Page 36 of The Thrice-Bound Fool

So, wait.

If my luck was bad, and I knew it was, maybe I could use that.

“Hey, Spanth, hold up three fingers,” I said.

She did.

I shut my eyes tight and reached out, took hold of the first finger I brushed against.

Opened my eyes.

“Not the left path,” I said. “Now give me two.”

I reached out again, plucked another finger.

“Looks like the middle path is unlucky as well. Right it is.”

“Does it work in this way? You have told me of your luck gift—can it be used backward?”

“Fuck if I know. Let’s go find out.”

The brand began to sputter such that it was mostly just smoke and sparks now. I also ran out of thread on my second stocking.

“Right,” I said. “What do you think? Back or forward?”

“I will do better fighting whatever we meet in a tunnel than trying to climb that cliff. I do not wish to go to the Bride because I fell from stones.”

“Who’ll know? You’ll just disappear, and that’s proper mysterious.”

“I am to die in battle.”

“Says your goddess?”

“No. I say it.”

“Fine. How am I to die, if you know so much?”

“You will fall into your own mouth while talking.”

“Huh. Let’s push on.”

I had just begun to unravel my third stocking when I saw a flicker of light ahead. Dim, but definite. I put my brand down and crushed it out. Readied my bow. She drew her sword, got her shield off the side of her pack.

I went ahead of her, peeked around the corner of what looked very like a door.

I saw this God of Threes now.

It was beautiful.

11One Goes On

I never did learn this god’s name, if it had one—or three—but its statue was a marvel. It came out of the rock behind it, with three heads and six arms, polished white against the darker stone, and made by a sculptor of great talent. It had the look of ivory, but I don’t think it was, for that would have taken all the tusks in Old Kesh. It sat in a low squat on its legs—sadly, just two—as if about to give birth, and wore anklets of gold, and gold bracelets, and had six golden loops in its ears. The feeling of magic in this chamber was so thick I could barely get a breath in me.

It was as terrifying as it was lovely.

You see, I like my gods distant and easy to disbelieve in when that’s convenient.

Having one, even in statue form, that felt like it was about to swivel its heads and look at you was off-putting.