Outside Influences

“Are you excited for the day, sir? Perhaps a little nervous?”

Stion’s tail twitched at the question. “Not at all, Hulp. I’ve been preparing for my turn as magistrate for over twenty thousand days, what would I be nervous for?”

Stion flexed his neck ridges and appreciated their colors in the room’s polished mirror. “Now, help me into my magisterial robes so that I can begin my first day on time.”

Hulp bowed obediently and scurried off to pull the robe from its hanging place. It was a rather bland bit of clothing – Stion would much rather go without it to better display the colorful sheen of his scales – but the robe was a tradition that dated back to the founding of the Free City of Walls.

He almost snorted aloud at the name. Just as bland as the robe, he thought. Still, for any city to exist for so long without oversight from the Asura or the Naga meant that the founders had done something right, even if the system of democratically elected rotating dictatorial magistrates wasn’t very intuitive.

Stion tucked in his claws as Hulp threw the robe over his shoulders and wrapped it around his thin body. The helper began chatting as he busied himself cinching the appropriate sets of ties to get the robe to fit comfortably around Stion’s body. Stion ignored him and began thinking about the day’s tasks, until something caught his ear.

“What was that, Hulp?” he asked.

“Just that the old foxes must also believe you are ready sir, since they’ve all gone on a retreat to the hot springs.”

Hulp’s nostrils twitched. “All of them?”

Hulp nodded enthusiastically as he tied an ornate knot. “Yes magistrate, all of them.”

That… that sounds ominous, he thought. They’ve never particularly liked me.

“Are there any changes to the schedule, Hulp? Any unexpected meetings?”

“No sir, just the usual inspections. Oh, and today is a petition day, so there are a few of those.”

Stion tapped the floor with one of his clawed feet. If anything out of the ordinary was going to happen, it would be during the petitions. “Let us start with the petitions then. I’m sure that our citizens are eager to meet their newest magistrate, eh?”

Hulp nodded absently as he stepped back to inspect his work. “Of course sir, I am certain that they are all quite excited. Do you want to wear the hat as well?”

Stion hissed quietly while vibrating his throat to make a threatening rumble. The tassel on the little round hat jiggled in the wind from his breath, almost as if the object feared his wrath.

Hulp wisely reached past the headwear and instead handed Stion a bulbous stone club with a head made from a solid block of diamond. “The scepter is mandatory, I’m afraid.”

“Of course,” Stion huffed. Scepter in hand he set off, his clawed feet clicking through the hallways as he went. Some magistrates frowned upon haste, but Stion would never give up the predatory feel of sprinting down the wide stone hallways, his tail whipping behind him to stabilize his stride. He rushed all the way to the audience chamber, leaping from the floor to the raised dais in a single athletic bound. His forceful landing rattled the furniture, but everything remained in place. A quick check of his robe showed nothing in disarray; Hulp was good at what he did, after all.

Stion waved his diamond scepter to one of the retainers waiting about the room. “Are there any unusual petitions today?”

The Jorōgumo woman bowed briefly, her silk robe shifting to briefly expose her black and yellow legs, before she straightened. “There are two interesting petitions, magistrate. The first involves a gorgon who reports that a trickster has fooled one of their young into thinking she has been patronized by a goddess. The second involves a group of the goddess Kjar’s followers who have captured an Asura who they claim has been marked as guilty by their patron’s worldly avatar.”

Stion snorted at the second one. This sounds bothersome – but bad enough for those annoying kitsune to take a break from the city?

The woman plucked a piece of parchment from the wall where she had anchored it with a bit of silk. She scanned through the contents quickly and added, “there are also an unusually large number of young people seeking guidance on their patronage.”

“The gorgon case sounds straightforward,” Stion declared. “Show them in first. Someone else fetch one of the oracles – if a goddess of retribution has an avatar running loose then we must proceed carefully.”

The woman bowed and went to the door while Stion pondered where to stand. There was a couch on the dais, but couches were for weak, tailless creatures. If he stood though, he would be slightly off-center. Maybe I could stand in front of it, but slip my tail underneath?

For some reason, he had never thought about the problem until that moment. Too worried about more important things, I suppose.

“Your first supplicants, Magistrate Stion.” The retainer bowed and moved back to her place at the side of the room.

Stion looked up at the supplicants and restrained his tail from twitching. A stern-faced gorgon entered the room, leading a younger child behind her. He had an irrational urge to watch them in the polished stone floor rather than meet their gaze directly, but he controlled himself. Not only would looking away make him look weak, it would also send a terrible message to the people who made up nearly one in ten of the local population.

“Ladies,” he greeted them warmly. “What can I do for you?”

“This child,” the adult began, forcing the young girl forward, “she has been made a fool by some trickster god.”

The young girl’s snakes were curled with shame as her guardian prodded her forward. She opened her mouth to say something for herself, but the older gorgon kept talking. “The old kitsune have burned many tricksters out. Can you do the same?”

Stion skimmed his lips back in an approximation of a smile. The old foxes may have run off, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t deal with little things like this.

“As a magistrate I have a great many abilities,” he replied warmly. “First, bring her closer so that I may inspect her.”

Stion set down his scepter on top of a small side table to free his hands and jumped down from the dais. A pair of attendants struggled to carry over a large stone basin that was used for rituals of balance and stability, the domains of Stion’s patron. As they filled it with multiple jugs of water he gestured the young gorgon closer.

“Hello little one,” he said warmly. “What’s your name?”

“Hoyle,” she replied shyly.

“That is not your name,” the stern gorgon responded.

“But I want it to be!”

Stion’s tail flicked with impatience. “Well, Hoyle will do for now.” He tapped the edge of the basin. “If you place your hands into the water we can use it as a medium to connect with my patron. He’ll have a talk with whatever trickster is in your core, okay?”

The little girl stomped her foot. “But she’s not playing tricks! She said she would be my patron! And she said I could change my name, too!”

Yes, I am very glad that all of my hatchlings have long-since left the nest, Stion thought to himself. Aloud he said, “well, it’s my job to check that. If it’s true, then I’ll be able to meet her as well, okay? I promise that if she is who she claims then there won’t be any problems.”

The girl looked at him with obvious mistrust, her little snakes writhing about and flicking their tongues. Then her guardian pinched her ear and she quickly capitulated, rushing to the water-filled basin to avoid more ear twisting.

Stion leaned low over the basin so his arms could reach the water, his tail extending to balance his long body. The little gorgon’s lips quivered with fright – probably at the size Stion’s teeth as much as anything else. I wonder if that stupid hat would make me look more friendly? he wondered. There had to be some reason that the founders had worn such a stupid thing.

His claws dipped into the water and it turned a light, milky color at the touch of his essence. After a moment to let the water still, he began his prayer.

“Oh, holy lord of stability, hear my prayer! Reveal the force that inhabits this young one and seeks to destabilize her soul.”

“Greetings Stion,” a divine voice intruded into his head. “This is an uncomfortably sudden turn of events, but the gorgons have been once again offered a place under our pantheon. The being in this girl’s core is an agent of change and chaos–”

“Progress,” a new voice interrupted. “Agent of progress, dear Stabilis.”

The water beneath the little gorgon’s hands frothed and turned into an eye-searing prism of colors. It pushed against the calm, milky white of the water under Stion’s hands until the two forces reached a shaky equilibrium. The clashing patterns intruded upon each other’s territories, like two cats curled together.

“Lempo,” Stabilis responded, his voice guarded. “Why are you interfering with events in the underworld? You lead us to believe that your designs lie elsewhere.”

Stion cringed, but he did he best to keep his tail from waving anxiously. An argument between gods was not what he wanted to be involved in, especially not first thing on his first day as magistrate.

Lempo’s laugh reverberated through Stion’s skull. “Oh, come now Stabilis,” she chided, “I’ve hardly interfered. My avatar is just passing through, she’ll be out of your disciples hair in hardly a moment.”

“Why change the gorgons now, Lempo?” Stabilis demanded. “There was no pressing need.”

“I was asked!” Lempo laughed. “How could I turn away someone who yearned so strongly for change?”

There was a long pause where Stion could almost imagine his god sighing.

“Oh,” Lempo began again in her cheerful voice, “that reminds me. I set Ishmael free. He’s been wasting away for far too long.”

“You what?” Stion cried in alarm, his worries about decorum instantly forgotten. “The guide is gone?”

“Yeah, the poor guy was sealed away for way too long. Do you disagree, Stabilis?”

“While I do not fault your compassion, Lempo, we do have a process for these things.”

Stion decided that he had more urgent things to than listen to the gods bicker. He withdrew his claws from the water and looked over the two gorgons.

“Everything seems fine with Hoyle,” he said quickly.

The older gorgon frowned. “That’s not her name. And what about the trickster?”

Stion waved the Jorōgumo attendant over while he shook his head. “No trickster, totally aboveboard. If her goddess wants to call her Hoyle, that’s fine with me.”

He quickly turned from the flabbergasted gorgon and hissed to his attendant, “where is the oracle?”

Her eight eyes shifted around in discomfort. “They’ve all, uh, they are all sick magistrate. I’ve been told that they’ve gone to the mountains for some fresh air.”

Stion’s eye twitched uncontrollably and his neck frills stood out in alarm. “Seal the city,” he commanded. “Only citizens may pass through. No new visitors.”

“But–”

“No buts!” he interrupted with a gnash of his teeth, “just do it!”