“Have you considered that he might just be lonely?” asked Winola.
The guest parlour was pleasantly cool; the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains and tinted the cream-coloured walls orange. New flowers filled the vase on the mantel, smelling sweet and faintly of citrus. The wind had abated; the afternoon had a glazed quality. Karys sat cross-legged on one of the leather chairs, watching Winola play a complicated-looking board game against herself.
“That’s what Ferain said this morning,” she admitted. “But if he’s so miserable, why would he stay here? He clearly has the resources to leave.”
“Oh, Karys.”
“What?”
Winola shifted one of the game’s tokens three places to the left and then rotated the board ninety degrees. “You’re entirely too practical.”
“Explain?”
The scholar studied the spread of the tokens. “Sometimes the places that you love grow teeth. Sometimes, home can swallow you. And even if that hurts, losing it still seems worse—because what if you let go and never find a better place? What if there’s nothing else? Vuhas has built a life here; I don’t think he would easily abandon it.”
Karys snorted. “And that gives him the right to—what? Kidnap friends?”
“I never said that. He seems happy to have company, that’s all.”
“You feel sorry for him.”
“Oh, I’m far too envious for that.” Winola tapped one token against another of the opposing colour, then removed both from play. “I would kill for his workings materials alone, never mind the relics. It’s hard to pity a man who uses spiderspun platinum in pursuit of his hobby.”
She pronounced the word with such venom that Karys had to smile. Outside the window, the sun had descended over the veldt and soaked the hills in amber. A solitary crow was sitting on one of the vineyard stakes, cawing intermittently. Ferain rolled over the floor and up onto the coffee table to study the game.
“What’s the saying?” he said. “‘An artist is not their tools?’”
“They certainly help.” Winola rubbed her temples. “I’m just being bitter—he is clearly an accomplished practitioner. Which would be fine, if he wasn’t so damn nonchalant about it. ‘Little projects,’ hah. Yesterday, he bound closed my injury immaculately and worked a new pair of glasses in under an hour. And whatever derivations he has around this house, they’re potent.”
“But could he have produced a furrow print out of a handful of sticks and some paste?” Ferain pointed a shadowy finger to three blue tokens at the corner of the board. “You’ve lost this game already, by the way. Or won it, depending on your perspective.”
Winola pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and leaned closer. “Have I?”
“I’m afraid so.” He slid one of the tokens over the board in an L-shaped pattern, then moved another to the right two places. Karys felt a sharp tug in her chest. “Or congratulations.”
Winola whipped her hand back from the table. “How did you do that?”
“Surprise,” said Karys, and Ferain laughed.
It took a little while to explain. Winola listened, unspeaking but intently focussed, as Ferain tried to find an accurate way of describing how he could touch the world—like gravity? it’s pushing and pulling at the same time, but outward. Karys showed the scholar her scar, tucked into the crease of her elbow.
“It doesn’t hurt you?” asked Winola. “When he draws on you?”
“Drawing” seemed like a surprisingly good way of describing the sensation. “No, it’s just tiring—if he does something forceful, it’s worse. But it doesn’t feel bad, only … strenuous, I suppose. Do you have any idea why it would cause the scar to move?”
The scholar shook her head. “Not a clue.”
“But you don’t think I’m harming her?” Karys’ shadow wavered on the table. “Even if she can’t feel any pain?”
“Honestly, it doesn’t sound like it.” Winola picked up one of the discarded tokens from the game, and mindlessly turned it between her fingers. Her forehead creased. “I’m making an educated guess here, but I suspect you’re leeching your power off her normal metabolic reactions. I’ve seen that in other contexts, generally in experimental animal modification. Provided you don’t overtax her, she should be able to sustain your new physicality without suffering any permanent harm. Have you been feeling hungrier than usual, Karys?”
“Not that I noticed.”
“Hm. Well, still make sure you eat and sleep enough. Oh, and if Ferain does draw too much of your energy all at once, your body will probably shut down and die.”
“Fantastic.”
“It’s very interesting, though.” Winola stopped flipping the token, and dropped it back on the table. “Look, I could be wrong about how this works, and there might be hidden side effects. But the two of you have survived this long together, and that wouldn’t have been possible if the nature of your relationship wasn’t largely symbiotic. This could be a good thing. I mean, it’s already proven useful, hasn’t it?”
Karys shivered. “Yeah. Useful. Thanks, Winola.”
“Anytime.” The scholar looked down at the game board and sighed. “Although I wish I knew more. You should ask our host; he probably has all the answers.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Hah. I wonder when he will be done pretending to repair his awrig.”
“Whenever it suits him, I guess.”
Winola’s eyes flicked to the closed parlour door. Her lips thinned. “Yes, well … I do understand your reservations about him. The awrig is…” She made a face. “It doesn’t look good, but maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. I hope he’s harmless.”
“Me too.”
“We know to be more cautious, if nothing else.” She reset the game board, neatly lining up the tokens for another round. “If he tries to delay us again tomorrow, we’ll need to press the issue. Or walk; we might be able to hitch a ride with other travellers once we’re nearer civilisation. But I don’t think it will come to that. We aren’t entirely without options, or, frankly, protection. I don’t suppose you know why Haeki wanted sugar from Vuhas?”
Karys uncrossed her legs and stretched. “I do.”
“But you aren’t going to tell me.”
“It’s a personal matter. Nothing important, but—”
Winola waved a hand. “I don’t want to intrude on her privacy. She has been in that bedroom a long time, that’s all. I was concerned.”
Karys imagined Haeki’s reaction to discovering herself the object of Winola’s concern, and found the idea faintly amusing. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll check on her.”
The bedroom was half-lit; the curtains drawn so that only a slender bar of light fell across the floor. Haeki, kneeling on the carpet below the window, did not move when Karys walked in. Her neck was bent; she gazed down at a shallow dish of water held between her hands. In the soft gloom, her parted lips glittered with a crust of fine sugar. Karys closed the door behind her.
“For Pavian?” she asked quietly.
Haeki’s voice was scarcely audible.
“For all of them.” Then, after a pause: “I don’t care what you think.”
Funeral rites for strangers. Delivering heretics to Nuliere’s care. Karys sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Haeki, she killed them,” she said.
“She did what she needed to.” Tiny white crystals flaked from Haeki’s mouth. “It’s not our place to question her. Especially not yours.”
“Is she here?”
A single shake of Haeki’s head, a marginal movement. “She exhausted herself in the canyon. I don’t know how long it will take her to recover.”
“I see.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“All right.”
Another pause. Haeki lowered the dish. Her eyes sheened with the faintest hint of blue.
“You know, she’d forgive you,” she said. “If you showed her respect, she would be your herald again.”
It was a lie, and Karys suspected they both knew it. For whose benefit, she was less sure. She nodded toward the dish. “Salt in the water, same as you threw in the river? A clever trick. What else do you have up your sleeve?”
Haeki shrugged, and looked down again. “Nothing much.”
“Looked like something yesterday. So, do you think the Embrace will accept deathspeakers?”
“Karys,” murmured Ferain.
Haeki’s fingers tightened around the dish, ridged knuckles pressing up against her skin. Her voice, however, remained even.
“I do,” she said. “Whatever heretical pact those men made, they died human. If it falls to me to lay coins on their eyes and wear sweetness on my mouth for them, I will. Even if they don’t deserve mercy, I’ll ask for it. Don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t.”
“I’m not telling you anything. You wouldn’t listen even if I did.”
Haeki wiped the sugar from her lips with the back of her hand, and set down the dish. “Well, what about your false heralds? Do you think they’ll shepherd you to the Embrace?”
“No. I don’t think that holds any interest for them.”
“They probably couldn’t either.”
“Probably.”
“And that’s not worrying you? Not at all?”
“Not right at this moment.”
“Because you think Nuliere will take pity on you in the end? When you die, and your usurper master leaves your soul to rot, you’ll wait for her to guide you home.”
From the parlour, Karys heard voices: Vuhas and Winola’s. She spoke carefully. “I would trust the Ephirite’s mercy before ever placing my faith in Nuliere again.”
A shadow crossed Haeki’s face. “You’re that proud?”
Karys smiled slightly, and got up.
“Come,” she said. “I’m sure our host is expecting us.”
Winola was discussing the awrig’s working when Karys re-entered the room. Vuhas stood beside the mantel, unflustered and cheerful, his white hair combed back and his clothing pristine.
“The old girl is as good as new. You’ll be on your way by nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” he said. “Ah, Karys, Haeki, there you are. I was just telling Winola that the issue with the awrig has been resolved. Everything is in order.”
He seemed as sunny as ever, no sign that he might harbour a guilty conscience. Karys felt no less wary. Vuhas did not intimidate her, exactly, even with all his casual displays of wealth and power, but something about him still set her teeth on edge. Here he stood, so earnest, so eager to please, and yet … what was it about him? At odd moments, she thought she had caught glimpses of a hungry light behind his eyes—but standing there now: nothing. Beneath the skin of his bubbly, bumbling geniality, he remained a complete enigma to her.
Leave, whispered Yviline.
She tamped down her paranoia. “We’re in your debt.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble.” He laughed, warm and paternal. “You’ve been very generous, letting me ramble on about my little projects. It’s only too easy for me to get carried away, I’m afraid.”
“You don’t say,” muttered Ferain.
“Anyway, you’re probably all hungry by now, yes?” Vuhas continued without waiting for an answer. “I was rather hoping you would join me for dinner. It’s nothing too ostentatious, but I would love your company. And it won’t take long to get there, I promise.”
Karys frowned. She glanced at Winola, but the scholar appeared no less confused. “Get to where, exactly?”
“Oh!” Vuhas’ face brightened. “Of course, yes, I haven’t explained; forgive me. To the clubhouse of the Grateful Society.”