Farideh drew a deep breath. “We need to meet Tam at the South Gate. But we can’t leave without Mehen and Brin. We have to go back to the hospital. Are you up for it?”
No-all Havilar wanted was to curl up in a ball in a hole on an island where no one was and wait for things to settle. Cowardly thoughts, and she was not the cowardly one. She was not going to leave Mehen behind, and she was not going to let Farideh be the one to save Brin. She would just have to get all of her panicking done before anything got bad. She could do that. Probably.
“I want my glaive,” she said, letting go of her sister’s arm. “And we need to walk a little slow. At first. My legs are stiff.”
Farideh glanced around the square. “I’d offer the donkey, but it’s wandered off.”
“Probably something ate it,” Havilar said morosely.
“Good. Then it’s not hungry for us.” She squeezed Havilar’s hand and pulled the rod from her own sleeve. “Let’s go.”
They wound their way toward the main road, still hand in hand, Havilar still shaking. Farideh was pretending not to notice-Havilar was sure. Gods, if she just had a weapon in her hands.
A weapon didn’t help you before, dummy, she thought.
The lights were few and far between in this part of the city, and the ruined roads were perilous. When they stepped out of the dark into the light of a pair of magical streetlights set over a recently cleared crossroads, it felt like a miracle. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, enough to make the approaching sound of arguing voices clear. Farideh stopped and pulled Havilar behind a piece of broken wall. “Hush.”
“It’s clear,” one voice said. “Are you going to do this at every crossroads?”
Havilar straightened. “Brin?” She crept forward to peer around the wall. Silhouetted in the lights she saw two shapes, two men-one of them short and slim enough to pass for much younger.
“Brin!” she cried. Havilar ran, dragging Farideh with her for a few feet before their hands broke apart.
“Havi!” Farideh shouted, but Havilar didn’t care what she was worried about. It was Brin, looking up at her shout; Brin, she threw her arms around; Brin she nearly bowled over. He hugged her back tightly with one arm. When she pulled away, she nearly wept at the sight.
“Gods, you’re here. You’re safe. And you brought my glaive.” She hugged him again. This, she thought, is all right. This is normal. This is good.
“Why are you bloody?” Brin asked.
“She’s had a rough night,” Farideh said. Havilar glanced back and saw her staring intently at the other man-a fellow taller than them both, with dark blond hair that curled to his collar, and very black eyes that were watching Farideh like she might lash out with her sword at any moment.
He smiled-and something in Havilar’s memories turned over.
“Lorcan,” Farideh said.
The man smiled-and Farideh never thought that smile could be frightened, but somehow on a human face it was. Her scar started to prickle.
“Lorcan,” she said.
“Well met, darling,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“No.”
“Farideh-”
“No.” Farideh pushed Havilar and Brin behind her and yanked the amulet out from her under her robes, pointing it at Lorcan.
He took a step back. “What is that?”
Farideh thought back to Tam’s words. “A beggar’s miracle. Vennela.”
The amulet made no light or sound, but suddenly Lorcan was screaming as his skin flared red, wings sprouted from his back and horns from his brow, and the blackness of his eyes spread from lid to lid. He fell to his knees.
Brin grabbed her shoulder. “Gods, stop it!”
Stronger than her rage, guilt slammed into her chest like a physical thing-the sound of Lorcan’s scream was so like Havilar’s when the arrows hit, so like Farideh’s own chasing after it. Animal, fearful, pained-whatever the amulet did it was hurting him. Tam hadn’t mentioned that.
The change finished and Lorcan’s screams collapsed into painful gasps for air. He looked up through his disheveled hair at Farideh. “You went over to that priest!”
What he meant to do, she didn’t know. As quickly as he was moving at her, the amulet’s power reacted and a silvery burst of magic exploded over his outstretched hand before he could touch her. Lorcan cried out again, clutching his burned hand to his chest.
“Keep back,” she said, pointing the rod at him. “If you test its limits again, I’ll make sure they don’t matter.”
“Give me that amulet.”
Farideh narrowed her eyes. “Try and take it.”
He moved forward again and this time she let loose a bolt of fire. It shouldn’t have hurt him-she knew he, like she, didn’t burn easily. She wanted to startle him, to slow him down. But the blaze that burst from the rod was hotter, brighter than expected. It struck his upraised arms and broke into cinders, but it singed his armor nonetheless and forced him back several steps.
“I am trying to help!” he roared. “You are a little fool if you-”
“I don’t need your help anymore,” she interrupted. “Go.”
“Damn it!” Lorcan snapped. “I’m not losing you to Sairche and I’m not losing you to the shitting moon goddess. Give me the amulet and stop playing around.”
Something in her cracked.
“You cannot lose me because I’m not your pet!” she shouted, hurling a bolt with each curse. “I’m not your bauble! I’m not your prize!” Lorcan dodged and ducked, but as he covered his face, the last bolt hit his arms and threw him backward. Farideh stormed toward him, her fury plain in the miasmic shadows that swirled around her. She shoved the tip of the rod under his chin, her hands shaking with rage and the powers of the Hells roiling through her.
“I’m not a fool. You don’t tell me what to do,” she said. “And don’t you lay a hand on me.”
Lorcan stared up at her, still short of breath and more stunned than enraged. Wounded, she thought. Betrayed.
To the Hells with him and his betrayal.
“This rod is more than you said,” she said. “Isn’t it?”
He swallowed. “Yes.”
“Tell me what it does.” He hesitated, and she jabbed the point against his throat. “Tell me what it does or I will gladly blow your karshoji head into the ground.”
A smile flickered at his mouth. “I don’t know why you ever worried about me corrupting you. My virtuous warlock, a cold-blooded killer for the moon goddess’s pleasure.” At least you’ve an audience to appreciate your transformation. His eyes darted over her shoulder, and Farideh glanced back to where Havilar and Brin stood, watching her with wide, frightened eyes. She pursed her lips and turned back to Lorcan, still lying on the ground.
“Leave them out of this,” she said. “Tell me what it does.”
“Or what?”
Or what, indeed. This close and she might burn away the soft part of his throat, right in front of her eyes. The blowback would scar her knuckles and maybe worse. He knew she wouldn’t. He wasn’t afraid of her.
“I think the Ashmadai would leave me be if I gave you to them,” she said. “I’ll bet Rohini would too, if what you said is true.”
His mouth went small. “Don’t. Don’t even play with that one.”
“Tell me what it does.”
“Farideh, she’ll kill you. She won’t care if you’re mine or not any longer.”
“Better than being your oblivious plaything,” she said. “That isn’t how we’re doing things any longer. If it’s because we’re both dead, well, that wasn’t my plan either. So it’s your choice.”
Lorcan watched her. Wounded, she thought again. Defeated.
Fine. He could feel trapped and terrified for a bit too.
He wet his lips. “That is the Rod of the Traitor’s Reprisal,” he said. “It enhances your casting and … amplifies some of your spells. The fiery ones in particular, it seems. But only if you are defending yourself against someone bound to the same fiend.” Was it her imagination, or could Lorcan no longer meet her eyes? “I gave it to you to protect you from the orc in case he went after you.”