Chapter 7
His words were weighted witha solemnity that made me guess the gift was something far more important than a pretty bauble.
“Like the necklace?” I asked anyway, glancing at his hands. They held no box, but the Dreaded End obviously was not bound by the usual laws of gift delivery.
“Not at all like the necklace.”
And then, for the first time, my godfather told me of the night he’d visited my parents, of the night they’d agreed to his bargain, of the night I was given away.
His version differed from my parents’. In his, he was the hero, coming to rescue a poor, unborn babe—me,I realized with wonder—from a life with parents who didn’t care whether she lived or died.
I hadn’t known the other gods had come first.
I hadn’t known my parents had been strong enough—or foolish enough, I supposed—to resist them.
When his tale was over, my head felt too full of new thoughts to parse through, and we sat for a long time in silence as I tried tountangle them. I kicked my feet back and forth, thudding the heels of my boots on the rock with a comforting repetition as I mulled over his story, pondering the words he hadn’t said.
“What did you say to convince Papa?” I finally asked. My lips felt raw, my throat parched, and I badly wanted to ask for a glass of water but was too scared. I’d never felt so wholly mortal as I did in this god’s presence. I was as fragile and needy as the flower he’d held in his palm and just as easily crushed.
He tilted his head, unsure of what I was getting at.
“You mentioned all the things the Holy First and the Divided Ones offered…all the promises of what my life would be like with them. What did you tell Papa you would do?”
He was as motionless as the gargoyles dotting the village temples back in Rouxbouillet, but then I saw the length of his throat bob up and down as he swallowed.
“Well…,” he began. “That’s the gift I was getting to.”
“The gift that is not a necklace,” I said, desperate to understand the full meaning of every word he spoke.
He smiled indulgently. “The gift that is far greater than any necklace.” He reached out as if about to cup my cheek with a fond affection I couldn’t begin to imagine him possessing, but he stopped short, sensing my reticence to be touched. His expression softened with understanding. “I told the very foolish huntsman, ‘Give the babe to me and she will never know want or hunger. Let me godfather her and she will live lifetimes, learning the secrets and mysteries of the universe. She’ll be a brilliant healer, the most powerful in the land, with the power to hold back sickness, disease, and even me with her hands.’ ”
I scrunched my face, unsure of what the dazzling words andpromises were meant to convey. “What? What does any of that mean?”
He laughed. “You, Hazel, my dear, my goddaughter, shall become a healer.”
I blinked, certain I hadn’t heard him right. “A…healer?”
He nodded.
“But that…that sounds so…Are you sure?”
My godfather chuckled. “We all have to make our way through this world somehow, Hazel. Do you find displeasure with the profession?”
I shook my head, unable to articulate my confusion. “No. Nothing like that…I’m actually very good at making salves and teas from things in our garden.”
“Of course you are.” He smiled, leaving me to wonder just how I’d come to acquire my talents.
“It’s just that…you…you’re the Dreaded End. Why would you…” I bit my lip, wishing he could discern my meaning without me having to come out and say it. “Why would you want someone to heal sick people? Don’t you…don’t you want us all to die?”
His laughter rang out brightly over the rocky landscape. “Do all mortals truly think so little of me?” He dabbed at the corner of his eye, wiping away a tear of mirth. “I don’twishfor people to die. It’s just…death is a part of the journey, isn’t it? A balance. If you have a beginning—birth—you must have an ending—me. Do you see?”
I shrugged. “Not many people see it that way, I would guess.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he mused. “But it’s true even so. If you were to ask the Holy First, she’d tell you the same.”
“Can I?” I asked, interest sparking within me. “Speak to the Holy First?”
“Eventually, I’m sure,” he said. “Once you’re settled. Once your training is underway.”
