River of Shadows (Underworld Gods #1)(73)

That much power in the Book of Runes, I ponder. If I could get that book one day, I could change so many things. I wouldn’t even bother with Death or Tuonela, I would just make it so that I could be back with my father, back in the real world, and that nothing from this world, nor any malicious shaman, could hurt either of us. I know I have to die one day, and I must admit there’s some comfort in knowing I’ll most likely be put in the Golden Mean instead of the nebulous question mark, but I want to postpone my death as much as possible.

But that’s not why I’ve called upon Raila today. The Book of Runes is just a shiny distraction.

“Well, that’s understandable,” I tell Raila. “Why don’t you give me a tour of Shadow’s End, from the top to the bottom then. Wherever I’m allowed to go.”

I will do my best, she says.

And so I take another tour of the castle, this time with Raila’s commentary.

This is the solar room, she says as she takes me into a large room with floor to ceiling windows. Aside from the iron framework, it’s pretty much a solarium and right now, with the sun trying to burn through the clouds, it’s bright and hot.

Usually Death is in here having his morning coffee, she says. But he isn’t a fan of the sun, even when it’s his own doing.

I take my time looking around. It really is an incredible room with a three-sixty view of the area. Though the mist hasn’t completely cleared, it’s enough that I can make out the craggy mountain ranges to the north, the sea to the south. From here it really feels like you’re on top of the world and ruler of the kingdom.

But it isn’t the view that has my curiosity piqued. It’s the details in the room, each one telling me something about its daily inhabitant.

There’s a black leather chair and footstool with an iron side table beside it, a stack of books underneath. I can just imagine Death sitting there, his coffee beside him, his feet up, book in hand, while the land stretches out beyond the windows. The image delights me for some reason and I crouch down, taking a look at his current TBR pile: The Art of War, The Great Gatsby, Of Mice and Men, In Cold Blood, The Holy Bible, and Lord of the Rings.

My brow quirks up. “Lord of the Rings?”

The Master is a very prolific reader, Raila says, watching me. Have you read it?

I smile. “Yes, I have.”

He says Tolkien got some things right about Tuonela, like Kokko, the giant eagle, but he failed to capture the intricacies of the land, Raila explains.

I nod and look around the rest of the room. There’s a wine rack, a stocked bar that has crystal decanters that sparkle like diamonds, housing jewel-colored liquids in amber, crimson, emerald, and amethyst. Then there are a few bottles of Scotch and even tequila thrown in there, obviously smuggled from my world, plus an array of glassware and iron-welded vessels.

“I have to ask, what’s with all the iron?” I gesture to all the iron details in the room, which is nothing compared to the rest of the castle. I mean even his dog is made of iron.

Tuonela is built from iron, she says knowingly. A material that created a whole world. Iron is magic and can give life to things, attract things, as well as repel. The longer you are here, you will learn to work with both iron and it’s ally, silver, to your advantage. I keep an iron cross by my bedside, just in case.

I glance at her. “Just in case of what?”

What could possibly happen to her here?

Silence. Then she says, Old habits from the old days. Shall we move on?

I don’t want to move on, not from our conversation, but I have a feeling she won’t give me any more. Why would Raila need an iron cross? I know that in some myths and superstitions they ward off fairies, but since those don’t really exist here, what exactly are they warding off?

I ponder that over as Raila leads me out of the Solar Room and down the stairs, showing me the rest of the castle and giving me background information.

I have to admit, she points out some good gossip, like how one time Death was entertaining Tapio, God of the Forest, who then tried to revive all the furniture in the castle that was cut from trees of his forest, or when Vellamo and her mermaids stayed with them for a week, and the underground waterways were filled with mermaids for days on end, which attracted Gods from all over.

I have to wonder if that’s when Bell was first introduced to Death, but instead I ask if I can see the waterways, knowing that they must be a level below the Crypt.

So Raila leads me down, down, down, all the way to the cellar.

She points out the various sweetvine and frostmint wines he has stored, plus those procured from my world, then talks about the dungeons, the torture chambers, and the oubliettes, really sinking her teeth into all the gory details.

Finally, we come to the crypt.

This is the crypt, she says to me. The Sect of the Undead.

“Can I see inside?” I ask.

She hesitates, a pause hanging between us, weighing her options.

Then she says, If you wish to. The Master himself will avoid it completely, but he’s never explicitly said that it’s off-limits to others.

“Great,” I tell her, giving her an expectant look.

I swear I hear her sigh. She turns and then takes out a long key from somewhere in her robe and inserts it into the metal door. With her veiled hood, she looks extra ominous against the flickering candlelight. She turns the lock and the door opens.