But Hweilan gave him no time to finish. All the rage and fear of the past days-her family massacred; chased by Nar and some monster wearing her uncle's face; captured, having her mind violated by a capricious queen; and this foul creature putting his wet, slavering mouth on her-all the railing against her powerlessness and the injustice of the world… all of Hweilan's terror and rage twisted and tightened into a tight cord, humming and vibrating under the tension.
And then snapped.
She fell on Roakh, the knife rising and falling again and again, sometimes hitting bone and scraping away, tearing more skin and cloth than flesh. But others sinking deep. First into the soft flesh where his neck met his shoulder. The blade sank all the way in, and Roakh's black eyes went wide with shock and his mouth opened in a silent scream. She yanked it out, blood spraying over her, and then brought it down again and again and again, ravaging his neck and face.
She was still stabbing and pulling, stabbing and pulling, stabbing and pulling, long after Roakh stopped moving.
"Hweilan!"
A strong hand caught her wrist.
She shrieked and twisted, lunging after her new attacker.
"Hweilan, enough!" Menduarthis said as Hweilan came down on top of him.
She lay there, panting. The scarf on her head had been ripped off in the fight, blood soaked her hair, and it hung in matted lanks in front of her face. The knife, raised over her head and ready to plunge into Menduarthis's face, was trembling, and a steady drip-drip-drip of blood fell off the blade and pattered onto the floor.
Menduarthis still had bits of the powder on his face, and his lovely blue eyes were shot through with ugly red veins. Still, he gave her a weak smile and said, "I see my knife proved useful."
Hweilan slid off him and onto her knees. She clutched the knife to her chest in both hands, not caring in the least about the gore covering it.
"Lendri's," she said. She held the knife up. "Lendri's knife."
Now that her breath was coming easier and the hammering in her heart was slowing, she heard the horns again. She opened her mouth to ask, What are we going to do? But then her gaze caught the mangled mess that had once been Roakh.
She dropped the knife, fell forward on her hands, and vomited all over the floor.
Menduarthis let her finish, then pulled her gently to her feet and held her against his chest.
"I killed him." He throat and mouth ached from the burning bile.
Menduarthis brushed the bloody hair out of her face and said, "The world is a better place without the little bastard. He can plague the Nine Hells with his chatter now."
She pushed Menduarthis away and retrieved her knife. Considering the bloody wreck of her clothes, it seemed pointless to clean the knife, but she did, kneeling down and wiping away the blood on an old curtain. The sounds of horns still wafted through the air.
"Hweilan, you're bleeding," said Menduarthis. He knelt beside her and gently turned her face aside. "I didn't notice it at first because of the halbdol."
She had completely forgotten about Roakh's bite, but now that Menduarthis had mentioned it, she could feel a throbbing sting along the left side of her throat, just below her jaw line.
"How bad is it?" She gave a sharp intake of breath at his touch.
"Nasty, but it looks like more torn skin than anything. We'll need to clean it. Come. But triple-quick. We must hurry."
He helped her to her feet and through the door. Beyond was an even larger room, a round door on the opposite wall, littered with even more piles of Roakh's possessions. Windowless, the room would have been black as starless midnight if not for one iron lamp hung from the ceiling. What sort of fire or magic lit it, Hweilan had no idea, but it cast sickly blue light throughout the room, casting all the piles and tables as little islands in pools of shadow.
One other object in the room cast its own light-a wide basin, crafted from some precious metal and encrusted with hundreds of jewels. The rim glowed vibrant green, the light rippling off the fluid filling the basin.
"What is that?" said Hweilan.
"Just a washbasin," said Menduarthis, "which you sorely need."
Together, they washed the worst of the gore out of Hweilan's hair. No matter how much blood stained the water, a swirl from Menduarthis's finger, and the water cleared again. Whether this was some trick of the basin itself or one of Menduarthis's spells, Hweilan couldn't bring herself to care. She'd just hacked a person to death. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the shock traveling up her arm as each blow of the blade landed-the instant of resistance as the steel passed through flesh, or the harder strike of glancing off bone. His screams… Hweilan shuddered. No, it was when the screams had stopped and she'd kept hacking away. That had been the worst.
Hweilan's knees trembled, and then her legs gave out, depositing her on the floor. Lendri's knife, which she had completely forgotten she was still holding, clattered to the floor beside her. She would have retched again if anything remained in her stomach.
"Are you hurt?" Menduarthis asked, as he knelt beside her.
"I… I killed him, Menduarthis. I killed Roakh."
"That you did. He is most certainly dead."
Her body was shaking. She hugged herself tight but couldn't make it stop.
"Hey." Menduarthis grabbed both her shoulders and shook her. Not hard, but enough to get her attention. "Now, listen to me. It was him or you. Believe that. True, you did get a bit… carried away. One sloppy mess you made of the old bird. But it was your first time. A little more practice, and you'll be a cold killer."
She looked up at him. He was smiling. Not with his usual sardonic amusement. Something almost like genuine good will.
Her body was still shaking, but she managed to give him a faint grin in return. "It… it wasn't my first time."
His eyebrows shot up. "Really? Well, that sounds like a tale. But at the moment, Hweilan, we've got to survive today. Now let's get out of here. We've lingered too long already."
Menduarthis stood and extended a hand to help her up.
She grabbed his arm and stood. "Where are we going?"
"Those horns are coming from across the river, which means that whoever is attacking either came through the main portal or from that direction, which means that the Ujaiyen, the uldra, the eladrin, the elves, the everyone, they'll be scrambling to hunt down the invaders. That whole area will be thick with fey out for blood. But there are other ways out of here. We avoid being noticed and slip through in the confusion. Everyone will be looking for trouble coming in. Not trouble getting out."
She looked down at her clothes. Despite Menduarthis's efforts, the once-fine cloth was spattered in blood, and she was a solid black mess from her left elbow down. "Avoid being noticed? Look at me."
"Hm. I see your point. Wait here."
Menduarthis returned to the first room and soon returned carrying her father's bow and the red silk scarf he had given her. It was still clean.
"Cover your hair with this. You huddle under that cloak and cowl, nice and snug, and I'll give you a good coating of snow. Carrying the bow, you'll pass a quick look for one of us."
"And a longer look?"
"It's the best we can do under the circumstances."
She pulled her hair back and covered it with the scarf, knotting it in a sort of cap that would both keep her hair out of her eyes and hide the tops of her ears. Looking down to do so, she saw the knife she'd dropped on the floor. Lendri's knife. She picked it up.
She removed all the blood she could from Lendri's blade, but much of it had soaked into the leather wrapped around the hilt. Looking at the knife, looking at Lendri's knife, it came to her then. Even if they could make it out of Kunin Gatar's realm, she had nowhere to go. The most she could hope for among the Damarans was a life in hiding and the security of wedding some minor lord. A hunted woman with no lands, no riches, no dowry, she'd be lucky to bed some minor duke's man-at-arms. A friendly tribe of Nar? She'd do little better there. If Lendri was to be believed, the Vil Adanrath were gone…