Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I remember one swallowed Vitar whole. “Will the serpents hurt me? If I go near the water?”
“Nothing will hurt you,” Ossev says. “We will not allow it.”
For some reason, I find that answer pleasing. I know that my presence in the tower can be seen as imprisonment, but if they let me wander freely and without harm, it means I’m not so trapped as I thought. The realization helps a lot. I smile over at Ossev and then start walking, circling around the tower. It looks far more slender outside than it does on the inside, and I wonder if that is magic of some kind. Out here, it looks a bit like a lighthouse I saw on the coast once, tall and narrow, but the interior feels spacious and warm, if covered in webs. There’s a long, chalky-looking cliff with stone stairs cut out of the rock, leading down to the shore. More stone stairs have been cut into the base of the tower, leading to a small grassy area that’s overrun with knee-high weeds and scraggly ground cover.
“There used to be a garden here,” says Ossev suddenly.
I turn to him in surprise. “Was there?”
He gazes out at the weedy surroundings. “Perhaps so. We have had visitors in the past that stayed for a long time. One might have made a garden.”
“You can’t recall? But your job is to view the past.” I’m surprised he doesn’t remember, because Ossev always seems so settled compared to Neska and Zaroun. Perhaps I’ve misinterpreted what his job truly is.
“I see the past,” he agrees. “But I see so many that they run together after a while. I can search through my threads and look for mentions of a garden, but…” He shrugs. “It is unimportant. This area is yours now.” His eyes glaze over and his expression grows distant. “Perhaps it was always your garden. Perhaps I am seeing a loop of time and not a thread.”
I have no idea what that means, but I appreciate the gift nevertheless. “Thank you. I’m excited.”
“Are you? Over a patch of dirt?”
“Over the freedom to work this patch of dirt, yes. To sit in the sun, should it ever come out, and to breathe in the fresh air.” I smile up at him. “And to grow vegetables, if I can get them to grow at all. Having fresh food every now and then would be a lovely change.”
Ossev gazes down at me. “You can go anywhere you like. I will leave the door in place for you. Just do not try to cross the Ashen Deep.” He gestures out at the still waters. “Our boundary is there. Time flows differently once you leave our home, and one day might pass like two hundred years.”
Oh. The feeling of being trapped returns again. “So those are your conditions?”
“If you want to leave, I will take you,” he says, his gaze locked on mine. “But know that you will never be able to return if you do go. You cannot be an anchor if you leave.”
I know this. Faith made it very clear when she was with Aron that she couldn’t walk very far from him or it would pain her terribly. I imagine it would be the same—perhaps three times as awful—if I were to try and leave the tower of my own accord. But all the talk of leaving makes me think of something else. “Can you leave, Ossev?”
“I cannot.”
His expression is blank, or perhaps he’s hiding from me what he truly thinks about this fact. My captors are prisoners just as much as I am, and it soothes some of the resentment that I’ve had building. It’s not that I wish to leave, of course. There’s nothing out there for me to return to. But knowing that they’re trapped just as much as I am makes things different.
There’s an old Yshremi saying that a miserable sort always finds company. Perhaps that applies.
And yet…I don’t truly feel miserable. A bit uncertain of my place, yes. I would like more to do, or just even more conversations. But I have all the fabric I could wish for, a belly full of food, and three masters that do not beat me or pass me around to strangers who will want more from me than I wish to give.
And now I have a garden.
And a door.
“Thank you, Ossev,” I say in a soft voice. I reach out and touch his sleeve. “I love it. I hardly know where to begin to turn it into a garden, but I love it.” I give him a flirty look, resorting back to my old tricks. “Are you trying to buy my affections, sir?”
“Is it working?” His expression is wistful. “The others get so much of you that I worry I will be forgotten. Zaroun has already won your heart. Neska is possessive and will monopolize you if he can.”