The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms - By N. K. Jemisin Page 0,91

her, because she tsked at me. Youre keeping secrets, Cousin. And I mean to have them. Viraine!

Viraine sighed and faced Nahadoth. An odd look, almost pensive, passed over his face. This would not have been my choice, he said softly.

Nahadoths eyes flicked to him and lingered for a moment; there was a hint of surprise in his expression. You must do as your lord requires. Not Dekarta. Itempas.

This is not his doing, Viraine said, scowling. Then he seemed to recall himself, throwing Scimina one last glare and shaking his head. Fine, then.

He reached into a pocket of his cloak and went to crouch beside Nahadoth, setting on his thigh a small square of paper on which had been drawn a spidery, liquid gods sigil. SomehowI refused to think deeply about howI knew a line was missing from it. Then Viraine took out a brush with a capped tip.

I felt queasy. I stepped forward, lifting a bloodied hand to protestand then stopped as my eyes met Nahadoths. His face was impassive, the glance lazy and disinterested, but my mouth went dry anyhow. He knew what was coming better than I did. He knew I could stop it. But the only way I could do that was to risk revealing the secret of Enefas soul.

Yet the alternative

Scimina, observing this exchange, laughedand then, to my revulsion, she came over to take me by the shoulder. I commend you on your taste, Cousin. He is magnificent, isnt he? I have often wondered if there was some way but, of course, there isnt.

She watched as Viraine set the square of paper on the floor beside Nahadoth, in one of the few spots unmarred by Siehs blood. Viraine then uncapped the brush, hunched over the square, and very carefully drew a single line.

Light blazed down from the ceiling, as if someone had opened a colossal window at high noon. There was no opening in the ceiling, though; this was the power of the gods, who could defy the physical laws of the human realm and create something out of nothing. After the relative dimness of Skys soft pale walls, this was too bright. I raised a hand in front of my watering eyes, hearing murmurs of discomfort from our remaining audience.

Nahadoth knelt at the lights center, his shadow stark amid the chains and blood. I had never seen his shadow before. At first the light seemed to do him no harmbut that was when I realized what had changed. I hadnt seen his shadow before. The living nimbus that surrounded him ordinarily did not allow it, constantly twisting and lashing and overlapping itself. It was not his nature to contrast his surroundings; he blended in. But now the nimbus had become just long black hair, draping over his back. Just a voluminous cloak cascading over his shoulders. His whole body was still.

And then Nahadoth uttered a soft sound, not quite a groan, and the hair and cloak began to boil.

Watch closely, murmured Scimina in my ear. She had moved behind me, leaning against my shoulder like a dear companion. I could hear the relish in her voice. See what your gods are made of.

Knowing she was there kept my face still. I did not react as the surface of Nahadoths back bubbled and ran like hot tar, wisps of black curling into the air around him and evaporating with a rattling hiss. Nahadoth slowly slumped forward, pressed down as if the light crushed him beneath unseen weight. His hands landed in Siehs blood and I saw that they, too, boiled, the unnaturally white skin rippling and spinning away in pale, fungoid tendrils. (Distantly, I heard one of the onlookers retch.) I could not see his face beneath the curtain of sagging, melting hairbut did I want to? He had no true form. I knew that everything I had seen of him was just a shell. But dearest Father, I had liked that shell and thought it beautiful. I could not bear to see the ruin of it now.

Then something white showed through his shoulder. At first I thought it was bone, and my own gorge rose. But it was not bone; it was skin. Pale like Tvrils, though devoid of spots, shifting now as it pushed up through the melting black.

And then I saw

* * *

And did not see.

A shining form (that my mind would not see) stood over a shapeless black mass (that my mind could not see) and plunged hands into the mass again