Blood and fat dripped on the fire, sending the flames higher and making the cave alarmingly bright, but after only two minutes Polyi announced, “My arm’s getting tired.”
“Mine too,” Savn admitted. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
“Well, what should we do?”
They moved away from the fire and set the slightly warmed norska down on the floor of the cave. Savn glanced at Vlad, and observed that the Easterner was awake, and watching him intently.
“Why don’t you see if you can find something,” said Savn.
“Me?” said Polyi.
“You,” said Savn.
She started to argue, then scowled and got up. “Take a torch with you,” he said. She didn’t answer.
Savn turned to Vlad and said, “They brought you some dinner; we’re trying to figure out how to cook it.”
He nodded. “Pour wine over it,” he said. “My flask—”
“All right,” said Savn, and continued, “You said some funny things while you were feverish.”
Vlad’s eyes narrowed. The torchlight illuminated the side of his face nearest Savn, and the shadow of his forehead made his eyes seem very dark. “Tell me,” he said. His voice was forceful, in spite of its weakness.
“You used the word ‘Morganti’ several times.”
“Did I? I’m not surprised.” He paused to collect his strength. “You know what it means?”
“Yes. It’s a weapon that kills, not only the body, but—”
“Yes. Well, that’s probably what they’ll use on me if they catch me.”
“Who?”
Vlad didn’t answer for a moment, and Savn thought he had fallen asleep again, because his eyes were closed. Then he opened them and said, “The people who are after me.”
“That isn’t what His Lordship’s men used.”
“No,” said Vlad, frowning, “it isn’t.” He screwed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them again. He stared straight ahead, looking puzzled, then shook his head as if dismissing a line of thought. “What else did I say?”
“Lots of stuff. Most of it I couldn’t understand. And there were names and things.”
“And?”
“And you said, ‘I won’t kill for you anymore.’”
“Oh.” Vlad seemed to consider this. “Anything else?”
“Just before you fell asleep, you said you were going to kill His Lordship.”
“Did I? I must have been very tired.”
“To think it?” said Savn. “Or to say it?” Savn waited, but Vlad made no answer to this. Savn said, “Why do you hate him so much, anyway?”
Vlad’s widened nostrils flared. When he spoke, his voice was almost normal. “He’s a necromancer. He works with souls. When he needs one, he takes it, and does what he will. Do you understand what I’m saying? Does that mean anything to you? Would you like it if your life was snuffed out one day, with no warning, and for no crime, just because someone needed your soul, the way you might need a yard of cloth? What sort of person does that, Savn?”
Then he fell back, and he seemed to fall asleep at once.
A few minutes later Polyi returned. “I’ve found a couple of stones that might work,” she said. “But you’re going to have to help me roll them in.”
“All right,” said Savn.
“Did he wake up?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you anything?”
“Yes. He really is going to kill His Lordship.”
The smell of cooking norska filled the cave, and Vlad still slept as Savn and Polyi continued their discussion. “I still say we should tell someone,” said Polyi.
Savn shook his head. “Even if no one will believe us?”
“Even so.”
The jhereg watched them, seemingly fascinated. Savn doubted they could understand the conversation, and hoped he was right.
“And even if His Lordship isn’t in any danger?”
“How can you know that?”
“No one can kill him, because he hides his soul in a magic box.”
“Well, we should still—”
“And even if they kill Vlad, if they find him?”
“He might be lying about that, you know,” said Polyi.
“I don’t think he is,” said Savn.
Polyi started to speak, looked at the sleeping Easterner, and shut her mouth. Savn turned the spit once more. Fat dripped; the fire blazed up, then died down again. Savn’s mouth was beginning to water and his stomach was growling.
“How long?” asked Polyi, who was evidently feeling the same way.
“I don’t know. How do you tell when it’s done?”
“Well, it’s brown on the outside. Pae always cuts it open, though.”
“Yeah, but what does he look for?”
“I guess if it looks like it’s ready.”
Savn scowled and found Vlad’s dagger, and cut open the norska. Some of the flesh was white, but some of it seemed translucent. “Well?” he said.
“I don’t know what norska should look like,” said Polyi. “I’ve never eaten any.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s done. Let’s let it cook some more.”
“I’m hungry,” said Polyi.
“Me, too.”
She stared at the fire and the roasting norska, and said, “Why does he hate His Lordship so much?”
“I don’t know, exactly. But he thinks His Lordship killed Reins, and—”
“He couldn’t have!” said Polyi.
“Why not?” said Savn.
“Well, because, he just couldn’t have.”
“I don’t know. But Vlad thinks so, and I guess he liked Reins or something.”
“Liked him? Were they, you know, lovers?”
“I don’t know.”
“They must have been,” said Polyi. “I mean, you don’t go killing somebody just because he killed someone you like, do you? If people did that, we’d have killed every soldier in the army by now.”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s the same thing.”
“Why not?”
“Because ... I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”
“I’ll bet they were lovers.”
“So now you think maybe His Lordship really did kill him?”
“Well, no, I’m not saying that.”
“Then what?”
“Well, just that maybe Vlad thinks so.”
“He seemed pretty sure.”
“So? He’s an Easterner; maybe they’re always like that.”
“Maybe,” said Savn, and fell silent.
This was, he realized, what anyone would call an adventure, and it felt like it. Yes, in a way it was terrifying, but it also had an odd, storylike quality to it—it wasn’t quite real.
Savn had never seen people killed before his eyes, and yet here was this Easterner talking very seriously of killing His Lordship. None of it had a sense of being his own memories; it was as if these were things he heard of in a song. The cave was real, and the feeling that he had embarked on something that he’d be able to tell stories about for the rest of his life; but the death and danger were off in the distance, not actually present, like when he had been standing outside of his house.
He kept coming back to that experience, he decided, because it puzzled and intrigued him, and because it seemed to mark a starting point. It had seemed, at the time, to be the beginning of something, but he hadn’t expected it to be the beginning of a time when he would be going through one thing after another that seemed unreal. In retrospect, though, it made a certain kind of sense.
He looked at Polyi. Was it real for her? She was wearing a frown of great concentration. He hoped that whatever her thoughts, they were not carrying her into a place she’d have trouble coming back from, because that would be truly, truly sad. For that matter, how was it going to affect him when it was over? Would he have nightmares for the rest of his life? Would he and Polyi wake up screaming for no reason that they could explain? He shuddered.
He caught Polyi glancing at him speculatively, and it occurred to him that she had seen him with the Easterner, and heard him agreeing that something that she might—no, would see as a great crime—was reasonable. He thought about trying to explain things to her, but realized that he really had no explanation; he was going to have to wait until she brought it up herself, if she ever did.