by Ruby Dixon
She pats my wet shoulder. "If you need more, I will leave some under the pillow tonight. I have heard the gods can be demanding."
Aron's demanding all right, but just about the only thing he hasn't demanded from me is sex. Which…come to think of it, might be odd. Is he supposed to? Did I get the only celibate Aspect out there? Or am I not Aron's type and he took me only because he had to?
Why is the thought of that offensive? Because I threw myself at him and he ignored me? I bite back my scowl and wash myself, trying not to think about how many times Aron has told me that I stink. I mean, I do stink. But lots of the people here stink.
That doesn't mean I'm unattractive. He told me that he liked the way I looked…once.
I don't know why I care. I don't plan on staying around this place. I'm with Aron because he wants to go home, and so do I. It's a mutual interest thing. He needs a way back to his heavens, or wherever he went, and I need a way back to my world. Both of us get what we want—hopefully—if we manage to restore him.
That's all that this is.
Sexual attraction has nothing to do with anything. Aron's attractive to me because he's a god. Doesn't mean that he finds mortals attractive at all.
I try not to be irritated at that thought and finish my bath quickly, then let Vian pour a cold bucket of water over my hair to rinse it. "Your hospitality has been amazing," I tell her as I wrap up in the clean, worn blanket she offers me. "I'll be sure to tell Aron all about how kind you are."
For the first time, her eyes light up with hope. I can practically see her entire body tremble. "And he will bless us?"
"I'll ask."
The answer seems unsatisfying to her, but she nods and manages a smile, and I'm left wondering what response she was looking for.
37
Vian and her husband Cathis feed us and let us dry off by their fire that night. It's a quiet meal because both of them are too afraid of Aron to talk much, and I'm too busy stuffing my mouth. They seem unsurprised by my appetite, as I'm the only one that takes four bowls of stew, but during bowl number four, I realize that I might be eating them out of house and home and that curbs my appetite. I finish my portion and give them a bright smile. "We'll pay you for your hospitality."
"No we won't. They are honored to serve," Aron says arrogantly.
I kick him under the table and continue smiling. "Yes, but they have babies to feed. It's enough that they've offered." I don't pull out the coin purse just yet, though. I remember the greedy eyes back at the tavern, and I wonder suddenly if the mob came after us because we flashed too much money, not because Aron was a god. I’m so naïve. “It’s so nice of you to welcome us,” I say again.
"Of course." Vian gets up and clears the table. "I have prepared your bedding. We will sleep in the stable tonight to give you and your consort privacy, my Lord of Storms."
"Oh, but that's not necessary," I begin, but this time Aron kicks me under the table. I look at Vian and Cathis and it occurs to me that despite the muck and damp (and the sad, pitiful state of the stable) they might feel safer out there. "But thank you," I amend. "My lord and I are most grateful."
Aron pats my thigh, as if pleased by my chirpy response.
I just kick him under the table again, because it's fun, and he snorts with amusement. Sometimes I think he has fun being challenged, too.
The baby starts to get fussy, and then Cathis and Vian retreat to their stable, leaving us alone in their small cottage. I feel guilty, because I think of how pregnant Vian is and of the muddy, sloppy rain that's still going outside. It can't be a comfortable night for them, but they also looked as if they wanted nothing more than to get away from us. I guess there's no winning this particular battle.
My clothes are fresh and warm after baking by the fire for a few hours, but I'm reluctant to change into them to sleep. I'm still wearing Vian's shift dress, which is made of a papery, thin material that itches. I can't wear it to bed, either. I consider for a moment, and then pull on one of my backup tunics as a nightgown. No panties, though.
I'd give a kingdom for panties right about now. No one on this planet seems to wear them.
Yawning, I crawl into bed as Aron sharpens his knives, and I'm just about to drift off to sleep when the lumpy hay mattress sinks in on one side, and then a big body crawls into bed next to me.
"For real?" I groan as Aron promptly shoves his way onto the narrow mattress and proceeds to take up most of the bed. "You don't even have to sleep."
“You know this is how I protect you best.”
"What's going to attack me while I sleep?" I ask, yawning.
"A wizard could send poisonous snakes to rise up from the floor, creep into bed and kill you."
Jesus. I'm awake now. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling as Aron shifts next to me, trying to get comfortable. "So undead, snakes from the floor, gods wandering the earth…anything else I should know about in this world of yours so I can never sleep again? Dragons? Killer mermen?"
"Don't be foolish. Mermen are long dead."
"You didn't say dragons were."
"Do not go looking for dragons, then," he says, and I don't know if he's joking or not.
"I'm not a big fan of this whole place, just so you know."
"Neither am I. Which is why we are doing our best to return to our respective homes." He thumps in and then pushes an elbow against my side. "Turn over. It is more comfortable when I cup my body against yours."
"You mean when we spoon?" I obediently turn onto my side, hugging the pillow to my head. Aron molds his body against mine and slings his arm over my hips, and I hate that he's right; it does feel way more comfortable like this. I fight back another yawn, because I'm tired. All the food I have to shove into my mouth makes a girl sleepy. At least I'm not gaining weight, even though I'm pretty sure I'm eating triple what I normally do. "So what's the plan for tomorrow?"
"Get the lay of the land from the farmer. He will know where all these roads lead to and the safest way to head. Take a mount, get supplies, and be on our way. We cannot stay here for long like we did with Omos. They are not nearly remote enough."
"I figured." I think of Omos, that kind, sweet man who opened his home and offered everything to us. His letter to his goddess is still in my pack, and I wonder if he worries over it. I hope he's doing well. He's the only person on this planet I'd wish good things for. Well, no, I guess that's not true. I want to help Vian and her poor, worried husband.
And I guess Aron is okay, too.
I think for a moment of the two farmers. "Are we really going to take their supplies?"
"You would rather starve?"
"Well, no, but I would feel really, really guilty if we stole all their stuff and left. They have a little baby. One on the way, too."
"Your heart is too soft, Faith." Aron pats my shoulder. "We will leave them coins if that will ease your fears."
Oh. We do have some money. "That's a great idea. Thanks, Aron."
"They will do us no good where we are going, unless you are fond of chewing on coins instead of food."
I should have guessed that Aron wouldn't be totally selfless. Still, he's thinking of others at least, even if it's only to shut me up. "I'll talk with Vian in the morning and see how much it would cost them to replace the supplies we take." The farmer's wife will probably try not to take the money, but I can push it on her. She has mouths to feed. Of course, thinking of Vian makes me also think about our conversation we had earlier.
I put my hand under the pillow, feeling around, and sure enough, there's a tiny pouch. Deathwort. For preventing pregnancy, she'd said. Good lord.
"You realize they think we're sleeping together?" I point out to Aron.
"We are sleeping together."
"No, not like that. I mean sleeeeeeping together. Like, doing the dirty."
"Do your people have no words for fucking?"
Gah. When he says it so bluntly, it's a little embarrassing and shocking. "No, we do. We have
lots of words for it."
"Good. I was starting to wonder."
He sounds completely unconcerned, and I frown into the darkness, my fingers around the little pouch of herbs. "We should tell them that we're not." I pause, and then continue. "Fucking, you know."
"Why?"
"Because we're not? I didn't agree to fucking! Just to being your servant."
He laughs, and the sound is low and arrogant. In the next moment, he leans in and I feel his breath against my neck. "I remember your terms. No ‘butt stuff.’”
“That’s right.” A shiver races through me at the feel of his mouth so close to my skin.
“I could have you in this moment if I wanted you."
"Bullshit you could." My heart trips in my chest. I’m not afraid. I’m…excited.
“You think if I did not caress you and tell you sweet things, that you would not put your arms around my neck and beg me to take you?” His hand strokes down my arm, sending goosebumps through my body. “You think a god could not give you more pleasure than any mortal could?”
“I think…” And boy, is it hard to think when he’s being sexy and flirty. “I think that you would struggle with the whole ‘tell me sweet things’ part.”
Delighted laughter booms from his chest. “Perhaps that is so.” He continues chuckling. “That is why I like you so much, Faith. You are not afraid to speak your mind.”
Is that so? Because I have to admit (even if only to myself) that I was hoping the dare would go a little further than that. But I just squeeze my thighs tight together and close my eyes. “Go to sleep, Aron.”
“I do not sleep,” he tells me, amused.
I don’t either. Not for a long time.
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 cannot draw me a map?” Aron demands. “You live in this land. You should know better than anyone how it is laid out.”
“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.
Tha
t makes me feel even worse. “Please don’t cry.”
“It’s just…” She swipes at her face, her nose running. “The farm is everything and if we don’t have enough to sell, we all starve. I will give him my woale if he asks for it. I will give him my body if he asks for it. By all the gods, I will give my firstborn child if he promises to feed it, because very soon I will not be able to.” Her eyes are blazing with frustration.
“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 annoyed, impatient look on his face as Vian’s husband saddles his woale—the land-hippo creature—and babbles prayers. I’d laugh at how annoyed Aron looks at any other time, but right now I just feel guilt. I can only imagine how frightened and worried Cathis is, hoping to please Aron (who, let’s face it, will never be pleased with him).
