“Wouldn’t dream of it,” replied Nick. “You know, this sounds stupid, but I feel much better here than I have for weeks. Never would have thought a swamp could be a tonic. I haven’t even fainted today.”
“You did once,” said Lirael. “When we first took you from the tent.”
“Did I?” asked Nick. “How embarrassing. I seem to be fainting a lot. Fortunately it tends to be when Hedge is there to catch me.”
“Can you tell when you’re about to faint?” asked Lirael. She hadn’t forgotten the Dog’s warning about how long the fragment would be subdued, and she was fairly certain she could not quell it again by herself.
“Usually,” said Nick. “I get nauseous first and my eyesight goes peculiar – everything goes red. And something happens to my sense of smell, so I get the sensation of something burning, like an electric motor fusing. But I do feel much better now. Perhaps the fever’s broken.”
“It isn’t a fever,” Lirael said wearily. “Though I hope it is better, for both our sakes. Sit still now – I’m going to paddle us out a bit further. We’ll stay in the reeds, but I want to see what’s happening on the lake. And please keep quiet.”
“Sure,” said Nick. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
Lirael almost apologised, but she held it back. She did feel sorry for Nick. It wasn’t his fault he had been chosen by an ancient spirit of evil to be its avatar. She even felt sort of maternal to him. He needed to be tucked in bed and fed willow-bark tea. That thought led to the idle speculation of what he might look like if he were well. He could be quite handsome, Lirael thought, and then instantly banished the notion. He might be an unwitting enemy, but he was still an enemy.
The reed boat was light, but even so it was hard work paddling with just her hands. Particularly since she also had to keep an eye on Nicholas in case of trouble. But he seemed content to lie back on the high prow of the reed boat. Lirael did catch him looking at her surreptitiously, but he didn’t try to escape or call out.
After about twenty minutes of difficult paddling, the reeds began to thin out, the red water paled into pink, and Lirael could see the muddy lake bottom. The sun was well and truly up, so Lirael chanced pushing the boat to the very fringe of the reed marsh so she could look out on the lake but keep hidden.
They were still covered overhead because of the way the reeds leant into one another. Even so, Lirael was relieved to discover that she couldn’t sense any Gore Crows about. Probably because there was a strong current beyond the reedy shores, combined with the bright sun of morning.
Though there were no Gore Crows in sight, there was something moving out on the surface of the lake. For a second Lirael’s heart lifted as she thought it might be Sam, or a force of Guards. Then she realised what it was, just as Nick spoke.
“Look – my barges!” he called, sitting up and waving. “Hedge must have got the other one – and loaded already!”
“Quiet!” hissed Lirael, reaching out to drag him down.
He offered no resistance but suddenly frowned and clutched his chest. “I think... I think I was counting my chickens before—”
“Fight it!” interrupted Lirael urgently. “Nick – you have to fight it!”
“I’ll try—” Nick began, but he didn’t finish his sentence, his head falling back with a dull, reedy thud. His eyes showed white, and Lirael saw a thin tendril of smoke begin to trickle from his nose and mouth.
She slapped him hard across the face.
“Fight it! You’re Nicholas Sayre! Tell me who you are!”
Nick’s eyes rolled back, though smoke still trickled from his nose.
“I’m... I’m Nicholas John Andrew Sayre,” he whispered. “I’m Nicholas... Nicholas...”
“Yes!” urged Lirael. She put her sword down by her side and took his hands, shuddering as she felt the Free Magic coursing in the blood under his cold skin. “Tell me more about yourself, Nicholas John Andrew Sayre! Where were you born?”
“I was born at Amberne, my family home,” whispered Nick. His voice grew stronger and the smoke receded. “In the billiard room. No, that’s a joke. Mother would kill me for that. I was born all proper for a Sayre, doctor and midwives in attendance. Two midwives, no less, and the society doctor...”
Nick closed his eyes, and Lirael gripped his hands tighter.
“Tell me... anything!” she demanded.
“The specific gravity of orbilite suspended in quicksilver is... I don’t know what it is... The snow in Korrovia is confined to the southern Alps, and the major passes are Kriskadt, Jorstschi and Korbuk... The average blue-tailed plover lays twenty-six eggs in the course of its fifty-four-year lifespan... More than a hundred thousand Southerlings landed illegally in the last year... The chocolate tree is an invention of—”
He stopped suddenly, took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Lirael kept holding his hands for a moment, but when she saw no sign of smoke or strangeness in his gaze, she dropped them and took up her sword again, resting the blade across her thighs.
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” said Nick. His voice was unsteady. He looked down at the bottom of the boat, hiding his face, taking very controlled breaths.
“Yes,” said Lirael. “But Sameth and I, and the... our friends... will do the best we can to save you.”
“But you don’t think you can,” said Nicholas softly. “This... thing... inside me. What is it?”
“I don’t know,” replied Lirael. “But it is part of some great and ancient evil, and you are helping it to be free. To wreak destruction.”
Nick nodded slowly. Then he looked up and met Lirael’s gaze.
“It’s been like a dream,” he said simply. “Most of the time I don’t really know whether I’m awake or not. I can’t remember things from one minute to the next. I can’t think of anything except the hemi—”
He stopped talking. Fear flashed in his eyes and he reached out for Lirael. She took his left hand but kept hold of her sword. If the thing inside him took over and wouldn’t let her go, she knew she would have to cut her way free.
“It’s OK, it’s OK, it’s OK,” Nick repeated to himself, rocking backwards and forwards as he spoke. “I’ve got it under control. Tell me what I have to do.”
“Keep fighting,” Lirael instructed, but she didn’t know what else to tell him. “If we can’t keep you, then when the time comes, you must do whatever you can to stop... to stop it. Promise me you will!”
“I promise,” groaned Nick through clenched teeth. “Word of a Sayre. I’ll stop it! I will! Talk to me, please, Lirael. I have to think about something else. Tell me... tell me... where were you born?”
“In the Clayr’s Glacier,” said Lirael nervously. Nick’s grip was tightening, and she didn’t like it. “In the Birthing Rooms of the Infirmary. Though some Clayr have their babies in their own rooms, most of us... them... have their children in the Birthing Rooms because everyone’s there and it’s more communal and fun.”
“Your parents,” gasped Nick. He shuddered and started to speak very quickly. “Tell me about them. Nothing to tell about mine. Father’s a bad politician, though enthusiastic with it. His older brother is the success. Mother goes to parties and drinks too much. How is it you are Sameth’s aunt? I don’t understand how you could be Touchstone’s or Sabriel’s sister. I’ve met them. Much older than you. Ancient. Must be forty, if a day... Speak to me, please, speak to me—”
“I’m Sabriel’s sister,” said Lirael, though the words felt strange on her tongue. “Sabriel’s sister. But not by the same mother. Her... my father was... um... with my mother only for a little while, before he died. I didn’t even know who he was till quite recently. My mother... my mother went away when I was five. So I didn’t know my father was the Abhorsen— Oh no!”