“Wounded? How badly?”
“Rumor has it he may lose his left hand.”
Pyrust looked down at his own left hand, his half hand. “That could be dangerous. Losing half my hand made me twice as smart as I’d been before.”
“Four times an idiot is still an idiot, Highness.”
“As is twice an idiot, Delasonsa.”
She bowed her head to him. “I did not mean it as an insult, Highness.”
“I know, but I also know you are too intelligent to dismiss Cyron so lightly. Those were not bandits. Was it Turcol who wanted him dead, or were the assassins sponsored by someone else?” Pyrust’s expression tightened. “They were not ours, were they?”
“No, Highness, else they would be dead now. So would the Prince have been. The agent I have in position believes Turcol hatched the plan on his own. But this does not preclude others choosing the same tactic, Highness-even yourself.”
The Desei Prince firmly shook his head. “No. It shall not be an assassin of mine who kills Cyron at this time. I reserve that option for one of my troops, or myself.” He smiled, imagining the look of surprise on Cyron’s face when he pinned him to the throne with his sword.
“I shall let that be known, Highness.”
“Very good.” Pyrust pointed back toward the battlefield. “There will be survivors. See what they know. Save nine of the most hearty. Blind three, cut the ears off three, and cut the tongues out of three. Send one of each on to Moryne, Vallitsi, and Solie. Let them show their brothers what the fate shall be of all who resist us. Worse will come to their families.”
“Your will shall be done, Master.”
“And, Delasonsa, let them know that those who choose to fight for the honor of Princess Jasai shall be welcomed as brothers, feted as champions, and showered with glory as heroes.”
The crone raised an eyebrow. “Linking their fate with hers, Highness, might not be the most wise course. You will make them think they are men.”
“You’re doubtlessly right, but they shall be the millstone I cast south, and south again. Better I learn how to fight whatever I face over their bodies than those of my Hawks.”
The Mother of Shadows remained still for a moment, then nodded. “There will be war enough to consume them all.”
“And dead enough to choke Grija.” Pyrust raised his head. “And with a proper knowledge of weakness and strength, we shall not be among them.”
Chapter Thirty-one
21st day, Month of the Dragon, Year of the Rat
10th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th year since the Cataclysm
Nemehyan, Caxyan
“Jorim Anturasi, you cannot stay in the dark forever.”
Jorim turned toward the sound of the voice. “I can, Captain Gryst, and I fully intend to do so.” He kept his voice low enough that it barely echoed within the subterranean chamber. Water no longer dripped from the ceiling, and he’d been left alone save for food, which was slid in on a gold plate once a day. He didn’t know how many days he’d been there, and he did not care. When you are never leaving, time is unimportant.
Up on the catwalk above him, Anaeda Gryst opened the shutter on a lantern. Blue-white light filtered into the room, and she gasped audibly. “You’re sick. You have to get out of here now.”
Jorim raised his hands to protect his eyes. “No, Captain, you don’t understand.” He knew what she’d seen: his skin was coming off in chunks, peeling off the way it would after a savage sunburn. His hair had been bleached white as bones. His eyes remained blue, but when he looked at them in a bowl of water, they had a corona undulating around them in gold and red. Worse yet, his pupils had taken on a lozenge shape, more like a serpent or a dragon. And while she might see him peeling normally, he saw his skin coming off in scales.
“I’ve heard the stories, Jorim, I know what happened at the Blackshark.”
“No, you don’t, Captain.”
“I thought we had an agreement, Master Anturasi. You don’t defy my orders.”
“With all due respect, Captain, and I mean that sincerely, I don’t think I’m part of your command anymore. I’m a god, remember? I use magic. I am a danger to anyone I come near.”
“That last is nonsense.”
“Is it?” He looked up at her through narrowed eyes. “Why aren’t you as smart as the Fennych? Shimik saw. Shimik knows. He is terrified of me. The rest of you should be, too.”
“How can I or anyone else be terrified of you when you saved a ship and part of the crew? You destroyed enemies that had overrun a village and killed everyone in it. You saved the warriors who were with you in the jungle and surely would have died had you not acted.”
“Because, Captain, no one knows how I did it, and no one knows what else I am capable of doing.”
Anaeda shook her head. “You know, Jorim.”
He pounded his balled fists on the stone where he sat. “That’s just it. I don’t know!”
She laughed. “That’s what has you bothered?”
“How can you laugh?” He pointed toward the harbor. “Didn’t you see the footprints I left on the deck? Those were dragon’s feet.”
“And counted as a good omen! You had a skeleton crew to sail her back here and yet everyone says the Blackshark never sailed so sweet.”
Jorim stood and held his hands up. “No, you just don’t understand.”
“Jorim!” The commanding tone in her voice brought his head up. “You have gone places no civilized man has ever gone, and you have explained mysteries no one else could. Either this is something truly beyond you, in which case you better figure it out and fast, or it’s something you don’t want to look at. And if it’s the latter case, be warned. If you don’t understand it or come to control it, it will be worse than you can imagine.”
“Fine, you want to know what happened? I’ll tell you.” Jorim pointed at the lantern. “Put that out first.”
Anaeda folded her arms across her chest. “Do it yourself. You know how.”
“Oh, so you accept I can work magic? Do you think this is just a collection of conjurer’s tricks to terrify children? I can do things that would have made the vanyesh envious. All the stories of them never approached what I did.”
He spun on his little stone island and pointed off north. “The Mozoyan, the new ones, were already swarming over the Blackshark. They were coming in toward the beach. I didn’t know what to do. Magic is about balance and states of being. I wanted to shift the balance to make the ocean boil, but I couldn’t. Then I saw the sun as Wentiko-it is the month when the sun rises in his constellation after all. I linked myself to him and drew on the sun’s nature.”
He balled his fists and held his arms out as he had when flying. “At first, I just looked at the Mozoyan and made their eyes boil. I made their brains boil. I remember doing that consciously. Then suddenly I was flying. I didn’t do things to them, my presence did it. I could see them melting, and with a casual gesture, I burned their transport black.”
“And in doing so you saved many lives.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I wasn’t thinking at all.” He shook his head. “The crew was hiding. If they had looked at me, they would have died, too. You can’t tell me that is not true. Tzihua told me of the birds and monkeys from the forest who looked upon me and died.”
“Perhaps, Jorim, you were killing things that were not human.”
“But I didn’t kill the plants.” He laughed lightly, then scratched a patch of flesh from his nose. “Some of them blossomed and bore fruit that afternoon.”
She frowned at him. “I’ve yet to hear anything that should make me fear you.”
Jorim looked up. “How much different from a bird or a monkey do you think you are? I killed them without even thinking about it. What if the next time I am seeking to kill everything that isn’t male, or isn’t tall, and you or Nauana get caught?”