Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(38)

“Do you have an affinity to an element?” Pia asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Mine is air.” Pia blinked as a sudden breeze tickled her cheek. Linwe said, “I’m quite young, though, and that’s the extent of what I can do. One of our most Powerful ancients could take that same affinity to air and create a storm the size of Hurricane Rita.” The Elf held up a slim hand. “Not that I’m saying that creating a storm of that size would be a good thing. And one or two of our ancients, the ones who are especially gifted, have an affinity to more than one element. Those tend to be compatible with each other. Fire and air. Water and earth. That sort of thing.”

That was the best conversational opening Pia had seen yet, and she took it. “Speaking of ancients, I hear that Elves from Numenlaur are visiting.”

A shadow darkened Linwe’s animated expression. “Yes, although very few people have seen them. They have been closeted away ever since they arrived. I heard one of them might be ill.”

Whatever Pia might have expected to hear, that wasn’t it. She wasn’t aware Elves could suffer from illness. “I’m sorry.”

Linwe shrugged a slender shoulder. “It’s gossip. I don’t know anything for sure.”

“Do your ancients ever talk about why they warred with each other?” Pia asked.

Johnny and Eva’s silence grew more intense. When she looked over her shoulder, the other two Wyr stood several feet away and appeared to be studying the carved patterns in the passageway.

She could also tell by Linwe’s wide-eyed glance that she had surprised the other woman. “You know of that?”

It was her turn to shrug. How much should she admit to knowing? Keep it simple, stupid. She said, “Dragos is my mate.”

That seemed to have more impact than she had expected. Linwe’s eyes rounded, and she took a deep breath and blew it out so that her blue-tipped bangs bounced in the air. “Yes, of course,” Linwe said. “Then you must know of the Deus Machinae.”

The whosie whatsit?

Pia smiled. She said, “I don’t know the details of the story the way you learned it.”

Either Linwe didn’t notice that Pia was pumping her for information or she didn’t care. The Elf said, “I was taught that there are things on this Earth, Powerful things that were put here by the gods to enact their will. They have had many forms and have been called many names over time, but ever since the time of the classic Greek poets—Horace, Euripides, Aeschylus and such—they have been called the Deus Machinae, or the God Machines.”

Pia shook her head and murmured, “I haven’t had much of a classical education, but wasn’t the deus ex machina a plot device in Greek plays?”

Linwe’s gaze touched hers briefly. “Yes, it literally means the ‘god from the machine.’ Anyway at one point, or so I’ve heard the story go, the Elves had possession of all seven of the Deus Machinae at once, and they agreed this was a significant event. Then they began to argue about which of them was meant to rule and how.”

“I take it that didn’t go so well,” Pia said dryly.

“No, not so well. Some said the one who possessed Taliesin’s Machine was destined to rule, for Taliesin is the god over all the other gods. Others said, no, Inanna, the goddess of Love, should reign supreme. Or perhaps Azrael, the god of Death. Or the bearer of Hyperion’s item, since Law is the cornerstone of any civilization. Whether it was their ambition or the Power of the Machinae themselves, the ancients couldn’t agree. Instead they—we—came to blows. Apparently we nearly destroyed ourselves.”

“Dragos said it caused a diaspora,” she said softly.

Linwe glanced at her. “Yes, those who survived finally came together and made a covenant. They split into seven groups, and each group took an item. Numenlaur was one of them. The other six groups promised to travel far away from each other, so that they would dissipate the Power of the Machinae, and end the war and all the chaos that had come with it. All seven groups were supposed to cast their items into the world, letting the gods’ will work where it would.”

Pia became aware suddenly of a cold, steady wind that blew along the crossover passageway. The wind must have come from the Other land for it smelled strange, and it felt wet and heavy with a sense of snow that the Wood didn’t have on this side of the passage. She shivered, pulled her anorak close and asked, “Did they do it?”

Linwe shook her head. “Nobody knows for sure. Maybe they did. Maybe some of the groups lied and said they did, but instead they kept their items. Or maybe they tried to keep them only to have the Machinae slip out of their grasps, because no one can control the will of the gods. Some of the original groups disappeared, and Numenlaur closed itself off from the rest of the world. All I know is that our High Lord and Lady kept their word.”

Maybe those groups that had disappeared were the precursors to the Light and Dark Fae. Linwe’s faith in her demesne rulers was touching, but Pia couldn’t help but wonder if it was naive. She ducked her head, trying to keep her expression neutral. She asked, “Whose item did Calondir and Beluviel carry away with them?”

“Inanna’s, the goddess of Love,” the Elf said, smiling. “At the time, Inanna’s Machine appeared as a golden chalice that fit into two cupped hands.” She held her hands together to demonstrate the size. “The goddess was depicted as riding a chariot around the bowl, and seven gold lions circled the base.”