“You want to explain yourself?”
He pets Dingle’s head, stroking the goat’s brow just above his horn buds. “About what?”
I gesture at the dead man. “I thought you couldn’t use your powers while you were in the mortal realm. I thought that was the point?”
Kalos’s expression grows thoughtful. “I’m not supposed to, no. But I reached out, and I was able to pull…something.” He shrugs. “Not much, though.”
“When you do, it makes me sick.” I rub my tickling nose. “I’m afraid of what’s going to happen if you pull too hard.”
He just shrugs again.
Okay, I’m not getting anywhere withhim. I try something different. “We’re trying to keep a low profile, and going around slaughtering people isn’t the way to proceed.”
He gives me an affronted look. “You seriously cannot feel bad that this cretin is dead? He was going to steal all of our funds. He was going to eat the goat!”
“I wouldn’t let him,” I say defensively.
“Do you think he was going to stop there? He was just going to keep demanding to see what we’d pay. Now we get to keep it all and Dingle is safe.” He scratches the goat’s chin affectionately. “I’ve grown rather fond of this one.”
“I’m glad about that, but…still! It’s wrong to kill someone because they’re trying to rip us off.”
Kalos doesn’t seem bothered by this. His expression tells me he doesn’t care about this dead man in the slightest. “People die in Anticipations. People die around gods. You’re just going to have to get used to it. Your job is to serve me, is it not?”
I hate that this is sounding so practical. “I… guess so?”
“As long as I’m happy, what does it matter?”
It matters. People matter, even if they’re shitty, manipulative fishermen. I’m trying to stay mad at the situation, but I’m getting awfully distracted by the fact that Kalos is downright chatty at the moment. It’s like the more fatigued and worn-down I become, the cheerier he becomes. “Andareyou happy right now?”
He shrugs. “I’m not even certain I know what happiness looks like.”
What a morose thing to say. “You could try smiling. See if you like it.”
The god gives me a look of vague reproach and bares his teeth in the most constipated-looking smile I’ve ever seen.
I burst into laughter.
Kalos straightens, an expression of surprise on his face ashe studies me. He scratches at the goat’s horn buds thoughtfully. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh, Elvie.”
“Elsie.” Jesus. How long have we been together and he still doesn’t know my name? It reminds me just how little I matter to him, and my good mood sours. “And that’s because there’s not a lot to laugh about. We’re still on the run from an army that wants you dead, and now we’ve killed the first person we’ve met outside of your temple. This is not how we should be handling things, Kalos.”
He sighs as if I exhaust him and says nothing else.
I glance down at the body again, hands on my hips. “Okay, well, we’re here. Let’s make the best of a bad situation. We’ll lock the doors and hope no one comes to visit today. In the meantime, we might as well clean up, see what supplies we can take from here, and figure out where to go next.”
I pick up the bowl of fish stew and help myself to another round, because I’m going to need my strength.
After I finish barringthe door and eating, I’m so drained and heavy with food that I curl up on the fisherman’s bed and take a nap despite my misgivings. I sleep until dusk, eat the last of the disgusting fish stew, and go picking through the dead man’s pantry. He doesn’t have much. There are a couple jars of something suspicious, some dried fish, and a bag of what looks like a thick flour or cornmeal. There’s a bit of questionable looking butter and a few eggs atop the table, so I get to work frying up corn cakes to take with us tomorrow. It sounds easier than it is, because I have to find matches to make a fire in the hearth, and that takes far too long.
Once all the cakes are cooked up (and I’ve eaten my share), I sneak behind the house in the darkness and find a water well.It takes me a few tries to figure out how to haul the bucket up, but I manage to get several bucketfuls warming in a large pot by the fire. I’m going to have a warm bath of some kind, I decide, and wash my clothes.
I look over at Kalos, who hasn’t moved from his spot on his bucket-stool. Dingle has wandered away, chewing on a blanket in the corner, but Kalos hasn’t done anything. He sits there and picks at his fingernails, a bored expression on his face.
He’s Apathy, I remind myself. He’s not going to be the soul of helpfulness.
Even so, I don’t like that he just…sits there. It feels wrong. Not because I’m doing all the work, but because there’s something rather sad about his situation. “I’m warming water,” I tell him brightly.
“Good for you.” His tone is bored.
