Him, though, he had no place to go. All the cantrevs of his homeland had been burned; nothing there now but the stubble of new green that would never be sheafed and dried to straw, nothing but foundations.
And now Ilsi had seen her future Headmaster, and he seemed like a fine ordinary middle-aged Headmastery sort of person, and this was apparently the point where she was supposed to feel lucky. Lucky about leaving the temple, about living the rest of her days in his household, about spending the rest of the her days in his service; all of it.
My dough is too sticky, and the smell of the yeast suddenly makes me ill. I want the day off from seeing other people’s gods. I search for the towel I use to carry the hot loaves, my flour-coated hands before me, and try not to think what I’m thinking: does XuShem not exist? Is that why they never appear?
They were expectant, for she was the Storm's daughter and it fell to her to find a suitable replacement. And when she looked down at her own children, when she saw the worry in her son's roving stare and the concern in the way her daughter counted the buttons on her dress over and over, she knew she'd search the entirety of the land for someone, anyone, strong enough.
“I can help you avenge what they did to you,” the Fivefold God said. Their features rippled like a pool embracing a pebble, and then they wore their third face, the warrior face. The God’s words were like a dry wind that blew through Ana, sweeping aside the numbness and ash and trailing fury in its wake.