Batty nods, but holds up his little rock and says something else.
Tomas translates. “He says the sands of time—ohhhh. Well, you get the idea.”
Hmm. Yeah, I do get the idea. He’s paid a price for his magic. I look at Pell, suddenly feeling a little panicked. “Wait a minute. Every time I do magic, I go into debt?”
“It’s not in your book,” Pell says. “So I would say no.”
“But that’s weird,” Tomas says. “Don’t you think?” He’s talking to Pell, not me.
“Shit.” I look up at Pell, eyes wide. “Well, this sucks! My entire job is doing magic for Tarq!”
“Tomas!” Pell growls.
“What?” Tomas says. “I’m not saying it’s true, I’m just saying it’s weird that Pie has magic inside her that no one controls!”
“Wait, what?”
“You have previously said,” Tomas explains, “that you don’t ask any of the gods or goddesses for help when you do magic, correct?”
“Yes. That’s right. I don’t. I just… yell things and it works.”
“Well, then… this means you’re special, Pie.” Tomas is beaming at me. Like being special is a good thing.
I’m just about to open my mouth and set him straight when Pell tugs me away. “Forget about them,” he says. “We can think about this tonight. It’s… it’s… it’s all fine, Pie. Don’t worry.”
I sigh. A break? Got one for me? Anyone?
We don’t say anything else until we get back to the cottage, then Pell says, “Go get dressed. I’ll make sure Cookie has a lunch ready for you.”
And then he kisses me and walks away.
But when I go inside the cottage, Cookie is already there. I almost turn back and call for Pell, but then decide not to. He wasn’t going to look for Cookie. I don’t think so, anyway. I think he wanted to talk more about this new debt idea with Tomas and Batty, but he didn’t want me around.
Cookie is busy in my kitchen, presumably making me something for lunch. And he’s talking, but of course, I don’t understand him. So I just go upstairs and find a new outfit on the bed, courtesy of Eyebrows.
It’s a skirt, but not a miniskirt. In fact, it’s a very fancy skirt. With layers. Like tulle, or chiffon, or whatever the hell that fluffy fabric is called that adds volume to skirts. It’s kind of a mustard-yellow color and there’s a lot of embroidery along the hem. And now that I look closer, there’s gold thread weaved into the top layer of fabric. So that when I tilt my head, it shimmers.
“Fancy,” I say, sliding the skirt up my long legs. Of course, it fits perfectly. Eyebrows makes these all custom for me.
Then I look at the top. Which is… much more than a top. It’s a silky blue camisole with a short jacket made of thick fabric embroidered with a blue and tan floral pattern. Again, there are a lot of gold threads woven into the jacket.
“Hmm.” I tap my lip with my finger as I look in my full-length mirror. “This outfit looks suspiciously like the fashion Tarq was wearing that first day.”
I’m not sure what this means. And when I go downstairs and try to get answers from Cookie, he babbles on and on, but of course, I have no idea what he’s saying.
Then he tucks my lunch into my messenger bag and hangs it off my shoulder, proclaiming me ready for work.
“Thank you.” I blush a little. Because at no time in my life has anyone ever taken care of me like… well, a mother. And Cookie, though he is not female, feels very much like a mother in this moment.
Then, before I tear up, I leave and go looking for Pell.
I find him waiting for me at the top of the hill. He’s standing on a tomb, hand up to his eyes like a visor, looking out over the cathedral.
“What are you looking for?”
He looks down at me, surprised. Like he was distracted and didn’t see me coming. “That black tomb.” Then he jumps down, landing in front of me. He takes a moment to study my outfit.
“Love it or hate it?”