forth much strength to keep you alive, making it harder to retain his grip on all three of us. We must damage him more severely still.”
“What are you suggesting?” she gestured slowly. “That one of us should die?”
“Yes.”
Her fingers stilled for a long time after that.
They continued to walk daughterwards into the lowering sun, talking desultorily as they went, spirits seemingly broken. It was so difficult thinking of innocent thoughts with the code embedded within, while at the same time trying to talk of other things and even on occasion rail at each other and their fate. Duon felt as though his mind had fragmented, one part listening for the voice, another trying to work out what was intended for them—nothing good, he could be sure of that—and still another engaging in the wordplay of their code. He would not have believed he was capable of such mental acrobatics.
“Why does this concern him?” Arathé signalled, flicking a finger towards Conal. “He won’t volunteer. He is more likely to give us away.”
“Because we need all the strength we can get,” Duon replied. “And Conal is strong.”
“Stubborn.”
“Yes.”
“I volunteer,” Arathé signalled firmly.
“Of course you do. So do I. So this must be decided by chance. Once we have explained things to Conal we will draw lots.”
Duon subsided into silence while Arathé worked at establishing contact with the priest. For the better part of an hour he seemed unresponsive. Duon gritted his teeth and hoped the young woman would not press too hard. It would take only one mistake and the voice would—would what? There was nothing he could do, short of burning out their minds, save pinning their hands to their sides. Even if he realised they had employed a code, he would not be able to understand it, at least not in time.
Understand what? The voice turned up just when least wanted.
Understand what you want with us, Duon extemporised. A chill ran down his back. Had the voice seen through their ruse? If you are so powerful, why do you need us?
Warm bodies, Captain. There are things I need to do, people I need to kill or at least delay, and you three are my weapons. Get used to thinking of your body as a killing device. I’m considering making you sharpen your nails and file your teeth. And we need to find blades for you and the little swan. Don’t dissemble: I know you’re both adept. A shame the fisherman got away. His sword would have been perfect in her hands.
Who are you? He’d asked that question so many times.
The knowledge can do me no harm now, the voice said. I am halfway to becoming a god. You may call me Husk, the broken man, one who has endured a lifetime of pain and is now emerging to bring justice and recompense to the world. And you, my brave captain, are to be my hands—for now, until my elevation is complete. Then I will find some end for you as inglorious and bitter as I can conceive, to repay you for the way you’ve struggled against me.
He would not beg, would not show any emotion at the threatened fate awaiting him. You have been drawing lots of power from the three of us, Duon thought, making careful signals as he shaped the words in his mind. How far short are you of making the godhood stick?
The clever Bhrudwan girl understood him, as he knew she would. She brushed past a bush and snapped off a few sticks, ostensibly using them to clean her nails, but in doing so discarded all but three and shortened one of them. Around them the light began to fade; soon the three of them would effectively be struck dumb by the darkness.
I do not rely on you for my power, the voice—Husk—said with contempt. My strength comes from elsewhere. In a matter of only a few weeks the world will bow before me.
A few weeks? Duon could not wait one more night. Even now Conal could be blurting their plans to Husk, earning them a burned mind. He was prepared to die—would welcome death—but he wanted a chance to take their enemy down with him. He was sure Arathé felt the same way.
You need to strike now then, before the world goes dark with the reign of the Son and the Daughter. Fingers shaped the relevant words. You may only get this one chance.
You are right, Husk replied, and I’m touched at your concern for my