The convocation of the gods was a great thing even if no-one else knew what the gods discussed behind their closed doors, not even the angels who had accompanied them from their own domains to this great meeting place. The angels waited outside the bounds of the meeting in their Choirs, Phalanxes and Congregations their mien and demeanour depending upon their individual natures, some hovering anxiously figuratively and literally while others treated the event like an enormous angelic fete.
Thaladeneth, the Thirteenth Swordlord, had brought the smallest number of angels with him, a bare dozen, of all the gods. That was few enough of them to move around freely and almost unnoticeably as a group. Almost unnoticeably. When they went visiting, which they did because the older angels had former colleagues in the service of the Third and Seventh Swordlords, the clustering of grim faced and dark clad male warriors had a single white clad sister in their midst. Her white wasn’t the long gown or robe some angels serving other gods wore but trousers and a tunic finished off by brown boots. She was a grace note in their clustering, breaking them out into individuals of strength from the lump of their commonality and when they spoke to her their faces showed unfamiliar flashes of humour, animation and even compassion. Their old colleagues who’d taken service on different paths when their original masters died saw flashes of their old friends again.
Tala was asking questions. What she’d asked this time was, “Why do the other gods bring so many angels with them? It’s not as if we’re helping with the meeting at all.”
“It’s a hangover from the murder of the goddess Erithme when she was bathing alone in the Pool of Beauty at the beginning of the Death War,” admitted Dorthiel. “Having our divine masters go off on their own still makes those of us old enough to remember that very nervous.”
“And no-one ever leaves their demesne unattended either,” added Gadiah.
“But that’s not why our master doesn’t bring us all, is it?” Tala was looking around. She cleared her throat, “I’ve been told there are some of us who’ve never been to a convocation.”
“Yes, that’s true,” admitted Dorthiel.
Tala tumbled on before he could speak again. “It’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know how many of us there really are, isn’t it? And someone who’s never here can’t have their face counted.” She looked around again, taking in the sights beyond her now still brothers. “So, is it because the convocation is being observed or does he believe it’s been infiltrated?”
Mauve winged Warial dropped his hands on her shoulders to ensure he had her attention. “Little sister, we can all be trusted but never speak of this to anyone else.”
She looked around at the others, suddenly chilled as she realised that they all believed the enemy was already inside the gates.