Chapter 26 #2
“Take your fill of whatever food I have and bring your apple cores for the goats.” He chuckles to himself.
“They love a little treat.” He pulls on a cloak hanging from a knob near the front door.
As I watch, he takes a sprig of a dried plant and stuffs it into something that looks like a leather cone.
It isn’t until he raises the cone to his face that I realize what it is—a plague mask.
The “face” is that of a bird with a long, long nose.
I’d be willing to bet the bird is a vulture.
My stomach churns a little at the sight. Not Kalos, he said. But maybe one of his aspects has been nearby and just skipped Omos? I’m going to worry every time someone so much as sneezes, thinking that we’re in danger.
Omos turns to look at me, no longer a kindly old monk but a stranger. “If anyone comes to trade crystals, make them sit outside and wait. Don’t tell them Lord Kalos is here.”
I nod. I’m not putting a target on my back.
After he leaves, I eat three apples and all the bread before the bottomless pit of my stomach seems to be sated.
After drinking some water from a pitcher, I wash my hands and head outside in search of a cranky god and a goat.
It’s a bright, sunny day, with a gentle breeze and puffy clouds in the sky.
Kalos is sitting on the railing of the goat pen, watching them eat.
He leans on his knees, all slouchy casualness, and the wind ruffles his beautiful silver hair.
It’s a quaint picture and brings a smile to my face. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” he asks, all fussy Kalos. He straightens and arches a brow at me, a look of pure distaste on his face. “Or is it a disturbing one?”
“Disturbing? Why?” I’m genuinely puzzled at his comment.
Kalos gestures at one of the goats, a pale white one with a fuzzy orange spot on her side and a hanging udder. “The monk yanked on their teats earlier and milk shot out. You do realize that’s what you’ve been drinking?”
I smother a laugh behind my hand. “I know where milk comes from, yes. How is it you weren’t aware?”
“Like I notice what humans are shoving into their mouths at all times?” He scoffs at me. “I have better things to do than to watch you all taste random animal body fluids.”
When he puts it that way, it does sound rather gross.
Still, I know he loves Dingle, and the goat isn’t exactly a bastion of cleanliness.
Maybe he’s just being surly this morning for the sake of being surly.
Biting back my amusement, I move to his side, leaning on the fence next to him.
“I’m really glad we’re staying here for a few days.
I already feel better after a good night’s sleep. ”
“Well, as long as you’re happy,” he says in a cranky tone.
“Did you want to leave?” I ask, bracing myself for whatever answer he gives. If he doesn’t want to stay, it’s not like I have a choice. We’ll move on, just as we always do, because my job is to be his companion.
He looks over at me and shakes his head. “We can stay. It’s not your fault I’m in a mood. I’m taking it out on you and there’s no reason for it.”
That’s as close to an apology as I’ve ever gotten from him. “Are you…okay?”
Kalos huffs. Dingle bounds over, butts at Kalos’s leg, and bounces away again. The god watches the goat frolicking with the others, and it’s like he’s deliberately trying not to look in my direction for some reason. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“You tell me. Do we need to talk about something?”
He pauses long enough to scowl at me. “Do you have to be so delighted in everything the monk says?”
I’m taken aback. I didn’t think I was being ridiculous, just friendly. “Omos has been nice. It feels like a rarity these days.”
“I’m nice,” he mutters. “I haven’t killed anyone that’s annoyed me recently.”
Is he…jealous? Is that what this is? It’s unlike him to actually give a shit about anything, much less me. I touch a finger to his hand, tentative. “Do we need to talk, Kalos?”
He eyes my finger resting on his hand, and I wonder if my touch is bothering him, too.
Then he shakes his head and groans, rubbing his free hand down his face.
“I am in a foul mood. I don’t know how he can stand to live here.
” The god gestures at the distance. “I can feel the throb of the land. The magic has been torn asunder and the world ripped open, just like this.” He indicates his sleeve, and sure enough, there’s a tiny tear there, near the cuff. “It’s affecting me.”
Oh. I didn’t realize that the proximity to the Dirtlands was going to bother him so much.
With sympathy, I squeeze his hand, and when he doesn’t pull it from my grasp, I keep holding it.
It feels like he needs comforting of some kind, even if it’s just a touch.
“I don’t want you in pain. Should we go? We can pack up and be gone tomorrow.”
Kalos considers this, then shakes his head.
“No. This is a good spot to hide. A safe spot. If it bothers me, no other god is going to linger here, either. It’ll be a good place for us to regroup and consider our next move.
” He glances over at me. “If you are happy and content here, then it’s just as good as anywhere else. ”
“Yes, but I’m here for you.”
He eyes me. “You do know that if it were up to me, I’d still be sitting in my chamber back at the temple?”
“And dead?” I point out, because one of his other aspects had pursued him.
Kalos shrugs. “It’s hard to care sometimes. Death gets all this over with a little faster.”
My heart hurts at his flat words, because he sounds so tired, so defeated. Like he no longer wants to fight. Like he never did. But he’s Apathy, I remind myself. This is part and parcel of who he’s been forced to become. I continue to hold his hand.
If he won’t fight for himself, I’m going to fight for him.
“I’m glad you’re still here,” I tell Kalos.
He looks over at me, his green eyes burning with a sudden intensity.
His hand tightens on mine, and he stares at me for so long that a strange, curling heat unfurls in my belly.
I think about our kiss. Not the one when we’d seen Gental’s people, but the one he gave me when he’d rescued me from Seth’s dungeon.
The fierce kiss of claiming and sheer relief.
It feels like it happened a million years ago.
I wonder if we’re ever going to get back to that place. To casually kissing one another. To him grabbing me and kissing me because he can’t stand another moment without touching me.
His thumb strokes my skin, and goosebumps prickle up my arm. His gaze flicks to my mouth, and I wonder for a moment if he’s going to lean over and kiss me.
Instead, Kalos says, “If I were not here, you’d be with your brother, back in your world.”
It’s like a mental splash of cold water, to be reminded of my brother.
If I were back in my world with David, he’d be dying.
Being here, keeping Kalos alive, is keeping David alive, too.
I slide my hand out of his grip and pretend interest in the goats.
Omos’s little goats are fat, happy creatures.
Dingle’s still a baby, but he’s bigger than them, and he’s going to be a very large goat when he’s fully grown.
He frolics with them, butting heads and dancing away and having the time of his little goat life.
“We should feed them. Omos went to the village, and I don’t know how long he’s going to be gone. ”
“Mm.” Kalos is back to being bored.
I start climbing the fence, hauling a leg and my skirts over the rickety wooden railing.
I’ll have to find where their food is, but for now, their water bucket is empty and turned over.
I can fill that at least. I pick my way across the mud.
“He’s delivering herbs to sick nearby, which I think is very sweet of him.
It doesn’t sound like it was sickness from one of your Aspects, though.
Just run-of-the-mill illness, I suppose.
” I take the bucket by the rope handle and lift it from the mud, wrinkling my nose.
“You’ll stop him from getting sick, right?
Omos? I like him and I’d hate for him to suffer if we can do something about it. ”
Kalos shoots me an incredulous look. “What sort of monster do you take me for?”
Is he joking? “I take you as a god who doesn’t give a shit who lives or dies, as you’ve said yourself. Wanna prove me wrong?”
He just grunts, and I think I’ve won the conversation.
After I feed the goats and give them fresh water, I notice the god is still sitting in his same spot on the railing. His eyes are glazed, that vacant, distant look in them. Another wave of apathy. My poor Kalos.
“Come on,” I say softly, taking his hand in mine. “Let’s get you inside and out of the sun, all right? We’ll put your chair by the fire and make you comfortable.”
He lets me lead him into the monastery, his steps slow and measured, as if even his body is fighting the urge to do anything.
I murmur encouragement to him along the way, because it’s not his fault that he’s this way.
It’s just something he must live with, like anyone else with a chronic illness.
All we can do is manage the bad days and enjoy the good ones.
I settle him in the chair he’d claimed last night, in the best spot in the house, and pull his boots off for him as I talk, sharing stories of my brother as I do.
When David had first started chemo, he’d been weak and sick, and he’d crashed into everything in the apartment, knocking over lamps and picture frames.
I’d returned home from my job thinking that we’d been robbed, only to find poor David passed out in the bathroom, snoring.
I don’t tell him about how violently ill David had been, because that’s the less charming part of the story.
I think he appreciates my words, though, because as I settle a blanket over his lap, his gaze flicks to me momentarily. A hint of a smile touches his mouth. It’s gone as quickly as it appears, but I’ll take it.
I touch Kalos’s cheek affectionately and set to cleaning up Omos’s living quarters so I can stay near Kalos in case he needs me.
“Did I ever tell you about my first job, Kalos? I worked at a fast-food place—a chicken joint. One of the jobs they had me do was making huge vats of coleslaw, and let me tell you, my first attempt was an absolute disaster…”