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"Huck!" Quade shouts, kicking open a door behind him. "Get out here!"
A scrawny man covered in tattoos comes rushing out of the kitchen, panting. "What's wrong, boss?"
"Nothing wrong. Do you know who that is?" He points at me. Huck looks at my white hair and my hands, then wrinkles his nose.
"Nope, am I s'posed to?"
"That's Viola Mistflow, Huck."
"Winner of the Race?" he asks, stepping closer to me. "Why you look so odd?"
"Huck!" Quade gasps, smacking him on the back of the head.
"What? She don't look like a human from Dalery, is all I'm saying."
"You're right," I say with a smile. Tulip is cackling on my right, eyes leaking tears. "I was a human from Dalery."
"Whatchoo mean was?" Huck asks, wrinkling his nose. "Boss, you bring me out here for some riddle?"
"Oh! Oh! Let me give him a riddle!" Tulip says, bouncing. "Come on, Lola, can I?" I shrug, and gesture her to continue. "Okay, let's see here, hmmm. Got it!" She looks at Huck, who leans a little too close to her across the bar. Morrow moves tighter to Tulip's side. "What do you get when you give a human trauma, magic, and a very loosely defined quest?"
He scratches his head and shrugs. "What? What the shit kind of riddle is that?"
"Tulip, that riddle is awful," I tell her, bumping hershoulder. "You tried, though. Go ahead and tell him the answer."
"You get a God, Huck."
He narrows his eyes at Tulip, unwilling to believe her. I shrug and pull shadows from the corners of the room, wrapping them around his legs. He yelps, looking down at his wrapped form. "Nice to meet you. I'm the Shadowweaver."
Quade is howling at his cook's distress as he fights against the shadows. I release them quickly and he stumbles back, hand over his heart. "What the fuck is going on here, Boss?"
"Well, what's going on is we've got a God who's hungry. Scrounge her up something to eat, yeah?" Huck scurries back to the kitchen, and Quade yells, "And the rest of her friends, too!"
"That wasn't very nice," Plume says, but she's still giggling softly. "Poor man is terrified now."
"I didn't mean to be scary!" I say, holding my hands up. "I can't help it if I look gross now."
"You don't look gross, numen," Mace says, rolling his eyes. "You look decayed. There's a difference."
"Hey!" I smack him on the arm, and we both laugh loudly. Zeph watches our interactions curiously from the opposite side of Plume. His face holds a bit of sadness but also curiosity. I tilt my head to the side, silently questioning him.
"Despite all of it, it appears you all had a good time traveling," he says. "It seems you've all grown close." He looks at Mace and smiles. "I've never seen you so happy, brother. I am glad for it."
Mace raises his glass to Zeph and nods. "Thank you, brother." A lot of feelings pass unsaid between the two stubborn men, but they don'tbring them to voice. He drains the zzar and then leans on the bar, his chin in his hand. "What is your plan as high priest?"
Zeph smiles, his whole face lighting up. "I am here to serve the Shadowweaver however she needs me. I will ensure the humans understand how to give her devotion through worship and sacrifice and act as a conduit for it so she may draw more power from me and the atmosphere." He makes eye contact with all of us, his smile wide. I notice he hasn't touched his glass of zzar. "I have not felt this good in a long time. I finally feel like I am doing what I was meant to do. Everything I've done in my life has led me here, to Viola, to support and help her."
"Fuck, you sound just like the priests in the journals," Morrow says with a chuckle, taking a sip of his glass. "It's uncanny. So just you've got a little voice inside your head that tells you Viola is everything?"
"It's hard to describe," Zeph says, resting his bearded chin on his first. "It's just… something inside me must protect her at all costs."
Huck comes out with bowls of a stew in a rich broth. "It ain't much, lady God," he sets one in front of me, "but it'll stick to your ribs."
"Lady God," Morrow chuckles, reaching behind Tulip to pat me on the back.
"Just Viola is fine," I say to Huck, pulling the bowl close to me and accepting the hunk of bread he passes my way.
He divvies everyone's bowls out and stares at me as I take my first bite. "I don't think I can call a God by their first name," he says, scratching the back of his head. "Feels weird."
