“I’m not. I just have a headache and it’s getting worse when we argue. And I’m frustrated because all we’ve done so far is run from enemies, and I don’t feel like it’s an effective plan.” I’m tired and frustrated, and last night I’d dreamed that Seth had caught us, that he and Margo had laughed gleefully even as they led me towards a guillotine.
Not that I’ve seen a guillotine in this world, but the rest feels a little too close for comfort. The bad dream is probably the source of my headache and my shitty mood. “If we can ask someone who has a connection to the gods—possible connection,” I correct when his look darkens, “then why wouldn’t we take this opportunity to seek out information? What else were you planning on doing today?”
Kalos shrugs, but the annoyance remains on his face. “If this is what you’d like to do, then we can do it.”
“Yes. Perfect.” I want to grab him by the shoulders and kiss him with relief. For once, we’re going to be proactive instead of reactive, and the feeling rising inside me feels like…hope.
I put on my heavy shoes and smooth my wrinkled clothing out, then talk with Omos. He gives me directions to the village and offers up bundles of herbs to carry with us to keep the plague away. Then he giggles to himself, shaking his head. “I’d forgotten for a moment who you were with.”
“We’ll still take the herbs,” I say, tucking a bundle into my belt. I don’t want anyone else knowing who we are. It’s safest to be anonymous. Then I pause, my head pounding. “I don’t suppose you have anything for headaches?”
“Your head bothers you?” Kalos asks, stepping forward.When I shrug, he reaches out and brushes a fingertip across my brow. My nose tickles for a moment, but then the headache vanishes.
I should chastise him for that, but I’m just relieved my head feels better. I manage a wary smile. “Well, that’ll make travel easier. Thank you.”
Kalos just grunts.
“If you’re determined to do this, look out for the doors with the bird symbol painted on them,” Omos warns. “Those homes are full of sickness.”
It’s worrying to think about getting ill, but I’ve got Kalos with me. He’ll protect me. I thank Omos for the herbs and directions and we head out, leaving Dingle to play with the other goats. It’s a beautiful morning, the weather cool and the sun pink and orange as it emerges into the sky. On one side of the road, the trees sway in a gentle breeze, and if I didn’t look on the other side of the road, I’d think this place a lovely paradise. But one quick look on the other side and there’s nothing at all. Just dirt and that uneasy feeling as you stare out over the dead miles of land.
Kalos is quiet as we walk, and I glance over at him. I made him put a scarf over his bright silvery hair before we left, and without the distracting tousle of his silver mane, his features are more pronounced, his mouth larger and poutier, his nose bigger, his eyes vivid green and thoroughly bored. “Are you all right?” I ask him. “Is the nearness of the dead land bothering you?”
“I can manage.” He shrugs. “I just think this is a fool’s errand.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re going. It feels good to be doing something.” I lift my chin, determined to keep my mood light. “I’d love to get some answers.”
He reaches out and tugs on a loose lock of my hair. “Younever ask me your questions. Maybe I have the answers you’re seeking.”
I tuck my windblown hair behind my ear, very aware of Kalos’s touch. His nearness. “You know where your other aspects are?”
“No,” he scoffs. “I doubt this spinner does, either. That’s all you want to know?”
“Not everything. If she can tell us where we can go to be safe, that would be useful. Or if you have any enemies coming after you. I just need to know how safe we are.”
“All the other gods are my enemies,” he says with a shrug. “And we’renotsafe. Feel better?”
I shoot him a cross look. “I think I’ll take my chances with the spinner’s answers, Mr. Helpful.”
He shrugs, a sly little smile on his face. “I tried.”
Except I know him well enough to know that his answers aren’t necessarily right. He’ll do as little as possible because of the apathy, because he can’t fathom doing more. Which is why I need to take the lead. I reach out and take his hand, holding it as we walk. “If it makes you feel any better about today, I’m glad that we’re doing something.”
“Mm,” is all he says, but he doesn’t pull his hand from mine.
The road slopes over the hills and moves away from the Dirtlands and the trees, into grassy rolling meadows. Up the hill I can see a cluster of cottages, just where Omos said they would be. As we approach the outskirts of the village, I notice a large, flat rock next to the side of the road. There’s a red vulture symbol painted across it, and a few large holes pockmarked into the rock itself. The holes are filled with liquid and what looks like coins.
“Are these offerings to you?” I ask, curious.
“No. The symbol lets outsiders know there’s plague insidethe town and not to enter.” He points at the coins. “Those coins are here in vinegar to kill disease, and merchants will leave their goods behind at this stone.”
My mouth drops open. “Is there plague still here? Omos said it was gone.”
He snorts. “No. Just paranoia.”
“Paranoia doesn’t make people sick,” I fret. Omos said that there were several sick in town.
“I didn’t say there wasn’t sickness. I said it’s not plague. These people aren’t educated,” he says, tone dismissive. “Someone gets a headache or a rash and suddenly they decide it’s the plague.”
