"Oh! So you've come! Hohoho."

So you've come? Since when did he talk like that? Something felt off.

"Mr. Barnsdale..."

"Have you been well?"

My summoner was Chris Barnsdale, the linguist immortal.

He'd changed a lot.

When we first met, he'd called me young hero and minded his manners, and then at some point he'd slid into talking down to me like it was nothing.

And now, after all this time, he was different again.

How to put it? Arrogance? Conceit? Something like that was coming off him.

Gods are just like people.

When things go well for them, they puff up.

And, of course, I'm the type who can't stand watching that.

"I've been well. Nothing wrong on your end? You're looking great."

I said hello and, in the same breath, dangled the bait: Did you land something?

"Heh heh. So you can see it too, can you?"

He bit.

"Yes. Looks like you pulled off something big."

I pressed a little harder.

"Oho! You always did have good instincts."

He was impressed, but he didn't come down off his perch.

"The way you talk has changed too."

The question had two meanings: Did you land something good enough to look down on me now?

"I went on a long business trip, and I picked up the way they talk over there."

But it looked like there was more to it than that.

As he brought up the trip, he puffed out his chest even more.

If his nose was that high in the air, it meant he'd hit the jackpot.

"A business trip?"

I asked, looking all around.

His estate felt completely different too.

Beside the great old pine I'd planted for him long ago stood a strange, towering tree.

It looked like a giant coiled wisteria.

One look and I figured it must have cost a fair number of points.

That wasn't all. All through the house were new ornaments, each one a master craftsman's labor of love.

It didn't look like fairies had dropped by and hit like for him, either.

He definitely had a second…