in the new scents that had entered the cellar, and then sat up. When he saw their visitors, he grinned.
“What have we here, brother Bacchus?” he said, slurring his words. “A pretty thing come to the party. Strip off your garments, girl, and make your offering.”
Kitsune blinked. Then, unable to help herself, she laughed. At the sound, Dionysus gazed at her blearily. He seemed more confused than insulted. But Bacchus struggled to raise his bulk. He had a jug of wine in one hand and accidentally spilled it across his chest.
“Do you mock, girl?” Bacchus demanded. He sneered, but his head swayed with the muzzy numbness of the besotted.
Neither of the gods had even acknowledged the presence of Coyote or Lycaon. They were discarded deities, living in filth, and yet their arrogance remained. Perhaps it was all that had kept them alive.
“No, Lord Bacchus. I wouldn’t dare. I have come on an issue of dire importance, with news that threatens all of Euphrasia, an insidious evil that will find its way even here, in this haven you have made.”
Bacchus gazed doubtfully at her.
“We are gods, little fox, not merely legends. What might frighten the Lost or the legendary means nothing to us.”
Kitsune hesitated. She would have loved to correct him, to tell him that most of the beings that had once been gods were no more powerful, and sometimes far less so, than many of the legends she had met.
“Lord Bacchus,” Coyote interjected, perhaps sensing her pique, “Kitsune speaks the truth. Atlantis has betrayed the Two Kingdoms. They’ve coerced and deceived Yucatazca and murdered its king. War has begun. Invaders swarm into Euphrasia. If the races of Euphrasia don’t come together now, it will be too late.”
The Roman god belched loudly. Burgundy spittle ran down his chin.
“Get out,” Bacchus sighed.
“You’re not listening,” Kitsune growled. “You can’t just wait here to die.”
Dionysus laughed. The Greek god had apparently not forgotten they were there after all. He glanced at Kitsune.
“Little one, we’ve been waiting to die for a thousand years. Until then, we pass the time. But perhaps some of our brothers and sisters will take a greater interest in survival. They’ve lived this long, after all. So many have scattered throughout the Two Kingdoms and beyond—far beyond—and twice their number have died. But there are still a few who might listen.”
He glanced at Bacchus, as though for approval, but the other god ignored them.
“Lycaon,” Dionysus said.
The monster flinched. Strange to see the beast, the cannibal, so cowed. “Yes, Lord Dionysus?”
“You brought them?”
Lycaon lowered his head. “Yes, lord.”
“Good,” Dionysus said. “Each morning, go to Lycaon’s Kitchen and wait. If any from our pantheons wish to hear what you have to say, they will find you there.”
“Wait?” Coyote asked, taking a step toward the dais. “For how long?”
Dionysus laughed. “Until the gods deign to see you.”
CHAPTER 6
C ollette Bascombe lay on the thin mattress that was all she and Julianna had by way of comfort in their cell. It stank and there were stains on it that she did not wish to consider, but still she was grateful. When she thought of a dungeon, she imagined sleeping on cold stone. That would have been far worse. Yet even that would not have been as terrible as her captivity in the Sandman’s castle, with the roasting sun above during the day and the creeping chill after dark.
Had they taken the mat away, she would have survived. But Collette was glad to have it, both for her own sake and for Julianna’s. Her friend—and her brother’s fiancée—had never been much afraid of anything in her life. But during the nights that had passed since their attempt to reach Frost, Julianna shivered with the cold and, perhaps, with fear that they would never leave those stone cells again. They’d had their chance at escape, and failed.
There had been periods of silence
“What have we here, brother Bacchus?” he said, slurring his words. “A pretty thing come to the party. Strip off your garments, girl, and make your offering.”
Kitsune blinked. Then, unable to help herself, she laughed. At the sound, Dionysus gazed at her blearily. He seemed more confused than insulted. But Bacchus struggled to raise his bulk. He had a jug of wine in one hand and accidentally spilled it across his chest.
“Do you mock, girl?” Bacchus demanded. He sneered, but his head swayed with the muzzy numbness of the besotted.
Neither of the gods had even acknowledged the presence of Coyote or Lycaon. They were discarded deities, living in filth, and yet their arrogance remained. Perhaps it was all that had kept them alive.
“No, Lord Bacchus. I wouldn’t dare. I have come on an issue of dire importance, with news that threatens all of Euphrasia, an insidious evil that will find its way even here, in this haven you have made.”
Bacchus gazed doubtfully at her.
“We are gods, little fox, not merely legends. What might frighten the Lost or the legendary means nothing to us.”
Kitsune hesitated. She would have loved to correct him, to tell him that most of the beings that had once been gods were no more powerful, and sometimes far less so, than many of the legends she had met.
“Lord Bacchus,” Coyote interjected, perhaps sensing her pique, “Kitsune speaks the truth. Atlantis has betrayed the Two Kingdoms. They’ve coerced and deceived Yucatazca and murdered its king. War has begun. Invaders swarm into Euphrasia. If the races of Euphrasia don’t come together now, it will be too late.”
The Roman god belched loudly. Burgundy spittle ran down his chin.
“Get out,” Bacchus sighed.
“You’re not listening,” Kitsune growled. “You can’t just wait here to die.”
Dionysus laughed. The Greek god had apparently not forgotten they were there after all. He glanced at Kitsune.
“Little one, we’ve been waiting to die for a thousand years. Until then, we pass the time. But perhaps some of our brothers and sisters will take a greater interest in survival. They’ve lived this long, after all. So many have scattered throughout the Two Kingdoms and beyond—far beyond—and twice their number have died. But there are still a few who might listen.”
He glanced at Bacchus, as though for approval, but the other god ignored them.
“Lycaon,” Dionysus said.
The monster flinched. Strange to see the beast, the cannibal, so cowed. “Yes, Lord Dionysus?”
“You brought them?”
Lycaon lowered his head. “Yes, lord.”
“Good,” Dionysus said. “Each morning, go to Lycaon’s Kitchen and wait. If any from our pantheons wish to hear what you have to say, they will find you there.”
“Wait?” Coyote asked, taking a step toward the dais. “For how long?”
Dionysus laughed. “Until the gods deign to see you.”
CHAPTER 6
C ollette Bascombe lay on the thin mattress that was all she and Julianna had by way of comfort in their cell. It stank and there were stains on it that she did not wish to consider, but still she was grateful. When she thought of a dungeon, she imagined sleeping on cold stone. That would have been far worse. Yet even that would not have been as terrible as her captivity in the Sandman’s castle, with the roasting sun above during the day and the creeping chill after dark.
Had they taken the mat away, she would have survived. But Collette was glad to have it, both for her own sake and for Julianna’s. Her friend—and her brother’s fiancée—had never been much afraid of anything in her life. But during the nights that had passed since their attempt to reach Frost, Julianna shivered with the cold and, perhaps, with fear that they would never leave those stone cells again. They’d had their chance at escape, and failed.
There had been periods of silence
Similar Books
