“If Zephyrus is not here,” I say, “then where is he?”
“I cannot answer that question, my dear. Has he finally abandoned you?”
A long moment passes before I’m able to speak.
“Zephyrus gave his word to help me find Meirlach. He would not break that promise.”
“Meirlach.” He drags a claw idly down one cheek, expression ponderous. “This is why you have returned to Under?”
At once, I realize my error.
The Orchid King sits as an asp in its nest, flush from its recent meal. “You do not seek this weapon for yourself. Who sent you? Mother Mabel?”
I am remembering Pierus’ visit to Thornbrook, how my peers flinched in the presence of this peculiar creature, neither plant nor man, something caught between two worlds. But mostly, I am remembering the clench of Mother Mabel’s hands at her front, her obvious disdain for him.
“Do not fret, my dear. You do not have to answer. I understand your need to protect those you love. But I’m concerned for your safety. You see, I do not think the Stallion will welcome you, not after its last visitor. Oh, it was long ago, but a kelpie’s memory is longer still.”
Does he imply I will be unable to enter the Grotto? If this is an attempt to throw me off-balance, I daresay it is working.
“But,” he tacks on, “perhaps this time will be different. You are, after all, a novitiate. A servant, lowly in the church. Perhaps the Stallion will spare your life, if you ask nicely.”
“I am not in the habit of asking nicely for that which is rightfully mine,” I say with impressive finality. “I know only that the Stallion guards Meirlach, and I am to obtain the blade.”
The Orchid King sighs, the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers. “I would not expect Zephyrus to divulge such an important detail. After all, he wants to ensure you reach the Grotto. Without you, he’s completely out of luck.”
It makes no sense. If visiting the Stallion puts my life in danger, wouldn’t Zephyrus be in danger, too? Although, Mother Mabel’s order to kill the beast makes a lot more sense now. Better it dead than me.
I voice these thoughts to Pierus.
“He is a god, my dear. Immortal. He cannot die.”
“Even so, that doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t warn me of the steps I’d need to take to reach the Grotto safely. Withholding informationputs me, and his own opportunity, at risk. I’m going to find Meirlach. He knows this.”
“And how do you expect to acquire Meirlach?” He searches my gaze. When I do not immediately respond, he nods, as if my lack of comprehension was to be expected. “I imagine the Stallion would allow you to take something if you provided a decent replacement, though I doubt you will view it as a fair trade.” He peers at me with those piercing blue eyes. “But Meirlach? A sword forged by the gods, for the gods? It will not part with a treasure so rare. You are wasting your time.”
“Enough,” I growl, stepping forward. “You’re trying to confuse me. It won’t work.”
Tilting back his head, Pierus briefly studies the ceiling, the distinctly human gesture of a man seeking patience. “I understand we have not known each other for very long. I’m aware you do not trust me, and believe that I lead you astray. But have you weighed the risks in allowing Zephyrus to accompany you on this journey?”
“I am aware of the risks.” Deep in my core, the trembling manifests, first as hairline cracks, then greater waves. “He has his reasons for traveling with us.”
“And those are?”
“He didn’t say. Just that he seeks something that will change his life.”
At this, Pierus smiles. “Have you considered that Zephyrus wishes to claim the sword for himself?”
The idea forces itself inside my mind, past my defenses, and slots into place, a suspicion I’d previously denied. Why would Zephyrus wish to claim Meirlach? I’ve asked myself this question before.
A cant of Pierus’ head as he takes me in: curling red hair, my borrowed, ill-fitting dress. “Tell me what you know about the sword’s properties.”
I cross the room, needing space from the Orchid King. The small, gnashing teeth of those opening buds escalate my disquiet. “It is said to pierce any armor. It can cut through walls, shields. It claims mastery over the winds.” Since Zephyrus already has power, it seems pointlesshe’d want to acquire more of it. “It also demands the truth when held to the throat of another.”
As I speak, I pace. I cannot run, not when there remain questions unanswered. No, I must see this through to the end.
“You know nothing else?” Pierus inquires. I shake my head. “Then let me inform you that should Zephyrus claim Meirlach, he will be able to sever our contract by killing me. Only a weapon forged by the gods can kill a god.”
“I see.”
