I stare at him in shock. "What?"

"In order to live, Aron must kill the other three Arons."

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23

I wiggle a finger in my ear and then shake my head. "I'm not sure I heard you correctly."

"You did," Omos says with a sigh. "One Aspect must kill the others. Once that is accomplished, the other is free to return to the heavens at the High Father's side, where his dominant flaw will be tempered by the disposal of the other three."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. This is the most ridiculous, crazy thing. "So they split Aron into four pieces just so he can murder the other three?"

"It is a cleansing of the soul for a god." Omos inclines his head. "I can research and find which of the Aspects defeated the others on the last Anticipation, if you like."

I'm not sure I want to know. What if this Aron—my Aron—gets defeated every time? "But how…Aron fell from the sky when we left the Citadel. A long way, and I fell on top of him but he wasn’t hurt. I'm not sure he can die."

"He is eternal," Omos agrees. “He does not age, does not get sick, and cannot be killed by normal means.”

"Then how is it that one Aspect is going to kill the others?"

Omos gives me a gentle look that makes my stomach churn.

Oh no. Well, that explains why everyone keeps trying to kill me. “I’m the target,” I say flatly. “Not Aron. He doesn’t have to kill the other Aspects, he has to kill their anchors.”

Omos’s voice is gentle. "An Aspect is vulnerable only through his anchor. He—or she—is the tie that binds him to mortality. She must eat for him, sleep for him, and perform all mortal functions on his behalf since he cannot. He gets his strength through her. And if she is destroyed…" He lets his words trail off.

"No more Aron," I say faintly. I set my food down, no longer hungry at all. In fact, I feel dangerously close to vomiting. No wonder no one else wanted to volunteer to be Aron's anchor. The odds are three out of four that I'm going to die horribly at the hands of Aron. Not Arrogant Aron, but one of the other flaws.

Fuck me, this is such a mess.

"Aron said he didn't know. Was that a lie?" I look at Omos, trying to understand all of this. "He doesn't remember about anchors, but he knew to protect me from others."

Omos nods thoughtfully. He notices that I'm no longer eating and picks up the tray. "It's likely that his mind has shielded parts from him…or it has been so long that he truly doesn't remember. Or perhaps the Aspect of Apathy won out last time and he just didn't care." Omos bustles away with the tray. "Whatever it is, I don’t think he was lying to you. There are parts that he truly doesn’t remember, whether planned by the High Father or not. Let me put this tray away and we’ll see about getting you some shoes and fresh clothes.”

He heads off and I just stare blankly at his retreating back. I've just been told that the gods—bunches of them, it seems—are going to try and off me. Shoes are a lot farther down on the list of things I want. I'd rather have a grenade. Or like, an automatic rifle.

Or a do-over. Yeah, I think I'd like a do-over.

Omos chatters from the kitchen, talking about how he has clothes that the occasional traveler leaves with him, but I'm not listening. I'm too absorbed in what I've just learned. I'm going to die. I want to cry, but I don't know that I have tears left inside me. There's a numbness that's spreading in my gut as I try to get used to the idea of death.

No, wait. That's hunger. I just ate and I'm already hungry again. Fuck.

She must eat for him, sleep for him, and perform all mortal functions on his behalf—that was what Omos said. No wonder I'm hungry all the time. No wonder I need water constantly. No wonder Aron doesn't know how to sleep. He can't. I have to do it for him.

Someone re-enters the room and I look up. It's not Omos, but Aron. He's got a scowl on his face and his red tunic is covered with grime and dust and old blood. He looks pissy as hell and searches the room with his gaze, obviously looking for Omos.

I burst into tears at the sight of him. Guess I have tears in me after all.

Aron sighs. "Why are you crying, Faith?"

"B-because I just l-learned what a fucking anchor is," I tell him, sobbing. "And I'm going to d-die." I bury my face in my hands and weep, feeling helpless and full of despair.

He sighs heavily again. A second later, the cot creaks and shifts as he sits down next to me. I'm surprised to feel a big arm go around my shoulders. Aron's…hugging me. Comforting me. I look over at him in tearful astonishment.

"I know you are afraid, but I have a plan."

"A plan?" I wail. "How can you have a plan when you don't know what's going on?"

He frowns at me. "I remember more as time passes. And the monk has shared information with me." He nods at Omos, who is hovering in the doorway nearby, a bundle of clothing in his arms. "Leave us, mortal. I would have a word with my anchor."

"Of course, Lord of Storms," Omos says in that gentle voice of his. He disappears and I hear a clatter of pots in the kitchen, probably deliberately loud.

Aron strokes my hair and then gives me a focused look. "You will stop this weeping, Faith. I do not like it."

"I don't like being told I'm going to die," I say indignantly to him.

"And I have told you I have a plan. You are not going to die because I am going to defeat the others."

For some reason, that just makes me cry harder. Of course he'd think that. He's Arrogance personified. I shake my head, fresh sobs piling up in my throat.

He pulls me against his chest and hugs me, stroking my shoulder. "Trust me. I will not let anything happen to you. You are not leaving my sight. Am I not the best fighter anyone has ever seen? If anyone can protect you, it is me."

I lean against him, letting him comfort me. "Why are you being so nice?"

"Omos says I am Arrogance. That does not mean I am heartless." He squeezes my shoulder and leans close, whispering in my ear. "You have my word that I will let nothing happen to you."

I know it's because it'll nuke him, too, but it's still nice to hear.

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24

That day, we spend with Omos in his little church and make plans on what to do. Aron consults maps, trying to determine where his other “selves” would be so he can go murder their anchors. I don't like to think about that, but I suppose it's good to have a plan instead of waiting for someone to come find us.

Omos scuttles back and forth between his books and his kitchen, packing supplies for us. Even though he doesn't have much, he's determined to give all of it away, and I'm touched by his willingness to give us everything he's got.

Me, I get a crash course on Aosian money so I don't hand over our life savings, and I'm currently trying to memorize what I can of the gods in this world so I won't be so completely and utterly unaware.

"You can't stay here long," he tells us. "As much as I am thoroughly enjoying this, it wouldn't be prudent." And it is clear to me that he is enjoying all of this, oddly enough. His eyes gleam with excitement, and I suspect if the guy enjoyed this any more, he might burst into giggles. It's bizarre to realize that he's thriving on our misfortune, but he doesn't mean it in a cruel way.