Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
I fill a second bowl and demolish it, and as the edge is taken off, I eye the fisherman. Maybe this is a good time to get some information about the situation. “Tell us what you know of the Anticipation. Like I said before, our farm is very isolated. We don’t get much information from the cities.”
The fisherman grunts and runs his fingernail over the medallion, then sets it aside. He glances at me. “We don’t get much news here either, but I’m surprised you haven’t heard anything. Aron of the Cleaver has already returned to the skies.”
I have no idea who that is, but it sounds like it might be a good thing to not run into him. “So soon?”
“Aye. He wasted no time in going to war. Went through all his Aspects quickly.”
“And Rhagos?” Kalos speaks up, voice mild and quiet. “What of him?”
The fisherman’s demeanor changes. He tosses invisible salt over his shoulder, a scowl on his face. “The dark brothers still walk the world, or so I have heard.”
Dark…brothers? I eye Kalos, wondering if he’s the other brother, given that he’s disease and all. Why didn’t he tell me he had a brother? Do we need to meet up with him? Do we even want to team up with a “dark brother”? Can I handle more than one bad guy? At least the fisherman hasn’t noticed that Kalos isn’t exactly “blending” in. My companion is covered in just as much mud as me, though, his long hair wet and disheveled and dark with swamp muck. Maybe we can get away with this for a while. I blink innocently at our host. “Gosh. Sounds terrible. I hope they go home quickly.”
“Or they never go home at all,” the old man says sourly. “We could do without either of ’em if you ask me.”
Before Kalos can comment on anything, I take the reins of the conversation again. “Anything else you can tell us about? Any other gods? You seem to know a lot.”
The man grunts. “Got a friend that takes a trip to Sunswallow every week. He hears things.” He shakes out my jewelry bag, as if what’s in there isn’t enough, and when nothing else comes out, he picks through the trinkets again. “Lady Tadekha’s citadel is destroyed. Heard that one.”
Kalos makes a noise of surprise.
“I know,” continues the fisherman. “Thought it was a lie, but I’ve seen people selling the crystals in the markets for good luck. I aim to get one myself.” He shrugs. “They say Lord Vor is somewhere on the coast, but I haven’t noticed the fishing is any different, so I can’t say. You heard that Magra is in Yshrem? Riekki is hiding in the forest cities, and I heard Belara makes her way across the Adassian plains.”
Mentally I go through the names of the deities Jemet tried to pound into my head. Vor is a god of the sea. Kassam is the Wild. I don’t remember Riekki but I’ve heard the name before. The other is a mystery though. “Who’s Belara?”
The man narrows his eyes at me.
“Belara,” Kalos says, speaking up. “Goddess of beauty.”
I realize I’ve messed up. Someone from here would absolutely know the name of every god. “Oh, that Belara.” I pretend to clean out my ear with a finger. “I must have misheard you.”
“Mm. Well, the goddess is one to avoid,” the fisherman says.
“She holds grudges,” Kalos agrees, a miserable expression on his face.
I have so many questions right now.
“Your stew good? You eat enough?” the fisherman asks me, pointing at my dish.
“I could eat more.” I’ve scraped my bowl clean, but I’m still hungry. I could absolutely eat more.
“You need more payment.” He grabs the jewelry and slides it all into a bag of his own. “This won’t cover much.”
I’m shocked. I was expecting to give him one piece of something small…not all of it. “What? That’s too much money.”
“Things are expensive now. It’s the Anticipation. Pay up.”
For cold, congealed fish soup? I set the bowl down on the table, my stomach clenching. We can’t give him everything we own. How are we going to travel? How will we get weapons? Supplies?
He sees my hesitation and gestures at Dingle. “You can throw in the goat.”
“No,” I protest automatically. “He’s a pet.”
“I’ll handle this,” Kalos says, getting to his feet. He reaches out and touches the fisherman, grabbing his hand.
The room gets hot—or I’m having a hot flash of some kind. I sneeze violently—once, twice, three times. When I can open my watering eyes again, I watch Kalos and the fisherman. What’s he going to say? Is he going to argue with him? Chide him for his actions? Reveal himself?
The man stares at Kalos.
As I watch, a line of drool slides from the fisherman’s mouth. He trembles, and a moment later, he’s convulsing rapidly. Foam pours from his mouth and he falls to the floor, jerking, and goes still.