Free Soldiers Live by Glen Cook

past the throne. It dwindles every day. As does Shivetya,
    the mechanism ruling the plain heals itself.
    The great circular model of the plain rises half a yard above the rest of the
     floor, which exists at the level of the plain outside.
    Blade dropped off the edge of the wheel. He strode to a hole in the floor, the
     head of stairs leading down. They descend for miles, through caverns natural and
     created. The sleeping Goddess Kina lies at the deepest level, patiently awaiting
     the Year of the Skulls and the beginning of the Khadi Cycle, the destruction of
     the world. The wounded Goddess Kina.
    Shadows stirred along the nearby wall. Blade froze. Who? No way that could be
     his people. Or, what?
    Fear speared through Blade. Shadows in motion often presaged cruel, screaming
     death. Had those things found a way into the fortress? Their merciless feasting
     was not a horror he cared to witness ever again. And in particular he did not
     want to be the main course.
    “The Nef,” Blade told himself as three humanoid shapes emerged from the
     darkness. He recognized them despite never having seen them before. Hardly
     anyone did, outside of dreams. Or maybe nightmares. The Nef were incredibly
     ugly. Though they might have been wearing masks. The several descriptions
     available did not agree except as to ugliness. He counted them off. “The
     Washane. The Washene. The Washone.” Names Shivetya had given Sleepy years ago.
    What did they mean? Did they mean anything at all? “How did they get in here?”
    The answer might be critical. Killer shadows might exploit the same opening.
    As the Nef always did, they tried to communicate something. In the past their
     efforts inevitably failed. But this time their appeal seemed obvious. They did
     not want Blade to go down those stairs.
    Sleepy, Master Santaraksita, and others who have been in contact with Shivetya
     believe that the Nef are artificial reproductions of the beings who created the
     plain. Shivetya brought them into existence because he longed for a connection
     with something approximating those whose artifice had wrought the great engine
     and its pathways between the worlds, because he was lonely.
    Shivetya has lost his will to live. If he should perish, whatever he has created
     himself will go with him. The Nef are not yet prepared to embrace oblivion,
    despite the endless horror and tedium existence upon the plain imposes.
    Blade spread his hands at his sides in a gesture of helplessness. “You guys need
     to polish your communication skills.” Not a sound came from the Nef but their
     growing frustration became palpable. Which had been a constant from the first
     time anyone had dreamt of them.
    Blade stared. He did try to understand. He considered the ironies of the Black
     Company’s adventure across the glittering plain. He was an atheist himself. His
     journey had brought him face-to-face with a complete ecology of supernatural
     entities. And Tobo and Sleepy, whom he considered reliable witnesses otherwise,
    claimed actually to have seen the grim Goddess Kina who, myth suggested, lay
     imprisoned a mile beneath his feet.
    Sleepy, of course, faced her crises of faith. A devout Vehdna monotheist, she
     never, ever encountered any worldly sustenance for her beliefs. Though
     supportive evidence is thin, the Gunni religion only creaks badly under the
     burden of the knowledge we have unearthed. The Gunni are polytheists accustomed
     to having their gods assume countless aspects and avatars, shapes and disguises.
    So much so that, in some myths, those gods seem to be murdering or cuckolding
     themselves. The Gunni have the flexibility to look at every discovery, as Master
     Santaraksita has, and declare new information to be just another way of
     proclaiming the same old divine truths.
    God is god, whatever his name. Blade has seen those sentiments inlaid in the
     wall tiles in several places in Khang Phi.
    Whenever anyone strays far from Shivetya, a ball