We found a rundown, empty house on the edge of town and kept it looking unoccupied. We set up our bedrolls in a corner and stayed inside as much as possible. It was practically essential to stay indoors during the day anyway, as the heat really hammered down in those last days before the Infernam. It wasn’t comfortable indoors, but it certainly beat being in the direct glare of the sun. We took turns at night to go to less central parts of town to hear the news and pick up food.
It was two days before the Infernam when I left the tavern that night. Helion was so large that it seemed ready to fall out of the sky and land on top of the city. The news hadn’t changed much. Neither Grayer nor any of his Defenders were going to be selected, and Vainn was no longer one of Grayer’s Defenders—not that it mattered now. The Bellanger Elect was at the top of the lists, followed by the Wolfling from the Grenier family. The Triplets were next—the bet-takers had given up listing us separately. So we were third, but no one had any idea which of us would be selected. The two Raine Elects were next, then Arion. Arion needed another high-profile victim in the next few days to push him into the top four.
It was close between the two Raine Elects, and no one was sure what would happen. Some expected a battle between them, though that didn’t seem the style of either of them. Or they could just wait and let the Guardians decide. Thinking of that caused my thoughts to turn to the dilemma that hung over the three of us. Should we just do nothing and let the Guardians decide which of us to select? Or was that the cowardly way out? There was also the fear that, with no obvious leading candidate, the Guardians would skip over the Triplets completely. And even if the Guardians selected one of us, the choice would then fall upon the Select to choose one of his brothers and condemn the other. No. We had to figure out a way among ourselves.
Somehow.
I turned around the corner and stopped dead when I felt a pressure on my right shoulder.
“Not paying much attention as to who might be close by,” said a voice that I recognized all too well. “Didn’t you hear that the Path is dangerous?”
I slowly turned, twisting around to the left, the sword blade staying in place on my shoulder. “You!” I said to Arion.
“Of course. You must have known it would come down to us two at the end.”
“No,” I said. “I knew we’d have to beat Grayer. I hoped to avoid you.”
Arion’s smile was cold. He nudged his sword so the edge touched my neck. I didn’t flinch away from it. “I knew,” he said. “Ever since that incident when your brother nearly died, I knew it would come down to me and one of you three. I suspected it would be you. Don’t think I haven’t been aware of how closely you’ve watched me over the years.”
I shrugged. “You flatter yourself. I’ve not taken much note of you.” I didn’t want to follow whatever script Arion had practiced in his mind.
Arion licked his top lip. Then he extended his left hand, palm up, showing two Paradise Givers. “You know how this goes.”
“Not the way you want it to. I’m not going to take part in your game.”
“You seem to think you have a choice,” Arion said. “This sword is quite sharp, and that is real blood on your neck.”
I hadn’t realized the skin had been broken. I wiped my finger on my neck and examined the blood. It looked blue under Helion’s purple light. “I don’t value this as much as I value other things. Things you don’t understand, like friendship and brotherhood.”
“Your brothers don’t want you dead.”
“No, but it might be for the best. Only two of us will make it.”
Arion pocketed the Paradise Givers and pulled the sword from my shoulder and tapped the flat of the blade against the side of his leg. “How noble. You’re willing to sacrifice yourself. You’re right, I don’t understand brotherhood if that’s what it means.”
I thought about trying to run now that Arion had removed the blade from my shoulder, but I knew he was faster than me. If I were to beat him tonight, it wouldn’t be in a footrace.
“You forget, of course,” Arion continued, “that if I was to kill you I would move ahead of the Triplets in the lists. So your sacrifice would be in vain.”
“If you killed me in your poison game, you would rise above us,” I replied. “Just killing me with a sword, I’m not so sure.”
Arion smiled. His confidence was unshaken. “Do you know I’ve had a fear of death from a young age?” he asked. “Well, that is inaccurate. I first remember the fear from when I was five and in the Refuge for the first time. My mother was left behind to take Paradise’s Kiss with the other ascora whose husbands had found replacements for them.”
“Is this where I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure how I knew the method of my mother’s death, but I always equated death with Paradise’s Kiss. After several years of continual nightmares, my fear changed into a fascination. With death and also with the poison that the ascor choose to avoid the flames of the Infernam.”
I mock yawned. “This is all terribly interesting, but if you’re going to kill me, I’d prefer if you would get on with it.”
“My fascination with the poison led me to know all there was to know about it and the Paradise Givers. The one I gave to Grayer that day long ago was not the only one in my possession then.”
My breath caught in my throat. “You were behind it all along?”
“Grayer proved rather easy to manipulate.”
“And you knew the Paradise Giver wasn’t completely free of poison? That it needed to be cleaned?”
Arion grinned. “Of course. Where would the fun be otherwise? I was interested to learn the effect of such a tiny amount of Paradise’s Kiss. My only regret is that I couldn’t watch to see how close to death Frodan came. You and your brother were always in the room with him while he was sick.”
Blood pounded through my temples and I lurched forward. Arion took a step back and raised his sword, pointing it at my chest, forcing me to stop.
“You know how you can get your revenge.” Arion touched my chest with the tip of his sword.
I forced myself to calm. I couldn’t let myself stay angry and react irrationally. Arion was trying to bait me. He liked manipulating people, and I couldn’t let my emotions rule me and do what he wanted. Though I was willing to let him kill me if it meant my two brothers survived—I wasn’t lying about that—I wasn’t sure that was my right move. Perhaps if I were killed by Arion’s sword it would be enough to push him ahead of my brothers. And if not, what if Arion searched out either Frodan or Sorani after? In that case, my brother would have no choice but to play this game of Arion’s, and they hadn’t studied Arion like I had. They didn’t know him from the mole under his chin to his habit of leaving a candle burning when he went to sleep.
“I always suspected you knew,” I said. I tried to let rage flow through my words. “You are going to die for what you did to Frodan. Bring out your Paradise Givers.” I wanted to make Arion think I was letting my anger get the better of me. Around us, a few people leaving the tavern had noticed our encounter. They hung back and watched.
Arion’s tongue snaked out and back in again. He lowered the sword and reached into his pocket and retrieved the Paradise Givers. The two rings were like a pair of evil eyes looking up at me from Arion’s palm. They were identical as far as I could see. I hovered my hand over each in turn, watching Arion’s eyes as I did so. His gaze showed nothing except amusement. It was as if he didn’t care which one I took.
I took the nearest one after a moment, careful not to touch the spike. “How does this work?” I asked.
“One ring contains Paradise’s Kiss, the other contains not even the residue of the poison. We each put on a ring and we clasp arms, such that we are simultaneously piercing each other’s arm. Before we clasp, I will give you the chance to change your mind.”
“Okay.” Is that the trick to it? I wondered. Did he intend to manipulate his reactions to fool me into making the wrong choice about whether to change or not. Was that why he didn’t care which I selected?
I put the ring on my finger and extended my arm. He did the same. Once again, I watched his gaze. Once again I could read absolutely nothing useful there. Moments passed while we stood there frozen, arms almost touching, me staring at him with utmost concentration and a bead of sweat sliding down the center of my forehead, him staring back with unconcealed amusement. How could he be not the remotest bit worried?
I pulled back my arm. “I want to swap,” I said. It was simply to give me more time to think; I had learned nothing.
“As you wish.” He pulled back his arm and took off the ring and offered it to me with the same unconcern. I fumbled slightly as I pulled the ring off my finger. I needed more time. There was a puzzle here and I had only moments to solve it.
I had to assume that it didn’t matter which ring I was wearing. But every time Arion had played this game, his opponent had died of poison and he had not. How? I recalled an outlandish theory presented by one of the newsbards that both rings contained the poison and Arion had developed immunity, but I’d seen the effect of the smallest trace of Paradise’s Kiss and knew that to be impossible.
I pulled off the ring and handed it over. Arion took it and gave me the other. I studied Arion from head to toe, ignoring his face this time, looking for any clue. And there was something strange about his clothes that I only now noticed. Over his tunic he was wearing a shoulder shawl, a covering that came halfway down his forearm and was tied around the neck. It was fashionable among the ascor lately, but I had never known Arion to care about fashion. And it was so hot now that no one in their right mind would wear more than one layer.
Another thought hit me. Arion had fished in his pockets twice for those rings. He was cautious and calculating—would he risk the needle of one of the Paradise Givers grazing his skin if there was poison in it? Then I remembered something else from the newsbards’ stories. Like a puzzle almost solved, the pieces were now tumbling into place. Each time Arion had clasped hands with a victim, he’d initially stumbled, pretending to have been stung by the poisoned ring.
As I reached out my arm once more, I studied the shoulder shawl Arion wore, and quickly focused on two buttons sewed onto each shoulder. I shifted my head to the side, and then I saw it. A small needle emerging from the button on the right shoulder. That was the true Paradise Giver—the only poison was in that, the rings were both empty. Each time Arion had stumbled, pretending to be dying, he’d nudged his victim with his shoulder.
Arion’s right hand was extended, and instead of clasping it I grabbed Arion’s fingers and jerked them upward. “For Frodan,” I whispered. He didn’t have time to resist. The back of his hand hit the button and I let his arm fall back down again. His eyes widened.
I now clasped his arm and felt the sting of the Paradise Giver ring puncture my skin. I didn’t fear it, though. I was confident that I had solved the puzzle and won. I took a long step back, however, for I wasn’t confident that Arion wouldn’t try to take revenge with his sword before the poison took hold.
But Arion didn’t react. He just stood there, showing no fear or anger. His eyes were unfocused. I imagined that he was looking inward, trying to study the effects of the poison within his body. He was fascinated with the poison and with death, and was just now getting a few unrepeatable moments to experience both. I became aware that around us a large crowd had gathered, including at least one newsbard. They were waiting, expectant, and I realized they either hadn’t noticed the fast upward jerk of Arion’s arm or hadn’t figured out its meaning. They were waiting to see which of us would fall.
Arion licked his top lip one last time and slumped to the ground. A gasp arose from the watching crowd, but no one approached. They were probably waiting to see if that was the end of it. Part of Arion’s trick was to pretend to be poisoned, after all.
I went to where Arion lay. He was still breathing shallowly, but wouldn’t be for long. I didn’t feel pity for him, like I did for Vainn. Arion had gotten what he deserved. I slipped the Paradise Giver from his finger and took the shoulder shawl from him and carefully folded it so that the needle didn’t prick me. I wanted to show Frodan and Sorani the tricks of Arion’s ascent and descent on the Path. It would make the story so much better.
I walked away from Arion’s dying body with the crowd of onlookers still wondering if I, too, would yet stumble and fall.