“It's just the transforming of heat into work,” he said. “I suppose . . . oh, the pumping of water. Mills that can grind even when the wind isn't blowing. That sort of thing? Is that what you had in mind?”
Simony the soldier hesitated.
“Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”
Brutha whispered, “Om?”
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
“It smells like a soldier's knapsack in here. Get me out.”
The copper ball spun madly over the fire. It gleamed almost as brightly as Simony's eyes.
Brutha tapped him on the shoulder.
“Can I have my tortoise?”
Simony laughed bitterly.
“There's good eating on one of these things,” he said, fishing out Om.
“Everyone says so,” said Brutha. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“What sort of place is Ankh?”
“A city of a million souls,” said the voice of Om,
“many of them occupying bodies. And a thousand religions. There's even a temple to the small gods! Sounds like a place where people don't have trouble believing things. Not a bad place for a fresh start, I think. With my brains and your . . . with my brains, we should soon be in business again.”
“You don't want to go back to Omnia?”
“No point,” said the voice of Om. “It's always possible to overthrow an established god. People get fed up, they want a change. But you can't overthrow yourself, can you?”
“Who're you talking to, priest?” said Simony.
“I . . . er . . . was praying.”
“Hah! To Om? You might as well pray to that tortoise.”
“Yes.”
“I am ashamed for Omnia,” said Simony. “Look at us. Stuck in the past. Held back by repressive monotheism. Shunned by our neighbors. What good has our God been to us? Gods? Hah!”
“Steady on, steady on,” said Didactylos. “We're on seawater and that's highly conductive armor you're wearing.”
“Oh, I say nothing about other gods,” said Simony quickly. “I have not the right. But Om? A bogeyman for the Quisition! If he exists, let him strike me down here and now!”
Simony drew his sword and held it up at arm's length.
Om sat peacefully on Brutha's lap. “I like this boy,” he said. “He's almost as good as a believer. It's like love and hate, know what I mean?”
Simony sheathed his sword again.
“Thus I refute Om,” he said.
“Yes, but what's the alternative?”