I realized he was right. Previt Rimarn might have noticed my magic, but that meant little in and of itself. Many mortals had magic; that was where scriveners like Rimarn came from. Only using that magic was illegal, and without seeing my paintings, Rimarn would’ve had no proof that I’d done so. If he had questioned me that day, and if I’d kept my wits about me, he would’ve realized I couldn’t possibly have killed Role. At worst, I might have ended up as an Order recruit.
But then Shiny had intervened. Even though Lil had eaten the bodies in South Root, Rimarn knew that four men had gone into that alley and only one had emerged, somehow unscathed. Gods knew how many witnesses there were in South Root who would talk for a coin or two. Worse, Rimarn had probably sensed the white-hot blast of power Shiny used to kill his men, even from across the city. Between that and what I’d done to the Order-Keepers with my chalk drawing, it did not seem so far-fetched a conclusion: one godling dead, another standing to profit from her death, and the mortals most intimately connected with him suddenly manifesting strange magic. None of it was proof—but they were Itempans. Disorder was crime enough.
“Well, I’ve said my piece.” Nemmer got up, stretching. As she did so, I saw what her posture had hidden: she was all wiry muscle and acrobatic grace. She looked too ordinary to be a spy and an assassin, but it was there when she moved. “Take care of yourself, little brother.” She paused and considered. “Little sister, too.”
“Wait,” I blurted, drawing a surprised look from both of them. “What are you going to tell the Order?”
“What I already told them,” she said with firm emphasis, “was that they’d better never try to kill a godling again. They don’t understand: it’s not Itempas they have to deal with now. We don’t know what this new Twilight will do. No one sane wants to find out. And Maelstrom help the entire mortal realm if they ever ignite the Darkness’s wrath.”
“I…” I fell silent in confusion, having no idea what she was talking about. The Twilight I knew; it was another name for the Lady. The Darkness—was that the Shadow Lord? And what had she meant by “it’s not Itempas they have to deal with now”?
“They’re wasting time on this stupidity,” Madding snapped, “grasping at straws instead of actually trying to find our sister’s killer! I could kill them for that myself.”
“Now, now,” said Nemmer, smiling. “You know the rules. Besides, in twenty-eight days, it will be a moot point.” I wondered at this, too, then remembered the words of the quiet goddess, that day in South Root. You have thirty days.
What would happen when thirty days had passed?
Nemmer sobered. “Anyway… it’s worse than you think, little brother. You’ll hear about this soon enough, so I might as well tell you now: two of our other siblings have gone missing.”
Madding started, as did I. Nemmer’s sources of information were good indeed if she’d learned this before Mad’s people or before the gossip vine of the streets could pass it on.
“Who?” he asked, stricken.
“Ina and Oboro.”
I had heard of the latter. He was some sort of warrior-god, making a name for himself among the illegal fighting rings in the city. People liked him because he fought fair—had even lost a few times. Ina was new to me.
“Dead?” I asked.
“No bodies have been found, and none of us has felt the deaths occur. Though no one felt Role, either.” She paused for a moment, growing still within her ever-present shadow, and abruptly I realized she was furious. It was hard to tell behind her jocularity, but she was just as angry as Madding. Of course; these were her brothers and sisters missing, possibly dying. I would have felt the same in her position.
Then, belatedly, it occurred to me: I was in her position. If someone was targeting godlings, killing them, then every godling in the city was in danger—including Madding. And Shiny, if he still counted.
I got to my feet and went over to him. He had stopped pacing; when I took his hands in a fierce grip, he looked surprised. I turned to Nemmer and could not help the tremor in my voice.
“Lady Nemmer,” I said, “thank you for telling us all this. Would you mind if Madding and I spoke in private now?”
Nemmer looked taken aback; then she grinned wolfishly. “Oh, I like this one, Mad. Shame she’s mortal. And, yes, Miss Shoth, I’d be happy to leave you two alone now—on the condition that you never call me ‘Lady Nemmer’ again.” She shuddered in mock horror. “Makes me feel old.”
“Yes, L—” I bit my tongue. “Yes.”
She winked, saluted Madding, and then vanished.
As soon as she was gone, I turned to Madding. “I want you to leave Shadow.”
He rocked back on his heels, staring at me. “You what?”
“Someone is killing godlings here. You’ll be safe in the gods’ realm.”
He gaped at me, speechless for several seconds. “I don’t know whether to laugh or kick you out of my house. That you would think so little of me… that you would honestly think I’d run rather than find the bastards who are doing this—”
“I don’t care about your pride!” I squeezed his hands again, trying to make him listen. “I know you’re not a coward; I know you want to find your sister’s killer. But if someone is killing godlings, and if none of the gods know how to stop that person… Mad, what’s wrong with running? You just urged me to do the same thing to get away from the Order, right? You spent aeons in the gods’ realm, and only, what, ten years in this one? Why should you care what happens here?”
“Why should I—” He shook off my hands and took hold of my shoulders, glaring at me. “Have you gone mad? You’re standing here in front of me, asking me why I don’t leave you behind to face the Order-Keepers and gods know what else! If you think—”
“It’s you they want! If you leave, I’ll turn myself in. I’ll tell them you went back to the gods’ realm; they’ll draw their own conclusions from that. Then—”
“Then they’ll kill you,” he said. That startled me silent. “Of course they will, Oree. Scapegoats restore order, don’t they? People are upset about what happened to Role; mortals don’t like to think that their gods can die. They also want to see her killer brought to justice. The Order will have to give them someone, if not the killer. With me gone, you’d have no protection at all.”
It was true, every word of it; I knew it with instinctive certainty. And I was afraid. But…
“I couldn’t bear it if you died,” I said softly. I could not meet his eyes. It was a variation on the same thing he’d told me months before, and it hurt to say now as much as his words had hurt to hear then. “It’s different, knowing I’ll lose you when I die. That’s… right, natural. The way things have to be. But—” And I could not help it; I imagined his body in that alley, his bluegreen scent fading, his warmth cooling, his blood staining my fingers and nothing, nothing, where the sight of him should be.
No. I would rather die than allow that to happen.
“So be it,” I said. “I’ve killed three men. It was an accident, but they’re still dead. They had dreams, maybe families… You know all about debts owed, Mad. Isn’t it right that I repay? As long as you’re safe.”
He said a word that rang of fury and fear and sour chimes, and it burst against my vision in a splash of cold aquamarine, silencing me. He let go of me then, moving away, and belatedly I realized that I had hurt him in my willingness to give my life. Obligation was his nature; altruism was its antithesis.