Chapter 25 #2
And just like that, he sets the cane aside, straightens, and heads deeper into the monastery, moving faster than I’d imagined.
Bewildered, I stare after the stranger. “I think I just got insulted.”
“Not necessarily,” Kalos says as he sets Dingle down and moves to my side. “I, too, prefer goats to people.”
I laugh, because what else can you do? Following the old man, I touch the crappy weapon at my belt, because it’s very dark inside.
He’d blown out his candle, and the only light now is coming from a fireplace somewhere across the vast room.
I can hear Dingle’s little hooves clacking on stone flooring, and the swish of the old man’s robes.
Then, the place floods with artificial light.
I stare in surprise as the old man sets down a rounded, bell-shaped cover that had been masking what looks like a big glowing rock.
“That’s better,” he says, and tosses the blown-out candle on the table.
He smiles at us. “Forgive the subterfuge, my lord. I wasn’t sure if you were more travelers here to rob me.
I have to play upon sympathy quite a bit these days. ”
“And if we were here to rob you?” Kalos asks in that bored voice of his.
“Then I would do my best to make you feel very, very bad about it.” The elderly man smiles.
“My name is Omos, and I am a monk devoted to the goddess Magra, but I think you knew that already, didn’t you?
” His gaze flicks to me and back to Kalos.
“You are my Lord of Disease, but I do not know why you have sought me out. How shall I be of assistance?”
His hand steals into his pocket again, as if he’s reaching for more salt.
“We’re here as friends,” I say quickly. “And very much not here with Seth and Margo.”
“I am glad to hear that…but remember, no names.” He taps his ear. “They have spies everywhere.”
Kalos strides forward, heading for one of the seats by the cozy fire.
We pass by stacks of books, piled everywhere.
There are shelves in rows—also covered with books—and every surface seems to be covered with even more books.
This guy likes his books. Near the fire is a pair of wooden chairs, and Kalos sits down immediately.
He glances over at the monk. “No need to worry about spies. I killed them. Unless he’s acquired new ones, they’re all dead. ”
Omos’s eyes widen. “I see.”
“It sounds worse than it really is,” I explain hastily. He’s probably scared for his life. “I also promise we’re not here to hurt you. We mean no harm.”
He blinks at me. “Oh, I know that.” The monk gestures at Kalos, who’s establishing himself by the fire. “It looks as if he’s treating you well. You’re not injured or fearful, and you knocked so very politely. If the Vulture God wished to kill me, my innards would already be liquified.”
“I see.”
“And you have a goat,” he adds, as if that answers everything. Omos clasps his hands together. “It’s late and I’ve already finished my dinner, but I do have bread and honey. Oh, and some cheese! Are you hungry?”
My stomach growls. “Always.”
“Then come, sit, and let me take care of you.” He gestures at a chair next to Kalos’s, and when I step forward, he puts his hand on my back and ushers me towards the fire. All his earlier feebleness has disappeared, and he seems as strong and healthy as I am. It was an act, I realize.
I hesitate by the door, not wanting to impose. “Is it okay if our goat comes in? He’s kinda spoiled.”
The old man glances over by my skirts, where Dingle is busy chewing on the corner of a book parked on a table next to me. His expression is sweet and cheerful. “Can I stop you?”
The urge to cry with relief hits me. It’s not that I’m upset—it’s that this is the first time in forever that I’ve felt welcomed.
I didn’t realize being on the run was wearing me down so much, but being here with Omos feels a bit like visiting a grandparent.
After the month I’ve had, I’m more than willing to relax for a bit, even if it’s only for tonight.
Grateful, I sink into the chair at the cluttered table.
Omos moves to my side in a swirl of heavy woolen robes, removing a wooden cover from a tray tucked on a corner of the table piled high with books.
He moves one stack of books and sets down a small loaf of bread and gestures that I should help myself.
On the tray is some hard cheese, dried fruit and nuts, and a whole apple next to an earthenware pot of honey.
It all looks so good it makes me want to cry all over again.
There’s a knife sticking out of a wedge of white cheese the size of my hand, and I pull the knife out and cut a slice of bread and a generous piece of cheese for myself, offering the rest back to Omos.
He shakes his head at me. “Eat as much as you like. A devotee of Magra always feeds those at his table.”
Sounds good. I pick up the cheese wedge and take a large bite out of it. It’s tangy and sour, and probably one of the best things I’ve eaten in forever. I almost groan aloud I take another bite and cram some bread into my mouth after it. “So good.”
The monk beams with pleasure. “The cheese is from my goats. They’re wonderful companions. How did you acquire your little friend?” He produces a carrot from a pocket and waves it at Dingle.
Between bites, I answer. “He was going to be sacrificed to Kalos.”
Omos straightens, startled. “Oh, my goodness. They still sacrifice to him—er, to you, my lord?” He turns and looks over at Kalos. “I didn’t realize such things were done. I’m sure it’s fine, of course.”
Kalos lifts one bored shoulder. “I didn’t ask them to.”
“You didn’t tell them not to, either,” I point out.
He shrugs again, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. He touches the corner of his mouth as he eyes me, and I check myself. Sure enough, I’ve got crumbs on my face. I swipe them away and Kalos’s smile only grows wider.
“I see,” Omos says in a very neutral voice. “How may I assist you, my lord? Every Aspect that comes to my doorstep requires something from me, and I wish to be of service.”
“Have you met a lot of aspects?” I ask, surprised.
“More than I would care to, if I am being honest. You do not lead quiet lives.” The look he sends Kalos’s way is apologetic.
Good point. I glance over at my partner, but Kalos is sprawled in his chair by the fire, idly picking through a nearby book.
He looks completely tuned out, which isn’t surprising.
Some of it might be for show—so he doesn’t give away anything to Omos—but I know not all of it is.
His attention is quick to wane even on the best days.
It’s up to me to do the talking. I smile brightly at Omos and gesture to my surroundings.
“This is a big place for just one person. You’re here alone? ”
“I am.” He pulls books off a chair nearby and sets them atop another wobbling stack.
Herbs hang from the ceiling in bunches, and one dried cluster brushes across his bald head before he sits down.
“When my brethren heard of an upcoming Anticipation a few years ago, they went on pilgrimage in the hopes of being there when the magic happened. They’ve never returned or sent word, and I fear the worst.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I am too. They are good men and mean to spread light in the world, but not all wish to do so.” The monk gives me a faint smile.
“I keep this place up to help travelers. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
If I’m being honest, I enjoy the quiet. I am happiest with my goats, my garden, and my nose in a book.
” He settles his robes about his body and turns back to me.
“I feel that if the gods need me, they know where I am. And now you are here, and I am ready to be of service in any way I can.”
“We need a safe place to stay for a while.”
“Of course.”
I grimace, taking another bite of cheese. “We can’t pay, either.”
He looks offended. “Lady Magra would have my head if I did not share her bounty with visitors.”
Magra? Is that a nearby ruler or some other name I don’t know? I glance over at Kalos.
“Goddess of Plenty,” Kalos says idly, flicking another page in his book. “Lady of the Harvest.”
Ah.
Omos’s eyes have gone wide. “Another from a distant land? My goodness, the High Father must truly be planning something special for this Anticipation.”
Uh oh. “I didn’t say that.”
“There are so many this time. Fascinating. Do you know, I think every god has been paired up with at least one Anchor from another world? Perhaps there is something your people can teach that ours cannot.”
Kalos snorts.
I shoot him a dirty look and pick up a piece of dried fruit. “Maybe we have a different perspective because it’s all new to us, too.”
Omos brightens. “That is a lovely way of looking at it. May I write that down?”
I don’t feel like it’s worth taking note of, but who am I to question? “Go ahead. I’ll just keep eating all your food.”
He chuckles as he gets to his feet, picking through a stack of books.
“It is Lady Magra’s food. I am simply its purveyor.
Now where did I put my journal?” He putters around the book-covered room, clucking to himself as he picks through piles of tomes.
I keep eating, as if I’m worried he’ll change his mind and therefore I need to cram as much as I can into my mouth.
Dingle follows Omos around, and it takes me a moment to realize that the monk is handing out little bits of raw vegetable to our pet as he moves about. He really does love goats.
No one that loves animals like that can be a bad person, I decide. His sweet grandpa act must be legit.
“Aha!” He holds a battered leather-bound book aloft. “Here we go. I like to put all my notes of the people I’ve met this Anticipation. It might be of value to future generations.”
“Who else have you met?” I ask, curious.
He chuckles again, moving to a tiny table across the room and seating himself at a stool there.
Omos adjusts his robes, hands a sad-looking turnip to Dingle, and opens his book.
“The first I met was the Butcher God. He was quite fearsome, but his Anchor was a lovely woman. That was well over a year ago. Or was it two?” He flips through the pages, looking for answers.
“I thought all the gods were kicked out at the same time,” I say, glancing over at Kalos. He’s leisurely flipping through a book as well, but his expression is the opposite of Omos’s—he’s bored out of his mind.
“Not always,” Omos replies. “And not all gods. The Lord of the Wild, Kassam, was not in the last Anticipation. And I have had no reports of the Lady Anali thus far. Either she will be descending soon, or she will not be participating in this Anticipation.”
“Or she’s in hiding,” adds Kalos.
So he is listening, despite his apathetic appearance.
“Why, yes, it could be that,” Omos says and pulls a tiny pair of spectacles out of his pocket, perching them on his nose. He peers down at his book and frowns. “I need a light. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
“Any others like me?” Kalos asks in that bored tone.
I go still, my body flooding with fear. We’ve been on the run from the Aspect of him that was at the swamps, but I’d somehow forgotten that there are two more out there, three others in total. And they’re all going to be gunning for each other.
“Not here specifically,” Omos says, consulting his notes. “But one was in the region a few weeks ago before I stopped receiving information about him. Of course, it could be that the entire town has passed due to plague.” His mien turns sad, and he makes a warding gesture at his shoulder.
“There’s plague in a town near here?”
“There was as of last winter. The town quarantined themselves for many months and only recently lifted the ban on travel.” Omos thinks for a moment and turns to Kalos.
“You may stay with me as long as you like, my lord, but all I ask in return for my hospitality is that you harm none upon these grounds. I get visitors and I would hate the thought of infecting them with plague when all they need is a bed and a bite to eat.”
Kalos looks to me.
I’m surprised by that. He’s the one making everyone sick. Is he giving me the power of choice over this, too? That if I said no, he’d willfully infect everyone he could?
…and I realize that yes, that is exactly the situation.
Because he doesn’t care about any of them.
They’re not people to him, just pieces on some sort of big chessboard.
My heart hurts with the realization. All of this and he still doesn’t get it.
I turn to Omos. “Of course not. Kalos won’t hurt anyone. We simply want to be left in peace.”
“Then I welcome the company.” He beams at us.
My smile in return feels weak. It’s like I’m failing Kalos with every step we take. How do I get through to him? Isn’t that my job? Not only to be at his side but to make him realize that people matter? Yet he cares more for his goat than an entire continent of people.
How do I get through to him? Can I even get through to him?