The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms - By N. K. Jemisin Page 0,42

go into the dead spaces underneath, but no bodies are ever found.

I know now that this is true. But more important

I know where the lost ones have gone.

* * *

Please tell me about my mother, I said to Viraine.

He looked up from the contraption he was working on. It looked like a spidery mass of jointed metal and leather; I had no inkling of its purpose. Tvril told me he sent you to her room last night, he said, shifting on his stool to face me. His expression was thoughtful. What is it youre looking for?

I made note: Tvril was not entirely trustworthy. But that did not surprise me; Tvril doubtless had his own battles to fight. The truth.

You dont believe Dekarta?

Would you?

He chuckled. You have no reason to believe me, either.

I have no reason to believe anyone in this whole reeking Amn warren. But since I cannot leave, I have no choice but to crawl through the muck.

Oh, my. You almost sound like her. To my surprise he seemed pleased by my rudeness. Indeed, he began smiling, though with an air of condescension. Too crude, though. Too straightforward. Kinneths insults were so subtle that you wouldnt realize shed called you dirt until hours afterward.

My mother never insulted anyone unless she had good reason. What did you say to provoke her?

He paused for only a heartbeat, but I noted with satisfaction that his smile faded.

What do you want to know? he asked.

Why did Dekarta have my mother killed?

The only person who could answer that question is Dekarta. Do you plan to talk to him?

Eventually, I would. But two could play the game of answering a question with a question. Why did she come here, that last night? The night Dekarta finally realized she wasnt coming back?

I had expected the surprise in Viraines face. What I had not expected was the cold fury that followed swiftly on its heels.

Who have you been talking to? The servants? Sieh?

Sometimes the truth can throw an opponent off-balance. Nahadoth.

He flinched, and then his eyes narrowed. I see. Hell kill you, you know. Thats his favorite pastime, to toy with any Arameri foolish enough to try and tame him.

Scimina

has no intention of taming him. The more monstrous he becomes, the happier she is. He spread the last fool who fell in love with him all over the centeryard, I hear.

I remembered Nahadoths lips on my throat and fought to suppress a shudder, only half-succeeding. Death as a consequence of lying with a god wasnt something I had considered, but it did not surprise me. A mortal mans strength had limits. He spent himself and slept. He could be a good lover, but even his best skills were only guessworkfor every caress that sent a womans head into the clouds, he might try ten that brought her back to earth.

Nahadoth would bring me into the clouds and keep me there. He would drag me further, into the cold airless dark that was his true domain. And if I suffocated there, if my flesh burst or my mind broke well. Viraine was right; Id have only myself to blame.

I gave Viraine a rueful smile, letting him see my very real fear. Yes, Nahadoth probably will kill meif you Arameri dont beat him to it. If that troubles you, you could always help me by answering my questions.

Viraine fell silent for a long moment, his thoughts unfathomable behind the mask of his face. Finally he surprised me again, rising from his workbench and going to one of the enormous windows. From this one we could see the whole of the city and the mountains beyond.

I cant say I remember the night well, he said. It was twenty years ago. I had only just come to Sky then, newly posted by the Scriveners College.

Please tell me all you can recall, I said.

* * *

Scriveners learn several mortal tongues as children, before they begin learning the gods language. This helps them understand the flexibility of language and of the mind itself, for there are many concepts that exist in some languages that cannot even be approximated in others. This is how the gods tongue works; it allows the conceptualization of the impossible. And this is why the best scriveners can never be trusted.

* * *

It was raining that night. I remember because rain doesnt often touch Sky; the heaviest clouds usually drop below us. But Kinneth got soaked just between her carriage and the entrance. There was a trail of water