Nectar for the God: An Epic Fantasy Mystery (Mennik Thorn Book 2) by Patrick Samphire

Author:Patrick Samphire [Samphire, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Five Fathoms Press
Published: 2021-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The Agatos Customs House had, if rumours were true, been built on the ruins of a temple to Shapray, the god of Arbitrary Decisions and Unjustifiable Demands. But anyone who believed all the rumours that circled Agatos like sharks around a dying whale wouldn’t last long. The building occupied a prime position on the docks, not far from Paravar Square. Among the functional, squat warehouses, it did a good impression of being a temple itself: tall columns (always the columns in Agatos), wide, sweeping steps, carved figures, and a way of squeezing money from anyone who came through the doors. And, in a way, it was a temple to the only real god Agatos worshipped: the acquisition of wealth and power.

The docks were bustling with people and animals. Goods were being loaded, unloaded, and carted away among a cacophony of shouts, bellows, roars, and shrieks. Warehouse doors stood open. Crates and sacks were stacked on the cobbles. Pickpockets, hawkers, and Watchwomen and -men threaded the crowds.

Only twelve hours ago, monstrosities had crawled out of the sea, the storm had lashed the bare cobbles, and Benny, Sereh, and I had fought for our lives. It was hard to reconcile the scene. A few thin, white clouds scudded across a blue sky. People said Agatos could shrug anything off. If it hadn’t been for the nagging pain in my abdomen from overusing my magic, I would have wondered if it had all been a nightmare.

Being here, on the side of the docks, looking out over the harbour and the glittering, still-choppy sea beyond, brought back more memories, not of the horror last night, but deeper ones that were just as traumatic. I had spent too long here as an eleven-year-old, watching the unkind sea rise and fall, waiting for Endir – Mica’s dad, my stepfather – to sail back in, knowing all the while that he was already dead. I hated the ocean. I wasn’t at all surprised it had birthed monstrosities. Those unseeing depths had always filled me with dread.

I had been too young when my stepfather died to think too much about it – the trauma had been too enveloping – and later I had tried to drown the memories, but here, on this dockside, I couldn’t keep them out: the pain, the longing, the hopelessness of waiting for a boat that would never return. I turned quickly away from the water.

Screw it. I was here to do a job. I couldn’t let the memories suck me back under. I had reached a precarious stability in these last few years, and I wasn’t going to lose that. I would find my information then fuck off out of here. That was all.

The Customs House was packed when I made my way inside. All ships arriving, leaving, or sheltering from the weather were required to declare their full cargoes and undergo inspection. The main hall was full of ship captains or their representatives, as well random enquirers like me, waiting to meet with the clerks at their desks.

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