Page 121 of A Trade of Blood

And Trikao stopped.

He paused, then turned slowly, peering at me over his shoulder. Then he watched, amazed, as I took another step, my whole body trembling and quaking with pain.

“Hum!” said Trikao. “So. You move.” He took a step forward, squinting at me. “And you see.”

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth hurt, and then I slowly, slowly reached down and gripped my sword. I clicked it back and forth within its locking scabbard, sluggishly pushing it through its tumbler.

Trikao ambled forward like a curious passerby watching a street juggler. “I did wonder if it would affect you,” he said softly. “Those of your ilk have very different heads atop your shoulders.”

My lips trembled as I tried to speak:Down. Down. Halt and get down.Yet all I could manage was a trickle of saliva between my teeth.

“Do you have enough will to tell me where this evidence of hers is?” Trikao whispered. His eyes were like ice within his lined face. “Or—be true. Is there any evidence at all?”

My sword was unlocked. I began to draw it, but the movement was so slow, so horribly slow…

Trikao gazed upward in thought, his beard trembling as his mouth worked. “I came here with peaceful intent—only to take, no more. But you I now must kill, as you have seen me. And her I must kill to ensure she never comes so close again.”

I finally pulled the tip of my green blade free. I began to turn it, to assume a fighting stance.

Trikao gripped his short sword and raised it close to my neck. “It will be a hard thing to see Fotia grieve. But perhaps being queen of all our spreads shall be enough to appease her broken hear—”

Then Trikao dropped the sword, shrieked madly, and crumpled to the ground.

The change was so abrupt that I could hardly understand it. I watched as he thrashed in agony on the floor before me, rolling over and over and beating his arms and legs against the floor, his mouth foaming and his trousers suddenly dark with urine.

His helm rolled away, and as it did I saw a flash of his ear: stoppered up with green wax. But of course. He was infected himself. How else could he have conditioned his victims, and still resisted the lure of the song?

Then I lookedup.

Ana stood in the hall just behind him, blindfolded as always—and holding a lypi lance in her hands. The tips of the tiny fangs were dark with blood.

“He set up his own bait,” sighed Ana. “And you silly bastards dashed out and bought it, didn’t you? Thank Sanctum I am at least somewhat competent!”

I stared at her. Though my body ached, all that fell to a whisper as I struggled to understand how she stood there. She was surely conditioned just as I was: wasn’t she?

I choked, grimaced, and growled the word: “How?”

“How?” she said. “How what? Oh, you’ve no skill at all for conversation in this state, Din! It shall be a rotten time of it, like talking to a dog. But listen! Here come the custodi, responding to Trikao’s screams. They shall get you in a better state—and then I can explain.” She sniffed. “Or explain some, at least.”

Chapter 33

I sat in the officesof the canton custodi, bent and trying not to whimper from the multiple pulled muscles in my arms and legs. Tauri had fetched me some analgesics, and though I’d gulped them down they were a far sight from working. Merely drawing breath made me groan. But my pain was nothing compared to Ippeas and Fotia, who sat at the table stunned and horrified as Ana described the events of the night.

“My…myfather?” said Ippeas, aghast. “He tried to break intoyour chambers? Why in hell would he do that?”

Beside him, Fotia’s face turned the color of old cream, and her eyes filled up with sorrow.

Ippeas looked at her, then at Ana. A low, awful noise came from deep within him. “N-no,” he said. “No, you can’t…You can’t really be saying…”

“Yes,” said Ana quietly. “I am, I’m afraid. There were two killers plaguing Lacanthim—one, true, was Jalin Burav. But the other one was your father, Trikao Armenta.”

Ippeas stared at her, face slack, eyes small and uncomprehending. “N…no.”

He looked to me, hoping I would signal this was all some mad jest. I gazed bleakly back.

“No!” Ippeas said. “No, I can’t…I can’t believe that! I can’t imagine it! How could he be responsible for the deaths of mycousins, of his own niece and nephews? My father was a faithful servant to his sister! To the family!”

“And he has resented it for every minute of his life!” said Ana. “Do you not see, boy? Your father has silently hated Velona for making him sacrifice so much for the family. And I am sure he despises her for making you, his only son, a simple drover, and no more. I’ve no doubt that fordecadesthis hatred was no more than mere idle fantasies constructed in the dark—but all that changed three years ago. For it was then that a weapon fell into his hands. Your cousin Lyimo had been exhibiting strange behaviors. As seneschal and protector of the family, Trikao followed him one day, trailing him out to where he wandered near the wood—and there Trikao saw averystrange thing. He saw Jalin Burav emerge from the trees, play a few notes upon a strange pipe—and somehowbewitchLyimo into walking into a pond to drown, like a puppet to his tune.”