by
Marc H. Wyman & Chris Bogues
“Ho
there, brother, a new face!” Alyssa cheered.
Darawk,
seated next to her at the stone table on the dais overlooking a small
park, nearly dropped his pen in surprise. As it was, ink squirted from the
pen and splotched onto the paper. “Dear sister,” the God of Knowledge
sighed, “you pay so much attention to appearances. Who is it now that is
wearing another face?”
“Nobody
I know,” the hazel-haired Goddess of Love grinned.
That
caught Darawk’s attention, and with a frown he raised his eyes to see
the lone figure ambling down the road between the tall buildings. An old
man, by the looks of it, wearing clothes that had seen better days. Not
the way any self-respecting god would choose to look. Darawk himself
appeared to be an elderly gentleman, but clad in fine clothes, with a
cloak the color of darktime, but rimmed with iridescent lining.
“Neither
do I know him,” Darawk shook his head. That was very odd. If another
abode had decided to send an ambassador, should Decirius not have informed
them all? One could always rely on Decirius to do so. Or could one? Had
the old boy let this one slip by? “Have you heard of a visitor being
announced, dear sister?” he asked, gracefully trying to wipe the splotch
from his paper. When his sleeve failed to work, he sighed and removed it
by his mind’s power.
Alyssa
chuckled. “Who cares about announcements? It’s someone new, that’s
all that counts.” She jumped from her chair, leaped over the balustrade
of their dais – her dress fluttering up her long legs – and then
looked up with a mischievous grin on her face. “Don’t you care about learning
who this man is? I thought you’re the God of Knowledge, brother
of mine?”
Darawk
sighed again. His sister knew just how to handle him, didn’t she? Slowly
he finished the line he was writing, then rose, rolled up the paper before
him and tucked it into a pocket of his vest, then he took the stairs and
walked over to join Alyssa and the stranger. The goddess turned her
beaming eyes to him and joyfully announced, “Imagine that, Darawk, he
doesn’t have a name!”
“No
name?” Darawk pursed his lips and cast a questioning glance towards the
old man, strangely aware that they were of about the same height though
Darawk felt as if he towered over the stranger.
The
old man shrugged. “It has never seemed important. I know who I am. Is
that not enough?”
“A
valid point,” Darawk allowed. “But for the sake of conversation it
seems a necessity.”
“Does
it really?” The old man smiled wrily. “As we speak at this moment,
each of us knows who is addressed. The only time when a name is needed in
conversation is when someone is not present. What is spoken of him or her
then, when he does not learn the contents of the conversation?”
Darawk
frowned, caught off guard.
Before
he could try and reply, Alyssa chuckled and gently rubbed his arm. “My,
my, my, dearie, it seems you’ve found somebody to talk to! Really,”
she turned to the old man, her hand sliding down to entangle Darawk’s,
“you sound just like my brother!”
“Your
brother?” the old man inquired. “Forgive my surprise but I have found
it odd to hear of such a connection between gods. That is more like a
mortal’s way of observing the world.”
Darawk
crooked his head. “It is who we are.”
“Well…”
Alyssa drew out the word, pressed her brother’s fingers more closely.
“He is right, you know. I’d never dream of calling Decirius my
brother.”
“Of
course not!” Darawk exclaimed. “He is our lord! Why would –“ He
stopped himself, aware of the inquisitive glances of not only the stranger
but also Alyssa. A shade of red crept onto his face, when he nodded
jerkily and said, “Obviously you have more insight than I credit you
for, dear sister. Please, pardon me for my arrogance.”
“Oh,
you’re pardoned, you old parchment sniffer,” she laughed. “For now,
anyway.”
“Be
that as it may,” Darawk regained a bit of his composure, “it is a
thought I will ponder more on. Thank you, stranger, for pointing out a
topic I need to investigate.”
“It
is an honor.” The old man nodded graciously. “Giving reason for
thought, that is one of the prime functions of our existence.”
“Indeed
it is.”
Alyssa
was switching her glance quickly from one to the other, a smirk implanting
itself ever more firmly on her lips, before she broke out in laughter and
raised one hand to her chest. “You should see yourselves, you two!”
she laughed. “You’re so alike, it is you who should call yourselves
brothers!”
Darawk
blinked, smiled irritatedly. “It is simply a similarity of minds, that
is all.”
The
old man nodded slowly. “After all, is it not the goal of all to find
knowledge? To expand one’s awareness of the world?”
“Absolutely,”
Darawk seconded eagerly. “Without knowledge, we are nothing. We are as
the primal spark that first appeared in the void; it is knowledge that has
filled the emptiness with being.”
“Ah!”
The stranger raised his hand and smiled. “But what is being? Is
it the state of existence, or is it the creation? Gods are, by our nature,
creators. What of the mortals? What of the gargoyle that travels the skies
of the mortal world, does it not create? The sight of its stony wings,
aflight despite its weight, the trails it leaves on the heavens, that is
also a creation. And what of the dragon? Let’s take an emperor dragon,
with a breath so fiery that it turns coal to diamond. Is it not also a
creator? The maker of something new and precious from what was mundane and
ordinary before?”
Darawk
disentangled his hand from Alyssa’s and paced up a few steps, his brow
furrowed in thought. “Creation as the purpose of being, that is what you
are saying, is it not? Creation of fresh knowledge, in a way. The quest
for knowledge would remain of paramount importance, for without knowledge,
the creation of something unique and new would be cast in doubt.”
“In
doubt perhaps, but does that take away the beauty?”
“Beauty?”
Darawk blinked.
“Yes,”
the old man confirmed. “Consider your sister,” he nodded with a smile
to Alyssa who immediately threw back her head and let her hazel hair fly,
“her image is not a fresh creation, I assume, yet she is aesthetic and
quite pleasing to observe. Beauty is a value of its own, it is not
required to be new, or even unique.”
Alyssa
laughed then, stepped inbetween the two and cast a firm glance on each of
them. “I think the two of you will spend the next couple of millenia
discussing one or the other detail. As for you, stranger,” she raised a
finely drawn eyebrow, “this image is of my own creation. It is
unique, and trust me, there is detailed knowledge in that image which
would require a long time to learn.” With that, she pushed both of them
further apart, stepping through them and walking away with a wide smile on
her face.
The
old man followed her with his eyes. “An interesting person, your sister
is.”
“Interesting,”
Darawk shook his head, “hardly describes her. A question, stranger, if I
may ask? Do you intend to stay here long?”
The
old man sighed, returned his gaze to the other god and leaned on his
walking stick. “I do not know yet.”
Darawk
nodded. “Then I believe we should quickly return to our discussion.
Where were we?”
“The
purpose of creation, and the quest for knowledge,” the old man answered
with a sparkle in his eyes.
The
same light burned in Darawk’s eyes, and with glee both of them continued
their discussion which would indeed last a long while, though not the
millenia Alyssa had assumed.
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