he pushes a bread bowl into my hands. It's full of fruit wedges and nuts and cheese and all kinds of delicious things and I immediately tuck into it.
"Thank you," I tell him between mouthfuls as he putters around. Oh my god, I've never tasted anything better. I stuff my gob for a few minutes, and then I remember how awful it was to puke yesterday and force myself to slow down. I take small nibbles of food and wash them down with water as he bustles about in the room, straightening piles of books and putting things away while flicking excited glances in my direction. "What's your name?" I ask after a few minutes of this. "I'm Faith."
"You're what?" He turns and looks at me, eyes wide.
"Is that not a common name around here? It's pretty common where I'm from." I sound defensive even to my own ears. "It doesn't mean anything. It's just Faith."
"Fascinating," he tells me with a delighted smile. "And such a perfect name for an anchor to our esteemed Lord of Storms."
"I dunno," I say as I eat the world's biggest wedge of cheese and love every moment of it. "I'm pretty sure he thinks my name is 'mortal.'"
The monk just giggles at that. "You will have to forgive him. He is a god, after all, and not used to this plane or the ways of mortal people."
"Oh, I've been with the guy for a few days. Trust me when I say there's a lot of forgiving going on." I take another drink. "It's either that or murder him in his sleep."
The monk's eyes go wide as saucers. After a moment, he lets out another little giggle. "That is a joke, yes?"
"Yep."
He straightens a stack of big books across from the cot and then sits down on them like it's a stool, watching me with a fascinated expression. "My name is Omos. I am a humble monk who serves Magra, goddess of plenty.” He nods at us. “And now, it is an honor to serve you and Lord Aron, Faith. Whatever I have is yours."
"Hi, Omos. I have to admit I'm not from around here, so I'm a bit lost." I give him a faint smile. "It's nice to finally see a friendly face."
Compassion moves across the monk's features and he gives a heavy sigh, then nods. "It is a hard road you have chosen, to be an anchor."
"So you have met Aron," I joke. When he doesn't smile, I'm a little worried. He just looks troubled. "Can I admit something? I don't know what I signed up for. In fact, I don't know anything about any of this. It was either sign up to be Aron's anchor or die as a human sacrifice. I thought I'd take my chances with Aron, but the longer we're together, the more questions I have."
“Of course. I spoke with Lord Aron while you slept. I will do my best to help you both prepare for your journey.”
“Can you tell me how I get home?’
“I can try.” His lined face crinkles in a smile. "Where are you from? The coast? Glistentide?"
"Chicago?"
Omos's frown deepens and he gets to his feet. "I do not recognize the name." He moves to one of the shelves, his hand fluttering over it as I take another drink of water and eat. A moment later, he pulls out a rolled up parchment and spreads it on one end of the bed, and I realize it's a map. "Shago…Shago…"
I swallow hard and put a hand to my lips, murmuring around a mouthful of food. "You're not going to find it on that map. When I say I'm not from here, I mean I'm really, really not from here." I hesitate, watching his face. "I'm from another world entirely. I don't know how I got sucked here, but I went through a door in my world when I heard drums and I woke up on this side in a strange place." Omos watches me quietly, his eyes wide, and my heart sinks a little. "I know you don't believe me, or think I'm crazy—"
"No, not crazy, not at all." Omos jumps to his feet and races away, and I start to wonder if I'm the crazy one. He comes back a moment later with a heavy, thick book covered in red and gold, and sits down atop another stack of books. He pages through it, frowning to himself. "It's here somewhere."