The Broken Kingdoms

13 “Exploitation” (wax sculpture)

It all comes down to blood. Yours, mine. All of it.

No one knows how it was discovered that godsblood is an intoxicant for mortals. The godlings knew it already when they came; it had been common knowledge before the Interdiction. I suppose someone, somewhere, simply decided to try it one day. Likewise, gods have drunk mortal blood. Only a few of them, thankfully, seem to like the taste.

But some god, somewhere, eventually decided to try a demon’s blood. And then the great paradox was revealed: that immortality and mortality do not mix.

How the heavens must have shaken at that first death! Until then, godlings had feared only each other and the wrath of the Three, while the Three feared no one. Suddenly it must have seemed to the gods that there was danger everywhere. Every poisonous drop, in every mortal vein, of every half-breed child.

There was only one way—one terrible way—that the gods’ fears could be assuaged.

Yet the murdered demons had their vengeance. After the slaughter, the harmony that had once been unshakable between gods and godlings, immortals and mortals, was shattered. Those humans who’d lost demon friends and loved ones turned against humans who had aided the gods; tribes and nations fell apart under the strain. The godlings regarded their parents with new fear, aware now of what could happen should they ever become a threat.

And the Three? How much did it hurt them, horrify them, when the deed was done and the battle haze faded and they found themselves surrounded by the corpses of their sons and daughters?

Here’s what I believe.

The Gods’ War took place thousands of years after the demon holocaust. But for beings who live forever, would not the memory still be fresh? How much did the former event contribute to the latter? Would the war have even happened if Nahadoth and Itempas and Enefa had not already tainted their love for one another with sorrow and distrust?

I wonder. We all should wonder.

I stopped caring. The Lights, my captivity, Madding, Shiny. None of it mattered. Time passed.

They brought me back to my room and tied me to the bed, leaving one arm free. As an added measure, they went through the room and removed everything I might use to harm myself: the candles, the sheets, other things. There were voices, touches. Pain when something was done to my arm again. More of my blood-poison, drip, drip, dripping into a bowl. Long periods of silence. Somewhere amid this I felt the urge to urinate, and did so. The attendant who arrived next cursed like a Wesha beggar when he smelled it. He left, and presently women came. I was diapered.

I lay where they put me, in the darkness that is the world without magic.

Time passed. Sometimes I slept, sometimes I didn’t. They took more of my blood. Sometimes I recognized the voices that spoke around me.

Hado, for example: “Shouldn’t we at least allow her to recover from the shock first?”

Serymn: “Bonebenders and herbalists have been consulted. This won’t do her any lasting harm.”

Hado: “How convenient. Now the Nypri need no longer weaken himself to achieve our goals.”

Serymn: “See that she eats, Hado, and keep your opinions to yourself.”

I was fed. Hands put food into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed out of habit. I grew thirsty, so I drank when water was held to my mouth. Much of it spilled down my shirt. The shirt dried. Time passed.

Now and again, women returned to bathe me with sponges. Erad returned, and after some consultation with Hado, she put something into my arm that remained there, a constant niggling pain. When they came to take my blood the next time, it went faster, because all they had to do was uncap a thin metal tube.

If I could have mustered the will to speak, I would have said, Don’t cap it. Let it all run out. But I didn’t, and they didn’t.

Time passed.

Then they brought Shiny back.

I heard men huffing and grunting with effort. Hado was with them. “Gods, he’s heavy. We should’ve waited until he was alive again.”

Something knocked over one of the chairs with a loud wooden clatter. “Together,” said someone, and with a final collective grunt, they heaved something onto the other cot in the room.

Hado again, close by, sounding winded and annoyed. “Well, Lady Oree, it looks like you’ll have company again soon.”

“Much good it’ll do her,” said one of the other men. They laughed. Hado shushed him.

I stopped listening to them. Eventually they left. There was more silence for a time. Then, for the first time in a long while, light glimmered at the edge of my vision.

I did not turn to look at it. From the same direction, there was a sudden gasp of breath, then others, steadying after a moment. The cot creaked. Went still. Creaked again, louder, as its occupant sat up. There was more silence for a long while. I was grateful for it.

Eventually I heard someone rise and come toward me.

“You killed him.”

Another familiar voice. When I heard it, something in me changed, for the first time in forever. I remembered something. The voice had spoken softly, tonelessly, but what I remembered was a shout filled with more emotion than I’d ever heard a human voice bear. Denial. Fury. Grief.

Ah, yes. He had screamed for his son that day.

What day?

It didn’t matter.

Weight bore down the side of the cot as Shiny sat beside me. “I know this emptiness,” he said. “When I understood what I had done…”

The room had grown cool with the sunset. I thought of blankets, though I stopped short of wishing for one.

A hand touched my face. It was warm and smelled of skin, old blood, and distant sunlight.

“I fought, when he came for me,” he said. “It is my nature. But I would have let him win. I wanted him to win. When he failed, I was angry. I… hurt him.” The hand trembled, once. “Yet it was my own weakness that I truly despised.”

It didn’t matter.

The hand shifted, covering my mouth. I was breathing through my nose, anyway; it was no hardship.

“I’m going to kill you, Oree,” he said.

I should have felt fear, but there was nothing.

“No demon can be permitted to live. But beyond that…” His thumb stroked my cheek once. It was oddly soothing. “To kill what you love… I know this pain. You have been clever. Brave. Worthy, for a mortal.”

Deep in the murk of my heart, something stirred.

His hand slid up, covering my nose. “I would not have you suffer.”

I did not care about his words, but breathing mattered. I turned my head to one side, or tried to. His hand tightened steadily, almost gently, holding my face still.

I tried to open my mouth. Had to think of the word. “Shiny.” But it was muffled by his hand, unintelligible.

I lifted my left arm, the one that was free. It hurt. The area around the metal thing was terribly sore, and hot, too, with the beginnings of infection. There was a moment of resistance, and then the metal thing tore loose, sending a flash of white pain through me. Startled out of apathy, I bucked upward, reflexively catching Shiny’s wrist with my hand. Blood, hot and slick, coated the inner bend of my elbow and ran down my arm.

I froze for an instant as awareness flooded through me, the instant the apathy lifted. Madding is dead.

Madding was dead, and I was alive.

Madding was dead and now Shiny, his father, who had cried out in anguish while my blood-arrow worked its evil, was trying to kill me.

First had come awareness. On its heels came rage.

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.

I fell asleep again before Shiny could resurrect and tell me what the Lights had done to him.

Later. Still night, but deeper into it.

I opened my eyes as brightness flared against them. I glanced over to see Shiny. He lay on the cot, curled on his side, still shimmering from his return to life.

I tried moving and found that I had more energy. My arm was still very sore, and thickly bandaged now, but I could move it. The straps were back in place and cinched tight across my chest and hips and legs, but the other wrist’s cuff had been left loose. I easily slipped my hand free.

Shiny’s doing? Then he had agreed to my bargain.

I unbuckled myself and sat up slowly, cautiously. There was an instant of dizziness and nausea, but it passed before I could fall on my face. I sat where I was on the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths, becoming reacquainted with my body. Feet. Shaky legs. Diaper around my hips, thankfully clean. Slouched back. Sore neck. I lifted my head and it did not spin. With great care, I got to my feet.

The three steps from my cot to Shiny’s exhausted me. I sat down on the floor beside the cot, leaning my head on his legs. He didn’t stir, but his breath tickled my fingers when I examined his face. His brow was furrowed, even in sleep. There were new lines on his face, around his sunken eyes. Not dead, but something had taken its toll on him. He usually woke as soon as he came back to life. Very strange.

As I took my hand away, it brushed against the cloth of his smock. Cooled wetness startled me. I touched, explored, and realized there was a wide patch of half-dried blood all down the lower half of his torso. Pulling up his shirt, I explored his belly. No wound now, but there had been a terrible one before.

He stirred while I was touching him, his glow fading rapidly. I saw him open his eyes and frown at me. Then he sighed and sat up beside me. We sat together, quiet, for a while.

“I have an idea,” I said. “To escape. Tell me if you think it will work.” I told him, and he listened.

“No,” he said.

I smiled. “No, it won’t work? Or no, you’d rather kill me on purpose than by accident?”

He stood up abruptly and walked away from me. I could see only a hazy outline of him as he went to the windows and stood there. His hands were clenched into fists, his shoulders high and tense.

“No,” he said. “I doubt it will work. But even if it does…” A shudder passed through him, and then I understood.

My anger roiled again, though I laughed. “Oh, I see. I’d forgotten that day in the park. When you started this whole mess by attacking Previt Rimarn.” I clenched my fists on my thighs, ignoring the twinge from the injured arm. “I remember the look on your face as you did it. That whole time I was in danger, scared out of my mind for you, but you were enjoying the chance to wield a bit of your old power.”

He did not reply, but I was certain. I had seen his smile that day.

“It must be so hard for you, Shiny. Getting to be your old self again for so brief a time. Then it diminishes until there’s nothing left of you but… this.” I gestured toward his fading back, letting my disgust show. I didn’t care what he thought of me anymore. I certainly didn’t think much of him. “Bad enough you get a taste of it every morning, isn’t it? Maybe it would be easier if you didn’t have that little reminder of all you used to be.”

He held rigid for a moment, his sullenness racheting toward anger in the usual pattern. Always predictable, he was. So satisfying.

And then, all at once, his shoulders slumped. “Yes,” he said.

I blinked, thrown. That made me angrier. So I said, “You’re a coward. You’re afraid that it will work, but afterward it’ll be like the last time—you’ll be weaker than ever, unable even to defend yourself. Useless.”

Again that inexplicable yielding. “Yes,” he whispered.

I ground my teeth in thwarted rage. It gave me momentary strength to rise and glare at his back. I did not want his capitulation. I wanted… I did not know. But not this.

“Look at me!” I snarled.

He turned. “Madding,” he said softly.

“What about him?”

He said nothing. I made a fist, welcoming the flash of pain as my nails cut my palm. “What, damn you?”

Infuriating silence.

If I’d had the strength, I would’ve thrown something. As it was, I had only words, so I made them count. “Let’s talk about Madding, then, why don’t we? Madding, your son, who died on the floor, killed by mortals who then ripped out his heart and ate it. Madding, who still loved you in spite of everything—”

“Be silent,” he snapped.

“Or what, Bright Lord? Will you try to kill me again?” I laughed so hard that it winded me, and I had to gasp out the next words. “Do you think… I care… if I die anymore?” At that I had to stop. I sat down heavily, trying not to cry and hoping for the dizziness to pass. Thankfully, but slowly, it did.

“Useless,” Shiny said. It was so soft, nearly a whisper, that I barely heard it over my own panting. “Yes. I tried to summon the power. I fought for him, and not myself. But the magic would not come.”

I frowned, the back of my anger breaking. I felt nothing in its wake. We sat for a long while as the silence stretched on, and the last of his glow faded to nothingness.

Finally I sighed and lay back on Shiny’s cot, my eyes closed. “Madding wasn’t mortal,” I said. “That’s why your power didn’t work for him.”

“Yes,” he said. He had control of himself again, his tone emotionless, his diction clipped. “I understand that now. Your plan is still a foolish risk.”

“Maybe so,” I breathed, drifting toward sleep. “But it’s not like you can stop me, so you might as well help.”

He came to the bed and stood over me for so long that I did fall asleep. He could’ve killed me then. Smother me, hit me, strangle me with his bare hands; he had a whole menu of options.

Instead he picked me up. The movement woke me, though only halfway. I floated in his arms, dreamlike. It felt like it took much longer for him to carry me to my cot than it should have. He was very warm.

He laid me down and strapped me back in, leaving the wrist cuff loose so that I could free myself.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

I roused at the sound of his voice. “No. They might start taking my blood again. We should go now.”

“You need to be stronger.” Unspoken, the fact that I would be unable to count on his strength. “And my power won’t come at night. Not even to protect you.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid. “Right.”

“Afternoon would be best. The sun will be unobstructed by the Tree then; that may provide some small advantage. I’ll do what I can to convince them not to take more of your blood before that.”

I reached up to touch his face, then trailed my hand down to his shirt and the stiff spot there. “You died again tonight.”

“I have died many times in recent days. Dateh is most fascinated by my ability to resurrect.”

I frowned. “What…” But, no, I could imagine all too easily what Dateh had done to him. Searching my hazy memories of the days since Madding’s death, I realized this was not the first time Shiny had returned to the room dead, dying, or covered in gore. No wonder there had been no reaction from our captors when I’d blown a hole in him myself.

There were so many things I wanted to think about. So many questions unanswered. How had I killed Shiny? I had had no paint that time, not even charcoal. Were Paitya and the others still alive? (Madding, my Madding. No, not him, I could not think about him.) If my plan succeeded, I would try to get to Nemmer, the goddess of stealth. She would help us.

I would see Madding’s killers stopped if it was the last thing I did.

“Wake me in the afternoon, then,” I said, and closed my eyes.