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38
Vian and her husband return in the morning and she immediately gets busy with cooking breakfast. My stomach’s growling, so I admit that I hover a shameful amount near her as she cooks. The rain’s still pouring down outside, which means it’s going to be another miserable day of travel.
Even worse, things are oddly tense in the tiny kitchen. I glance over at Aron as he glares at poor Cathis, who has his hat in his hands.
“What do you mean, you ca
“I…have no schooling, my Lord of Storms.” The farmer looks ashamed, his shoulders hunched. “This was my father’s farm before me. I have always lived here. I have not traveled.”
Aron flings up his hands and casts me an exasperated look.
“Maybe you can tell us where the roads near here lead?” I ask, trying to be helpful before Vian’s baby starts crying from all the noise Aron’s making. “And we can take notes?”
“Do I look like a scribe?” Aron snaps.
“I can write it,” I tell them, moving toward the table where the charcoal stick and animal skin are located. I sit down, “But the only language I write is English.”
“Yeeng-lesh?” Vian echoes.
I smile tightly. “Foreign tongue. Let’s just…” Aron squeezes my shoulder, reminding me that we’re on a mission. “Let’s just focus. We’re trying to go north, right, Aron?”
“To the Ashen Sea,” he agrees.
“Is that north?” I ask Cathis, and when he gives a reluctant nod, I start to write on the skin. North to Ashen Sea.
“You do not want to go there,” the farmer says, twisting his cap. “There is nothing but death in that direction.”
“I am Aron of the Cleaver,” my traveling companion says oh-so-confidently. “And I do as I please.”
Cathis gives me another uneasy look and I just smile, nodding encouragingly. He hesitates, then continues. “Go north on the road for a week, through the mountains. The last city you find will be Novoro, the Nest of the Cliffs. Once you pass through its gates, there is nothing but wild, ravaged lands. The Ashen Deep is on to the north and the Red Glacier to the east.”
I write quickly. North. 1 week. Mountains to Novoro. Pass through gates. Red glacier = wrong way.
“What is this Red Glacier?” Aron asks. “It is not in my memories.”
“Maybe you forgot it?” I ask. He did, after all, forget sleeping (which I’m never going to let him live down).
“No. This is new.”
Cathis gives a small shake of his head and then freezes, as if realizing he’s disagreeing with Aron. His face pales and he drops his gaze to his hands, where he’s constantly twisting his hat.
“Well, I’m sure it’s not a problem. So we avoid this Red Glacier thing and then what?” I prompt the farmer. “Just keep going north? How many days to the Ashen Sea?”
He shrugs. “Possibly. The Ashen Sea is the edge of the world. No one goes there. I only know of it from my father’s fathers. I do not know of anyone that has gone there in recent times.”
Hmm. “Well, we can ask for more directions in…” I study my scribbly handwriting that’s already smearing thanks to the charcoal. “Novoro.”
Vian coughs, and when I turn to look at her, she’s focused on her baby.
“Is Novoro a bad place?” I ask.
Cathis looks as if he’ll faint. “No.”
“Then why do you cower, man?” Aron demands.
“Their customs are very different than ours.” Vian says, and her cheeks are red. “Two men share one wife. Sometimes three.”
“Well that sounds like hell,” I say drily.
Aron snorts, thunder rumbling overhead.
“They are a good people,” Vian continues, her voice soft. “Just…different.”
“All righty, we’ll keep open minds, then.” I smile brightly at her. “Which brings us to the topic of supplies. We’re going to need some for our journey.”
“Of course we will provide you with whatever you need,” Vian says, casting a look at her husband. “We live to serve the Lord of Storms.”
“We need a mount,” Aron says. “And food supplies. And clothing for my consort.” And then the bastard plays with a lock of my hair, as if to prove to everyone that I’m servicing his arrogant ass.
I wish his leg was under the table so I could kick him.
“I have but a donkey and a woale,” Cathis says. “You are welcome to either. Or both.”
“Let me see both and I will choose.” Aron releases my hair and then the two men head outside.
I’m alone with Vian, who’s very carefully stirring the cauldron over the fire, the scent of porridge in the air. “We really appreciate this,” I tell her, because she’s awfully quiet.
“Of course.”
“Is it going to put you out?”
She bites her lip. “All we ask for is a blessing.”
That’s not the first time she’s brought that up, but I’m not entirely sure what she means. “We’ll pay for whatever we take, of course. Just tell me how much money you need.”
Vian turns, startled, and her baby begins to cry. “It isn’t necessary—”
“Sure it is,” I say, and get to my feet. I wipe my charcoal-smeared hands on my tunic and then reach out and take the baby from her. The little one immediately grabs a fistful of my hair and begins to tug. Vian hesitates, then turns back to stirring the food. “We’re imposing on you guys. The least we can do is help monetarily.”
She pauses, and then turns back to me. “Money will help, but it will mean nothing if the rain doesn’t stop. That’s why we need Aron’s blessing so much.”
I blink. Then, the light goes on in my head. He’s the Lord of Storms and their fields are one big mud puddle. “Oh my god. The rain. I’m an idiot. Of course we can ask him to stop it.”
“Do you think he will?”
“Positive,” I tell her firmly. “If he can do anything about it, I know he will. He’s kind of a dick but at heart, he’s a good guy. Once we tell him how it’s wrecking your fields, he’ll take care of it…and we’ll still pay you, because it’s the right thing to do.”
Vian bursts into tears.
That makes me feel even worse. “Please don’t cry.”
“It’s just…” She swipes at her face, her nose ru
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” I stammer, shocked at her words. “He’s the god of storms, right? It thunders every time he gets in a bad mood, so I’m sure it’s easy for him to stop the rain. We can just ask him.” How many times have I paid zero attention to the weather around Aron just because I’m used to the rain and mud now? I could have asked him to stop a million times and I didn’t, because I was too focused on how awkward I’ve felt around him. “I’ll make sure he stops it right now.”
I get to my feet, because her weeping is making me really uncomfortable and I want to escape. It would be so much easier if she was greedy and just wanted a handful of coins. Her sorrow tells me just how deep her struggle is and how worried she is. I look at the baby in her arms and imagine how stressful it must be for her to think about food and if they have enough to feed themselves.
“I do not wish to be a bother,” she begins.
I wave her off. “I’ll be the bother.” I go to the door and sure enough, it’s still raining. Fat drops splash from the roof like a waterfall. This needs to stop now. I see my cloak hanging from a peg next to the door and pull it on over my clothes, then storm out into the mud. Aron is by the stables, an a
“Hey, Aron,” I call out, my boots squelching in the mud. “Can we talk for a few?”
He flicks a hand at me, indicating I should go to him.
“Privately?” I call out, stopping in the middle of the soaking field as Cathis looks up, his face white and pinched.
Aron turns his irritated gaze to me, but I smile brightly because I know it’s all hot air as far as I’m concerned. “You are standing in the rain.”
“No shit. Now come stand with me.” I cross my arms, tightening my cloak around my body, and wait.
The god points at Cathis. “Finish saddling my beast. My consort and I are leaving soon.” He moves to my side and blasts me with a scowl. “What do you need, Faith? I’m trying to prepare us for the road.”
“So, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” I point out as he moves to my side. “But it’s wet.”
“This is why you wished to talk?” Aron puts his hands on his hips. “Truly?”
“I’m also standing calf-deep in mud that should be a field. A farmer kind of needs his fields, you know? To grow crops?” When he crosses his arms and waits, I continue. “All right, I’m clearly going to have to co
“Lord of Storms,” he corrects me.
“Rain, storms, whatever—“
“Not whatever. Storms are battles in the Aether. He taps his chest. “That is why they are my domain.”
“Where I come from, they’re clouds of condensation that eventually make water, but I don’t want to argue. Aron, if you can do something about this, please. Just dry up the storms over their farmland so they won’t lose their entire crop. It’s the right thing to do.” I give him a pleading look.
He shrugs. “Very well, if it will get you to cease this begging.”
“It totally will.”
Aron grunts, and an expression of concentration crosses his face. He frowns in my direction. “I forgot how difficult it is to do anything on the mortal plane.”
“Try harder,” I encourage. “I can feel the change in the air.” It’s making my head hurt, so I know it’s working.
He nods and extends his hands, as if that will help him focus. His fingers curl as if he’s gripping the air between them, and pain spikes behind my brows. Aron’s face grows flushed with concentration and his body tenses. My head throbs and the thick feeling in the air clears.
The rain spattering on my cloak slows, and then stops. I pull my hood back, squinting up at the gray skies. “Holy shit. You did it.”
“I am a god, you know.” He gives the skies a pleased look.