Thread of Darkness

Ch. 15: it's more of a haiku, really

This, Anna thought, was highly unusual.

She was in a room of alpacas. Purple alpacas, to be more specific. The room itself was unremarkable — circular, white, large windows — and it had no exits. Anna always checked for exits. The only notable feature was a large man dressed head-to-toe in black, sitting in a chair, stroking an alpaca.

"Am I dead?" she asked.

It seemed a good explanation, as far as things went. She recalled playing "fetch-the-hunk-of-stale-cheese" with Shambles last night and then falling asleep, and now she was here. Perhaps someone had poisoned her; it wouldn't be a bad way to go. But the man smiled, looking amused.

"You're not dead," he said.

"Shame."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"Because if I was dead," Anna said, "then I could dream up anything. A hammock. Pistachio ice cream. A one-eyed miniature tiger that's utterly devoted to me." She crossed her arms. "Shall I go on?"

The man cocked his head. "You're very unusual."

This, Anna felt, was awfully hypocritical, coming from a goth alpaca-tamer. But it wasn't polite to point these things out, so she kept silent.

The man tickled the alpaca's chin. "And you favour your mother, Lotta. That's good, I suppose; Benji always hoped that you would."

She stilled. "You knew my parents."

"I know all of my children," the man said.

He snapped his fingers, and golden hay appeared in his scarred fingers. A ruby ring flashed as he offered the hay to the alpaca. Anna stiffened. She knew that ring. Or she knew the stone, at least; it was embedded in the raven's eye on her family crest.

It hit her all at once.

"Ah," Anna said. "I've been a little slow on the uptake, haven't I?"

The man — Nyxos, she realized, her heart pounding — smiled. Or at least, she thought he did. Did gods smile?

"No slower than anyone else," he said.

Anna studied him. "I've never met a God before. Shall I kneel?"

"Quite alright," Nyxos said mildly. "The tiled floor is very uncomfortable."

He went back to feeding the alpaca. Anna got the sense that the god could quite happily ignore her all day, in favour of that alpaca. Two young alpacas — Lambs? Anna wondered. Foals? What in the burning hells were baby alpacas called? — were wrestling on the floor nearby, a whirl of purple fur.

She crossed her arms. "What's with the alpacas?"

Nyxos shrugged. "I like alpacas."

Well. Fair enough.

Anna walked around the room, dragging a hand along the wall. It was odd, she thought, to be in another room; she'd been trapped in the tower for so long that she'd forgotten what the texture of marble felt like. The smooth, cold glass of it.

"Not to be rude," she said, "but did you need something?"

Nyxos frowned. "Please don't get fingerprints on my wall."

"Sorry." Anna dropped her hand. "Habit."

She picked up a small alpaca instead, cradling the furry creature to her chest; it made a little noise, burrowing its head into the crook of her arm. Shambles would have bit her by now, Anna thought fondly; it almost made her miss the little bastard.