The Unfinished Song - Book 6: Blood (32 page)

Maybe you missed the part where he tortured me, Kavio.

You need him.

Maybe you missed the part where he blames me for everything, even crimes I had no part of, and is determined to make me pay.

You need him.

Maybe you missed the part where he promised to torture me to death by the end of the day.

Tell him the truth.

As if that would work. People would rather believe a lie that reaffirms their beliefs than a truth that challenges them.

You need him
.

Shut up, Kavio.

You need him.

I got it already! I’ll do it!

But Finn didn’t come back.

The blindmutes had never touched him on their own before, but now they tightened the straps binding him spread eagle to the loom frame.

They lowered him back over the fire.

“No! I’m not ready! You can’t do this without Finn! I need to talk to him! Please, I’m ready to talk to him!”

They notched the frame all the way down to the second notch. Slow roasting. Are the blindmutes acting without Finnadro’s orders? Or has Finn left them instructions? Only recently, Umbral would have done anything to kill Finn. Now he was desperate to bring him back.

Even the blindmutes left. He was alone with the fire, with the skulls, with the echoes of every person’s pain who had ever died in this hell.

The heat intensified. He heard screaming, and he recognized his voice.

He threw every remaining pinch of will into the leash.

Please, Finn! Please, don’t leave me here alone. Come back. Come back to me. I need you. Save me….

Finnadro left Umbral and went to rinse his hands at the cistern.

He scrubbed until the skin was angry and raw.

He only had one more day, but he wasn’t sure he could last. He hated having six Chromas—who
wanted
that? He had never asked for this power. He hated seeing into Umbral’s devious mind. It meant losing oneself in a maze of black ice, freezing cold, full of dead ends and false turns, traps within traps. He doubted even Umbral himself knew what dwelled at the heart of that labyrinth.

Finnadro couldn’t feel his connection to the
Green Lady anymore.

All he could feel was
him
.

The leash was getting stronger. Before, it had faded when Finnadro left the Blood House, and he’d had to reestablish it when he returned. Not this time. Distance had not attenuated the leash.

Xerpen found him by the cistern.

“We don’t have much time left, Finnadro.”

“I know, Uncle.”

“Can you do this?”

“Yes, Uncle, I won’t let you down. I just need…air…”

“I understand. My slaves will soften him up. He’ll be ready when you go back. He’s going to break soon. I sense it
.
”

Everything outside the Blood House felt less real. Finnadro wasn’t sure if the conversation really happened, or if he only rehearsed it in his mind. Xerpen had been good and loyal to him, against all reason. Finnadro could not let him down.

The leash was still icy. If Umbral was close to breaking, Finnadro tasted no hint of it. Just emptiness and a dead girl’s name.

Then the burning began again. The blindmutes had put Umbral back over the flames.

Finn didn’t suffer the way he had before. He was learning to use the leash like a proper torturer. He could observe the writhing pain of his victim without feeling a damn thing. The sobbing and begging only moved him to contempt.

Please, Finn!
Umbral wept.

Pathetic.

Please, don’t leave me here alone.

What a baby.

Come back. Come back to me. I need you. Save me….

Too late, Umbral.

I’ll give you everything.

I don’t believe you
.

I’ll show you the truth.

Fine—tell me the name of the Traitor.

Anything but that.

I thought so.

But I’ll show you why! I’ve never told anyone about my attempt to kill her, or how she overpowered me.

Another trap
.

You’ll finally understand the truth.

All through this conversation, Finnadro was aware of a sound, growing louder and more ragged. Screaming. Umbral screaming in pain. It wasn’t through the leash. The Blood House was close enough to the yard where Finnadro took refuge that he could hear the physical sound.

Finnadro dipped his bowl back in the cistern, but it was empty.

Amdra agreed to let Tamio take his friends back to her lodge and escorted the companions as far as the door. She shook her head at him, lips pursed, but said nothing before she turned heel and departed.

Hadi and Gwenika helped Tamio into one of the beds and tucked wool blankets around him. Dindi sat down on the bed next to Tamio’s. Kemla was so angry with Dindi, that, for the time being, she’d forgotten to be angry with Tamio.

“What was
that
, Dindi? Is there no end to your stupidity?” Kemla demanded.

There are no good answers to remarks concerning one’s stupidity, especially when one has, in fact, done something stupid. Dindi had apparently learned this lesson as well as Tamio.

“You must let me fight for you,” Hadi said.

“Or me,” said Tamio.

“You’re injured,” said Hadi.

“Even injured, I’d stand a better chance than you, Hadi.”

Hadi flushed, but Tamio had to be blunt. Hadi wasn’t a fighter, and everyone knew it except Hadi. He would get his fool self killed.

“No one will fight for me,” said Dindi, firmly.

“When do you have to fight?”

“Soon, I suspect,” she said. “Amdra said Ram’s Right duels might take place before sunset.”

“You’re going to die!” wailed Hadi.

“He’s right,” said Kemla. “You’re going to die.”

“Ah, friends, maybe that’s not the best way to boost her morale,” said Tamio, even though he agreed, that, obviously, Dindi was going to die.

“What would you have us do, Tamio?” sneered Kemla. “Tell jokes?”

“I can fight for her,” Tamio insisted. “It’s my duty. We
are
betrothed.”

They ignored him. He had to admit his offer would have been more convincing if he weren’t lying down on his back, bleeding through his stitches.

Dindi leaped up from the cot. “Kemla, what a brilliant plan!”

“What? What did I say?”

“I need to prepare for my duel.” Dindi grinned at them. “And I know just who can help me.”

She skipped to the door, where she whispered something to the guards. Whatever she told them, they must have agreed, for two of them escorted her away.

“Oh mercy, fear has made her mad.” Kemla shook her head for pity. Then she glared at Tamio. “This is all
your
fault.”

“
My
fault?”

“Why did you not have Vumo claim her?”

“I could barely convince him to claim you!”

“I can fend for myself, Tamio of Broken Basket. Dindi can’t. And you know that.” Her eyes narrowed even further. “If you’re in love with her, you should have looked out for her better than that.”

Tamio wanted to protest that he was not in love with Dindi. But Hadi, trusting, loyal Hadi, who had helped him while he lay on his back as helpless as a trapped boar, sat there watching him with his heart in his eyes. Tamio couldn’t bring himself to admit how poorly he had used his friend’s kinswoman.

“If only I had my strength!” Tamio said and broke off into a string of curses under his breath.

“I thought the betrothal was broken,” Gwenika said slowly. “Dindi seemed to think it was ended.”

Muck and mercy,
she
was here too. Tamio had almost allowed himself to forget
that
whole mess.

“I’m sure Dindi didn’t mean to break the betrothal,” said Hadi. “She and Tamio had a lover’s quarrel, but I’m sure they will forgive each other…”

Tamio knew he should say something, but he looked away. Kemla snorted.

Gwenika flushed red, glancing from Tamio to Kemla. The longer the silence stretched, the deeper scarlet her cheeks heated. She’d always been a high-strung filly, Tamio thought, but what was she twisting her legwals about now?

“And did that quarrel concern Kemla?” Gwenika burst.

“Don’t involve me in this!”

“You’re a little involved, don’t you think!” Gwenika pointed at Kemla’s belly.

“Tamio doesn’t know.”

“Will you tell him or shall I?”

“It’s none of your concern, Gwenika!”

“As a Yellow Tavaedi, keeper of the secrets of midwifery, it
is
my concern. As Dindi’s friend, it’s also my concern if she is still betrothed to a man sowing his seeds in another woman’s fields!”

Kemla leaped across the room and leaned close to Gwenika, face to face, in intimate threat. “Your only involvement will be to give me the herbs I need to end this thing here and now! Before the parasite swells any larger!”

Gwenika smacked Kemla in the arm with her herb basket. “That’s as much help as you’ll get from me! Do you think I don’t know the rumors you spread about me back in Yellow Bear? You, and girls like you, made it impossible for me to stay—just as you made our year of Initiation impossible for Dindi! Now let’s see how you like your own medicine.” She smirked. “Unless you think you can convince Tamio to marry you so everyone won’t speak of your open legs…”

Kemla made to slap Gwenika, but the Healer was surprisingly quick, quick enough to dodge the blow. Kemla advanced on her and landed a kick in her abdomen, which knocked Gwenika to the ground. Gwenika pinched something from her basket and tossed the powder in Kemla’s face. Kemla howled and backed off, coughing and sneezing. Her eyes watered.

Hadi whispered to Tamio. “Shouldn’t we stop them?”

“You she-wolf!” Kemla cursed Gwenika.

“A fine way you have of begging for my help!” Gwenika said.

“I would never beg anyone, for help or anything else!” Kemla wiped her tearing eyes.

“Kemla,” Tamio said. He tried to sound stern instead of terrified. “I want to hear it from you. What is going on? What are you and Gwenika arguing about?”

Kemla had tears streaming down her cheeks. Tamio knew it was from the chili powder Gwenika had thrown in her eyes, not from sadness, yet the sight still unnerved him. He’d never seen Kemla cry. She was never weak like other girls. He could always count on her to fight her way out of any grief. The thought that she might encounter something she could not fight daunted him.

“Kemla?” he prodded.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. The problem will be gone soon.”

“Kemla…”

“Tamio.” She rested her hand on her belly. For a brief flash, her expression softened. “Fa, Tamio, you melon-head!”

The Plaza of Eagles, where the Sacrifice of Ewes had taken place, would also host the Ram’s Right duels, but it had been redecorated. Now it was covered with a strange lattice of bomas and ladders. Like giant wooden warriors, these vertical and horizontal stick towers wore headdresses and fans made from immense feathers. The feathers were the same type as those used in the pavilion of the War Chief, plucked from the wings of Raptors. They were as long as the arm of a man. Some were as tall as a child.

After the Sacrifice of Ewes, most of the tribesfolk had enjoyed a feast for middle meal. Now they gathered again, eager to witness the duels between slaves and champions. The champions stood on one side of the arena, and the slaves waited, on their knees, lined up on the other. Guards paced behind them, occasionally prodding the slaves with spears, for no other reason than mean-spirited amusement. Dindi had not eaten, but it was just as well. Food would not have found a home in her stomach, which was tight as a stone. By decree of the War Chief, Dindi’s duel was to be the last. This gave her plenty of time to observe the fate of the slaves who fought before her.

It was not encouraging.

The champions chosen by the War Chief were almost all Tavaedies or Zavaedies, trained since birth in magic and combat. A few, like Hawk, were Raptors. Their opponents were either Weavers or Drovers, trained since birth to labor for and grovel to the higher caste. The champions were not allowed to use magic, or shift their shape, during the combat, but that hardly handicapped them. They still danced gymnastically upon the aerial maze of sticks, comfortable with the heights, at ease on the spindly ladders thirty paces above the ground. The lower caste men were not adept at jumping from stick tower to stick tower, and a few fell to their deaths before their opponents even engaged them. The crowd booed such men with special disappointment, as these losers deprived the mob of the spectacle of glorious defeat, and so these letdowns, even if they survived their falls, were slain at once by their contemptuous opponents.