Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
He points to Callistina’s chains. Which clearly are not clothes, but also, just as clearly, mimicking them.
I’ve noticed something about the chains Callistina is wearing over the course of the day. And now I have an urge to put my suspicions to the test. “Is she not wearing enough chains for you, round man?” I growl these words out because I am annoyed. “Because I’ll have you know that this is not silver, but godsmetal. And there is enough godsmetal on a single string of fringe hanging over her breast to buy your entire establishment.”
The snake man hisses, but I can tell it’s a gregarious hiss. His version of a guffaw. At the nerve of me? Or perhaps because he’s been waiting years for someone to come in and put this fat asshole in his place?
It’s the latter, I think. But I don’t look at him or acknowledge him. Just stare at the owner with blank eyes. Like I give no fucks how this all ends.
He averts his eyes to the chains Callistina is wearing, then looks back at me. “You could be lying.”
“I could be. But I’m not. Check it, if you want. I’ll wait. And I won’t even feel insulted.”
The owner turns to the snake man, pointing at him. “Get me the counterfeit kit.”
The snake-man bows, then slithers into the back, reappearing a moment later with a small box. He sets it down on the counter, removes the lid, and takes out two small vials of chemicals and a tiny glass plate.
I pluck a strand of godsmetal from Callistina’s ‘dress’ and drop it onto the glass plate. The snake-man adds one drop of the first chemical. Then one drop of the second chemical. I’m smiling, feeling very fortunate, when the red mist appears and the godsmetal disintegrates into a tiny puddle of golden liquid.
The owner gasps, then looks over at Callistina. She’s is wearing enough godsmetal to buy the entire city. It’s a king’s fortune. Hell, let’s just cut to the chase here. It’s a god’s fortune.
The owner’s eyes dart to meet mine. “What…” But he can’t even form the right question.
“The what, where, why, and how is none of your concern, my good man.” I pluck another strand off Callistina’s dress and put it on the counter next to the glass plate with the golden puddle. “You may keep them both.” I point at the puddle. “If you let it harden over the course of a week, you will have gold on that glass plate.”
The owner lets out a long breath and smiles. Then he picks up the strand of godsmetal. It’s probably enough to pay for several years’ stay at his lowly establishment. He looks up at me again. “How long would you like to stay with us, good sir?”
I would not like to stay here at all. I would like to find a door and go anywhere but here. But that’s not an option. “I’ll let you know.”
“Very good.” Then he pockets the payment and claps his hands, barking out orders. “Give them the rooftop terrace, snake-man.”
“And rations and a stable for my pegásius, thank you.”
The owner’s face goes blank, then he bursts into a laugh. “Anything you want, my godling. Anything you want.”
Then he retreats back through his saloon doors, whistling. Carefully carrying his glass plate of future gold.
Godling. It wasn’t a guess on his part. It’s the only possible explanation, at least in his mind, for the godsmetal hanging off my beast. I doubt it ever even entered his mind that I would be an actual god.
But it’s for the best. Even in these times, gods are not dusty and weary travelers. In all the hundreds of years that Glory Rome existed the gods never—not once—left the Sphere of Science and Glory buildings unless they were falling off the roof. It wasn’t until Parting Day, the first day of the Glory War, that the citizens of Glory Rome even knew the gods were real. They knew the people in those buildings were trying to make gods, but they thought the chimera and godlings were as far as they’d come.
But it wasn’t.
Inside those buildings are the Primordials.
The Gods of Glory.
And since I am one of them, I am in there too.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - CALLISTINA
“We have a menagerie.” The valet—who is half dog and carries our bags—says this to Eros as we ascend the stairs to the second floor.
“What?” Eros replies. Everything about this city is irritating him and it shows.
“A menagerie,” the dog-man repeats. Then he nods his head over his shoulder to indicate me. “If you have an affinity for the beasts.” We’re at the top of the stairs now, having walked past the whores lingering along the banister, and the dog-man pauses to grab a doorknob on the door to his right. He swings it open and presents whatever is inside to Eros.