I want to tell him that he’s not exactly helping the situation, but I’m too tired. I leave the unfolded map on my face and close my eyes, hoping I can get some sort of rest. Before I know it, there are birds chirping, my back aches from the awkward angle I fell asleep in, and Dingle is chewing on my boot lace.
I jerk upright, wiping at my face. The cloth falls away from my mouth, and I’m disgusted to see a few dead bugs stuck to the other side of the fabric. I wipe at my eyes, find them gritty, and shudder with revulsion. Please let that just be dirt. I take the map away from Dingle’s hungry mouth, give him a stick to chew on instead, and look around for Kalos.
The god is seated a short distance away on the largest root, his pristine clothes mud-spattered and his silken hair tangled and hanging in clumps around his head. His back is to me, and he gazes up at the sunrise in peaceful silence. He seems serene.I’m envious of that, given that I’ve just woken up in a bug-infested swamp and I’m covered in mud.
My stomach growls.
And I’m hungry. God, I am always hungry.
I shove another traveling cake into my mouth, drink some water, and grab my map and move over to his side. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” He eyes me as my mud-crusted boots squish in the sludge at our feet and my wet hem slaps against his.
“Well, we’re alive and whole, so yes, I’m counting this as a good morning.” I beam at him, determined to start the day off on the right note. “You’re going to help me read a map.”
“Why would I do that?” His gaze is bored.
I consider my answer. “Because otherwise I will nag you incessantly.”
“You already do.”
Hm. “Do you like music?”
“No.”
“Then I will sing showtunes, very loudly, and very badly, until you help me.” I hold the unrolled map out to him. “Are you a fan ofChicago?”
“I don’t even know what that is,” he says in that miffed voice of his, but he takes the map from me and eyes it. “What am I looking at?”
“Where are we on the map?”
“How should I know?”
“I was told you always return to the same spots in every Anticipation. Point out those spots to me on the map and we’ll narrow it down.” I give him an encouraging look and pat his arm. “You can do it.”
“I know I can do it. I’m not a child.”
Then don’t act like one, I think, but I don’t say it aloud. I just keep smiling.
After a moment’s casual, half-assed study, he sighs. “I don’t know the names of the cities. The High Father wipes my memories when I’m sent to the mortal realm.”
“Okay then.” I lean over his shoulder, studying the map. He gives me an affronted look but doesn’t move away. I’m guessing he’s not used to people invading his personal space. Too bad, because all of my privacy has been stripped away and invaded since I got here, so he’s just going to have to deal. I point at something that looks like dash marks over a large section of land. “Is that a swamp?”
He studies it for a moment. “I suppose.”
“Okay, well, I don’t see any other swamps.” I trace my finger over the map, ignoring the grime under my nail beds. Nothing to be done about it right now. “There’s a city here on the edge of the swamp, and a larger one here. What’s this one called?”
“Sunswallow.”
I have a vague recollection of that name. “I think Jemet said that was where your other army was coming in. So this must be where we arrived.” I tap the map. “And if your sun goes east to west like I’m used to, we’ve been heading south to get away from the army. That won’t take us anywhere but the coast, according to this. Do we want to go there?”
“I don’t know. Do we like cranky sea gods and tidal waves?”
I guess we don’t, judging from that tone of voice. “Okay, maybe we head east. It looks like the swamp peters out at this spot over here. What’s this?”
“A mountain range.” Kalos’s tone implies he could not be more bored.
I tap the clear area to the right of the mountains. “This looks promising. What’s this say?”
