I tried again to shake my head, this time scrabbling at Shiny’s wrist with my fingers. It was like grabbing cordwood; his hand didn’t budge. Instinctively, I sank my nails into his flesh, having some irrational thought of piercing the tendons to weaken his grip. He shifted his hand slightly—I had an instant to suck a breath—and then pushed my hand away with his free hand, easily brushing off my efforts to regain a grip.
A drop of blood landed in my eye, and red filled my thoughts. The color of pain and blood. The color of fury. The color of Madding’s desecrated heart.
I put my hand against Shiny’s chest. I paint a picture, you son of a demon!
Shiny jerked once. His hand slipped aside; I quickly caught my breath. I braced myself for him to try again, but he did not move.
Suddenly I realized I could see my hand.
For a moment, I was not certain that it was my hand. I had never seen my hand before, after all. It looked too small to be mine, long and slender, more wrinkly than I’d expected. There was charcoal under some of the nails. Along the back of the thumb was a raised scar, old and perhaps an inch long. I remembered getting it last year when an awl I’d been using slipped.
I turned my hand to look at the palm and found it completely coated in blood.
There was a thud as Shiny fell to the floor beside me.
I lay where I was for a moment, grimly satisfied. Then I began working at the straps that held me down. Quickly I realized the buckles were meant to be opened with two hands. My other hand was solidly strapped down with a leather cuff, padded on the inside to prevent sores. For a moment, this stymied me until it occurred to me to use the blood on my free hand. I rubbed it on the other wrist, then began working it from side to side, pulling and twisting. I had such small, slender hands. It took time, but eventually the blood and sweat on my wrist made the leather slick, and I slipped that hand free. Then I could open the rest of the buckles and sit up.
When I did, though, I fell back again. My head spun, thick queasiness rolling in its wake. I slumped against the wall, panting and trying to blink away the stars across my vision, and wondering what in the gods’ names the Lights had done to me. Only gradually did I realize: all the blood they had taken. Four times. In how many days? Time had passed, but not enough, clearly. I was in no shape to walk or even move much.
That was bad, because I would have to escape the House of the Risen Sun as soon as possible. I had no choice now.
While I lay sprawled across the bed, fighting for consciousness, light glimmered again on the floor. I heard Shiny draw breath, then slowly get to his feet. I felt his angry gaze, heavy as a lead weight.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped before he could get any more ideas. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
He said nothing. And did not move, looming over me in palpable threat.
I laughed at him. I felt no real amusement, just bitterness. Laughter let me vent it as well as anything else.
“Bastard,” I said. I tried to sit up and face him but could not. Staying conscious and talking was the best I could do. My head had lolled to one side like a drunkard’s. I kept talking, anyway. “The great lord of light, so merciful and kind. Touch me again and I’ll put the next hole through your head. Then I’ll bleed on you.” I tried to lift my arm, but succeeded only in jerking it a bit. “See if I have enough left in me to kill one of the Three.”
It was a bluff. I didn’t have the strength to do any of it. Still, he stayed where he was. I could almost feel the fury in him, beating against me like insect wings.
“You cannot be permitted to live,” he said. None of that fury was in his voice. He was so good at self-control. “You threaten the entire universe.”
I swore at him in every language I could think of. That wasn’t much: Senmite; a few epithets in old Maro, which were all I knew of the language; and a bit of gutter Kenti that Ru had taught me. When I finished, I was slurring again, on the brink of passing out. With an effort of will I fought it off.
“To the hells with the universe,” I finished. “You didn’t give a damn about the universe when you started the Gods’ War. You don’t give a damn about anything, including yourself.” I managed to make a vague gesture with one hand. “You want to kill me? Earn it. Help me get free of this place. Then my life is yours.”
He went very still. Yes, I’d thought that would get his attention.
“A bargain. You understand that, don’t you? An orderly, fair thing, so you should respect it. You help me, I help you.”
“Help you escape.”
“Yes, damn you!” My voice echoed from the walls. There were guards outside, I remembered belatedly. I lowered my voice and went on. “Help me get away from this place and stop these people.”
“If I kill you, they will have no more of your blood.”
Such sweet words my Shiny spoke. I laughed again and felt his consternation.
“They’ll still have Dateh,” I said when the laughter had run out. I was tiring again. Sleepy. Not yet, though. If I didn’t make this bargain with Shiny first, I would never wake up.
“With just Dateh’s blood, they killed Role. With his power, they’ve captured others. Four times, Shiny! Four times they’ve taken my blood. How many more of your children have they poisoned with it?”
I heard the pause of his breath. That one had struck home, oh, yes. I had found his weakness at last, the chink in his apathy. Diminished and reviled and cold-blooded as he was, he still loved his family. So I readied my next lunge, knowing this one would cut even deeper.
“Maybe they’ll even use my blood to kill Nahadoth.”
“Impossible,” Shiny said. But I knew him. That was fear in his voice. “Nahadoth could crush this world before Dateh blinks.”
“Not if he’s distracted.” My eyes drifted shut while I said it. I could not open them, no matter how hard I tried. “They’re killing the godlings to lure him here, to the mortal realm. Dateh kills them. Eats them.” Madding’s blood, running dark rivers down Dateh’s chin as he bit into the heart like an apple. I gagged and fought the image back. “Takes their magic. I don’t know how. How he.” I swallowed, focused. “The Nightlord. I don’t know how Dateh plans to do it. An arrow in the back, maybe. Who the hells knows if it’ll work, but… do you want him to try? If there’s even a chance he could… succeed…”
Too much. Too much. I needed rest and for no one to try and kill me for a while. Would Shiny let me have that?
One way to find out, I decided, and passed out.
I surfaced a little, bobbing beneath the threshold of consciousness.
Daytime warmth. More voices.
“… infection,” said one. Male. Nice old gravelly voice like Vuroy’s, oh how I missed him. More murmured words, soothing. Something about “seizure,” “blood loss,” and “apothecary.”
“… necessary. There are signs…” Serymn. She had come to see me before, I remembered. Wasn’t that sweet? She cared. “… must move quickly.”
The gravelly voice rose and bobbed and dipped enough for me to hear one word, emphasized. “… die.”
A long sigh from Serymn. “We’ll pause for a day or two, then.”
More murmurs. Confusing. I was tired. I slept again.
Night again. The room felt cooler. I opened my eyes and heard a harsh, ragged panting from the cot nearby. Shiny. His breath bubbled and wheezed strangely. I listened to it for a while, but then his breathing slowed. Caught once, resumed. Ceased again. Stayed silent.
The room smelled of fresh blood again. Had they taken more from me? But I felt better, not worse.