Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
There are three more little girls in the room too. All dressed just like me. They are kneeling on fancy red-velvet pillows in front of the thrones with their foreheads pressed to the marble floor.
Of course, the pillow in front of Saturn is empty because that’s where I’m supposed to be. And just as I work this out, Callistina drags me over there and whispers, “Kneel down and place your head on the floor until they tell you to stop.”
I do this. Reluctantly. I’m getting sick of this memory. How do I get out of it? Just… find another door and walk on? Will that work?
Doesn’t seem likely. I feel like this memory is playing out for a reason.
Once I’m kneeling on my pillow, I side-eye Callistina as she bows low, lifting her skirts the way she did with Mistress Spinster. She bows her head and says, in a loud, clear voice, “I beg your pardon, gods. My little sister got lost. But she’s here and now I must go.”
“Off with you,” the Egyptian guy says.
“Be gone,” Zeus roars.
And then Saturn says, “Thank you, child,” in a voice I do not equate with the Saturn of the future. His tone conveys genuine affection for Callistina.
Callistina retreats, the door closes, and then the gods are arguing in loud, rumbling voices. They each get up from their thrones, pacing back and forth across the room.
I don’t even know what they’re arguing about. Their words don’t make any sense to me.
I chance a look to the girl to my left and she rolls her eyes, which makes me smile and roll mine back.
Gods, we are saying. They are so tiring.
Then she says, “They’re mad about your rings,” just loud enough for me to hear, but not loud enough for the sound to carry beyond the argument going on all around us.
“What rings?” I ask back.
She makes a face at me, like I’m being stupid, then focuses her eyes on the floor. Conversation over.
“This is my gift to her and you have no say!” That’s the Egyptian guy.
Why would he be giving me rings? And are we talking about the same rings? As in bag of magic rings that opens doors?
“It’s dangerous,” Cronus bellows.
“It’s far beyond any gift we are giving to the other daughters,” Saturn adds.
“And she is just a nobody,” Zeus says.
The Egyptian guy—Ptah, who I have never even heard of—seems unconcerned. “It is my gift. And that is the end.”
“You act like you’re still in favor,” Zeus challenges. “You’re no one now, friend.”
“As if you are?” Saturn’s jab is sharp and loud. “The world is mine. And there will be no successor to me.”
Hmm. Interesting. Because didn’t Pell mention something about Saturn feeling threatened by other gods? And is this… I chance a look up to study them. Is this some kind of line of succession?
Egyptian, titan, Greek, Roman.
It is.
They are equals. But… oh, shit! I think I get it! Their cults have died out. No one worships them anymore.
None of them. Not even Saturn. So joke’s on him, I guess.
They have been discarded.
Well, in my future, anyway. In my future none of these gods matter. There are plenty of religious cults, that’s for sure. But as far as I know, none of them bother with the ancients.
Then the twelve doors also make sense. The Twelve Olympians? There must be equivalent gods in each of the throne rooms. And each of them is—selling, maybe?—a daughter?
For what reason, I have no idea.
Maybe to… dilute the magic? And keep them all equal? To save face, maybe?
It’s as good an explanation as any, I guess.
Or maybe, since we are being given to kings, it’s to keep their cult going in different realms?
Just as likely, I suppose.
So how the hell do I go from this moment to sitting on the edge of a bathtub in a hotel room with the devil?
Dunno. But I’m like a hundred percent sure that I’m about to find out.
Suddenly, the arguing stops. And then, the next thing I know, there is a pair of white mummy feet standing in front of me.
He’s going to give me the rings.
And just as I think that, a woman’s voice—a voice I have definitely heard before—interrupts things.
“What are you doing?”
And the whole argument starts all over again. This time in the presence of Ostanes.
5
Ostanes.
Yep. Shit is happening and I’m about to get answers.
The gods are all making their case to her about why I should not have the power of these rings. And when I chance a look up to gauge how things are going, I find her staring at me. Like she knows I’m not a little girl called Pianna. Like she knows I’m really Pie.
“It cannot be done. It’s too much,” she proclaims.
But the white mummy feet are still standing directly in front of me. This god, Ptah, he hasn’t said a word since she entered. And the next thing I know he’s tapping my shoulder.