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“I should like it if you did that more often,” he says in a low voice.
Swallowing hard, I nod. “I’ll try. This has just been…difficult for me. At least, more difficult than I expected.”
“Why?”
How do I explain that I thought they’d be more human? That when I committed myself, I didn’t realize just how isolated I would be? I only thought of the glory in serving a god, the safety it would provide for my future. I’m safe, all right. Safe at the edge of the world, doomed to live the rest of my life in a windowless cell. “I don’t think I realized fully what I was committing to.”
“And now that you do, you have regrets?”
I consider this for a moment. Do I? My other option was to remain with Aron’s party and hope I would not be captured or sold away once more. Aron is a god of war, and his anchor must die so he can ascend. Even at Faith’s side, it wouldn’t be safe. “I think I made a choice because I had to, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be afraid of what the choice means. It doesn’t mean that it’s a bad choice, just a little intimidating. It’s just going to take some time to settle in. That’s all.”
He nods. “Do you wish to return to your quarters, then?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to go back to that windowless room. It feels like a tomb, a cage, and I think that’s part of what’s making me anxious. He wants honest reactions from me, right? “I don’t like my quarters,” I blurt out. “At all.”
The Spidae’s perfect, beautiful face is blank. “It is safe there.”
“It makes me feel like I’m trapped.” I lick my lips, nervous. “Can’t I just wander around for a bit? I’ll stay out of your way. You can put me back in there when I need to sleep, but for now I’d like to keep exploring my home, if that’s all right. And if there’s anywhere you don’t want me to go, I won’t. I promise.”
The god considers for a moment. “You would rather not be safe in your room? I thought you wished to be safe with us.”
“I’m at the end of the world. I am the servant to three gods. How can I be any safer?”
I expect him to smile, but he only gives me another curious look and then nods. “Very well. I must return to my duties, but if you need anything, call for us. The spiders are always watching and will let us know.”
I’m so relieved I break into a wide grin. I want to grab his hands and squeeze them tight, but I don’t know if he’ll appreciate that. So I clasp my hands tightly together in front of me. “Thank you so much, my lord Fate.”
He stares at me for a moment longer, and then turns and melds into the cobwebs on the wall. It doesn’t even bother me this time, because I’m starting to get an inkling of how things work around here. The webs—the spiders—they’re all tools of the gods and not to be afraid of. Spiderwebs cover everything because that’s how they move about in their home.
I glance at my surroundings. Do I stay here or do I head back down to the kitchen and make myself something? If I can find some meat and vegetables, I’d love a thick, comforting soup. Just the thought of soup—and the process of making it—decides me. It’ll give me something to do instead of staring at the walls. I head for the entryway to go back out into the hall, and as I do, I absently lift the lid of the trunk closest to me.
And pause.
It’s full of fabrics.
I turn, my attention now fully on that trunk, and open the lid all the way. Sure enough, the trunk is full of bolt after bolt of rich brocades and expensive silks. It’s a treasure trove of fabric, and the realization fills me with sheer joy. The god—the Spidae with the blue eyes—said I could have whatever I wanted in this room. I can make myself dresses.
I can make myselfdozensof dresses.
Happiness bubbles inside me at the thought. I love pretty gowns, the more ornate the better. When I was a child, we had no coin, and I was envious of the lovely gowns the other girls my age wore. At one point, I was sold into slavery to a tailor and his wife, and I assisted in their shop and taught myself to copy the fancy fashions of the wealthy upon my own clothing. It was a nice time, I think wistfully, until I grew breasts and the tailor’s roving eye turned to me. Then I was sold off, and, well, that was that.
But I like sewing. And here, there’s no one to tell me that a slave can’t have a dozen flounces upon her dress. There’s no one to tell me that flashy ermine is inappropriate for one of my status. I finger a lovely red silk, imagining the skirts I can make with the wealth of fabric here, and I smile.
The gods must be looking out for me after all.
Five
Soup fixes everything.
Hours later, I’ve got a basket full of feathers plucked from a fat bird, and a full stomach. I worried that I’d made too much soup between the two pods I’d opened up, one with the fowl in it and the other full of root vegetables, but I’ve eaten every bite. I guess it’s lucky that I’m ravenous as an anchor? There won’t be much left over to waste.
With a full belly, I’m feeling much more at ease, too. I’ve had strange turns of events in my life in the past and I’ve managed to handle them. The Spidae can’t be a worse master than some of the ones I’ve already had. As long as I make them happy, I should be fine. And if it’s a bit quiet up here, well, I can surely keep busy with sewing and cooking for myself.
There are far worse fates out there.
I’m scrubbing the kitchen free of dust and humming an old Glistentide tune to myself when my skin prickles with awareness. Someone is standing behind me, and I turn around to see one of the Spidae. I wipe my hands off on my skirts (since I have no apron) and turn to him, lowering myself in a deep bow. “My lord Fate, how may I serve?”
“You are still down here.”
