feel like I just explained to someone that Santa isn’t real, but we’ve got no other choice right now. “So what do we do?” Aron asks finally.
“We go incognito. Try to get some answers. And once we know what is going on, we figure out how to send you home, and send me home.” I grab a scabbard and hold it out to Aron. “So we need weapons. And clothes. And shoes. And we need to hurry before someone else returns and sees that we’ve killed the welcoming party.”
I expect Aron to protest, but he picks up a handful of the cloak and studies it thoughtfully. “Show me how to wear clothing, then.”
A short time later, both Aron and I are both dressed in tunics stolen from the guards, belts with weapons, cloaks, and the strange, leather boots that lace up the side of the ankle. I’ve taken the allegiance tags from the guards and pocketed them. I’m holding onto the money, too, because I don’t trust Aron to remember how important something like that is. I just wish I knew how much we had, but the coins here don’t look like anything I can tie back to specific dollar amounts.
I’m pretty much the worst anchor he could have picked, ever. But we share a common goal at least—getting home.
It’ll have to be enough for now.
“I do not like this,” Aron tells me as we slip out of the secret passageway, clutching our weapons. He’s got a sword and I’m holding a dagger in tight, sweaty fingers.
“Me either, buddy,” I tell him. “Me either.”
God, I really, really want to go home.
11
The moon is an unpleasant, bright red and huge in the sky over the night. I’m so tired that I don’t want to do anything but crawl into the nearest bed and go to sleep, but I know we can’t do that. I’m tempted to find a stable and a friendly horse that won’t mind sharing his stall, but something tells me we’d be smart to get off this little island and out of Aventine entirely.
Aron doesn’t say much—thank goodness—as we race out of the temple grounds and head for the docks. They’re surprisingly not hard to find. Stragglers from the big festival are still along a wide, cobbled, torchlit path and so we follow them as they head to the ferry.
The ferryman’s wearing soldier garb just like us and nods as we approach. It’s too dark for him to see under our hoods, but I feel my heart pounding anyhow. He ushers us on and doesn’t ask for money, and then it’s that simple to get away from the temple itself. The ferry waits a few minutes for the last few stragglers, and then pushes off from the shore, the guards poling the flat boat across the moonlit waters.
I lean in close to Aron. “From this point on, your name is Grover.”
Even though it’s dark and he’s hooded, I can still see a frown on his pale jaw. “That is a stupid name. Why?”
“Because no one’s going to think a guy named Grover is a god,” I whisper.
He grunts. “Do I not look godlike as it is?”
He does, but that can be explained away. “We’ll just tell them you’re a devotee. Just do your best not to touch anyone,” I say, thinking of the electric shock that happens every time his hand brushes against my arm. “And keep your hood up. And actually, just stay quiet the entire time please.”
That’s probably best.
“Do not tell me what to do,” he begins in an imperious tone.
I poke him in the chest to shut him up and jump at the spark that crackles between us. “Do you really want to go there right now, Grover?” I emphasize the fake name to remind him that we’re undercover.
The god goes silent.
I turn to stare at the waters, trying to figure out our next move. Where’s the best place to blend in this hellish medieval city? Where would one go to get information? I mean, it’s clearly not a temple—
“What of you?” Aron leans so close to my hood that goosebumps prickle up and down my arms.
I look over at him in surprise, and our faces are mere inches away from each other. Another ripple of awareness flashes through me and I remember that I’m supposed to be his slave. Serve him in all ways. “What of me what?”