Chapter 10 #2
Right. He’s not going to come up with anything.
It’s all on me. For a moment, I feel a brief rush of frustration, but I push it aside.
This is what I signed up for. I press my muddy fingers to my equally muddy, bug-bitten brow and think.
We can’t go in and announce ourselves. We need a cover story of some kind, and we need to think carefully about who we approach.
As we get closer to the village, I notice there’s a few cabins (hovels, really) scattered along the shores next to rickety docks.
It’s a poor village, that’s for sure, and there’s a smell of rotten fish in the air.
I eye the cabin closest to us—and farthest from the village—and notice the door opens and an old man steps out. I touch Kalos’s arm again, leaning in close to whisper. “Follow my lead.”
He glances down where I’m touching him.
“Shit. Sorry.”
“You can’t keep swearing every time you touch me,” he comments.
No, I can’t. And I can’t keep grabbing him every time I feel like it, too. I need to remember that he’s a god and he’s off limits. I smooth my hands on my swamp-encrusted clothes and try to compose myself. “Let me do the talking.”
I stride forward and put a bright smile on my face, approaching the man as he slowly walks out onto the rickety, weather-beaten wooden dock.
He’s seen us and his steps are cautious, his hand moving to his belt where he keeps a knife.
Over one shoulder, he’s got what looks like rope or looped netting, and his gaze flicks to the small boat moored at the edge of the dock, as if he wants to make an escape.
Okay, now I need to say something but make it sound like I belong here. I wave a hand over my head excitedly. “Hello, good sir! Can we trouble you for a moment?”
Hopefully that sounds sufficiently medieval.
“What do you want?” he calls, stopping in his tracks as we approach.
The skeptical look remains on his face, and as we approach, I notice he’s not as old as I thought.
His face is just lined and weathered, a deep tan on his skin from days on the boat.
A stocking cap with a funny little point at the end is atop his head, and if I were in a laughing mood, I’d say he looks like a surly overgrown garden gnome.
But I’m tired and cranky and hungry and covered in mud and bug bites. I don’t care what he looks like. I keep smiling at him and slow my steps, Dingle trotting at my side. “Can we trouble you for fresh water and food? I promise we’ll be on our way quickly once we’ve eaten and cleaned up.”
He scowls at us, gaze darting over me and over my shoulder, where Kalos stands a few steps behind me. The fisherman thinks for a moment longer, then lifts his chin. “Where’d you come from?”
“The swamp.” I gesture at my muddy clothing and my skin, which is covered with a layer of hardening, gritty filth.
“There was an army of the Disease God coming from Balsingra and they were marching over the farms to the north. We decided it was safer to run than to confront them. We’ve been in the swamps for a week now. ”
The fisherman grunts. “I can sell you food and water, but it’ll cost you. It’s the Anticipation, you know.”
Oh, I’m well aware. “Have you seen any gods yet?”
At my side, Kalos snorts. I shift my weight and step on his foot.
The fisherman just eyes us. “No. You got coin?”
“I’ve got gold jewelry,” I blurt out, and wonder if that was stupid. Why not just say “please rob me”? Being in the swamp for so many days has pickled my brain.
But the fisherman just waves us forward. He drops his nets at the end of the dock and turns back toward the ramshackle house nearby. “Come on, then. You can show me what you have inside. Hope you like fish stew.”
My mouth waters. “Fish stew sounds amazing.”
We follow him inside. The cabin interior is just as bad as I expected it to be.
It’s cramped, has a bed and fishing equipment, and a tiny hearth.
It smells like old fish. My stomach turns, but when he heads for the hearth and pulls a kettle off a hook, I get hungry all over again.
“Leftovers,” he says. “You can have it in exchange for gold.”
It takes everything I have not to snatch the cookpot out of his hands. “You’re too kind.”
He pulls out a stool, indicating I should sit on it.
Eyeing Kalos and his equally drippy robes, he turns over a large wooden bucket and gestures that this ‘seat’ is for the god.
To my surprise, Kalos doesn’t comment on the terribleness of this seat.
He just hunches over and sits, frowning when the uneven lip of the bucket makes him tilt to one side.
Dingle moves to Kalos’s side and playfully head-butts him, and the god puts a hand on the smelly goat’s muddy back and gives him a gentle nudge away.
The fisherman makes a “gimme” sign with his hand. “Gold?”
I open my pack - now much lighter than before since I’ve eaten all the supplies. There’s a bundle from Jemet that I haven’t looked inside, but I offer it to him to look through. “Food please?”
He hands me a wooden bowl and thumps the kettle down on the rickety table.
There’s a dirty wooden spoon laying atop a rag on the far end of the table, and since I’m not being offered dining ware, I grab it and clean it with the rag, then use the spoon to shovel stew into my bowl.
I’m probably going to get cooties from all the germs, but I don’t care.
I pile the bowl high with brownish-gray sludge and look over at Kalos.
The god waves a hand at me. “You know I don’t do that.”
Right. I’m the only one starving. I shove a jiggly, congealed bite into my mouth. It tastes like fish soup all right, and it’s cold. It’s also delicious, because I’m ravenous. I down the whole bowl as fast as I can while the fisherman eyes the jewelry left for me and bites on a golden medallion.
I fill a second bowl and demolish it, and as the edge is taken off, I eye the fisherman. Maybe this is a good time to get some information about the situation. “Tell us what you know of the Anticipation. Like I said before, our farm is very isolated. We don’t get much information from the cities.”
The fisherman grunts and runs his fingernail over the medallion, then sets it aside. He glances at me. “We don’t get much news here either, but I’m surprised you haven’t heard anything. Aron of the Cleaver has already returned to the skies.”
I have no idea who that is, but it sounds like it might be a good thing to not run into him. “So soon?”
“Aye. He wasted no time in going to war. Went through all his Aspects quickly.”
“And Rhagos?” Kalos speaks up, voice mild and quiet. “What of him?”
The fisherman’s demeanor changes. He tosses invisible salt over his shoulder, a scowl on his face. “The dark brothers still walk the world, or so I have heard.”
Dark…brothers? I eye Kalos, wondering if he’s the other brother, given that he’s disease and all.
Why didn’t he tell me he had a brother? Do we need to meet up with him?
Do we even want to team up with a “dark brother”?
Can I handle more than one bad guy? At least the fisherman hasn’t noticed that Kalos isn’t exactly “blending” in.
My companion is covered in just as much mud as me, though, his long hair wet and disheveled and dark with swamp muck.
Maybe we can get away with this for a while.
I blink innocently at our host. “Gosh. Sounds terrible. I hope they go home quickly.”
“Or they never go home at all,” the old man says sourly. “We could do without either of ’em if you ask me.”
Before Kalos can comment on anything, I take the reins of the conversation again. “Anything else you can tell us about? Any other gods? You seem to know a lot.”
The man grunts. “Got a friend that takes a trip to Sunswallow every week. He hears things.” He shakes out my jewelry bag, as if what’s in there isn’t enough, and when nothing else comes out, he picks through the trinkets again. “Lady Tadekha’s citadel is destroyed. Heard that one.”
Kalos makes a noise of surprise.
“I know,” continues the fisherman. “Thought it was a lie, but I’ve seen people selling the crystals in the markets for good luck.
I aim to get one myself.” He shrugs. “They say Lord Vor is somewhere on the coast, but I haven’t noticed the fishing is any different, so I can’t say.
You heard that Magra is in Yshrem? Riekki is hiding in the forest cities, and I heard Belara makes her way across the Adassian plains. ”
Mentally I go through the names of the deities Jemet tried to pound into my head. Vor is a god of the sea. Kassam is the Wild. I don’t remember Riekki but I’ve heard the name before. The other is a mystery though. “Who’s Belara?”
The man narrows his eyes at me.
“Belara,” Kalos says, speaking up. “Goddess of beauty.”
I realize I’ve messed up. Someone from here would absolutely know the name of every god. “Oh, that Belara.” I pretend to clean out my ear with a finger. “I must have misheard you.”
“Mm. Well, the goddess is one to avoid,” the fisherman says.
“She holds grudges,” Kalos agrees, a miserable expression on his face.
I have so many questions right now.
“Your stew good? You eat enough?” the fisherman asks me, pointing at my dish.
“I could eat more.” I’ve scraped my bowl clean, but I’m still hungry. I could absolutely eat more.
“You need more payment.” He grabs the jewelry and slides it all into a bag of his own. “This won’t cover much.”
I’m shocked. I was expecting to give him one piece of something small…not all of it. “What? That’s too much money.”
“Things are expensive now. It’s the Anticipation. Pay up.”
For cold, congealed fish soup? I set the bowl down on the table, my stomach clenching. We can’t give him everything we own. How are we going to travel? How will we get weapons? Supplies?
He sees my hesitation and gestures at Dingle. “You can throw in the goat.”
“No,” I protest automatically. “He’s a pet.”
“I’ll handle this,” Kalos says, getting to his feet. He reaches out and touches the fisherman, grabbing his hand.
The room gets hot—or I’m having a hot flash of some kind. I sneeze violently—once, twice, three times. When I can open my watering eyes again, I watch Kalos and the fisherman. What’s he going to say? Is he going to argue with him? Chide him for his actions? Reveal himself?
The man stares at Kalos.
As I watch, a line of drool slides from the fisherman’s mouth. He trembles, and a moment later, he’s convulsing rapidly. Foam pours from his mouth and he falls to the floor, jerking, and goes still.
In shock, I get to my feet. I can’t believe what I just saw. “Oh my god. Did you just kill him, Kalos?”
He wipes his dirty hand on his clothing. “He was already sick with rot inside. I just accelerated it.” He flexes his hand and seems rather proud of himself. “Didn’t know I could do that.”
Unbelievable. “You can’t kill people just because you’re having a disagreement.”
“Why not? He was going to rob us for that swill.” He flicks a hand at the bowl in my hands. “And you’re very fond of your goat.”
“That was wrong!”
“So what? Like I said, he was already sick inside. He only had a few more months. I just found it and teased it a little.” He studies my face suspiciously. “You’re very flushed, too. Are you well?”
“I’m going to throw up.”
“Do it outside. I don’t want to step over vomit all night.” He sits down on the bucket again and gestures at me. “We’ll eat and clean up and stay here tonight and continue on to Balsingra in the morning as planned.”
“You just killed a man,” I hiss at him. How is he not taking this seriously? “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that!”
“Then the All-Father will punish me.” He shrugs, the bored expression on his face once more.
“Either way, it’s not your concern. You want to stay alive for as long as possible, yes?
If you refused to give him your jewels, you think he would have let you walk away from here?
This world is probably better off without someone like him in it. ”
I just stare at him, disgusted.
Kalos points a finger at me. “And you are far too innocent. You need to harden up, or we’re never going to make it past Balsingra.”
A small, horrified part of me worries he might be right.