Sir Owalan scooped the cup up and drank it down, without so much as a bob of his throat, as Adalbrand’s strangled “No!” was still slicing through the air.
Everything felt like it was moving too slowly. I turned slowly, my feet feeling like they were encased in earth though my eyes were registering everything at once.
The room was brighter. The wall must have spun enough that the entranceway was finally facing the ocean. It poured bright white light across the room, throwing the statues looming over us into stark relief. The one that caught my eye looked like Sir Coriand, and in this light, it looked as though he were holding his own head in place with one hand while he laughed at us.
Here, in the shadow of the stairs, it was still dark, but not too dark to grasp what had happened.
Sir Owalan slowly lowered the cup, a dribble of something faintly dark running from the corner of his mouth. His eyes had taken on an inhuman orange glow. My gaze crossed Adalbrand’s just long enough to register his horror — and the red glow behind his eyes — and then they moved farther, to behind Owalan, where Sir Sorken had a hand raised. His face was outraged, eyes locked on the cup Adalbrand had drunk and discarded. Suture was picking that cup up from where it fell. Cleft’s mighty stone hand was raised like a hammer.
When the next three things happened, I was still moving too slowly to do anything but watch.
Sir Owalan turned to the side and spewed out what he’d just drunk in a streaming arc. Suture, faster than any human could move, caught it in the cup, and then Brindle streaked past me, faster still, and tore out Sir Owalan’s throat.
They hit the ground in a wet slap as time caught up, the dog still wrenching and ripping, Owalan’s life gone before he hit the ground.
No more demons, Brindle said in my mind, and I thought that maybe I should scream, but the scream didn’t come, as if horror had stolen the ability from me.
And then, like water flooding back into a puddle after a rock has been thrown into it, sound returned.
“The cup, Cleft!” Sorken yelled. “Drink the cup!”
Suture handed the cup to Cleft. The other golem froze, confused, possibly, or … if golems had any will of their own … reluctant.
I did not have time to watch their tableau because Adalbrand’s hand found my jaw and turned me to look at him.
“Victoriana.” Adalbrand’s voice was heavy, his eyelashes thick on his closed lids. “It is time. Please.”
He lurched back toward the fountain, hands braced on the edge of it and face just an inch over the water.
“Put your hand between my shoulders.”
I sheathed my sword and placed a hand between his shoulder blades as he leaned out over the fountain.
“I … I … I …” My words were stuttering, the image of Sir Owalan with his throat ripped out still too clear in my mind.
“Please. Victoriana. Most faithful of paladins. Please.” Adalbrand’s words sounded more like a prayer to a Saint than a plea for death.
So, here we were. At the end of the world, or at least the end of our world. The end of my world.
He turned enough to open his eyes to me, to let me look into the agony and roiling evil behind them. His knuckles were white on the edge of the fountain, his face a rictus. He had taken evil into himself, swallowed it down, and now he truly was poisoned. The most poisoned of Poisoned Saints.
His eyes pled for me to end it as he’d asked, to plunge him beneath the water and to free us all from the consequences.
I blocked out the sound of Sir Sorken similarly pleading with his golem and focused only on Adalbrand.
“You must do this,” he said through gritted teeth.
“You’re missing one,” I said stupidly. “We can’t do it with one missing.”
He shook his head. “Owalan drank. It can’t be drunk twice. His demon leapt to me. And now you must do your duty.”
My stupid eyes were watering, making my vision fuzzy.
“Must I?” Not the words I was planning.
His arm reached around, snaking up to grab my other wrist and place it roughly on the crown of his head as if I were blessing him, or baptizing him … or about to drown him.
His lips shook as he uttered the familiar prayer.
