottles of water, she
tossed one to Megumi.  "Here."

Megumi snatched it out of the air and held its chilled surface to
her forehead.  "Thanks, it's sweltering in here."

"Well, duh, furnace."

The older girl grimaced.  "C'mon, give me a break."

Skuld had the grace to look sheepish.  "Sorry."

"It's okay, I guess."  Megumi opened the bottle and took a long
swig.  "So, since we're here and waiting, I've got a few more
questions for you about... well, what you and your sisters and
your jerk of a brother all *are*."

A single raven eyebrow lifted.  "What we *are*?"

"Well, you're all kami... but kami of *what*?"

"Ooooh, I see."  Skuld took a quick sip from her bottle.  "Well,
that's kind of a complicated question."

Megumi scowled.  "You say that to everything I ask."

"Well, it's true!" Skuld protested.  "I mean, it's complicated to
begin with, but then I have to figure out how to tell a mortal in
terms that a mortal can understand that don't just completely
confuse things."  She pouted.  "It's not easy!"

The older girl rolled her eyes.  "Okay, just do your best, then."

"Okay."  Skuld settled in a bit on her stool and took another
sip.  "The first thing that makes it complicated is that, well,
like I said yesterday, I'm like a finger puppet.  There's
something -- some*one* -- *more* real than I am, who I'm *part*
of.  My Overself.  I'm not all of Her, but She's all of *me* --
I'm kind of like a subset of Her.   And She's a lot of different
but related things, all at once."

"Like what?"

"Well..."  Skuld scrunched up her face in thought.  "Let's start
with me.  You wanted to know what I'm a kami of?  I'm the Future
-- youth, energy and hope, fear and dread, the possibilities of
what may come.  I'm technology and innovation, stagnation and
ruin, birth and death -- all that the future can bring.  In a
way, I'm newness, creation and change. But then, my Overself is
all about that.  She and I are the Maiden -- youth, potential,
and purity.  In fact, one of the other faces my Overself takes is
Uriel, the Christian Archangel of Purity."

Megumi sat up straight.  "What, you're running around in more
than one body?"

"Not really.  *I'm* not Uriel, and Uriel's not *me* -- we don't
share one mind.  We're different people.  Really!  But we're both
expressions of the Maiden."

Megumi frowned and bit her lip.  "That's *so* weird."

Skuld shrugged.  "Not really.  It also helps that *I'm* not
nearly so much about Purity as Uriel is -- I'm more about change
and development and where things are going.  But there's enough
of it in me that I really *don't* like perverts," she added with
a growl, and Megumi giggled.

"Okay, that's you.  What about your sisters?"

Hooking her feet around the legs of her stool, Skuld leaned back
and drained her water bottle before answering.  "Urd's a face of
the Crone -- that's why she's got the white hair.  She had to
have *some* mark of it on her.  Her domain is the Past -- all
that came before, all that made each person what he or she is
today, and what can lead them to the future.  She's memory,
history, and in her own way, mystery, since the past is always
viewed though the filter of the present."

"Is she anyone else, too?"

"Oh, sure!  We all have archangel counterparts in Christianity,
and our Overselves have avatars in most other religions, too.
Urd's is Yves, the Archangel of Destiny."

Megumi nodded.  "And Bell?"

"Well, her Overself is known as the Mother.  Big surprise, huh?"
Skuld shared a quick grin with Megumi.  "Belldandy is the Present
-- the culmination of all that came before, and the groundwork
for all that comes in the future.  She's the now, the necessity,
the vitality and energy of the present, and in her own way,
what's warm and comfortable, while being awesome and
overwhelming.  She's also fidelity and faith, but that resonates
a lot more strongly for her archangel counterpart, Khalid, who
has almost nothing else of the Mother."

Skuld suddenly fell silent, and her eyes became distant.  Megumi
waited for a few moments, and was about to interject something --
anything! -- to restart the conversation, when Skuld said,
softly, "There was Another, once, the Warrior, Eternity...  but
she's been lost to us for so long."

"Lost?" Megumi whispered.

Skuld looked up, and the mortal girl was stunned by the mix of
despair and anger in her eyes.  "Don't ask.  Please."

Megumi averted her eyes.  "All right."  Then, desperate for
anything to get rid of that look, she asked, "What about your
jerk of a brother?  Where does *he* fit into the scheme of
things, godwise?"

"Well," Skuld shot her a thankful smile, then leaned back and
half-closed her eyes.  "You know that my sisters and I are a
matched set.  A team, of sorts.  We're always together, whatever
pantheon our Overselves express themselves through.  The maiden,
the... the mother, and the crone."

"So what does this have to do with Chris?" Megumi pressed.

Skuld waved one hand.  "I'm getting there!  It's all symmetry,
you see.  You know enough about science to know that there's a
kind of balance in most everything.  The same thing here.  Urd,
Bell and I have male counterparts.  Our equals, complements, and
brothers, roughly speaking."

Megumi nodded.  "I see.  Chris is one of *them*."

A sly grin broke out over the girl's face.  "Well, 'Niichan is a
special case... a very special case, but yeah.  On one front,
he's the Moment -- the pivot point where things can change, for
the better or worse.  He's outside Time, since his domain has
power no matter if it has passed, is happening now, or going to
happen.  He's the fluke, the accident that allows a person to
overcome their past, surpass the present, and shape their
future."

"And *his* Overself is?" Megumi prompted.

Skuld's smile faded away to a contemplative look.  "Well, that's
part of what makes him a special case.  I can't really talk about
that yet."

"Yet?" Megumi's eyebrows shot up.  "Bull.  From what Keiichi told
me, he's just some ordinary bozo who got a power-up.  So what's
the big secret?  That he's *not* really a god, because he doesn't
have an overself like you and your sisters?"

Skuld was off her stool and standing nose to nose with Megumi so
quickly the older girl wondered if she'd teleported.

"*Never* say anything like that around any of us again," Skuld
whispered with a quiet yet harsh tone that took Megumi entirely
by surprise.  "Kami-sama says 'Niichan is a god, so 'Niichan *is*
a god.  Do you understand me?"

Eyes wide, Megumi nodded slowly, twice.

"And you will *not* say a word about overselves to him," Skuld
continued, the menace in her voice growing more and more
pronounced.  "I should never have mentioned them to you at all.
So you will just forget I did.  Or else."

"Or else what?" Megumi retorted with a bravado she didn't
actually feel.

"Or else," Skuld whispered harshly, "I will *make* you forget.
And I'm *terribly* sloppy with memory magic," she added with a
malicious grin.  "I might... *accidentally* remove other memories
at the same time by mistake -- like all your schooling.  Or your
knowledge of Japanese."  The grin vanished, and her eyes flashed.
"Do you understand me?"

Wordlessly, Megumi nodded again.

"Good."  Skuld stepped away, and Megumi suddenly released a
breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"C'mon," Skuld went on, her voice, posture and entire attitude
reverting to that of an energetic early-teen.  "The test alloy
ought to be ready to work with now."

                              * * *

"So," I said, glancing around the place.  "What's a dreki?"

Urd's lab was almost as old-school as Skuld's workshop was new --
at least at first glance.  All it needed was a stuffed alligator
hanging from the ceiling and shutters over the windows to dim the
light down to a suitably spooky level, and it would look like
every mad alchemist/wizard's lab you ever saw in the movies.  The
second glance would put the lie to the first.  Much of the
equipment was gleaming and new despite its old-fashioned styling,
the shelving was recent vintage with artificial "distressing" to
make it seem old, and the various implements on the professional-
grade work table were right out of a lab supply catalog.  There
*was* a classic iron cauldron, but it hung over a gas ring.  And
had that been a locker of protective gear over in the corner?  I
never got a really good look.

Urd glanced over her shoulder at me before turning back to search
a particular shelf.  "'Dreki' is Old Norse for 'dragon'.  We use
it these days for creatures like Fafnir and Nidhoggr that hail
more or less from Northern Europe, to distinguish them from, say,
their Asian and South American cousins.  Or even Mediterranean
dragons."

I hopped up onto a stool at the end of the table.  A wooden box
full of what looked like random bits of broken junk sat on the
tabletop right next to me, and idly I began to poke through it.
"Interesting.  So this is blood from a Scandinavian dragon that
Skuld wants?"

Urd nodded without taking her eyes off the shelf.  "Exactly.  To
be precise, from one of Nidhoggr's spawn.  If I have any left,"
she added in a peeved tone.  "Every time Belldandy wants to clean
the oven, she dips into my supply."

I chuckled at the idea of cleaning an oven with dragon's blood
(it was a use for the stuff I'd never heard of, though I knew of
almost a dozen others) and kept digging through the box.
Interesting collection of doodads in there -- a solitary cogwheel
with a few missing teeth, a cracked and chipped gem of a
transparent golden hue, a hunk of broomstick, among a lot of
other odds and ends.  I held the gem up to my eye and peered
through it while twiddling the broomstick through my fingers.
"What's all this?" I asked.

"Huh?"  Urd glanced back at me again.  "Oh, that's just a bunch
of junk Skuld brought back from Asgard a few days ago."

"Junk?"  I studied her through the gem, which made her appeared
jaundiced as well as tan.

"Junk," she repeated as she went back to searching.  "Worthless
trash.  You're welcome to anything in there you think looks
interesting."

"Hm."  I dropped the gem back into the box and picked up a short
strip of pink leather with alternating green dots and holes.
Holding one end between my thumb and forefinger, I studied it
with magesight.  Nothing.  "I don't think so... I don't really
need anything like this.  Then again," I added, looking at the
hunk of broomstick still in my other hand, "This is just the
right size to use as a whaddayacallit -- one of those sticks you
use to hit shiatsu points in combat.  I could use one of those
to practice with."

"Good, good, sure," she said absently, not quite listening to me.
"Ah!"  Her hand darted into the dark depths of the shelf.  "There
you are!"  When she withdrew it, she held a clear glass jar about
the size of can of Campbell's soup, mostly filled with a sluggish
purplish-red liquid.  She held it up to her eyes and shook the
jar back and forth slightly, making its viscous contents slosh in
slow motion, like tranquilized forty-weight.  "Hm.  250 cc will
just about wipe out my supply."  She turned and grinned
brilliantly at me.  "No problem, I'll take it out in trade next
time I need a favor."

Urd set the jar on the table and retrieved a large graduated
cylinder and an empty bottle from a cabinet.  "Just let me
measure this out for you," she added as she pulled on a pair of
protective gloves.

"Sure."  I dropped the broomstick chunk back into the box.  "So,
this blood, was it donated?"

"Huh?"  Urd looked up from where she was slowly pouring the thick
liquid into the cylinder.  "Oh, no.  Spawn are nasty evil things,
but little more than beasts as far as intelligence is concerned.
Every once in a while one sneaks across Asgard's borders, and
everyone turns out to hunt it down.  You have to kill them
because they won't back down or retreat, and if you leave them
they'll just destroy everything they run into."  She shuddered.
"Nasty things," she repeated.  "Take a whole lot to kill, too,
though there was this one time a little mortal girl with a wooden
sword defeated one all by herself."

I raised an eyebrow.  "Really?"

Urd set down the jar and crouched down to check the level in the
cylinder.  "Oh, yeah.  You wouldn't believe the party we threw
her when we found out."

"Why am I not surprised?" I chuckled.

She stood and started pouring the contents of the cylinder into
the empty bottle.  "Okay, there you go.  250 cc.  Let Skuld know
that that's pretty much it for my supply -- if she needs more for
her metalwork, or Belldandy needs to clean the oven any time
soon, we'll have to go home and restock."  She capped the bottle
(with surprising dexterity given the heavy gloves) and handed it
to me.

"Thanks, I'll do that."

                              * * *

10:35 AM

Chris tossed two ibuprofen tablets into his mouth and then washed
them down a big swig of water from the cup in his hand.  Lack of
interest hadn't been the only reason he'd cut out of Skuld's
workshop as quickly as he could after the focus had changed to
forge work.  His headache, his first in the more than a year
since he'd become a god, had roared back across his skull with a
vengeance.

He walked slowly from the bathroom back to his own room, taking
small, soft steps that jarred his body as little as possible.
Even so, it didn't help as much as he'd hoped -- each pace sent a
little shock up his leg and spine and right into the six-foot-
long, serrated, electrified steak knife that someone had so
thoughtfully inserted sideways through his skull.

*So,* he thought dimly as he grasped at the frame of the door to
his room, *this is what a migraine feels like.  I'll pass, next
time.*  As he collapsed into his bed, his last semi-coherent
thought was of his profound disappointment that the Boss hadn't
bothered to yank this particular little bit of the mortal
experience out of him when he'd lost all the other parts of being
human that he actually missed.

No sooner had the thought formed, though, than the *real* pain
struck.  His body lurched up, arching and leaving only his head
and feet still touching the mattress, his mouth open and eyes
squeezed shut in a silent scream, as waves of exquisite agony
shrieked through his body.  At the same time, his mind was
flooded with images, hundreds of moments he would have recognized
from half-remembered dreams had the pain not stolen all ability
to think from him.

Then it was over.

Chris had no idea how long it lasted; the only memory left from
the experience was of the pain itself, which had seemed eternal
and unending.  But his clothes were soaked in sweat, and it felt
like he'd pulled the bed sheets completely loose and swirled them
into a ball.  He felt entirely wrung out, as though he had just
gone through a month's bout with the flu.  And underlying it all,
the sense of having been... diminished, disconnected.  Empty. But
even as he had the thought, the very idea vanished like smoke,
leaving nothing behind but the exhaustion.

A soft touch lit upon his face, and he almost flinched, half-
expecting more pain.  Slowly he pried his eyes open to see
Belldandy leaning over him, her own eyes overflowing with concern
and caring.  She was cupping his cheek with her hand, he
realized.

"Bell...?" he croaked.

"How do you feel, Chris?" she asked so softly that it was almost
a whisper.

He tried to smile, and didn't quite make it.  "Like Thor...
dropped Mjollnir... on me.  Ten or... twenty times," he managed
to get out, and his sister smiled indulgently.  Still groggy,
Chris realized as he looked into her eyes that there was
something different about her, something missing.  He searched
her face, trying through the fog to figure out what it was.  Then
it hit him.

"Bell... where's your... limiter?"

Belldandy smiled -- sadly, he thought with the last moments of
consciousness -- and simply said, "Sleep, Chris.  Sleep... and
forget."

Then all was blackness.

                              * * *

Belldandy waited until Chris' breathing slowed and deepened
before taking her hand away from his face.  Then she stood,
stepped back from the bed, and looked into her other hand at her
limiter earring.  Without a sound, she affixed it back on her
ear, then went about straightening Chris' bedclothes as best she
could around the sleeping god.  She finished by tucking the top
sheet around her brother's shoulders, then stood watching him for
a moment, before gently brushing the sweat-dampened hair off his
forehead with her fingertips.

As she did so, the godmark there flickered briefly with a fitful
golden light, and she sighed softly.  "I know it's necessary,
Father," Belldandy whispered, "But it is not fair that he must
suffer without knowing why.  And after he's gone through so much
already..."  She lifted her eyes toward the ceiling for a moment,
then looked down again.  "I understand your purpose, Father, but
it still is not fair -- to him, or to the others."

                              * * *

Tarikihonganji Temple, Monday, May 12, 1997, 7:43 AM

The next morning I intended to start my job hunt.  I dressed in
the best approximation of semiformal clothing I could cobble
together from my gear -- khaki slacks, dress shirt, my one-and-
only tie, loafers.  It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I did *not* have a
business suit or other more formal garb packed in among my
supplies.  Keiichi, upon hearing my plans, had offered to loan me
a suit, but it was a mere token gesture, since there was over
fifteen centimeters' difference in our heights, with proportional
differences in the lengths of our arms and legs.  And I politely
refused to let Belldandy magick one up for me.  (I less-than-
politely refused the same offer from Urd, who seemed a bit too...
eager for my comfort.)  I was determined to make do with what I
had until I could afford to buy better.

I guess I looked pretty good, though, because I got an
appreciative wolf whistle from Urd when I sat down at the
breakfast table, dropping a copy of the morning paper next to my
place setting.  Belldandy shushed her right away, but Urd still
gave me a wink and a smile.  I wagged my finger disapprovingly at
her, but did it with a smile of my own to cover the vague
discomfort I felt at that kind of attention from her.

After a round of "good mornings", I looked down at my place
setting to discover a manila folder.  I raised an eyebrow, picked
it up and opened it.

Inside was an American passport, Japanese identification and
immigration papers, work permit, and a whole host of other
bureaucrat droppings that combined swore up and down that I was a
long-term resident, in the country legally and entitled to work
at any job that I qualified for, and quite possibly several I
didn't.

Beneath those was a small stack of resumes on cream-colored high-
quality bond -- several different versions that varied by the
type of work they said that I was suitable for. All held accurate
experience information -- no doubt certain Fate-shaped entities
of my acquaintance had been examining my life with a metaphoric
magnifying glass -- framed by a completely fictional educational
and employment history.

(Well, fictional to *me*.  But not long after that I dialed up
one of my alleged ex-employers just out of curiosity; I ended up
talking with a fellow who recognized my voice immediately and was
*absolutely* certain that I'd worked for him for five years.  I
had to navigate the treacherous shoals of nostalgia with him for
a good fifteen minutes before I could hang up.  Afterwards, I
hoped fervently that I never would run into "little Yuriko from
Marketing", not after finding out what my alleged boss had
claimed he had walked in on us doing during one Christmas party.

I asked Belldandy about it afterwards, and -- before she stormed
off to tear Urd a new one for spicing up my mythical local life
with the odd amorous encounter -- she said that it was no effort
at all for any one of them to simply lay a new thread temporarily
on top of the Tapestry of Fate.  By which I gathered that even
though I hadn't been here for any of it, I actually had a *real*
history in the world -- but only for as long as was necessary.

That certainly made things a lot easier than usual, for which I
was very thankful.  It reduced my stress level remarkably.  It
was weird to think about, though.  And I still planned to get Urd
back for "little Yuriko from Marketing".)

"I figured you'd need those," Skuld, seated as before next to me,
said softly.  I glanced over at her.  She sat perfectly still,
her hands in her lap, her eyes lowered and fixed on her place
setting.  I wasn't certain because of the angle from which I was
looking, but I thought I could see the faintest traces of a blush
on her cheeks.  I shot at glance at Chris, who bore an expression
halfway between amusement and suspicion.

"You don't owe me anything for those," she went on.  "It's part
of our... agreement.  You promised to help with the house budget,
right?"  She looked up at me, almost *shyly* of all things, then
dropped her eyes again.

Oh my.  Oh dear.  I'd seen that look before, on other girls. When
the hell did *this* happen?  I glanced over at Chris again, with
what I was sure was a helpless expression on my face -- his own
was now shuttered (again) save for a faint narrowing of the eyes.

I looked back down at Skuld.  "Right, I did."  I paused for a
moment as my incipient panic spiked and then faded away.  "Thank
you."

"You're welcome," she said softly.

"That was very considerate of you."  Belldandy leaped into the
growing silence around the table.

"Well, Urd helped.  A little," Skuld admitted.

"Both of you, then," Belldandy amended, nodding at both elder and
younger sister.

"It was no big deal," Urd replied with a saucy grin.  "I just
held everything still while she laid the thread, and then I
tweaked some of the details so they came out *just* right."

(Believe me, I remembered *that* comment several days later when
I learned about "little Yuriko".  But that's neither here nor
there.  At the time she said it, I didn't give it a second
thought, even though Chris gave her a pointedly suspicious look.)

Keiichi cleared his throat.  "So, do you have any particular jobs
in mind, Doug-san?"

I shrugged.  "A few.  I've been looking through the want ads" --
I tapped the paper -- "and while there's not a *lot* for someone
with my skills, there are still a *few* openings."

"Well," he said between bites of breakfast (traditional Japanese
that morning -- rice, fish, miso soup, tea).  "NIT doesn't always
put ads in the newspaper for every job they have available; you
might want to check at the admin building to see if there are
more openings than the paper listed."

"Thanks!  I'll do that!"  I jotted a note down in the margin of
the newspaper to remind me to do that very thing.

Belldandy clapped her hands with obvious delight.  "Then we can
meet for lunch on the campus.  I'll make us a little picnic!"

I glanced at Keiichi, who was smiling dreamily, and grinned.  I
turned back to Belldandy.  "I like the sound of that.  Let's do
it."

                              * * *

Nekomi Institute of Technology campus, Monday, May 12, 1997,
12:13 PM

I met up with the happy couple a little past noon on the lawn in
front of the main entrance to NIT's engineering quad.  They
weren't hard to find -- Belldandy had already spread out a
brilliantly-colored blanket whose contrast with the lush green
beneath it announced its presence from a great distance away.  By
the time I was close enough to greet them, she'd finished
emptying a classic Little Red Riding Hood basket, laying out
enough food that there was hardly any room for the three of us.

"Hey, people," I said, stopping just short of the blanket to slip
off my loafers before sitting myself down.

"Hey, Doug," Keiichi nodded at me.

Belldandy smiled broadly and handed me a freshly-laden plate.
"Good afternoon, Doug-san!"

"Is it?"  I looked at my watch.  "Wow, I guess it is."  I sighed.
"Long morning, sorry."

Keiichi gave me a sympathetic once-over.  "Any luck so far?"

I shook my head.  "Nope, not in the least.  Then again, it's only
the first day.  I wasn't really expecting anything so quickly."

"Not even in the listings at the admin building?" he pressed.

"Sorry, no.  You were right," I continued, "lots of stuff there
that's not in the papers, but nothing right for me."

His face fell, and on my other side, Belldandy's smile seemed to
dim just a hair.  "Oh," he said.  "I was sure that there'd be
*something*."

I shrugged.  "There may well be, just not right now."  I played
with the food on my plate, pushing it around with my chopsticks.
"I'll check back every few days, see what new positions they
might have posted."  Before I could turn what looked like a
really pleasant lunch into a big downer, I forced myself to
brighten and grin.  "I'm sure they'll have an opening sooner or
later."

Belldandy nodded quickly, once.  "As am I.  Don't let your lack
of success get you down in the mean time, Doug-san."  She offered
me the plate of rice balls, to which I smiled my thanks as I took
one.

After that, we were silent -- comfortably so -- for a while as we
started in on the meal, but the conversation restarted soon
enough.

"So," Keiichi began around bites of a rice ball.  I caught a
glimpse of pale, rippled pink within and guessed there was a
piece of grilled salmon inside it.  "What's it like being a
superhero?"

I pulled a mushroom off a shish kabob-like skewer of grilled
goodies, chewed and swallowed before answering.  "Well," I said,
"we don't actually have *that* word where I come from."

"What word do you have, Doug-san?" Belldandy asked, filling cups
of tea from the same Thermos pump carafe that had appeared at
every meal so far.  I took the one she handed me, turned it
around in my hands as if it were the tea-bowl in a cha-no-yu,
bowed slightly, and inhaled deeply of the aromatic steam it gave
off.

"<Metahuman> is the one most commonly used," I replied, then
sipped the tea, savoring the flavor.  Genmai-cha, filtered by the
carafe so there weren't any grains of roasted rice floating in
it.  Pity that, actually -- I *liked* nibbling on those grains.

"Mei-ta-hy-u-ma-nu?" Keiichi sounded out the English, and I
quickly gave the equivalent word used by the Japanese back home.

"It means, 'beyond human'.  Which we really aren't," I added
quickly.  "We generally breed just fine with ordinary humans, so
it's not like we're a separate species or anything.  We just
have... something extra that the normals don't."

"What about you, Doug-san?  What is your 'something extra'?"
Belldandy asked disingenuously, and for a moment I wondered
exactly how much she knew, and if she were trying to lead the
conversation.  I guess my expression was a little... intense,
because she blushed and looked away.  "I'm sorry," she said
softly, "I'm prying."

Well, I felt instantly lousy.  "No, no, not at all!" I protested
with genuine contrition.  "I was just reminded of something and
was following the thought."

"If you're sure..."

I nodded.  "I am."

A slow, tentative smile worked its way back onto Belldandy's face
as she served herself a small plate of seaweed salad.  "In that
case, what abilities do you have?  You've done so many different
and strange things around us, but surely you don't have *that*
many powers?"

I leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes as I breathed in
the scent of the grass.  It must have been mowed some time in the
previous day or two because I could still pick out that fresh-cut
smell.  "I've got a few, yeah -- most metahumans get clusters of
gifts that all tend to work together."

"Clusters?" Keiichi asked over his tea cup.

"Oh yeah," I said, and noshed on a piece of negimaki.  The
scallions inside the beef roll were still crisp despite the
broiling and crunched as I bit through them.  I savored the blend
of teriyaki sauce, beef and delicate onion for a moment before
continuing.  "The human body is a wondrously complex thing, full
of all manner of interlocking systems.  Change one thing and it
cascades through everything else nearby.  So if you have a
mutation for, say, improved nerve signal speed, well, it causes
visible changes in several 'systems' that look like very
different things on the macro level, like intelligence, reaction
time and body sense.  And sometimes two different mutations
overlap and there's a synergy."

Belldandy smiled and doled out several more pieces of negimaki to
my plate.  "You sound quite the expert, Doug-san."  Keiichi made
agreeing noises around a mouth full of rice ball.

I shook my head.  "Oh, no, I'm no expert.  No more than any other
meta needs to be.  I know just enough to understand my own
abilities.  If I need anything really detailed or obscure, I have
to go the UN metabiologists."

Keiichi swallowed, finally, and Belldandy handed him a napkin.
When he finished wiping his mouth, he said, "So, what *are* your
abilities?"

Not being able to dodge the question, I lay back in the warm
Spring sun, folded my arms under my head, closed my eyes, and
gave them the whole spiel -- from the physical changes to the
broken magegift that gives me my song-talent and forces me to
spend my life trapped inside one of the more intense fields of
chaos and wild magic ever measured back home.  By the time I was
finished talking up all the delightful side-effects that they
inflicted on me, Keiichi was staring at me with wide eyes and
open mouth, and Belldandy was radiating intensely maternal levels
of concern.

Seeing this, I waved nonchalantly.  "It's not all that bad.  I
can sort of ... *nudge* my field to leave food and clothes and
other stuff alone, but it's like there's a certain level of
activity it has to have, so it makes other things happen
instead."  I shot a wicked grin at Belldandy first, then at
Keiichi.  "You want to see?"

Without waiting for an answer, I picked up a half-eaten rice ball
from my plate and held it in my hand, which I stretched out past
the edge of the blanket so it was over the grass and well away
from my lunch companions.  "Okay, right now I'm kind of semi-
consciously telling my field 'food, don't touch'.  But look what
happens if I stop 'protecting' it."

What happened was nothing at first -- randomness being, well,
random, not everything the field could do was obvious or even
effective.  But after a few seconds, the rice and its seaweed
wrapper both started turning brown.  The ball started to collapse
in on itself as it liquefied and dripped out between my fingers;
the seaweed just flaked away around it.  In less than a minute,
my hand was empty.  It was also clean, my field having broken
down the remains of the former rice ball into carbon dioxide,
water and other simple compounds, but I gladly accepted a damp
napkin from Belldandy and wiped off my fingers.

"Wow," Keiichi breathed.

"And that was rather tame," I said as I finished by drying my
hands on a small towel Belldandy had fished out of the basket.
"It could have spontaneously ignited, or exploded, or grown legs
and walked off..."

His eyes widened.  "You're kidding."

I gave him a rueful smile.  "I wish.  I've seen all those things
and a few more happen."  I handed the towel back to Belldandy.
"The more complicated an object is, either in terms of molecular
structure or number of parts, the easier it is for my field to
affect it," I continued.  "Organics and other complex molecules
are particularly vulnerable and are affected quickest."  I paused
for a moment as I recalled an office in Megatokyo and a certain
set of shackles.  "Simple structures, or simple materials -- like
a pure metal, for instance, or a device with only a couple of
moving parts -- can resist its effects a whole lot longer."

I grinned.  "But that's enough lecturing from me.  What about you
two?  What's the secret story behind your forbidden love?"

Keiichi snarfed on a dumpling when I said that, and I almost had
to perform a Heimlich on him before he stopped coughing.
"Forbidden?" he finally gasped when his voice cleared, and shot a
panicked, inquisitive glance at Belldandy, who was her usual
serene self.

"Sure," I said.  "After all, God reportedly expelled the Grigori
from Heaven for doing what you two are doing -- 'the sons of God
looked upon the daughters of Man and saw them fair and took them
to wife' or some such -- only in your case it's the daughter of
god and the son of man.  Or maybe not," I added as I realized
what I said, "since 'son of man' has kind of a special
meaning..."

Belldandy giggled again in that way I had grown to like.  "You're
too silly, Doug-san.  That was a different face of Kami-sama
entirely, who sets different rules for his servants.  There is
absolutely nothing forbidden about our relationship."  She turned
to Keiichi.  "After all, Kei-kun, if Father had any objections,
he would have told you when you two met face-to-face."

"You met the Big Kahuna?" I asked.  "Cool."

Keiichi nodded.  "We all got called up to Heaven not long after
Chris moved in."

That rang a bell.  "Right, right," I nodded.  "I think you
mentioned that to Megumi my first night here."   I raised an
eyebrow.  "What's he like?"

"Scary."  He shuddered slightly.  "And I think he likes chewing
gum."

"Oh, he does," Belldandy agreed.

I suppressed what would have been an outburst of rather raucous
laughter as the image of a full high Communion celebrated with
wine and Chiclets drifted unbidden across one of the less
reverent portions of my mind ("Take, chew; this is my body, which
is made moist and stretchy for you...").  "Well, that's...
intriguing," I managed to say.  "Anyway... your story.  How'd you
two get together?"

The two exchanged glances, communicating in that wordless way
that truly-connected couples have, then Belldandy smiled
mischievously and said, "It's really quite simple.  As I'm sure
you recall from the discussion over dinner the night you arrived,
I was sent from Heaven to grant Kei-kun a wish.  He wished to
have a girlfriend just like me, and since I was the closest
person just like me..."   Her eyes twinkled, belying the absolute
seriousness of her tone, and I chuckled.

"Bell!" Keiichi objected with a good-natured tolerance, and she
giggled again.  Smiling, he turned to me.  "It really goes back
quite a bit farther than that.  We met when we were children."

"Children?"  I raised an eyebrow at Belldandy.  "That vessel of
yours actually grows and ages?"

"Oh, yes!" she replied.  "It helps us keep a proper perspective
on the mortal world."  She gave me a puzzled look.  "Surely you
didn't think Skuld was going to be thirteen forever?"

"Um, I actually hadn't thought about it."  I didn't show it, but
that impressed me.  That was almost -- not quite, but almost --
what Hexe had done.  Maybe this batch of deities really weren't
as divorced from humanity as gods usually were.  "And don't call
me 'Shirley'," I added with a goofy grin that garnered me more
giggles.

"We met as children," Keiichi repeated, chuckling, "grew very
fond of each other, and made some promises to each other.  Then
Belldandy had to go back to Heaven, and I forgot all about her as
I grew up."  He shot an apologetic look at her, and wordlessly
she have his hand a reassuring pat.  "Then, in my freshman year
here, I somehow qualified for a wish.  And by the sheerest
coincidence," and here he shot a sly glance over at Belldandy,
who somehow contrived to look even more innocent than usual,
"Belldandy was the one who came to grant it.  I'd just been shot
down by a girl who I'd wanted to date not long before, and
thinking the whole wish thing was a nasty joke arranged by my
dorm mates, I wished that a girl just like Belldandy would stay
with me forever."  He reached over and took Belldandy's hand,
looking deeply into her eyes.  "And then I became the luckiest
man in the world."

Belldandy's eyes shimmered, and her smile grew soft and smoky,
and for a moment I was sure I was suddenly intruding and would
need to beat a hasty retreat.  But the lovebirds realized they
were in public with an audience almost before I'd completed the
thought, and the intimate moment remained just that -- a moment.

"And your sisters?" I prompted when they disengaged gazes.

"Oh," Belldandy sat up straighter and bustled a bit with the
remains of lunch.  "After I didn't come back right away, they
came looking for me.  Urd first, and then Skuld."

"And Chris?" I asked.

Belldandy paused, and looked pensive for a moment.  "Chris...
Chris' story is his to tell.  You really ought to ask him about
it."

I resolved to do that very thing the first chance I got.

                              * * *

Tarikihonganji Temple, Monday, May 12, 1997, 4:54 PM

Chris had awakened on Monday morning completely refreshed,
feeling just as good, if not better, than he had the day before.
Not that it was *too* much of a surprise -- ever since he'd
accidentally wished himself into the god business, he hadn't had
so much as a stuffy nose or a headache.  Perfect health went
hand-in-hand with divinity, a fact for which he would be
eternally grateful -- literally -- despite the sometimes almost-
unrecognizable changes it had wrought in his body.  Chris raised
his water cup to his mirror image and toasted his luck on that
front while he brushed his teeth.  If he had to lose part of
being mortal, why shouldn't it include the stuff that sucked?

As the day wore on, he was gratified to find that it did not seem
to be inclined to spoil his good mood for once:  the weather was
sunny and pleasant, breakfast was mercifully free of okra, and
his classes had *all* been interesting and engaging for the first
time in weeks.  To top it off, he'd gotten through the entire day
without a single dour-faced, humorless geek of a Judgment angel
showing up to give him a hard time.  The only down point was that
if the breakfast conversation had been any indication, Skuld did
indeed seem to be developing a small crush on their house guest;
Doug's obvious discomfort when he apparently came to the same
realization was somewhat reassuring, though.

Having made it through his Monday classes and all the way back to
the temple without being ambushed by nosy Angelic MIBs, Chris was
definitely maintaining his good mood.  That mood was doubled when
he entered the temple kitchen to discover Belldandy hard at work,
softly singing one of her improvised little songs as she lovingly
stirred a bowl of cake batter.  On the counter to her side sat a
set of cake pans, already buttered and floured.

"Good afternoon, Bell," he said as he briefly hugged his sister
from behind and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

She turned around as he stepped back, leaving the bowl on the
countertop.  "Welcome home, Chris!  How was your day?"

"Pretty good, for once."  He sidestepped her and closed in on the
bowl.  The batter was a deep, rich brown.  "Oh, man -- chocolate,
my favorite!"  He made to scoop up a dollop on his finger tip,
only to receive a playful whack across the knuckles with a wooden
spoon.

"No!  It's almost time for dinner," his sister declared with a
primness that was belied by the mischievous smile on her face.
"You'll spoil your appetite."

"Yes, ma'am!" he declared, snapping to mock-attention and setting
her all a-giggle for a moment.

"Oh, you!" Belldandy declared with fond exasperation.  "It'll be
ready in an hour."  Stepping to the range nearby, she filled a
small tasting saucer with liquid from a large, bubbling pot,
sipped from it, and then nodded to herself.  "Oh, this might
interest you.  Doug-san is out behind the house, practicing with
his sword."

"Oh, really?"  Chris raised an eyebrow.  "This I gotta see."

He started by simply watching through a window -- to respect the
man's privacy, he told himself unconvincingly.  Gradually,
though, Chris found himself migrating to the door, and then to
the engawa, as he studied what Doug was doing.  For his part, the
older man appeared not to notice him, but Chris knew from his own
rather brutal training in situational awareness that this was a
carefully crafted illusion; Sangnoir not only knew he was there,
but was aware of every movement and change in position.  Neither
said anything, though, until Chris could stand it no further and
finally declared, "You're using that blade all wrong, you know."

Sangnoir, who had been gamely swinging the katana with no small
amount of control and misplaced skill, stopped with surprising
abruptness, the blade pointed down and away in the safest
unsheathed position possible.  He raised an eyebrow at Chris.  "I
know.  I'm a lot more used to Western sword styles and some
analogues.  I've been trying to extrapolate from that, but..." He
shrugged.  "It's pretty clear to me that I don't know how to
properly handle a katana.  You?"

Chris settled himself down on the edge of the engawa.  "To a
degree.  While I've pretty much specialized in my battleform
weapon, I've trained enough that I can use most any other weapon
in a fight and not kill myself with it."  He leaned back and
rolled his shoulders, generating more popping noises of the sort
which had so disturbed Belldandy after breakfast.  "I've done a
fair bit more with a katana than most other weapons in my
repertoire because my... 'trainers'... thought it was appropriate
given where we lived."

With a distracted nod, Doug fumbled the sword back into its saya,
which he had thrust through the belt of his jeans.  "Yeah, that
does sort of make sense."  He looked up at Chris.  "D'you think
you might be able to teach me the basics?  I mean, beyond being
respectful of the blade and all that other stuff that *does*
carry over across the styles?"

Chris frowned.  "I don't know..."

"Oh, why not?" a familiar, feminine voice unexpectedly offered
from above and behind him.  Both men started in surprise, then
Chris craned his neck around to discover Belldandy, towel in hand
and carefully drying the bowl which had not long ago held cake
batter, standing in the doorway.

"Bell," Chris murmured, "please make a little *noise* when you
move?"

Belldandy ignored him and smiled beatifically.  "Didn't Balder
say you were good enough now that you could carry on your
training by yourself?  Surely you can give Doug-san some
pointers!"  Chris turned back to look at Sangnoir, who quirked an
eyebrow but said nothing.

And once it had come down to Belldandy saying, "Oh, why not?",
well, Chris mused, his fate was sealed.  The next thing he knew,
there were two cups of tea and a plate of cookies on the engawa
("What was it you said about spoiling my dinner earlier?" he'd
pointedly asked a giggling Belldandy as she'd retreated back
indoors), and he and Doug were sitting on either side of them.

Along with the tea and cookies, his old practice katana had
materialized from where he'd kept it stored it in his room. Chris
supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Belldandy had known where
it was -- she seemed to know *everything* about *everything* in
the house, or so it appeared at times -- but still, it made him
uneasy when he thought about it.  He shoved that thought aside,
though, as he picked up the sheathed sword and laid it across his
knees.  Chris thought for a moment, then began.

"The main difference between Western and Eastern sword styles,"
he said, "is that, fencing aside, Western styles are generally
about your big metal stick bludgeoning the other guy to death.
It's about wearing him down and getting through his armor --
which can take extreme force, great accuracy, or both, especially
if you're using a weapon made of iron or crude steel."

"Right," Doug said, nodding as he picked up a cookie.  "That much
I know."  He took a bite and made an appreciative "mmm" noise.

"Okay then," Chris continued.  "Japanese swordplay, on the other
hand, is more like a Dime Western gunfight.  There's usually just
one exchange of blows, and first one to draw is often the
winner."  He waved a hand.  "Oh, there are variations, and a
fight between two closely-matched opponents may well take a
while, but *usually* it's one-shot-and-done.  There's even an
entire martial arts family for the fastdraw -- iaijutsu, iaido
and battojutsu -- whose whole point is getting the sword out,
through your opponent, cleaned and back into the scabbard before
he even has a chance to react."

Doug whistled.  "Yow.  I thought that was all martial arts movie
exaggeration."

"Nope, it's real."  Chris grinned.  "The difference in approaches
is basically because of the difference in resources.  Europe had
iron to spare, so it could afford to use it for armor.  As a
result, European swords of the Middle Ages were -- *had* to be --
little more than barely edged clubs.  Putting a point on one was
a relatively recent innovation, and in either case the whole goal
of sword fighting was to batter your way through your opponent's
armor and chop him to pieces, or failing that, to bludgeon him to
death."  He took a sip of his tea.  "In Japan, on the other hand,
iron was too rare and expensive to use as armor, so alternatives
were developed, mostly lacquered wood.  It's a softer target than
iron armor, and the sword design reflects that.  Katana are
finely crafted but brittle *razors* -- designed to go through
flesh and bone like they were water, and lacquered armor, too,
sometimes.  But if you put one up against iron armor, though,
it'd probably shatter."

"Yeah," Doug had said, nodding.  "That'd make a hell of a
difference when it came to designing a style."

Chris nodded.  "It also makes a difference in training."  He held
up his katana.  "We put these away until we're ready for them,
and use wooden blades -- bokuto.  When you're learning a weapon
that's supposed to be a one-hit killer, you do *not* practice
with live steel until you know what you're doing."  He carefully
laid the sheathed blade down on the engawa next to him, and
waited until Doug did the same with his own sword.

Half an hour later, they were both stripped to the waist and
wielding bokuto.  Privately, Chris noted just how unfair it was
that a mortal could pick up in fifteen minutes' verbal
instruction what it had taken *him* a week of painful thwacks to
learn.  He'd been half-hoping it would have been necessary to
hand Doug over to the same warrior-gods who'd put *him* through
hell during his training, but no, Doug was a freakin' natural.
Show him a stance, a swing, a tactic, and he got it right the
first time.  Every time, or so close to every time as to make no
difference.

Damn him.

Of course, Doug had a lot of experience already with other types
of swords, but still, it just wasn't freakin' *fair* that he
learned, really learned, the basics of the katana so quickly. Add
in that just plain impossible speed and grace of his, and he was
already infuriatingly good.

The only thing that kept Chris from throwing his bokuto on the
ground in disgust and walking off was that while Doug picked up
each individual move with appalling ease, he didn't demonstrate
the same ease in putting them all together.  In that regard, he
wasn't much better than Chris himself had been at the start of
his own training.  Based on what Chris could see, Doug clearly
had to devote considerable serious effort to assembling all the
different moves into a single seamless whole.  He could fake it
somewhat, with that selfsame speed and grace, but in the long run
it wasn't the same as actually having learned the skills the hard
way.  And Doug clearly knew it.

And that thought triggered another, as Chris recalled the weird
patchwork nature of the man's unarmed combat skills.  *Sonuva...
so *that's* why he works so hard on kata in the mornings.*  It
was a surprising and unexpected insight into the man's combat
style, and suddenly Chris didn't feel quite so intimidated by him
any more.

It still galled that no matter how hard Chris worked him, Doug
didn't break a sweat, though.

Despite this, Chris remembered his obligation as a teacher.  He
did a fine job of holding his temper until Doug started asking
personal questions while they sparred.

"So.  Christ-bearing messenger of God.  How the hell can you be
related to the Norns with that name?  What happened, did you make
a wrong turn at New Jerusalem or something?  Yow!"  Doug dodged a
vicious swing at his head, and Chris chuckled.  He ducked a
return blow that would have taken off his head had it connected
and then lashed out at his opponent's ankles with his bokuto.

Said opponent grinned as he hopped higher in the air than anyone
mortal had a right to, well before the wooden blade came close,
and didn't come down until well after it had passed.  "For that
matter," Doug added, "How the hell can you be related to the
Norns, period?"

*Isn't it bad enough that Bell shanghaied me into sparring with
this guy despite me saying specifically that I didn't want to? Do
I really have to deal with nosy questions, too?*

He grit his teeth and decided that answering would end the
questioning a lot better than stonewalling would.  *I don't have
to be particularly informative, though,* he mused with a certain
satisfaction.  "I got drafted," he grated as he forced the bokuto
to change direction and swing back toward Doug's midsection.

Doug hopped back a step and bent over the wooden blade as it
swished past his belt buckle, grunting more in surprise, Chris
thought, than from effort.  The moment the blade passed, Doug let
himself overbalance into a forward roll, and swung up his own
bokuto into something like a stop-thrust at Chris's gut.

When he got his breath back, Chris called a halt.  At the same
moment, a slow, appreciative clapping carried across the yard.
Chris glanced to one side to see his eldest sister had perched
herself on the engawa to watch their sparring.

"Oh, don't stop now, boys," Urd said in a sultry tone as she
suggestively rearranged her robes and crossed one long, shapely
brown leg over the knee of the other.  "There's nothing I like
more than watching half-naked men sweat."

"Urd!" Chris barked, mostly out of embarrassment.  Urd rolled her
eyes.

"I mean *him*, 'Niichan."  Urd gestured with the point of her
chin at Doug, who had finally started to perspire a little.
"We're not *Greek* gods, after all."

Chris declined to reply to that.  He glanced over at Doug, and
was disturbed to see a smoulder of irritation -- or was it
outright anger? -- in the man's eyes.  Then he closed them, took
a deep breath, and muttered something under his breath.  Chris
could make out none of it, except for something about "two", but
he could guess what it might be.  If he were right, his opinion
of Doug was definitely improved -- most men would be stumbling
over their own tongues by now, but Doug simply looked annoyed.

Making an obvious effort to change both his mood and the topic,
Doug swung his irritated gaze from Urd back to Chris, and let his
expression moderate somewhat.  "You were *drafted*?"

The younger man sighed.  "I was a fairly normal human being who
somehow qualified for a wish..."

"Like Keiichi did."

The tone was less a question than a statement, and held what
sounded to Chris like a large quantity of suspicion.  He nodded.
"Exactly.  Skuld came to give it to me, on her first assignment.
We got to talking once I woke up -- did I mention she screamed
something and malleted me the moment she appeared?"

"Knocked him right out," Urd added from where she sat.  "She
called us in a panic absolutely convinced she'd killed him."

Doug bent his head and covered the lower half of his face with
one hand while making a stifled huffing sound that Chris was
absolutely sure was suppressed laughter.  "Given the temper I've
seen her display, I can't say I'm too surprised."

"Yes, well," Chris paused as he tried to remember where he'd left
off.  "Right.  After I woke up -- and I still don't know how she
dragged all six-feet-four and 250 pounds of me out of the kitchen
and onto the living room couch," he added, pointedly glancing at
Urd, "we got to talking about the whole wish process, and then
her family and then..."  He sighed again.

"And then..." Urd grinned evilly.  Chris shot her a nasty look.

"And then...?" Doug prompted, a grin of his own dawning.

Chris closed his eyes and then opened them again.  "Then without
thinking I said something like, 'You know, I wish I had a little
sister just like you.'"

Doug stared for a moment, then burst into gales of laughter.  It
seemed to well up out of him and take control, slowly driving him
to his knees as he leaned on the bokuto like a staff to keep from
falling over entirely.  "And... and then..." he wheezed between
guffaws, "... because she was ... the closest little sister ...
*just like her* ... you suddenly *did*."  The tip of the bokuto
finally slid out from under him, and he dropped it to fall to his
hands and knees, still laughing.

On the engawa, Urd finally gave into her own amusement, rolling
over onto her back and wrapping her arms across her stomach as
she added her laughter to his.

Chris growled half-heartedly at the two of them and resisted the
urge to laugh as well at the absurdity of it all.  Instead he
waited until the pair calmed down.

"I... I'm sorry," Doug finally forced out as he straightened up.
"I'm not laughing at you, really... It's just that I think I'm
starting to see a pattern in the way the wish-granting mechanism
operates."  He caught his breath and snorted, still not quite
over his laughter, then turned to Urd and waved an admonishing
finger at her.  "No wishes for me, you understand?  I don't care
if I qualify for a full series of three complete with a money-
back guarantee!"

Urd, who had managed to contain her amusement enough to lever
herself vertical again, promptly burst out into more giggles and
fell back over.

"Geeze, guys," Chris grumbled.  "Get a freaking grip.  It's my
freakin' life -- it's not *that* funny."

                              * * *

Tuesday, May 13, 1997, 7:15 PM

"So," Megumi finally said, pushing down a corner that a stray
breeze through the shop had lifted.  "What do you think?"

I glanced between her and Skuld.  They were both giving me
expectant looks.   Then I turned my attention back to the sheaf
of plans laid out on the anvil.  I traced the lines of the
drawing on the top page with the tip of my finger, trying to
imagine the changes and the differences there would be in a
vehicle that had become almost an extension of my body over the
past six or so years.

I flipped the sheet aside and ran my eyes across the next page,
studying the less-visible changes Skuld and Megumi had in mind.
"You're sure about this alloy of yours?" I asked as I worked my
way through the clutchless variable-ratio direct-drive system
that would replace the awkward but functional gearbox-to-chain
drive that I'd originally used on the bike.  The alloy was the
most important thing.  If it wouldn't hold up, everything else
was for naught.  Last thing I needed was to be stuck in, say, a
15th-century mage-punk Vienna and have the bike implode from the
gravitational stresses, taking all my belongings with it.

"Here," Skuld said simply, tossing a section of tubing onto the
plans.  It made an audible, almost musical "ting!" even though
the anvil was protected by several layers of paper, but the sound
was at least an octave lower than I would have expected.

I raised an eyebrow and picked it up.  It had an odd hue -- a
muted brown with a hint of green that looked almost like aged
bronze.  But it was a *lot* lighter than bronze would have been,
and it was noticeably lighter than the original titanium tubing.
I held it up to my eye and sighted down along its length,
checking out the thickness of the metal.  About the same as the
original tubing, too.

I swept the plans off the anvil and into Megumi's arms, then
changed my grip on the tube so that I held it like a club.  I
raised it overhead, and then smashed it down with all the force I
could muster, right onto the edge where the anvil's top and side
met, sending a jolt of impact up my arm.  The musical ring it
produced was muted and short because my hand was wrapped around
the sample, but it was still audible nonetheless. And when I
brought the tube back up to my eyes, there wasn't a scratch on
it, let alone a dent.

I nodded and laid it back down on the flat top of the anvil.
"Nice," I allowed.  "How's it do on tensile and compressive
strength?"

Skuld frowned.  "I'm not sure.  My current test rigs don't seem
to stress it any, so I'll have to build new ones."

"Don't listen to her," Megumi rolled her eyes.  "Her machines are
ridiculously powerful -- more than enough to simulate anything
the grav drive will put the bike through."  She plopped the
papers back onto the anvil, snatching the sample up first and
putting it back down on top of the papers after.  "It'd be nice
to know its exact tolerances, but right now, for our purposes,
'more than strong enough' is all we need to know."

"Oh yeah," I grinned.  "You're definitely an engineer."

She gave me a smug little smile.  "You better believe it,
Mister."

I picked it up and studied it again.  "So, what's it made from?"

It was Skuld's turn to be smug.  "Oh, a little of this and a
little of that."

I nodded knowingly.  "You have to be very careful when you work
with those ingredients, you know.  The proportion of this to that
is *absolutely* critical.  One mistake and *boom!*"

"Bakaaaa..." Skuld said with a mock frown and poked me in the
side.

I just grinned and rubbed where she'd poked me.

I have to admit, the plans were very impressive.  While the
overall lines of the bike were virtually unchanged, there was a
lot that was new -- for one thing, the wheels were no longer
going to be on forks, but on pivoting cantilevers with integral
shock-absorbers.

Kind of ironic, that.  Cantilever mounts were state-of-the-art
for motorcycles in Megatokyo when I bought the junker frame
around which I'd originally built the bike.  But now Skuld was
going to replace its then-obsolete forks -- which were actually a
rather advanced design for the local here-and-now -- with mounts
that were, as far as I could see, even more advanced than its
Megatokyo descendants sported.

I approved.  Most heartily.

A flip through the sheets revealed something else about the
cantilevers that I'd missed the first time through.  They were
part of the gravity drive system.  The drive was going to have
two levels of power.  The lower of the two was good for getting
off the ground and into flight at about the airspeed of a Piper
Cub -- say around 170, 180 km/h.  But if I wanted some *serious*
velocity -- and Skuld and Megumi's back-of-envelope calculations
were not quite certain yet just *how* serious -- the cantilevers
would fold *up* until the wheels were horizontal -- one to the
left and the other to the right -- and their downward-facing hubs
then doubled as radiators/projectors that increased lift and
thrust *bigtime*.

It not only looked unspeakably cool, but it was spookily
familiar. I had come up with a very similar solution to the same
problem when I first mounted an Anson Gravmaster on my old
Harley, back home.  Only I chose to turn each wheel into two
half-width wheels that then opened up butterfly-style when I
needed the extra power, making the bike look a little like a
cross between a motorcycle and a home-built hovercraft.

Of course, a 1936 Harley has a structure that's a lot more
amenable to that kind of transformation.  The cowl and fairings
on the Mitsubishi -- which the girls' design kept more or less
unchanged -- would have gotten in the way of a split-wheel
design.  The pivoting cantilevers, on the other hand, could be
handled rather elegantly, and with a lot fewer parts, too.

I approved this, too.  Very much.  I also approved the inertial
compensation they were promising was possible with the new grav
unit, as well as the stealth suite Skuld assured me she could
whip up, which among other functions would (oddly enough)
replicate the old bike's electrochromic color-change system.

And then there was something Megumi was calling a "virtual
cockpit" -- a low-powered force field bubble around the seat, yet
another application of Skuld's miraculous grav unit.  According
to her it wouldn't be enough to defend against any serious
weaponry, but it would shield anyone riding the bike from the
force of the air rushing by at high speeds, and even give a
little environmental control.  And in emergencies it could also
act like a roll cage, at least for a few seconds.  The Megster
seemed *very* proud of the idea, which she had apparently come up
with and designed entirely on her own.  How could I not give it
my okay?

What worried me was the conspiratorial grins the two of them
shared when Skuld mentioned that they still had a few more ideas
that they wanted to work on.

I shouldn't have been worried.

I should have been *panicked.*

                              * * *

Wednesday, May 14, 1997, 4:21 PM

*Once is a favor,* Chris thought darkly as he brought his bokuto
up into ready position.  *Twice is approaching a habit.*

"One of these days I need to find out why a smile and 'please'
from Belldandy completely deprives me of my will to resist," he
muttered under his breath.

"Huh?" Doug asked from where he stood, a few meters away, his
posture relaxed and his bokuto still thrust through his belt.
"What was that you said?"  Overhead, an enormous flock of large
black birds wheeled and whirled before coming to rest in one of
the trees just outside the outer fence.

"Nothing," Chris grunted.  "Okay, take your starting position."
He narrowed his eyes as he felt a prickling between his shoulder
blades, like someone was watching him.

Doug slid into stance, drew his bokuto and held it at the ready.
"Right.  Now what?"

"Okay, today we're going to take..."  Chris stopped cold as a
sudden, belated realization struck.  *Black birds?*

Doug blinked in surprise as Chris halted mid-sentence and gazed
around the yard of the temple until his eyes rested on the birds
perched in their tree.  Then with a muttered curse, he stalked
towards the flock and scowled up at them.

"*What?*" Chris demanded.

Doug lowered his bokuto and raised an eyebrow.  To his surprise,
the flock did not launch back into the air in panic at the young
god's approach, as he had expected they would.  Instead, the
birds gazed calmly back for a moment, and then suddenly exploded
into a cacophony of caws and calls.  At first, it seemed like
completely random noise to Doug, but soon he realized it had a
structure, a pattern to it -- still unintelligible to him, but
clearly meaningful to his companion, who seemed to have become
embroiled in an argument with the birds.

"Don't you think you guys are taking this a little far?  Not
*everything* weird that happens in the world is some plot by the
bad guys."

A single caw, from a hundred throats.

"Get serious.  Can you really expect anyone to seriously believe
that Mara could be behind this?  I'm pretty sure inter-universal
portals are a bit out of her league."

A harsh, almost petulant response.

"He's still locked up, you paranoid git!"

The reply from the birds took nearly a minute, and as every
second passed Doug could see the god's countenance grow darker
and darker.

In a quiet voice he ground out, "In what part of your myriad
little peabrains did you get the idea that it's smart to insult
the sister of a guy who can *stop time*?"  Chris pointed towards
the sky.  "Get the flock out of here, and tell your busybody boss
that we're claiming him as our affair, so he can bugger off!"

Several birds flew up to the top of the tree, and others looked
prepared to fly away, but quieted down and responded with a low
series of noises.

Chris sighed, and threw up his arms in resignation.  "Yeah, fine,
I'll deal with it."

With that, the birds all leapt into the air at once, and flew
off, disappearing into the distance with surprising speed.

After watching them disappear, a glowering Chris spun on his heel
and marched towards the house.  Doug ran to catch up with him.

"What was that?" Doug demanded.

"Dom, being a prick," was the short answer.

"Dom?"

"Dominic.  Archangel of Judgment, and head of the Divine
Inquisition."

Doug stopped short, and grabbed Chris' arm, bringing him to a
halt as well.  "You mean that murder of crows was a Celestial?"

"Actually, they were ravens.  An unkindness."

"That was a downright maliciousness!" Doug quipped, and Chris
smiled thinly.  "Don't like them much, do you?"

"Kyriotates make my teeth hurt, and Dom's especially."

The older man tilted his head quisitively.  "Trouble?"

"One hopes not," Chris said curtly, and then sighed again. "Look,
I've got to go lecture Skuld for a minute.  Later?"

"Hold."  Doug's voice was soft but firm -- a combination that
Chris hadn't heard from him before.  It carried a surprising ring
of command with a complete lack of arrogance.  "You're claiming
*who* as your affair?  Me?"

Chris nodded sharply, once.  "Yeah.  And consider yourself lucky.
Dom's a prick, but he's better than Lawrence.  Even though that's
not saying much.  Be very glad that you won't be getting worked
over by their goons."

"If you say so."  Doug frowned.  "Don't know what would give them
the right, anyway.  I'm no more Christian than I am anything else
-- which is to say, not at all."

"You were raised Christian, weren't you?" Chris asked, studying
him.

Doug nodded.  "Oh yeah.  Roman Catholic, in fact, although
strictly speaking you could make a good case that I'm actually
Jewish."  Chris raised an eyebrow.  "But I'm no more a follower
of the Church than the Dalai Lama is... less, even."

His tone was deceptively light, but Chris could practically
*feel* a welter of emotion surging below it -- anger,
disappointment, disapproval and more.  "Quite frankly, even if
you guys hadn't claimed me, I'd refuse to acknowledge they have
any authority over me at all.  'I say to the gods and the sons of
gods the things that whet my thoughts; by the wells of the world
there is none with the might to make me do his will.'"  Although
Chris didn't recognize the passage, Doug's tone made it clear he
was quoting something.  His gaze had grown cold and flinty during
the recitation.  Then it changed suddenly, replaced by a
mischievous grin.  "Loki. From the 'Lay of Loki'.  Figured I'd
honor my hosts by quoting a bit of their literature."

Chris surprised himself by chuckling.  "I'd pay good money to see
a Triad's reaction to *that.*"  He started walking back to the
house as a thoughtful look came across his face.  He turned back
to Doug and took a long look at his blond, blue-eyed, tanned
features.  "You're *Jewish*?"

The older man shrugged.  "My maternal grandmother was a German
Jew.  The rest of the family in that generation were French
Catholics.  She got outvoted, so *officially* I'm Catholic.  The
Torah will tell you differently, though."  He grinned.  "Now you
tell me, what's a Kyriotate, and why do they give you headaches?"

                              * * *

Wednesday, May 14, 1997, 4:25 PM

"Okay."  Megumi pulled a bright red cloth from where it hung
half-out of her back pocket, wiped her hands on it, and replaced
it.  "Now what?"

"Now," Skuld said from her seat at the bench in the back of the
workshop, "we work on some practical applications of theory.
Come sit down here."

A glint of excitement appeared in Megumi's eye as she hopped onto
the stool next to the little goddess.  On the bench before them
were a number of components, most of which were still unfamiliar
to the mortal girl.  "Okay, I'm here."

Skuld nodded absently.  "Now, you've been going over the basics
of gravitics with Doug this last week or so."

"Yeah."  Guessing where this was going to go, Megumi tried to
classify the components that she couldn't identify, based on the
material she'd learned from him.  "He's not so much with the math
side, but when he talks practical..."

"Right," Skuld grinned.  "Well, we're going to put that practical
knowledge to work."  She gestured at the pile on the bench top.
"You're going to assemble your very first gravitic generator."

Megumi sat upright and shot the younger girl a surprised look. "I
am?"

"Uh-huh."  Skuld began sorting through the pile, pulling various
odds and ends out of it and placing them directly in front of
Megumi.  "These are the parts for a small, low-powered grav
drive, like you'd use in a toy.  Well, more or less."  Skuld
looked up and grinned at her.  "Actually, to make it interesting,
I've thrown in some duplicate components and some parts that
don't belong.  You should have enough knowledge now to figure out
what you need and assemble them into a complete unit."

Megumi fixed Skuld with a dubious look.  "You sure about that?"

Skuld shoved the rest of the pile over to the older girl.  "Yes.
It's more or less modular, so you won't have too hard a time
putting them together, and all the tools you'll need are here on
or around this bench.  So get to work, student!"  The smile she
wore belied the sharp tone she used.

Shaking her head, Megumi began picking up and studying the pieces
she had to work with.

Fifteen minutes later, she shook her head again.  "You rigged
this, Skuld," she said as she carefully attached the last emitter
to the drive.  "This was *way* too easy."

"You think so?" Skuld replied with a laugh from the other side of
the shop, where she was taking measurements from the original
frame of Doug's motorcycle, still only partially assembled. "Just
imagine if I'd dropped those parts in your lap three weeks ago.
Would you have had clue one what to do with them?"

Megumi paused, then lifted the all-but-complete drive that
nestled in her hand and studied it.  Then she closed her eyes and
imagined herself as she had been a month earlier, when Belldandy
and her sisters were just some foreign girls living in Japan,
when magic had been a fairy tale, and anti-gravity science
fiction.  She imagined herself looking at the bits and pieces of
the grav unit then, trying to understand just what they were, and
what they did.  She imagined herself... absolutely confounded by
most of them.

"No," she finally said.  "I wouldn't've.  You're right."

"Of course I'm right," Skuld said.  Her tone was arrogant and
haughty, but the smile she shared with Megumi at the same moment
put the lie to it.  The little goddess then dug in a pocket and
held up yet another module -- one whose place on the assemblage
Megumi instantly figured out.  "Now for the last piece -- the
power supply."

Moments later, the two had their heads bent over the tiny device,
assorted fine tools in their hands.  "This is the tricky part,"
Skuld said quietly.  "If you don't do this *just* right..."

They started as Chris burst into the workshop, a grim expression
on his face and Doug on his heels.  "Guys, we need to talk."

Neither girl looked up.  "One sec, 'Niichan, this is delicate."

"Now, Skuld, this is Celestial business," he barked at her.
"Unless you want a whole flock of the Host in here, we have to
get this resolved *now*."

With an exasperated sigh, Skuld removed the power supply from the
grav unit and placed it on the bench, then laid her tools down
next to it.  As Megumi straightened up and removed the magnifier
assembly that she wore, Skuld gave him an almost comically
expectant look.  "Fine."

Chris began to pace furiously, his hands clenching into and out
of fists spastically.  "I just had a rather nerve-wracking talk
with a Choir member about Megumi here."

"Me?!" she yelped.  "What did I do?"

Stopping cold, he held a finger up as if to suggest something,
but then dropped his hand.  "Okay, not going there," Chris
muttered, and briskly continued.  "Megumi, you're not in trouble,
to be honest.  Skuld is, but you might pay for it."

"'Niichan, spit it out already!"

Chris sighed breathily, and began to pace again.  "Okay.  Some
background for the mortals here.  The guys upstairs who are
involved in technology advancement -- people like Jean, Indra,
Mawu-Lisa, and to some extent Skuld -- have these rules they're
supposed to follow.  Specifically, those rules are about what
we're allowed to give them and how.  If humanity discovers
something on their own, that's one thing, and we don't worry
about it, but if *we* give it to mankind, there's limits."

"Whuh oh," Skuld breathed, her eyes wide.

"Yes, 'whuh oh'," Chris mimicked as he strode back and forth.
"All these gravitics, and super alloys aren't supposed to be out
yet!  Humanity doesn't even have the start of the physics and
math needed, Skuld, and you're sitting here teaching it to her!"

"What about me?" Doug asked.

"Meh," the god said dismissively.  "You can take whatever you
like with you.  We have no problems unless you start handing
things out."

"Unless I start..."  Doug's normally-cheerful expression suddenly
morphed into something dark and angry.  "That's *bullshit.*  And
just when I was starting to *like* you guys."

Chris stopped short and turned to him.  "What?"

Doug's lip twitched into something just short of a snarl.  "In
case you haven't noticed, Bozo, *I'm* a mortal, just not from
around here.  I came about my knowledge honestly and *no one* --
especially not some fucking Celestial with a stick up its
immortal ass -- has the right to tell me who I can and can't
teach it to.  And if they have a problem with that, well, I just
don't fucking care."

A deathly quiet settled over the temple yard.

Megumi glanced back and forth between the two men, and took a
step back before glancing at Skuld.  The little goddess's
attention was riveted on the pair, worry plainly written on her
face.

Chris clenched his right fist and counted to ten in Old Norse.
"You'll have to care if you get the attention of a Judgment
triad, or worse."

Doug hawked and spat on the floor.  Skuld let out an outraged
squawk, but neither man paid attention to her.  "That's what I
think of *that* threat.  No angel -- lower-case 'A' or capital --
is going to intimidate me.  They try... well, I've killed one god
already in my life.  An angel won't be nearly as much of a
challenge."

"You *what*?" Chris began as a simultaneous intake of breath from
Skuld and Megumi indicated their reaction to this revelation,
then he threw up his arms in anger.  "For Fnord's sake, can't you
just *not* be an ornery ass for once in your life and do what
you're told?  Did it ever occur to you there may be a *reason*
behind..."  He trailed off and shook his head.  "Never mind.  I
gave you fair warning," he said, pointing a finger at Doug's
chest.  "That's all I need to do.  Everything after that is your
choice.  However..."  He turned to face his sister and Keiichi's.
"Megumi is another question entirely."

Megumi's face was pale.  "What are you going to do to me?"

"Me?  Nothing.  Skuld here, has to take responsibility for you."

"I *what*?"

Chris stopped again, folded his arms, and glared at her.  "It's
not a good week for you, is it?  That's their condition if you
want to keep yourself out of censure -- you have to claim her.
You don't need to make her a Soldier, but she has to be one of
*yours*, bound and sealed, Skuld."

Skuld's face went red and she began to mutter, the words
unfamiliar to everyone but, apparently, Chris.  "Skuld!" he
snapped.  "Language!"

"What's that mean, she has to become one of Skuld's?"  Doug's
voice was low and smooth, dangerous-sounding, Megumi thought,
that of a man who was about to snap under pressure.

"I'd like an answer to that myself," she said, her own voice
somehow coming out far steadier than she felt.

Skuld glanced between them, then settled her gaze on Megumi.  "It
means you have to swear to my service, like a samurai to his
daimyo.  It's not like an earthly promise, though.  You'll be
giving me some measure of real control over you."  She dropped
her eyes to the floor.

"What kind of control?" Megumi half-whispered.

Chris frowned.  When Skuld seemed reluctant to answer, he said,
"I only know about this stuff second-hand, but from what I've
been told, you'll still have free will, if that's what you're
worried about.  But you'd be bound by your oath to obey Skuld's
orders, if she gives you any."

"Nice," Doug all but sneered.  "And what scrap gets thrown to her
in return?"

Chris shrugged.  "To be honest, not much other than Skuld's
implied protection and patronage, if it's just an oath of
service."

"It's not like she's being bound as a Soldier," Skuld said,
looking back up.  "It's just a formality to keep the Choir off
our backs."

"A Soldier?  What's that?" Megumi asked.

"Just what it sounds like," Skuld replied softly.  "A warrior in
the service of a Celestial.  In exchange for their oaths and
service, a Soldier gets... upgraded.  Improved."

"This is ridiculous," Doug snorted, then turned on his heel and
stalked out of the shop.  For a moment, Chris looked after him,
an almost sympathetic expression flickering across his face.

Meanwhile, Megumi turned to face Skuld.  "Improved how?"

Skuld stared at the tip of her shoe as she drew circles on the
floor with her toe.  "A power-up.  A Soldier gets an infusion of
Celestial energies.  It gives them some Celestial abilities,
makes them sensitive to Celestial events and creatures, and lets
them fight effectively on a Celestial level."

Megumi's mind suddenly flashed back to the two times that the
creature called Mara had violated her.  "Fight what?  Demons?"

"Yeah," Chris said.  "Sometimes."  He studied her closely for a
moment.  "Thing is, from what I hear Soldiers are more under
their patron's thumb than a simple servitor.  Just how bad that
can be depends on the Celestial."

"That doesn't matter," Skuld interrupted.  "We're not talking
about making you a Soldier."

*Maybe,* Megumi thought to herself.  The idea of no longer being
vulnerable to Mara and other monsters like her -- she wanted
that. She wanted it very badly.

"How long did they say I have to decide?" she asked Chris.



END OF CHAPTER THREE

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------------------------------------

This work of fiction is copyright (C) 2007, by Robert M. Schroeck
and Christopher Angel.

"Oh! My Goddess", and the settings and the characters thereof,
are copyright by and trademarks of Kosuke Fujishima, KISS and
Kodansha Ltd., and are used without permission.

"Douglas Q. Sangnoir," "Looney Toons", "The Loon" and any
representations thereof are copyright by and trademarks of Robert
M. Schroeck.

"Christopher 'Paradox' Angel" and any representations thereof are
copyright by and trademarks of Christopher Angel.

"Maggie 'Shadowwalker' Viel" and any representations thereof are
copyright by and a trademark of Peggy Schroeck.

"The Warriors", "Warriors' World", "Warriors International" and
"Warriors Alpha" are all jointly-held trademarks of The Warriors
Group.

Lyrics from "Good Morning Sunshine" as recorded by Donovan, words
and music by James Rado, Gerome Ragni and Galt MacDermott,
copyright (C) 1966 by Rado, Ragni and MacDermott.

The quote starting "I say to the gods..." is a version of verse
64 of "The Lokasenna" (also called "The Lay of Loki" and "Loki's
Wrangling", among other titles), part of the Poetic Edda.  There
are some... peculiarities... in this particular translation; see
the note in the concordance for more information.

The above are quoted in this fiction without permission under the
"fair use" provisions of international copyright law.

For a full explanation of the references and hidden tidbits in
this story, see the Drunkard's Walk V Concordance at:

        http://www.eclipse.net/~rms/dw5conc.html

Other chapters of this story can be found at:

        http://www.eclipse.net/~rms/dw5.html

"Oh! My Brother!" can be found at:

	http://www.yggdrasil.org/omg/index.html

The Drunkard's Walk discussion forums are open for those who wish
to trade thoughts and comments with other readers, as well as
with the authors:

        http://p202.ezboard.com/bdrunkardswalkforums

Many thanks to our prereaders on this chapter:  Kathleen Avins,
Nathan Baxter, Ed Becerra, Andrew Carr, Kevin Cody, Logan
Darklighter, Helen Imre, Josh Megerman, Berg Oswell, and Peggy
Schroeck.

C&C gratefully accepted.

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