The Younger Gods

"Whatever you think best, Mother," Balacenia agreed.

Balacenia was fully aware of her position as the dominant god of the Land of Dhrall during this cycle, but she was quite sure that Dakas and Vash could get along quite well without her interference for a few hundred years. Enalla was probably busy tearing down Aracia's temple and chasing off the fat men who called themselves priests. Mother Ara was there to keep Enalla from going too far, and that gave Balacenia some free time to consider things. She knew that she was going to miss a number of the outlanders who'd been such good friends this past year. Her suggestion to Father that he move the time when the Vlagh had lost all her children had eliminated any need for outlanders—friends or not. Balacenia sighed. "They were delightful and very dear to me," she murmured, "but things are much better this way. Nobody dies, and I still have all those memories."

She let those memories return as she sat in the pink grotto with blessed Zelana and dearly loved Little-Me while she let her mind drift back through the year that had just passed. That year no longer existed, of course, but her memories of it were precious. "I think I'll keep them tucked away," she said out loud. "I'll be able to share them with children—and others as my cycle moves along."

"Did you say something, Big-Me?" Eleria asked, emerging from her sleep.

"Just thinking out loud, Little-Me," Balacenia replied. "Go back to sleep and join once more with the Beloved."

"I'll do that, Big-Me," Eleria replied, "just as soon as you stop all this chattering."

Balacenia laughed then and looked fondly at her alternate. "I really could use a hug, though," she said.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place, Big-Me?" Eleria replied. "Come over here, and I'll hug you all to pieces. I am the best hugger in all the world, you know."

"Indeed I do, Little-Me," Balacenia said. Then she went to Eleria's small bed and collected several years' worth of hugs.