Previous | First

I tried to work out different solutions with Aiol, but there was really nothing else we could do without a continuous divine intervention, and far be it from me to demand so much of Aiol’s attention—he was the god of the power of wind, not the god of the rail…road.

“The god of roads, of travelers, what about him? Where is Erma, and would he be able to help?”

“Erma is god of many things,” Aiol said.  “I had his blessing when we began to build the roads but I did not seek to burden him by asking for his patronage as well.  But I suppose we must ask for him to involve himself.”  He sighed, a concession to defeat that in no way diminished his divinity in my eyes.  “Roads and travelers, messengers and communication, trade and commerce—All of it under his purview, not mine, though my rails are for all of them.  He has been set up at Logodon in Gallie; I should go speak to him…”

There was a rush of wind, and the god was gone, leaving me alone.  Gallie was three thousand miles away; the rails did not travel all the way there yet—the Galliks were friendly with Karkedon—so I knew I could not follow; at the god’s speed, it would take him a little over a day to make the journey, one way.

So I had two and a half days to myself.  I refused to be helpless in the absence of the divinity, as so many were, as so many weren’t—but my capabilities might be diminished.  The god’s presence energized us all, and his absence was always palpable.