Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
I try asking about other aspects, then advice on where we should go, but each time we pose a question, the strings aren’t responding. It’s like they’re in a deliberate knot, tangled and determined not to let me snag any of them. Restless and frustrated with the non-answers, I glance up at Kalos. He shrugs. “Ask something different, then.”
“Anything?”
The spinner nods, gathering the threads into her bag once more. “Anything.”
“Can you tell me if my brother is all right?” I blurt out.
I clap my hands to my mouth the moment the words come out, heartbroken. I’ve told myself I shouldn’t wonder. That I need to move on and have faith in what Lachesis promised. It’s just…I can’t stop thinking about him. If David’s all right, it makes everything worth it.
To my surprise, Kalos puts a comforting hand on the back of my neck. It’s such a strange, intimate touch, but I appreciate it. His thumb strokes against my skin.
“I know I shouldn’t ask,” I murmur. “I just…wonder.”
“You can always ask,” Kalos says. “It’s the answer that’s the trickier part.”
I nod, aching.
The spinner watches us. She hesitantly holds the bag out, a question in her eyes. Do I want to see if there’s an answer for me? Or should I just let it go?
Closing my eyes, I reach into the bag. Kalos’s thumb continues to drift across my neck, stroking me in an almost possessive way. I shiver, but not from fever, and stretch my fingers into the pouch. Almost immediately, I touch a single thread and pull it free.
The thread in my hand is a brilliant shade of gold, and so long that the end trails out of sight.
It’s the affirmation I needed, and I burst into tears of relief.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
I’m mentally exhausted by the time we leave the spinner’s house and head back towards the monastery, but there’s a strangely calm center inside me. Hearing that my brother is doing well—thriving—has eased the part of me that’s been panicked and reacting this entire time. I believe in what the threads showed me—I’m accompanying a god and was brought to this world by another, so why wouldn’t I?—and I feel like I can breathe for the first time in months.
I’m settled. Clarified.
It doesn’t matter that we didn’t get answers to our situation. I got the answers I didn’t know I needed.
“Are you all right, Elsie?” Kalos asks as we walk back. “Do you need my cloak again?”
“I’m good. Just thinking.” We pass by the boundary stones, and I see the painted vulture again. It makes my thoughts go in a different direction. “We saw so many plague symbols back there.”
“Aye.” His voice is laden with sarcasm. “Someone cuts their finger and they assume it’s plague. It’s a plague of ignorance, not a plague of sickness.”
“Does anyone in the village actually have plague?”
“Not a soul. No other Aspect of mine has come through. Most of their sickness comes from the well water being tainted. Some of it is worms or bad food. Now do you see why I hate dealing with mortals? They panic at the slightest hint of illness, assume it’s plague, and lose their minds.” He’s annoyed even as he settles his cloak over my shoulders again, tucking me close. “The breeze is chilly and I made you sick earlier. Take this.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, letting him wrap me in it. My thoughts are still churning, though. Plague and sickness are catalysts, Lachesis had told me. It’s the clearing of the forest so the rest can thrive. It’s the low spot before the renaissance. It’s cause and effect. It’s the terrible cloud right before the glorious silver lining.
And Kalos is the god of both…but it seems as if he never gets to appreciate the second part. He’s bogged down with the ignorance, the bad reputation, the lack of knowledge that the people here have. It’s hard not to compare it to my world, where centuries of learning have taught us about things like microbes and bacteria and penicillin.
They can’t get to their renaissance because they’re still in the darkness. We need to somehow bring them forward into the light so they can flourish. So Kalos can flourish, too.
This is what he was sent here to learn. I grab his hand with excitement at the realization.
“What is it?”
I shake my head. I don’t know yet. My thoughts haven’t coalesced into an actual plan, but I’m hopeful. “We’re going to figure this out, you and I.”
“Figure what out?”
“All of it.”
He puts his hand to my forehead. “You’re delirious, sunshine. Come on. Let’s get you home and to bed.”
“I’m fine,” I reassure him, even though I’m fighting off another sneeze. I feel better than I have in ages. Like something has finally clicked into place.
I play with ideas all through the next day, but I don’t get a chance to talk them over with Kalos. Right after breakfast, pilgrims knock at the door with crystals to trade to the monk. He feeds them and chats with them, taking notes on what they tell him is going on in the region. Kalos takes the goats out into the pasture so no one will see him, and I clean the goat pen and water Omos’s garden. When I’m done, the old monk is pulling out a pair of butter churns and sets them into the sunshine.