And an hour later, Yes, but you were right.
The godmother did not live in the palace. She lived in the temple district, among the tall, narrow houses of the gods and saints, as if she were a priest.
“Near the top of the city, of course,” said Agnes. While the city was arranged in a spiral of roads, steps had been cut as short cuts. They worked. They were also extremely steep. “Why do gods always want you to walk to them? You’d think they’d do more good if they were near where most of the people live.”
“I suppose it depends on what people want in a god,” said Marra. “But the abbess always said that most people want gods to be close enough to get them if you want them, but not have them breathing down your neck all the time.”
Agnes grunted, waving for a halt. They sat down on a bench halfway up the steep flight of stairs. Both of them were panting.
“So,” said Agnes.
“Unnnh?”
“Fenris?”
“Fenris what?”
Agnes nudged her in the ribs. “Fenris,” she said, lifting her eyebrows.
“Oh gods,” said Marra. She rested her elbows on her knees and dropped her head. Please do not make me have this conversation with my great-aunt. Please.
“Eh? Eh?” Another nudge. “Handsome lad, isn’t he?”
“He’s not a lad; he’s nearly forty. And I haven’t been thinking about it, Aunt Agnes. I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“You watched him chop firewood the other day.”
“What does that…？” Marra had to pause. Yes, she had. He’d taken off his shirt. There had been a lot of muscle on display. Even the dust-wife had paused for a look. Her hen had cackled so loudly it had set off the others in the nearby barnyard. “Oh. That. All right. I’m not dead.”
An elderly woman, older than Agnes, went by. She was bent double under the weight of a basket and she went up the stairs twice as fast as either of them. Marra didn’t know if that was inspiring or depressing.
“So you have noticed,” said Agnes, pleased. “And he’s quite a gentleman, too.”
“He’s wanted for murder in his home country.”
If she’d been expecting that would stop Agnes, she was sadly disappointed.
“I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“Well, yes.”
“Good with chickens, too. Finder likes him.”
Marra put her face in her hands. Lady of Grackles, if you would like to open the earth and let it swallow me whole, now would be an excellent time. “Aunt Agnes, we have—” No, she couldn’t very well say that they had an assassination to plan, could she? Not where people might be listening. Blast. “—a lot going on right now.”
“All right, all right. I’ll stop. Just, you know, keep it in mind. Not every day a man like that comes along, eh?”
“I am very suspicious of men right now,” muttered Marra through her fingers.
“A little moth told me he’s what you need.”
“He’s not—” Marra dropped her hands, realized the exact words that Agnes had used, and glared at her great-aunt. Agnes looked smug.
“Besides, I’m sure he doesn’t think that about me,” said Marra. “So it’s all moot anyway.”
“You’re sure about that, are you?”
Fenris’s hand on hers, absently stroking her palm. Fenris’s wry smile. His solid presence against her back. The mutual awkwardness of finding themselves in a bedroom together. The way he had held her hands, then let her go the moment she pulled away. “Completely sure,” grated Marra. “Now, come on. We’re supposed to be meeting a terrifying godmother, or have you forgotten?”
“Yes, yes.” Agnes got to her feet. “More stairs. Joy.”
“Humph.”
Both of them were red-faced and gasping by the time they reached the temple district. A tall woman with close-cropped hair, wearing the medals of the Unconquered Sun, gave them directions. “For all the good it will do,” she said. “She sees no visitors.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” said Agnes cheerfully. “She’ll see me. Probably.”
Marra expected a cynical look, but the woman’s eyes softened as she looked down at Agnes. “Then good luck to you, grandmother.”
The godmother’s house looked like a temple. It shared walls with the buildings on either side, one a priest’s home and one a shrine to the Saint of Dust. There was a guard standing outside the door, armed and armored, holding a halberd before him.