Outlaw, page 31
Snow tapped the jenja against the railing. Bright cinders at first, and then drifting ash. “The Laughing God made me an offer, and I took it.”
“The Laughing God, not Tsabrak?”
“The Laughing God before Tsabrak. Though it still holds, yeah?”
Veiko’s ribs felt too tight. His throat did. “What did he offer?”
“Alliance. Loyalty. Power.” She flipped her hand, sent the jenja smoke into mad curls. “I am the God’s right hand, Veiko. That means I lead the cartels. Ari answers to me.”
Not a surprise. And still: a man should not be able to breathe with his whole chest solid and frozen. A man should not be able to say, so calmly, “And are you godsworn now?”
“No. One step from it. I wouldn’t give him that. The old God, I mean. He didn’t ask. There’s an intimacy in that I don’t think he wanted.”
The relief was short-lived. One breath, and the pain came back, knives all through his chest. “But Tsabrak has asked.”
“He says he can stop Istel from dying. Mend the flesh. Is that even possible?”
“I do not know. Illhari gods are not like other spirits.” And reluctantly, “It is the Illhari way, to become godsworn.”
“And I’m Illhari now, is that it? Not noidghe?”
“That is what you have told me.”
Her gaze flinched away. She folded the burning jenja into her fist, the one with the godmark. Smoked leaked out between her fingers. “If it was just me, and Istel’s life in the balance, I’d do it. We need the Laughing God to stop Tal’Shik. Godsworn brings a new level of power, yeah? For both of us. And Tsabrak knows I want Istel alive. But I need you, Veiko, more than I need either of them. So I’m asking. What should I do?”
The Laughing God had been an enemy, he and Snow had agreed on that. But this new God was also Tsabrak, and perhaps that had changed. Veiko had never figured out where Tsabrak ranked in Snow’s affections.
Lover. Betrayer. Leader and ally. They had years of association, of shared history. So much more complex than partner and a mere few months.
And she was asking him for advice. Oh ancestors. He could advise her to deny the bargain. Istel would die, but all men did that. At least she would be free of the God, of Tsabrak, as much as she could be free of someone with whom she had shared the balance of her life. But that freedom would not last. Tal’Shik would not simply leave them alone.
A man could say, from his heart, tell him no. But a partner owed honesty.
It felt like an axe in his chest, and it was nothing so simple, or harmless, as metal against bone. “If he can truly save Istel, then you should take the bargain. We need all our friends now. And we need the Laughing God, with as much power as you can wring from him. You were right. We need what he is, against what she is, if we are to have any hope of winning.”
Sharp look, oh ancestors, a man could bleed to death from it. “We now, is it? This is your fight?”
He met that midnight stare. Held it. “If it is yours, it is mine.”
Snowdenaelikk stretched her hand over the railing. Opened the godmarked palm. Ashes where the jenja had been, and blisters raised on her skin. The ashes drifted off her palm in little swirls and gusts, a response to a breeze Veiko could not feel.
“Thank you.”
There was nothing a man could say to that that would not shame them both. So he touched her instead: his hand around hers, carefully, in case she objected. She did not. Laced her fingers through his and squeezed, hard. And then she let him go, which was relief and distress both. But she did not turn round and go back inside at once. Stayed beside him, her shoulder just touching his, so that her warmth seeped through sleeve and skin.
Acknowledgments
I thought—foolishly—that writing the second book in a series would be easier than the first one. Ha. For hashing out plot possibilities and reading many drafts, thanks to Tan and Colleen. For sharp eyes and smart critiques (and for selling the story!), thanks to Lisa. For top-notch editing, thanks to Caitlin (sorry for all the S names). For escorting this book into the world, thanks to Adrienne and the rest of the excellent folks at 47North.
And thanks to Loren for all the rest.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
K. Eason is a lecturer at the University of California, Irvine, where she and her composition students tackle important topics such as the zombie apocalypse, the humanity of cyborgs, and whether or not Beowulf is a brave man. Other publications include the Thorne Chronicles duology and the first book of the Weep series, Nightwatch on the Hinterlands. She has had short fiction published in Cabinet-des-Fées, Jabberwocky 4, Crossed Genres, and Kaleidotrope. When she’s not teaching or writing, Eason can be found knitting, drinking coffee, or gaming. Sometimes all at the same time.
ALSO BY K. EASON
On the Bones of Gods
Enemy
Outlaw
Ally
The Thorne Chronicles
How Rory Thorne Destroyed the Multiverse
How the Multiverse Got Its Revenge
The Weep
Nightwatch on the Hinterlands
Nightwatch Over Windscar
*available as a Jabberwocky ebook
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K. Eason, Outlaw
