Chapter 10

My mouth fell open and I instantly plummeted to the ground, kneeling in alarm before the Divided Ones.

Swathed in lengths of gleaming golden linen, they weren't as tall as Merrick but still made a formidable figure against the mottled grays of the Between. Though only the two most dominant gods, Félicité and Calamité, presented themselves, there were untold hundreds of gods of chance and fortune within the one body. Félicité and Calamité had their own sets of arms and hands, capable of carrying out whatever task they wished, often working in opposition to one another. Their cluster of long limbs reminded me of the giant wolf spiders that loved hiding in fallen trees within the Gravia. But their face was split down the middle, each god getting one even half.

Félicité, the kinder of the pair, reached out for me now, though Calamité tilted their head, studying me with an icy blue eye. Neither of the gods had pupils, and their irises pulsed with an otherworldly flicker as their interest was caught and lost.

"He actually brought her here," they said, both voices speaking in unison, like leaves pulled atop a swirling current.

"Look at the mess he's gone and made for her," said one of them, and I couldn't explain how I knew, but I was certain it was Calamité.

They shook their head even as Félicité reached up to pluck one of the flowers from Merrick's trees.

"What a peculiar thing to go and do," she mused, and I wasn't sure if she meant the trees or me.

"Do…do you know where Merrick might be?" I asked, looking up from my bow so I could study them better. I pulled one of my knees to my chest, and my fingers dug into my calf as I awaited their answer.

"Merrick?" they echoed, and turned toward the cottage. Their movements were slow and dreamy, as though they were moving at half speed. Their grace was mesmerizing, and I could feel myself tugged along as if in a trance. I didn't notice my damp clothes or dripping hair, didn't care about the painfully hard basalt pressing into my legs; I only had eyes for them.

"He told you to call him Merrick?" Félicité wondered aloud.

"And he's not here?" Calamité asked, nearly on top of his twin. "He's left you alone? Again?"

I nodded and the gods began to laugh.

"What a life you might have had, little mortal, if your parents had not been so entirely foolish," Félicité fretted. "Did you know we wanted you first?"

"Not first," Calamité said, even before Félicité had stopped speaking. "Not exactly."

It was difficult to follow the conversation, as their words slipped and slid over each other. My ears felt clogged, as though I were underwater, my senses muffled and indistinct.

Félicité's side of their mouth frowned. "Well, yes. Not first. Not quite. But still." She twirled the pink flower thoughtfully. "The things I could have given you."

Calamité raised his eyebrow with delicate deliberation. "You took the words straight out of my mouth, Sister."

"Why did you want me?" I dared to ask. "And Merrick? And the Holy First? I can't see…why would a god want a mortal child?"

"Not just any child," Calamité singsonged. "A thirteenth child."

"Don't you know how rare those are?" Félicité asked. "How precious?"

"How powerful," Calamité added, eye gleaming. "Thirteenth children can do things even we cannot, can leave impacts on the mortal world, touching it with hands better suited to…" He paused, musing so dreamily that I wasn't sure if he was going to continue. He flicked his fingers, as if swatting at a flying bug. "…well, better suited to mortal things. I know what I would have done with you, but…what did you call him? Merrick? Merrick. " He snorted. "I can't—"

" We can't," Félicité corrected him, and her voice joined her brother's, uniting the two tones into one off-key pitch that suddenly made me remember the reverent who'd taken Bertie away.

"—fathom what dear old Merrick is up to."

"He said I'm to be a healer." It sounded so small, and as the Divided Ones stared down at me, tilting their head too far in one direction, like an owl, I regretted saying anything at all.

"A healer?" Félicité questioned. "How delightful. How—"

"Odd," Calamité finished. "How very, very odd."

Though I agreed with them, it seemed disloyal to Merrick to admit it aloud.

"It will be most intriguing to watch this all play out, don't you think, Brother?"

Calamité cocked their head up, studying the canopy of branches above them. "Trees in the Between," he murmured. "Most peculiar indeed."

"Do you know where he might be?" I asked again, wanting to steer the strange conversation back to something useful. "Or when he might return?"

Félicité's eyebrow furrowed, her expression truly remorseful. "That is impossible to say."

"After all." Calamité took over, his voice melodiously low. "What is time to a god?"

"It's just…he's left me here, and I don't think he wanted me out wandering about but I just couldn't stay in the cabin a moment longer, and—"

"Is that what all this is about?" Calamité asked, holding out one hand, catching raindrops. "Imagine our surprise and consternation as our evening constitution was interrupted with such unnecessary fuss. And all because dear old Merrick hasn't gotten his way?" He rolled his eye, though Félicité's remained fixed upon me. "Sister, won't you?"

With a swish of her hand, the storm died away. A crack of light split open the void and broke apart the dark, revealing a glowing pink night sky beyond. Cheery beams of starlight bathed the world in lustrous pastel hues, giving everything they touched a hint of iridescence. Merrick's trees shimmered, and dustings of radiance sparkled on every surface, even the Divided Ones.

I held out my hands in wonder, watching as the opalescence made my own skin glisten.

Félicité beamed, admiring her changes. "Good fortune indeed."

"Did he give you instruction?" Calamité asked. "Before he left? You must have done something wrong to create such a storm."

"He…he wanted me to read."

"Read?" Félicité echoed with bewilderment.

"He filled the cottage with books. To study."

"Then study them I would," quipped Calamité.

"I did. I was," I stammered. "But it's just…I got tired of it. I finished nearly two books," I added hastily. Why did everything Isaid to these gods sound so insignificant?

"Two books." The Divided Ones looked less than impressed. I suddenly knew exactly how a frog must feel before being eaten by a heron.

I gulped. "They were very big books."

"If I were Merrick," Félicité began, "I wouldn't return until my ward had done as I asked."

"Until my ward had done everything exactly as I asked," Calamité corrected her, speaking over her until their words echoed.

"But there are so many."

The gods shrugged, all four of their arms rising and falling in unison.

"Could you contact him?" I asked, trying a different tactic. I knew I was wheedling and sounding every bit of my twelve years, but I couldn't stop. "Maybe you could pass along a message for me?"

"We could," Calamité said.

"We're capable of anything," Félicité murmured on top of his words.

"But no," they said together.

"What Merrick wants of you is no business of ours," Félicité said. She glanced to the bright pink sky. "But at least you have better weather now."

Calamité brightened. "You ought to read outside," he suggested. "Soak up all this holy starshine while you can."

Despair washed over me. "Read outside? That's your suggestion?"

They shrugged again, turning to leave the orchard.

"Wait!" I called out. "My brother—Bertie Lafitte—he's at your temple in Rouxbouillet. He's served you for four years now. Do you know him?"

Calamité twisted their head back toward me, allowing only his profile to be seen. "Do you know how many postulants we have? You can't possibly expect us to keep track of each and every one ofthem."

"He was taken from my family," I admitted. "Sold to the temple to pay for my father's debts. He didn't exactly go willingly."

"How many children do your parents plan on sending off to the gods?" Félicité wondered aloud, still unseen.

"I just wanted to know if…do you know if he's happy?"

The Divided Ones' body turned all the way around to face me, and after one sickeningly long moment, their head followed suit. "He serves us," they intoned, suddenly sounding so much larger than just two voices. They were a horde, a legion, every single one of the gods contained within speaking together at once. "How could he be anything but?"

I cowered under the weight of their direct attention. They were so much bigger than they'd been only moments before, as if the additional voices required more body space to contain them. I watched in horror as other eyes opened up across their face and forearms, regarding me with hostile suspicion, intense curiosity, and utter disdain.

Just how many gods were trapped in there?

"Go back to your studies now, mortal," the gods hissed, rasping my eardrums. There were so many of them speaking. "And thank your stars that reading is all Merrick requires of you."

With a flash of Félicité's pink light, they were gone, leaving me alone in the orchard once more.

I took a deep, shaky breath. My fingers were trembling, and for a long moment I stood there, waiting for the Divided Ones to return and shower me with their wrath. I waited for the earth to open up and eat me, waited for the sky to turn ugly and bruised and drown me in a torrent of rain.

But none of those things happened, and eventually I straightened and did the only thing I could think of: I returned to the cottage, opened a new book, and began to read.