33. 32 #2
He smiled again, like a fox. He picked up the book and flicked to a page he had clearly read a number of times from the way the spine cracked to its location.
He cleared his throat, and then he spoke.
“I used to begrudge there not being a God of Commerce. No reward for us mercantile folk. No celebration for hard work, and the gold that came with it. No pageantry.” He glanced up at me, and I only nodded for him to continue.
“But over the years, I have realised that greed is a godless trait. We deserve to be in the shadows.”
He snapped the book shut and I jumped.
“I am a bad person, apparently. What do you think of that?”
I had no idea what to think of it, or what to make of the man across from me.
There was nothing of sense to pull from it, other than a growing uncertainty in his stability.
I bit my lower lip, and tried to be honest. “Everyone has godless traits inside them. It’s how you manage them, and the actions you take, that means someone is worthy of forgiveness.
” I forced a smile. “No one deserves to be in the shadows.”
Granville pointed at me, as if I had just said something very profound. Then he laughed again. It unsettled me, even as I coughed out a fake laugh in reply.
He slapped his knee in delight, and then sobered up into a straight face like a career actor. “I was wondering what it was about you.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “You’re a nobody. Your parents are normal folk. Poor folk. Not particularly nice folk. And yet somehow, you have gained the favour of two Gods. The interest of three.”
I stiffened. How would Granville know my parents were poor, and not particularly nice?
Certainly, he had caught me out at the ball for being of simpler origins, but the rest had to be a cruel-hearted guess.
And the interest of three gods, and the favour of two?
Perhaps I had put too much stock in this man’s awareness of the city.
Just because I stayed at the House of Pain did not signify Samiscus’ favour. And who else was there?
I offered him a patient smile. “There is only Ekris. The other Gods know nothing of me.”
He smirked again. “As you say.”
This man was not a genius. He was simply mad. People had made this mistake in the past, and they certainly would again. I only berated myself for wasting my time when Davian and Fella were nowhere to be found.
Granville looked at me with all the lucidity of a sane man, but with none of the words of one.
“Noble birth isn’t a requirement of the chosen.
But the Gods like it. It feels neat, that those who they choose to raise above the others, were the same ones already chosen by blood and riches. It gives a natural order to things.”
I only nodded. I already knew from my studies that nobles were more frequently chosen by the Gods. They were God’s chosen for luck and fortune, it would make sense they were their chosen in other ways, too.
He nodded back towards me. “You, though.”
I blushed, assuming he spoke of Ekris choosing me despite my low birth. “I know that I’m nothing special.”
“Not true.” He stared at the book in his hands, his own diary, with a shake of his head. “You are kind. Unerringly so.”
I blinked. “Most people are kind.”
“No,” he replied, and spoke it like a vehement curse. “Most people pretend to be kind. Their actions are read as kind, by those who wish to believe them kind. You are kind.”
I had nothing to say to that. I had never accepted compliments well, and I had no frame to position this compliment from a madman.
He stared at me for an uncomfortably long amount of time, and I readied my excuse to leave. He looked up, and muttered something under his breath. Like a prayer.
I touched my hands to the arms of the chair.
Then he sighed. “It’ll be over soon enough, but I’ll throw you a bone. I don’t think you can stop it, but it might be entertaining to see you try.”
I froze.
He lifted his hands in supplication. “You are right, in part.” His voice took on a lilting charm. “Everyone is in debt to Granville, after all.”
I did not move, and barely breathed, fearing any wrong word might stop the truth. “What did you do?”
Granville sniffed, and then leaned back.
“I’m a lender. But I don’t have the coin to settle debts that size.
” He did not drop our eye contact, and if there was something to be read in that blue gaze, now was the time to see it.
“They came to me, told me they could not manage their debts. I sent them to someone that could help. Then the girls died.”
Then the girls died. I inhaled, the only sign of the pain ricocheting through my system at how inconsequential the words made that truth sound. “Who?”
His gaze was unerring. “Someone who could pay. The only person who could pay.”
He would not tell me exactly who, but from the look in his eyes, he knew. And what’s worse, he believed I knew, too.
A horrible sinking feeling layered itself over me, threatening to drown me, or choke me, or worse. The moment’s silence crept a premonition over me so foul I must have paled to the shade of the night’s moon itself.
Granville stood, placing the book from his lap back onto the table. “You have everything you need to solve it.”
“Why are you helping me?” I whispered.
“Everyone wants an audience. We can’t let the completed work go unappreciated.”
I blinked at him in a daze.
Words Davian had spoken swirled in my head like a sick chant.
The lender offered me his hand. “It’s too late. But you can’t blame yourself.”
I did not take his offering, pushing myself to my feet in an awful lurch. The shock and horror disoriented me to the point of dizziness. The room shifted, until I realised it was my balance, and I steadied myself against the wall. How was I near the wall already?
I forced myself to breathe, even as the edges of my vision were darkening. I needed to get a hold of myself. But the realisation was too much to deal with.
No.
No, no, no.
It couldn’t be.
“Annie.”
He hovered next to the door, his fingers aloft and ready to knock.
My hand tensed against the painted wall. “Yes, Vasile?”
He smiled, and his blue eyes flashed. “Don’t forget that you promised me anything. I will collect one day.”
Vasile tapped on the door.
I only had the wherewithal to nod, and then the boy was back, and the fireplace was opening, and I fell back through into a dusty grey room.
No. I had to be wrong. Please, I called to anyone listening. Let me be wrong.
The Gods were silent, as ever.