Free The Godgame (The Godgame, Book 1) by Keith Deininger Page B

pools; mouth of large square teeth hinging on a jaw wide enough to swallow his entire head…
    “What about your wife?” Mother Marlena asked again.
    “Nothing... I mean, she’s still sick.” Josef held his ground, trying not to look uncomfortable at Mother Marlena’s proximity to him.
    “She will get better. I said she would, didn’t I?” Mother Marlena took a step back. “Now, where is this cane you promised me? I hope I have not misjudged your craftsmanship skills. That was a very special piece of wood I gave you. Where is it?”
    Josef took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. It’s right here.” He unlocked the door of the storage cabinet. He lifted the cane and one of Mother Marlena’s stubby arms snatched it from his grasp before he could hold it out to her.
    “Hm,” Mother Marlena said, running a stubby hand of gnarled fingers over the wood. “Not bad. This might work.”
    Josef watched Mother Marlena. “Is there anything else you can do for my wife?”
    Mother Marlena raised one of her hands dismissively, her eyes fixed on the cane. “She’ll be fine.” She began to waddle toward the exit.
    “But…” Josef swallowed. His throat was very dry.
    At the door, Mother Marlena turned back to look at him. “Oh, I almost forgot. There is one more thing I may be able to do for your wife. Why don’t you send your boy Ash to pick it up?”
    “Ash is gone. He joined the militia.”
    Mother Marlena stiffened. “What! When?”
    “Almost a week ago.”
    Mother Marlena gave him a look, something like disgust. She whirled in the doorway and left his shop.
    “Wait,” Josef said. “But my wife… Should I come to see you later?”
    Mother Marlena was gone.

 
     
     
     
     
    MOTHER MARLENA
     
    Bergy, her four-legged companion, hissed at her as she swept up the stairs and into her hut. The air was muggy with the earthy scent of boiling root vegetables. She slammed the door closed behind her and threw a kick at Bergy, the kylix dodging it easily, darting into the maze of detritus piled in a corner.
    “The boy,” she muttered to herself. “There’s something about that boy…” She laid the cane Josef had made for her flat on the table and moved to stir her simmering stew.
    For several minutes she stared sightlessly at the burbling muck. What was the boy? What had she smelled? She was still waiting for a reply to her letter of inquiry. She stomped the floor in frustration.
    “Oh, yes,” she said, remembering her new cane, dismissing the boy from her thoughts. She turned to one of her shelves and began to scan its contents. “Now where is that…? Why is it I can’t find anything when I need it…? Ah, here we go.” She snatched a small box from the shelf. She brought it to the table and peeled back the lid. Inside were six shriveled husks, dried like raisins.
    “Umbriate larvae,” she said—particularly rare, which she had been collecting all her life. These had once been in the form of insects with segmented legs and long stalks tipped with blinking eyes, now barely recognizable.
    She lifted the cane and looked into its screaming face, carved from the bulbous knot of wood at its end, just as she had instructed. She smiled. Very carefully, she took one of the dried larvae between her fingers and placed it in the open mouth of her new cane.
    At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the cane’s mouth closed and began to chew.

~ FIVE ~
     
     
    TALOS
     
    TREVOR
     
    Windows. Yes, he was always looking through windows. His windows. Always on the outside—watching—looking in. The window into which he currently peered flickered, as if to signal a momentary error in reality. He watched listlessly as the crowds milled through Market Street like cattle unhurried on their way to the next grazing sight. He turned to another window, a distant, bird’s-eye view of the inside of Galen’s largest temple, row upon row of pews below the monstrously large statue of Galen. The temple was only half-filled to