Powerlessness, reeling miles of it. Theyd been caught and carriedeastward first, beating their wings to get control of themselves, and then the lull. Brief and far too still, it had given them just time to gasp before the full force came on again and sent them reeling again, westward now, back to Caliphis and beyond, where it finally released them. Such force! It had felt as though the ether itself had dragged a deep breath and expelled it. The phenomena had to be linked, Melliel thought. The Wind, the bruised sky, the gathering of the stormhunters? None of it was natural or right.
Eidolons expression of mild loveliness went flat, no shimmer in her eyes now. That was not wind, she said.
Then what was it? Melliel asked, hoping this unexpected candor would persist.
Stealing , she said, and seemed poised to withdraw. Forgive me. Was there anything else?
Yes, said Melliel. I want to know what will be done with us.
With a viper-quick turn of her head, Eidolon made Melliel flinch. Are you so eager to have something done with you?
Melliel blinked. I only want to know
It is not decided. We get so few strangers here. The children should like to see you, I think. Blue eyes.
Such a wonder. She said it with admiration, staring right at Yav, the youngest of the company, who was very fair. He blushed to his blond roots. Eidolon turned back to Melliel with a contemplative look. On the other hand, Wraith has requested that you be given to the novices. For practice.
Practice? At what? Melliel wouldnt ask; since coming into contact with these people, she had seen such things as hinted at magic unimaginable. Those arts were long lost in the Empire, and filled her with horror. But Eidolons eyes were merry. Was she joking? Melliel was not consoled. So few strangers , the Stelian had said. Melliel asked, Where are the others?
Others?
Not at all sure she wanted to press, Melliel replied, Yes, and tried to sound stalwart. It was her mission, after all, to find out. Her team had been dispatched to trace the emperors vanished emissaries. Jorams declaration of war on the Stelians had been answeredwith the basket of fruitso it had clearly been received, but the ambassadors had never returned, and several troop detachments had likewise gone missing in the quest for the Far Isles. In their days here, Melliel and her team had seen or heard no hint of other prisoners. The emperors messengers, she said. They didnt come back.
Are you sure of that? asked the girl. Sweetly. Too sweetly, like honey that masks the gall of poison. And then, with deliberation, her eyes never leaving Melliels, she knelt to take a fruit from the basket by the door. It was one of the pink orbs the Misbegotten couldnt abide. Fruit they might have been, but the things were essentially meaty sacks of red juice, off-puttingly mouth-filling, and warm .
The girl took a bite, and in that instant, Melliel would have sworn that her teeth were points. It was like a veil yanked askew, and behind it, Eidolon of the dancing eyes was a savage. Her delicacy was gone; she was nasty . The fruit burst and she tipped back her head, sucking and licking, to catch the thick juice in her mouth. The column of her throat was exposed as red overspilled her lips, streaking down, viscous and opaque, to the white cascade of her dress, where it bloomed like flowers of blood, nothing but blood, and still she sucked at the fruit. The soldiers recoiled from her, and when Eidolon lowered her head again to stare at Melliel, her face was smeared with hungry red.
Like a predator, Melliel thought, raising its head from a hot carcass.
You brought us your flesh and blood along with your animus, said Eidolon with her dripping mouth, and it was impossible now even to recall the graceful girl she had seemed but a moment ago. What did you mean by coming here, if not to give yourselves to us? Did you think we would keep you just as you are, blue eyes and black hands and all? She held up the skin of the sucked-empty fruit and dropped it. It hit the tile floor with a slap.
She couldnt mean No. Not the fruit. Melliel had seen things, yes, but her mind would not admit that possibility. Simply no. It was a hideous joke. Her disgust emboldened her. It was never our animus, she said. We dont have the luxury of choosing our own enemies. We are soldiers. Soldiers , she said, but she thought: slaves .
Soldiers, said Eidolon with scorn. Yes. Soldiers and children do as theyre told. A curl of her lip, surveying the lot of them, and she said, Children grow out of it, but soldiers just die. Just. Die. Each word a jab, and then the door flew open untouched and she was on the other side of it without having moved, standing in the corridor. She had done this before: made time seem to stutter and strobe, steps lost along the way like seconds sliced out and swallowed.
Swallowed like that clotting red juice that wasnt blood, that couldnt be blood.
Melliel forced herself to say, So were to die?
The queen will decide what is to be done with you.