Page 93 of The Last One
I chuckle as I imagine a spider throwing up her eight legs and saying, “I’m tired of this shit,” stomping out of her raggedy web, and finding love with a robin who promises to never eat her if she agrees to catch a fly and a cricket for dinner every now and again. Could that ever happen? Each creature teaming up and going against their nature for the sake of survival? Is there a grand plan for every living thing, even for those as small as a spider and robin?
“Veril,” I say, “do all Renrians believe in Supreme?”
“Certainly,” he says. “As well as all the manifestations of Supreme. And I don’t mean manifestations created in a fever dream Syrus Wake says he had.” The old man points to me. “Tell me. You are…?”
“Kai.”
“Your right hand. What does it do?”
I blink at him, then say, “It writes. Scratches my hair. Waves.”
“Now: your left eye,” he says. “What doesitdo?”
“It sees. It blinks.”
“Are both a part of your body?”
I nod.
“Do they do the same thing?”
I shake my head.
“But they are still a part of you, a part of Kai, yes?”
“Each part of me has different functions but are still of the same accord.”
Veril points his pipe at me. “And so it is with Supreme. There are orders—like the Executioners—who act as the hand. Other orders act as the heart. Still another, the brain. And so on and so forth. My order: we are the record-keepers, the connectors of ages. While we are not immortal, we have been blessed with long life. And I recognize our role, and if I believe in me, and I believe that Supreme is all, then I believe in those entities mortals call angels and gods.”
Hmm. Never thought about it like that.
“What am I, then?” I ask. “Where do I fit into all of this?”
His eyes twinkle. “That’s what you’re trying to figure out, yes?”
“Do you think it’s possible that I’m suffering from a false sense of importance and have no place?” Am I just a simple garden spider with a raggedy web? Building and rebuilding each day, catching fly after fly but never eating enough flies to rid the garden of them?
“Your pendant tells me that you have worth, Kai. You were given it for a reason. You’re not simply drifting through the realm all your life, heading toward death.”
“That,” I say, pointing at his fox amulet. “Who gave it to you?”
He presses the pendant between his fingers. “My patron chose this for me long, long ago. She saw something in me that I didn’t.”
“That you’re cunning?” I ask.
“And resilient.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Tricky?”
“Resourceful.”
“Radiant?”
“And very protective of those who matter most to me.” The old man claps his hands. “Should be ready now.” After a quick stir, he ladles some of its contents into a bowl, returns to the table, and holds the bowl of steaming liquid out to me. “Drink. This is an actual tonic, not just lentil stew.”
Cunning. Tricky.
I hesitate. “Didn’t you just put nightshade in that?”
