Page 62 of Flame and Sparrow

The thought unsettled me, but I was grateful for this dark reminder of the sort of being I was dealing with. I’d thanked him for saving me earlier, and for an instant, I’d felt myself slipping, the line between the truth and my acting becoming blurred…a dangerous precedent.

I had to stay focused.

The room the creatures eventually brought me to was bright compared to the rest of the palace, with tall windows welcoming in what I assumed was the light of the same ‘sun’ that had shined upon the atrium’s roof.

There were two sconces flanking each of the two doors, as well—both the door to the hall and to a connected washroom—and my escorts waved their flaming hands toward these sconces, setting all four alight with apopand a small shower of sparks. As they blazed, the firelight stretched toward a series of strange glass receptacles scattered along the ceiling. The receptacles absorbed the light, I heard a softwhirringnoise from them, and then they were alight as well, casting a more even glow across the space. It was fascinating to watch; my fingers itched to take them apart and see how they worked.

Once light had flooded the entire room, my escorts bowed their lanky bodies and left me alone to take in my newest prison.

The space was clean and comfortable enough, filled with fixtures that were clearly sturdy and well-made, accented with hints of yet more gold—elegant without being overly extravagant. There was a bed, a small dresser, and a long, empty closet that I suspected would fill up as mysteriously as the one at the other house had.

I briefly wondered why Dravyn would have such a large spare room, as I didn’t think the gods regularly entertained guests. Maybe he didn’t have these spaces, typically, but some sort of magic had swiftly created this room for the sole purpose of housing me? It was difficult to imagine such magic at work, but I was beginning to think nothing was impossible in this realm.

I stepped cautiously toward one of the room’s three windows, pushing its sheer curtains aside to get my first true glimpse of the yard surrounding the palace; I’d been too dizzy to take in much of it upon our arrival.

Staring at it now made me feel faint all over again.

Hills of silver-green grass rolled away from me, stretching on as far as I could see. They were covered in a shimmering ash, I concluded after a minute of staring. The same dust coated the pale flowers blanketing many of the hills, glinted off clusters of trees with crooked branches, and made the stone walkways around the palace shine brighter in the light of the false sun.

Farther in the distance, the grass gave way to scorched ground woven through with cracks of bright, molten rock. I couldn’t tell from where I stood, but I imagined that fiery rock flowing freely like little rivers, crisscrossing each other in winding patterns. The air above it all wobbled, sweltering with heat, glowing bits of fire occasionally swirling through it.

Beautiful yet deadly in appearance—a quality I was starting to associate with all divine places.

The ocean of purple and black in the Death God’s beautiful yet deadly territory kept resurfacing in my mind, fresh terror overtaking me every time I pictured it and those veilhound creatures, and the uneasy energy surrounding it all…

What was happening in this realm?

And how was I going to survive itandpass the trials that apparently awaited me?

I needed to rethink my plans. To reevaluate now that I’d gathered more information. I didn’t have my drawing materials from my former dwelling, but I made do by finding a container of powder in the washroom and spreading a thin layer of it over the countertop to create a sketching surface. It smelled pungently floral, and just a puff of it floating into the air around me made my skin itch; I was careful not to touch the layer of it with anything except for a single, briefly-extended claw.

I closed and barricaded the door before I went to work. Listening closely for any approaching footsteps, I hastily mapped out the new areas I’d seen, listed the new names I’d heard, and tried to recreate the scene at the eastern edge. The strange uneasiness that had overtaken me while staring out over that ocean struck me again as I drew.

When I’d finished my sketching and labeling, I stood back and studied it all. Even here, contained within the countertop of the small washroom, this realm and all I faced within it seemed so impossiblybig.

I hugged my arms tightly around myself. I was beginning to think I was in over my head, as loathe as I was to admit it.

Yet the only option appeared to be to keep swimming, or else I was certain to drown.

* * *

Days passed.Or I assumed they were days, anyway; the false sun here actually came and went in a way that resembled the cycle I was accustomed to, so I counted these cycles as if they were normal days. I couldn’t decide if I preferred this to the endless shine of my last sun or not; it made it easier to sleep, but also easier to realize how much time was passing without my accomplishing anything.

The God of Fire proved ever more enigmatic and aloof; another four days passed without a single conversation with him. We were under the same roof—I occasionally caught glimpses of him in the halls, which I was allowed to roam relatively freely—yet I felt no closer to him than before.

Rieta was a frequent visitor, and though her appearance often interrupted my plotting and thinking, I began to look forward to the sight of her barging into my room. She was not warm, nor pleasant most of the time, but she was familiar. She brought me paper and drawing sticks, and occasionally answered my questions in her snappish, matter-of-fact way.

On the fifth day, she knocked—only to open the door without waiting for my call to come in—and she pushed her way inside with a basket of linens against her hip. She grunted hello and trundled past with little more than a glance in my direction, but slowed to a stop as she caught sight of the sketch I’d just finished adding the final details to—one of the Death Marr and all his strange features.

“Drawing again, are we?”

I leaned away from the table I’d been working at so she could see my creation better; I had been anticipating her arrival, and I’d purposely brought this drawing out in hopes that she would see it and initiate a conversation.

“The God of Death…” I began, as casually as I could, “he looked soinhumancompared to Dravyn and the other gods I’ve met. I’m just curious about what makes him such a beast—and I can’t help sketching things that make me curious.”

She clicked her tongue as if she disapproved of that curiosity—but she snatched up the paper in her free hand and studied it closer, her warm-rust eyes scrutinizing each detail before nodding in a begrudging way, as if she was trying to decide whether or not I’d done the god’s appearance its due justice.

“He may yet return to his more human self,” she finally said. “The Marr are almost all beastly at first, until their magic and power settles down. Some are real quick about settling. Others take months. Years. Decades, even. They’re still a relatively new being, you know—new creations from the Moraki—so I guess you could say we’re still figuring out the specifics of how things work. Creation is a messy business, as it were.”

---