Whom the Gods Fear (Of Gods & Mortals Book 3) Page 6

  “I’d like to thank you once again for everything you’ve done for me,” she tried to put as much sincerity in her voice as she could. It was not that Cass was ungrateful. Callan had done much for her, at great cost to himself and his kingdom, and she did appreciate that. What irked her and the others was the way Callan needed to be credited for everything he did so frequently and effusively, or he would become petulant. She was reminded of what he was like when she had been travelling with him. Even though it had only been a few years, with everything that had gone on, it seemed a lifetime ago to her.

  “Yes, well, it was nothing.”

  Callan’s words did not ring true. His tone left no room for doubt that he felt that his contributions to her well-being had been substantial. But Cass could see he was at least placated for the moment. The moment was short lived.

  “But I really must insist you leave,” Callan said.

  “Excuse me?” Cass was taken by surprise by Callan’s sudden inhospitality.

  “Issa came to see me,” Callan said, his indignation rising again. “She came into my bedroom, Cass. My bedroom. My wife was there. And Issa was half naked. And she slithered into the bed between us and began crooning. The woman has no sense of…of… of anything!” Callan finished, exasperated.

  While Cass despised much of what the gods did, she had to hide her amusement at Callan’s distress over Issa’s undress. Issa was likely still punishing him for the way he talked about her during their journey to Oshia’s temple.

  “Don’t you laugh! It is decidedly not funny,” Callan shouted down the table at her.

  “No, no…” Cass managed to suppress her laughter, “you’re right. It isn’t. What did she have to say?”

  “She…I…” Callan fumbled out his words, upset Cass was failing to focus on the salient details of his encounter with Issa. “I don’t know. Something about Oshia targeting Faylendar for his special attention. And he knows you are here. And that I should tell you he knows. Which is why we need the gods damned dragons back!” he shouted, pounding his fist down on his table, causing a great gout of tea to leap from his cup. He angrily signaled over a page to clean it up and refill his cup, which afforded enough time for his anger to cool some. “I don’t understand why the witch just didn’t tell you herself.”

  “I’m sure she thought it would be more fun this way,” Cass said under her breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Oh, nothing, I’m just thinking out loud. Look, Callan, we won’t impose on you much longer. I don’t want to be any trouble. But I wouldn’t let your guard down just because we leave. You’re not exactly one of Oshia’s favorites yourself, and you’d do well to remember that. You need to be careful.”

  Callan crossed his arms, his face hardened.

  “I will be ready for him.”

  Cass sighed and rubbed her eyes. She had no idea what Callan meant by that, but she hoped he hadn’t done anything too stupid.

  Viola peered down at the parchment hoping once again she’d see something she missed. As she touched the scorched edges, a small flake of carbon broke from an edge. She sighed and pushed the bits away from her. Her frustration was plain. She looked around for someone to unload her frustrations on. She sighed again loudly. She knew this wish was hopeless. Everyone had their tasks and were busy with them. This was her own to bear. Her mind felt thick and muzzy. She looked at the row of candle stubs that dotted the table. She had been at this for too long. She pushed away from the desk and made her way unsteadily to the chaise in the corner, wondering when her legs had fallen asleep. Her eyes were closed before she finished collapsing onto the cushion.

  Viola was awoken with a gentle nudge to her elbow. She lifted her face and opened her bleary eyes to let them focus on the face hovering over her. Nat’s damp brown mop of curly hair framed cheeks bright red from scrubbing. She could smell the fancy scented soap the castle kept stocked wafting off of him.

  “A dream come true,” she murmured sleepily.

  He laughed and rubbed her cheek.

  “You must have been laying there for some time now.”

  Viola reached up to her cheek and felt ridges impressed there. She looked down at the chaise and ran a finger across the pattern of thick embroidery that ran through the fabric, the mirror of the temporary lines into her face. She had only meant to rest her eyes for a few minutes.

  “What time is it?”

  “Just before supper. I wanted to wash up first, and I wanted a chance to see you before you headed down. I wanted to let you know your village is sending mages. In case you wanted warning.”

  Viola shook her head in disbelief.

  “Mages? I didn’t think they’d give up single mage so easily. The dragons must have frightened them more than I’d expected. As long as I lived there, no one ever got a freebie. Virgin men were always required. Though sometimes a promise of one arriving imminently sufficed, if the person making the promise was highly trustworthy. And I don’t think anyone has ever gotten more than a single mage, regardless of how important they thought they were.”

  “You don’t seem worried about them finding out where you are,” Nat said.

  “At this point, I don’t think Callan would let them take me. I’ve provided his own castle mages with so much help he finds me increasingly invaluable. Also, I think my friends would keep me from being taken without my permission.”

  Viola smiled up at Nat before standing and stretching.

  “Yeah, I guess we wouldn’t,” he chuckled.

  “How was your trip? Fruitful I hope.”

  “Yes,” Nat said taking a seat at the table full of scrolls. “The word is being passed around. A dozen or so accompanied me back to Faylendar as well. More should arrive every day as word spreads. It of course helps that Callan has extended such a profitable and comfortable welcome for them. Those staying at the royal warrior’s pub on the outskirts of town rode out to gather more help. My task wasn’t exactly that demanding. Gathering warriors isn’t exactly high magic. I haven’t met one yet that would turn down room, board, and a chance at a fat purse. How’s yours going?”

  “It’s not. I’ve been having a lot of trouble. Maybe I could bounce some ideas off you? I need someone to talk to. Manfred said it was best I come to my own conclusions before talking to him about them. He said he didn’t want to ‘fill your head with any more garbage than is already in there’,” she said in a decent Manfred imitation. “And then he told everyone to get out and leave me to study in peace. So I’ve been sitting here wracking my brain for days, trying to come up with something on my own, but it’s like trying to make out a conversation in a language you only know a few words from.”

  “Hey… speaking of Manfred, I saw him and Cass in the lounge and, maybe I’m just imagining this, but she seemed pretty cool towards him. I think she might have even been avoiding looking at him. Did something happen on Xenor?” Nat asked.

  “They’re having a disagreement,” Viola said cryptically, “that’s messy and honestly draining just thinking about it.”

  “Ah. Gotcha. Well why don’t we focus on this instead then,” Nat said scanning the scroll pieces.

  “Here, let me show you this,” Viola said, shuffling through the burnt pieces of scroll. She peered down at the scroll, the paper almost touching her nose. Then she found the scrap she was looking for and placed it in front of Nat.

  Nat studied the piece before him as Viola looked on hopefully. On it was a Djinn, that was clear enough to him, the little blue figure could hardly be anything but. He was shooting something out of his hands into the body of a man before him. The man looked to be dying or possibly in great pain, his image portraying him fallen to his knees, his hands clutched to his head. Behind both of these figures was another man, standing there, as if he were watching the scene play out. There wasn’t much else discernable on the scrap of paper besides the three figures.

  “What am I looking for? A familiar god maybe?”

  “Not exactly. L
ook at the man standing in the background. Look closely. Can you see something… else there? It’s hard to describe. I thought I was hallucinating the first time I saw it. Look at the scroll like it wasn’t there. Like you were focusing on something behind paper, across the room. I was very tired when I first saw it. I thought it was just a hallucination from lack of sleep at first. But I kept trying, and I think I’ve got the trick of it now. If I focus my eyes on an imaginary point past the paper, I see… well ‘it’ for lack of a better word. I don’t want to put the idea in your head in case it’s not really there and I’ll have made us both ‘see’ it accidentally.”

  Nat did as she asked and focused his eyes past the scroll, pretending he was looking behind it. After a few minutes when he was just about to give up, but hesitant to say so for fear of disappointing a desperate looking Viola, he saw it. The man depicted on the scroll watching the djinn and the injured man had a symbol superimposed over him. Nat wondered if this is what Viola was talking about. When he looked at the djinn, it wasn’t there. When he looked at the bent over figure, it wasn’t there.

  “I think I see it. A symbol. It’s hard to make out because if I focus on it, it disappears.”

  Nat traced the symbol in the air to try to illustrate what he saw to Viola.

  “Never seen it before, what is it?” he asked.

  “I don’t really know. Maybe to a djinn it’s something significant. I was afraid to say anything to Manfred in case I was just imagining it, but you see something too, and I think it’s the same thing. I’ve written it down here.”

  Viola opened up a notebook that was already crammed with her written thoughts. She flipped through several pages.

  “Is that all about the scrolls?”

  “Yes,” Viola said still flipping.

  “Wow. That’s some serious dedication,” Nat said impressed.

  Viola stopped and looked up from her work to see Nat wasn’t teasing her.

  “Thank you, Nat.”

  She turned back to her notebook and finally fished out the page she was looking for. She handed her notebook to Nat.

  “Yeah, that’s the symbol. It’s not on the Djinn,” Nat said looking back down at the scroll. “Or on this other fellow.”

  “No. But it does show up a few other places.”

  Viola pulled out several more scraps and placed them down in front of Nat. Unlike the first piece of scroll, there were a lot of images and symbols on these scraps. Nat didn’t know where to begin.

  “It’s why I gave you the small piece first,” seeing his consternation. “There are only a couple of figures on it. Here,” she pointed to a figure in one section that was commanding what looked like an army of other figures.

  Nat looked at it and sure enough, after a few moments, the symbol returned over the leading figure.

  “Yeah, I see it. But it’s not over all these others.”

  “Nope. I won’t force you to look at any of the other ones. I think this symbol is significant to understanding something. I can’t be sure of what. But I think if I know what it means, it would be a big breakthrough for me.”

  “Maybe it’s time to talk to Manfred.”

  “Maybe. But not just yet. I wanted to check a few other things in my notes first before I confer with him. But first, let’s go to supper and eat some of Callan’s fine food. I haven’t had a bite all day. Will you come back with me afterwards and help out? I’d like the company. I’ve been stuck in this room by myself for too long.”

  “Sure,” Nat said. He stood and straightened his tunic in an exaggerated way. “Shall we dine, my lady?”

  Viola giggled as she put her hand through Nat’s offered arm. She had missed her friends more than she had realized. When they were all together, she felt more confident about everything.

  Dinner was lavish as usual. Viola and Nat spent the meal trying to cheer up Cass, who they agreed looked alternatively angry and miserable. Gunnarr’s extended absence clearly had her worried. Callan’s constant moaning about omnipresent danger and impending doom wasn’t helping much. They were gathered in one of the smaller rooms that sat only sixteen, instead of the royal dining room. The room still mirrored much of the finery of the official royal dining hall, but this room felt cozier. Manfred was munching away at his meal. His stomach, to any who paid attention, seemed to be bottomless. He gorged on the food, a fact Cass felt sure she’d hear about from Callan since he seemed to be taking notes on just how inconvenient they had all been for him of late.

  “You know, you aren’t making life any easier for me,” Cass said pointing out his gluttony. “Callan is probably going to have an itemized list of all the costs of this meal. The servers are only bringing more to be polite, not because they have a surplus in the kitchen.”

  “Alright, alright,” Manfred muttered, “I’m finished.”

  Manfred put down his fork, a smile flitting across his face. It was his first interaction with Cass that seemed halfway civil since their trip to Xenor together. The servants appeared out of their quiet corners to clear dishes as a voice boomed out in the room.

  “Don’t clear everything yet. I’d enjoy a bite to eat, maybe two, if that won’t be too much of a problem.”

  Everyone looked up at the sound of Gunnarr’s voice. It cast a pall from the room that Viola and Nat’s best efforts had been unable to budge. Even they felt suddenly more light-hearted, neither having recognized their own anxieties while they were so intent on trying to cheer Cass. Cass stood and rushed to Gunnarr before he could take more than a step into the room, wrapping him in a deep hug for longer than was comfortable for the rest of the room. When they separated Gunnarr walked around the table and patted Nat and Viola on the shoulder.

  “Not to worry, friends,” he said smiling, “I’ve found us some assistance.”

  With a flourish of his arm, he stepped aside from the doorway in an action uncharacteristic of the normally quite subdued Braldashad, revealing a short man that Gunnarr’s broad frame had been blocking from view.

  The man was not as small as a djinn, but close. His deep ruddy coloring coupled with his dark hair gave him a swarthy look. The man looked ambivalent about his presence there. He remained guarded with his emotions as he surveyed the room, only the small tightly clutched fist on his beautifully ornate walking stick hinting at any discomfort or apprehension. His clothing was dusty, which belayed its fine tailoring somewhat. The silver medallion that hung at his neck, however, was not dusty it all. It glinted in the light, a single large circle encompassing three smaller circles, themselves joined together by a triangle. His dark eyes flitted to the djinn and remained there for a moment before moving on to Cass. When he saw Cass, the first sign of emotion touched his face as his eyebrows lifted and something sparked behind his eyes.

  “I must apologize for my behavior when last we met,” Cass said before the spark could become a blaze. “I was quite drunk you see, and when fully in my cups I often fail to respect my betters as I should. I sincerely hope to remedy that slight by allying myself with you, and seeing you to victory in your righteous war.”

  Cass bowed deeply to the small man. He looked to be sufficiently placated and even pleased by the treatment he was getting.

  “Pardon my insolence, mighty one,” Gunnarr said bowing himself, “I apologize for not properly introducing your entrance. Everyone, this is the great and terrible Chort, god of thunder and might.”

  Chort took another step into the room as Nat and Viola clumsily stood and bowed following Cass and Gunnarr’s lead. Manfred merely snorted and remained seated.

  “You’ve added god of might to your resume?” Manfred scoffed “Quite the addition. Nicely vague and unprovable.”

  “Please excuse our friend, the djinn,” Cass said apologetically. She glared at Manfred and he bit back his next comment.

  “Djinn,” Chort said puffing up his chest, “would have to amount to something for their insults to sting.”

  Manfred looked like he wanted to return the barb
when Chort interrupted his chance.

  “I’d rather see my quarters than eat at the moment. I’m not interested in dining with such disreputable rabble,” Chort said, waving his staff towards Manny.

  “Of course, immediately,” Gunnarr said, stepping quickly to block Chort’s view of Manny and the obscene gesture he was making and bundling Chort out into the hallway.

  Cass turned and scowled at Manfred.

  “You could have been more gracious.”

  “I would if it would matter. You brought a useless and, might I add, dangerous element into this fight. Despite his current status, he is still technically a god. He could alert them to all we plan to do.”

  “We aren’t going to tell him our plans,” Cass said, “at least not anything more than is necessary to assure his cooperation. And though he is a god, he’s a god who is on the outs with his own kind, and our best bet at finding out what they’re up to. And I’m hoping he’s something the other gods will not expect.”

  “Throwing candies at the gods in retaliation would be equally as surprising, and probably more effective,” Manfred sniped.

  Cass shrugged, “It’s an idea. Something you have been short on.”

  “If that was meant to be a pun, it wasn’t…,” Manfred was cut off by Cass holding up her hand.