Page 115 of Starside

But she can help me. If she’s a healer … if she knows about the mists, and the places beyond here …

“What is the Bone Woods? Is it dangerous?” I know the map. Now I realize what the lightly shaded area is. It’s unnamed, and takes up a large swath of land. Going around it would take several days we don’t have. Going through would be far easier …

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. A forest made of bone. And yes. Very. The mist is a prison. Housing creatures even the gods leave alone.”

The warm room seems to suddenly go cold. “Why?”

She lifts a shoulder. “They say they’re as old as the gods themselves. Older, maybe. All I know is entire armies have gone into the mists … never to be seen again.”

That sounds like a legend. I’ve learned by now that anything on this side is possible. But if she’s right … What is powerful enough to do that, beyond a god?

“Why go in at all, then?”

She purses her lips. I can see she’s weighing how much to say. How much to keep to herself. In the end, she must decide that I will likely die anyway, because she says, “There is a godsword in those mists.”

Godsword. That’s what Raker called the glowing crimson one, with the unsettling power.

“Which god’s sword?”

She shakes her head. “That I do not know. But heirs of Great Houses, and even gods themselves, have sent countless people inside looking for it.” She shrugs. “None of them return.”

My next question is dangerous. “Why don’t the gods go themselves?”

She just looks at me with her glittering violet eyes. I can see the simmer of something. She looks up. Not at the gods. At what she clearly cares about more—her children. Her words are measured. “The gods don’t put themselves in perilous situations. Not anymore.”

Not anymore? “Why?”

She shakes her head. I’m not sure if she’s saying she doesn’t know … or if she’s telling me she won’t answer. Not with her children in the house.

Does she think the gods can hear us? Can they?

There are various levels of commitment to the gods on Stormside nowadays. It’s hard to worship something we know almost nothing about, but some of the most reverent believe the gods see all.

I think they have better things to do than listen in on a conversation in the middle of a distant, mist-addled town.

Still, I move on. “The creatures in the mists … can they be found in other forests?” I remember Xara’s warnings about the dangers of different woods. Several more sit between here and the Land of the Gods.

She dips her head. “There are more there, surely, but yes. Deadly creatures can be found almost anywhere. Most of the ancient ones have been slumbering, or keep to territories like the mists, but others … wander.”

Wander. I swallow, a chill blooming in my bones.

“What kinds of creatures?”

Her eyes meet mine. They are devoid of any humor, or anything but pure seriousness—and fear. “The kind that make even immortals wish for death. The kind that grind your bones with their teeth and suck the soul from your body.”

I shift my weight in the chair. “How do you know so much about them?”

“Their venom is valuable. They can poison … but also cure. I trade with hunters who risk life and limb to hunt them down.” Hunters. Xara mentioned them, back in Westwere. She stands and strides toward shelves that slump in the middle. Her long, smooth fingers brush a dozen spines before she stops. The book she takes out has a leather cover creased with age. Its parchment is yellowed. She flips toward the middle, then hands it, wide open, to me.

I take it carefully, the same way I would handle a sword in Stellan’s forge. Like I’m dealing with something rare and valuable.

It’s a book of beasts. The illustrations are meticulously made in various hues, the ink slightly glittering. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“Can I … can I stay and read this?” It’s too much to ask. She’s given me so much already. I prepare to be sent back into the rain.

But she just motions with her chin toward the hearth. A comfortable-looking chair sits in front of it. It has a cushion with a star stitched onto it. “Go ahead.”

I gingerly take the book over. I sit. And … this feels like an indulgence, like the biggest luxury, to sit by the fire with a book.