I do. I ask if she can locate Kalos’s other aspects. She cannot.
I ask how many are left. She has me pull, and two different colored threads cling to my fingers. If arrogance is truly gone as Omos said, this tracks.
I ask how long the Anticipation will go on for. She has me pull again, and this time the strand is longer than my hand. “A moderate length,” is all she says, but what moderate could mean is anyone’s guess.
She’s unable to tell us if we’ll be successful when I ask. “You must be more specific. Successful with what?”
“With…avoiding Seth?” I spread my hands, helpless. “Let’s try that.”
The spinner shakes the bag and has me draw again, and this time I can’t seem to locate a single strand to pull on. Everytime I reach in, I find clumps that don’t separate from each other.
After a few moments of fishing, she shakes her head. “You’re taking too long. The gods don’t want to give you an answer on that one.”
“Oh.” I pull my hand back. “Let’s ask about another Aspect, then. Are there any others in this area?”
But the Fates aren’t inclined to answer that. Again, I’m thwarted by the tangle of threads, and the spinner grows impatient when I take too long again. “If there is an answer, there is an easy pull,” she explains, taking the bag away and palpating it to mix the threads. “If not, the gods don’t wish to share their knowledge.”
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 theirfinger and they assume it’s plague. It’s a plague of ignorance, not a plague of sickness.”
