predicament, and what they were about to do.
“Yes,” said Gregor grimly. “The bit where you murder me.”
25
Sancia stared at the darts clutched in her hand, their points small and dark and gleaming with dried venom. She tried to ignore how she trembled, how her hands quaked, how her very heart seemed to flutter…
“It will work, yes?” Gregor asked her. He grunted as Berenice tied the bonds around his legs tight, securing him to the chair. “I have heard of fishermen dying from the sting of the dolorspina…”
“It’ll work,” said Sancia hoarsely. “I…I remember being told not to stick someone twice, because then…”
She trailed off, unable to articulate the thought.
“Because then they might not wake up,” said Gregor. “Yes. I see.”
Orso and Berenice finished with his legs, and then his hands. Gregor—ever the seaman—had actually tied these knots for them, and given them instructions on how to ensure they were secure. “How many will it take?” he asked as he tested the bonds on his wrists behind his back.
“I don’t know,” said Sancia. Everything felt terribly numb to her. “But…these are a little old. Been a while since I did any thieving.”
Gregor nodded, his face solemn and serious, as if he were debating an expensive purchase. “But will it be enough?”
“I have six here, so…” Again, she trailed off.
“It will be more than enough,” said Berenice gently.
“Good,” said Gregor.
“It’s…It’s a good way to go,” said Orso. “It’s the way I’d like to go, if I had to choose.”
“God…” Sancia shook her head. “How mad this all is. How insane it is to just be casually plotting a death. I…I don’t understand how you can be so calm about this, Gregor.”
“It’s not that mad,” said Gregor. “When I was a soldier, we frequently discussed burial plans and messages home and final wishes. Do none of you ever consider it? Ever? For the sun shall set on all our lives at some point, of course—unless you’d prefer a life like Crasedes’s.” Then he added darkly, “Or mine. I…I almost feel I…”
“Feel what?” said Sancia.
He shook his head.
“Never mind. Let us do it and get it done.”
“The critical thing,” said Valeria, “is not to interfere with the scriving, and not to break the connection to Gregor. You will feel an echo not of a dull object that has been weakly convinced to do something unusual—you will feel an echo of what it is like to have your reality abruptly and suddenly changed. To have your experience of time itself altered. I do not comprehend the nature of that experience. But I expect it will be…unusual. Do not break away.”
“Scrumming hell,” sighed Sancia, shivering. She approached Gregor and took Berenice by the hand. “Okay. Ber—our connection is stronger when we touch. So I’ll hold your hand with my right, and touch his forehead with my left. Which means…”
“Oh God,” she said. “I’ll have to be the one who…who does the bit with the darts, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?” said Orso. “Perhaps I’d be the better choice…”
“No,” said Gregor. “Orso—you take a dart of your own and stand clear. When I’m activated, I’ll…I’ll need you to stick me and put me back down, if you can.” He looked at Berenice. “But that does mean this duty will stay with you, Berenice.”
She shut her eyes. “I never thought I’d ever have to do such a thing…But I suppose that goes for all of us.”
“I’ll be all right,” said Gregor. “Just do it, please.”
Berenice picked up a dart, then paused and looked Gregor in the eye. Then she took a breath and stabbed him in the thigh with one of the darts.
He didn’t flinch. Then his eyelids grew woozy and he began blinking very hard. “Oof,” he said.
“Feeling it?” said Sancia.
“Yes,” he said. “But—you’re right. These aren’t as potent as the ones you used before. I was…I was barely conscious within a second when you pricked me that time…It will take