Page 33 of Greed of Giants
When I turned back to Ilaris, her gaze was on the creature, not on the fire spreading across the forest. When she spoke, it wasn’t to condemn my actions, nor to point out what I’d done. “What was that?”
I turned away from it and started walking, fast. “I don’t know. It wasn’t the Unmaking, if that’s what you’re wondering. It might be a servant of the Guardians or something else. I’m not sure what hides in the deep places of this world.”
“Me either,” she whispered.
She coughed as the wind blew smoke toward us, and I increased my speed. Once I let the fire out, there was no putting it back, and the forest would burn until rain quenched its thirst. Once again I’d unleashed destruction, but there was nothing within me that felt the least bit remorseful.
Fields of wheatwere the first indication that we were nearing civilization, then animals grazing, flat lands, the horizon stretching as far as the eye could see. I waited forany hint of recognition to flood me. I knew these lands, didn’t I? But there was nothing. It bothered me, pinching at my shoulder blades as the dark smudge on the horizon resolved into rooftops, chimneys, a scatter of buildings pressed together like old friends.
Ilaris drew a sharp breath. “I may have come this way, on the train.”
Train. Odd how the meaning of that word could shift, or perhaps it was ironic. To train meant to instruct one, to put into practice over and over again until the lesson was learned. Was that what the mortals had done? Trained something to carry them rapidly from place to place, the way one might train a horse?
Her brow knitted together in concentration, remembering.
“You have an idea?” I prompted.
Her gaze dropped to her bag. “Perhaps there is a train schedule and if it’s going toward the Verdant Maw. . .maybe we can take the train. It would be faster, although it depends on the cost of a ticket. I’m not sure I have enough.”
“Money is not always the only currency. You might be surprised at what others might be willing to trade or barter for.”
Ilaris hesitated. “Trainmasters only take coins, at least as far as I’m aware, but I’ve never tried to barter with them. A portion of the fare goes back to the government, so regardless they’ll want something to cover that price. How did currency work back in your day?”
“We had coins made of bronze, silver, and gold. Gold for the king, silver for the queen, and bronze for the royal children. The thicker and heavier the coin, the more valuable itwas. Each of the five kingdoms had the symbol of its monarch on it, and when the king died, coins were remade in the shape and image of the new king with the year stamped on them. The forges were kept near the king’s hall, the coins weighed, carefully inspected before they went into circulation. We had counterfeits, as I imagine there are today. But trading coins wasn’t the only currency. There were promises—we called them word bonds—more common with those who did not have enough coin to trade. There were curses cast over those who did not keep their word bonds.”
I trailed off, wondering how different today was from then. It was the curse of humanity to live in loops, learning the same lessons with each generation. Despite how much they advanced with structure and architecture, the intellect did not go much further. That’s why they perceived giants as gods, because we advanced in every area, physically, spiritually, intellectually, and technologically.
“I’d like to hear more about these word bonds when I have a chance to write them down. The lore you hold will shock the world. It could change everything.” Ilaris pointed. “Look, we’ve arrived.”
A low stone wall surrounded the village, and a group of children sat on it, eating apples and shouting to see who could spit seeds the farthest. They glanced at us, but didn’t show any interest as Ilaris slid off Jasper. Straightening, she lifted her satchel and faced me. “I’m not sure how comfortable we are drawing attention to ourselves. I doubt Harlan would have warned anyone about us, but just to be safe, it’s probably best that Jasper looks like a small dog and . . .” She paused, studying me. “I’m not sure what to do with you.”
“I’ll wait here while you ask about a room.”
Ilaris’s brow wrinkled. “Doesn’t the blood oath demand that we stay in close proximity?”
“You’ll feel it when the bond stretches thin, when it calls you back.”
The look she gave me was thoughtful, but instead of voicing her thoughts, she limped away. A pressure tightened around my chest as I watched her. Taking a seat on the wall, I inclined my head toward Jasper.Watch over her. Discreetly.
Jasper, once again the size of a small dog, trotted after her.
I waited, watching the children laugh and tease each other, voices drifting, the sound of work. A roaring began in the back of my skull, and when I closed my eyes, I felt the shift, the change in the air. Magic. I waited for the sweet taste of it, the sharpness that lingered, awakening my senses, but there was nothing. Magic had died, or at least it was rare now. Ilaris had warned me, but I didn’t stop to think about what that meant for me or my fire magic until now.
“They have a room,” Ilaris called, waving as she returned. “Only one silver for two beds, a hot bath, and a meal. I told her we already have supper, but she’s willing to feed us too. She has extra clothes too, we might find you something to wear, and the train station is only half a day away.”
The relief in her voice was palpable.
“Then we rest here tonight, and tomorrow we head for the train.”
We took turns bathing,ate, and found privacy in the room. It was plain but neat, two beds, rather small but it was better than the hard ground, or pacing all night. Evening fell, and despite the earliness of the hour, weariness made us lie down. If it had been before, I would have explored the city, enjoyed tossing down a pint and more with my traveling companions, and explored what the darkness had to offer. Now, the truth of my situation threatened to drown me, so it was a relief when Ilaris broke the silence.
“How old are you? I mean, I know thousands of years have passed since you were born—but how many years did you live before the Great Sundering?”
“Thirty-six.”
“That’s all? You’re young.”
“Younger than you expected?”
