Free Gods of Earth by Craig DeLancey Page A

the nutrients that a Puriman, or coyote, requires.”
    Chance bit into it warily. The taste was alien but mild, closest in his experience to the smell of yeast and starting fermentation. He ate the two bars and then accepted a glass of water.
    Mimir showed him then that one of the small doors in the paneled-off section opened onto a bathroom, with a toilet and sink. The far wall was lined with windows. No need to be concerned for privacy at this height, Chance realized.
    When he came back out, Chance felt a little better. His face and hands were clean. He had torn some strips of clothes from his ruined coat to tie the soles crudely back onto the front of his shoes. Though the strange food sat in his stomach uneasily, his hands no longer shook. He drank some more water, and then sat on the bench again, drawing the Guardian’s cloak tight around himself. Mimir watched him, unselfconsciously. The Guardian stood still before the bow windows, as fixed as a gray statue, brooding over the green earth that passed below.
    “How long till we reach the Sunken City?” Chance asked Mimir.
    “This is the Puriman term for Disthea? We shall arrive there before the evening.”
    He sighed and nodded impatiently. Only getting off the airship would relieve the gnawing anxiety he felt. He turned and looked back out the window. The river was far behind now, and they were crossing directly over the Sabremounts. The tall hills passed below, covered with trees, through which occasionally a crest of rock was visible on a few peaks.
    “It seems so big—the world—from up here.”
    “Very big,” Seth growled.
    “Once it was a common pronouncement of human beings that the world was small,” Mimir said. “But in that era there were thousands of times more human beings. Perhaps the world seems smaller to your kind when it is crowded.”
    Seth yipped.
    “Eat more?” the coyote asked.
    Mimir went to get him another brick of food.

    The night before Chance had slept uneasily on the hard ground, and sitting now on the soft bench of the airship, he was nodding asleep when there was a hard knock at the window. Seth yelped. Chance snapped his head to the side to see a hunched black bird perched on the outside sill.
    Not a real bird, he realized as he jumped up, but a mechanical one, such as the Guardian had destroyed, with black wings of scratched metal and glittering glass for a cyclopean eye. Mimir came to the window and slid the glass up, letting through wind and the roar of the engines. The thing waddled inside with the patience and haughtiness of a crow. Mimir closed the window, and the two Makine stared at each other awhile. Chance had the distinct impression that somehow they were communicating. The Guardian came and stood by his side.
    Finally Mimir turned to face them. “My syndicate brother has observed the god.”
    “Is Sarah with him?” Chance asked. He added, “And my brother?”
    “The Hexus rides on horseback, heading west. There are two humans with him, also on horseback. A male and a female.”
    “Sarah,” Seth barked. “Pa-Pa-Paul.”
    “It must be,” Chance agreed.
    “They appear to have suffered no significant trauma,” Mimir added, after facing the bird again.
    “Thank the mercy of God,” Chance said. “Thank God.”
    Mimir nodded noncommittally, and then lifted the window again. The bird makina waddled out and off the edge of the airship, falling toward the trees below before opening its wings and taking to the sky.

    The sun had passed its zenith when they came over a broad sea. The ship turned to the south, following the tall shoreline. Chance went and stood next to the Guardian. He could see nothing before them but a dark blue expanse, touched here and there with white-capped waves. On the horizon, to the west, there appeared to be a stretch of sand, but Chance thought it might instead just be the misting sea air of the distance.
    “This is the great Western Salt Sea?”
    “Yes, Puriman.”
    “Where is the