Weight of the World

Chapter Thirty

—The Crooked Forest—

Dawn was only a few hours off. They would be leaving soon. Lulu couldn't wait to put as much distance between herself and the camp as possible. The hour of sleep she had managed to get was filled with nightmares that left her more rattled than rested. And so, she had abandoned the small tent she shared with Varel and Mervin for the warm, oppressive air that awaited her outside. The alcohol here was too weak to drown her sorrows in, leaving her to do little more than sit and wait for the sun to rise.

"Mind if I join you?" a kindly voice asked from her left.

Lulu looked up to find one of the Archbishops—they all looked alike to her—motioning to the empty seat beside her. She laughed hollowly at his naïve request. "In case you didn't get the memo, I hate the Path. There are like fifty other places for you to sit. This isn't the safest place for you to be."

"So, you don't actually object to me taking this seat, then?" The Archbishop continued to smile down at her in amusement, which made Lulu roll her eyes in annoyance.

"Do whatever you like."

"Why, thank you." Smoothing out the front of his ornate robes, the Archbishop sat in the empty seat, humming part of The Broken Song as he settled in and began knitting.

She hadn't seen the supplies in his hands when he had asked for the seat, meaning they had been hidden somewhere within his ridiculously oversized robes. She didn't think they had pockets. She glanced at him briefly, the sight of him knitting making her grimace.

"My knitting makes you uncomfortable?" the Archbishop inquired, though he never glanced up from his work.

"No, I just...a friend of mine...a dear friend...He used to knit."

"Ah, a painful memory. My apologies for your loss. How long ago did you lose him?"

"What is it about priests and prodding people when they're sad? Do you think that somehow endears you? It doesn't. It makes you a shitty conversationalist."

Infuriatingly, that made the Archbishop chuckle. "I suppose that is true. Let me try a different tactic, then. We have yet to be introduced. I am Archbishop Whittle. Senior advisor to The Voice. And you are?"

"You know who I am. Everyone in this camp knows who I am."

He shrugged. "I was simply being polite, Mistress Vale. No need to be hostile."

"There is when there's an annoying priest sitting next to me asking pointless questions for a reason I haven't figured out yet."

"If I have a reason, are my questions really pointless?"

She breathed out heavily through her nose, hoping her body language and reactions would be off-putting enough to send the Archbishop on his way, but he continued to knit uninterrupted.

"Look, if you have a reason, then just get to it, alright? I'm really fuckin' tired, and my patience for priests is already incredibly low to begin with. What do you want with me?"

"I just thought it polite to introduce myself. Traveling companions should get to know one another before setting out on a journey together, don't you think?"

Her eyes widened. "No. The company's all booked up. No room, I'm afraid. Why not wait for the next lost sucker to stumble through your camp."