She felt the heat of it scorch up her legs.
The pain was intense. She was suffocating in smoke. Her lungs were bursting, yet the shrill sounds deafening her were her own screams. She was hurled back into the far past, the crucible of all she had become. She was engulfed by the flaring red light in the darkness, the noise of walls collapsing, crashing stone on stone, the roar of flames, everywhere terror, confusion, throat and chest seared in the heat.
Helena was there, flinging water at her, shouting something, her voice high-pitched with panic, but Zoe was beyond thought. She was a tiny child clinging to her mother's hand, running, falling, dragged up and on, stumbling over the broken walls, bodies slashed and burned, blood on the pavement. She could smell the stench of human flesh on fire.
She fell again, bruised, aching. She climbed to her feet, and her mother was gone. Then she saw her; one of the crusaders had yanked her mother up off the ground and thrown her against a wall. He slashed at her robe and her tunic with his sword, then leaned against her, jerking violently. Zoe knew now what he had been doing. She could feel it as if it were her own body violated. When he finished, he had cut her mother's throat and let her slide, gushing blood onto the stones.
Zoe's father found them both, too late. Zoe was sitting on the ground as motionless as if she too were dead.
Everything after that was pain and loss. They were always in unfamiliar places, aching with hunger and the terrible emptiness of being dispossessed, and a horror inside her head that Zoe could never lose. And after horror came the hate. Prick her anywhere, and she bled rage.
Helena was close to her, wrapping her in something. The light of flames was gone, but the burning was still there, agonizing. Zoe's legs and thighs were throbbing with pain. She could make out words: Helena's voice, sharp and strained with fear.
"You're safe! You're safe! Thomais has gone for a physician. There's a good one just moved here, good for burns, for skin. You'll be all right."
Zoe wanted to swear at her, curse her for the stupid, vicious thing she had done, wreak a revenge on her that would be so terrible, she would want to die to escape it; but her throat was too tight and she could not speak. The pain robbed her of breath.
Zoe lost all awareness of time. The past was there again, over and over, her mother's face, her mother's bleeding body, the smell of burning. Then at last someone else was there, talking to her, a woman's voice. She was unwrapping the cloths Helena had put around the burns. It hurt appallingly. It felt as if her skin were still on fire. She bit her lips till she tasted blood, to stop herself from screaming. Damn Helena! Damn her, damn her, damn her!
The woman was touching her again, with something cold. The burning eased. She opened her eyes and saw the woman's face. Except it was not a woman, it was a eunuch. He had soft, hairless skin and his features were womanish, but there was a strength in them, and his gestures, the certainty with which he moved his hands, were masculine.
"It hurts, but it's not deep," he told her calmly. "Treat it properly and it'll heal. I'll give you ointment which will take the heat out of it."
It was not the pain now that troubled Zoe but the thought of scarring. She was terrified of disfigurement. She made a gasping sound, but her mouth would not form the words. Her back arched as she struggled.
"Do something!" Helena shouted at the physician. "She's in pain!"
The eunuch did not turn to Helena but looked steadily at Zoe's eyes, as if trying to read the terror in her. His own eyes were a curious gray. He was good-looking, in an effeminate way. Good bones, nice teeth. Pity they hadn't left him whole. Zoe tried to speak again. If she could make some sensible contact with him, she might drive away the panic that was welling up inside her.
"Do something, you fool!" Helena snarled at the eunuch. "Can't you see she's in agony? What are you just kneeling there for? Don't you know anything?"
The eunuch continued to ignore her. He seemed to be studying Zoe's face.
"Get out!" Helena ordered. "We'll get someone else."
"Bring me a goblet of light wine with two spoonfuls