Page 150 of The Infernal Battalion

“And in hell,” Ennika agreed. “So it won’t matter much to you. But that was the message.”

Winter bit back a sarcastic response. “Fine. It’s good to know we’ll have one chance at this, at least. Was there anything else?”

“Not from Janus.” Ennika’s hands went tight in her lap. “I... wanted to ask you something.”

“You—” Winter frowned. “Go ahead, I suppose.”

“Your demon, the Infernivore. It tears the demons from others and devours them, correct?”

“More or less,” Winter said uncomfortably.

“When we reach Vordan City, will you use it on me?”

“Use—​you want me to take your demon?”

Ennika nodded solemnly.

“Why? I thought it was all part of God’s plan.”

“My part will be finished soon. And when Janus is not speaking to me, there is... emptiness where my sister’s mind once was. A gap. It pulls at me all the time. I can’t...” She brought her hand to her head. “I can’t explain it well. But I can’t live with it.”

“I’m not sure using Infernivore on you would be any better,” Winter said. “Everyone whose demon I’ve taken has ended up dead, one way or the other. You might not survive. It could break your mind.”

“As I said, I was going to kill myself in any event, to get away from the pain.” Ennika smiled slightly. “Suicide is a sin, of course, but once one is bound to hell regardless, what’s another sin? But I am not... eager to die. If there is a chance, I would like to take it.” Her smile faded. “Though if it breaks my mind, I hope you will... take pity on me.”

“I...” Winter shook her head, realized Ennika couldn’t see it, and cleared her throat. “Let me think about it.” The girl had helped them—​that was undeniable—​but... I don’t know.

“Thank you,” Ennika said. “I understand it may be difficult for you. I will inform you if Janus contacts me again.”

*

Since her own cabin was still decidedly occupied, Winter spent some time in the chart room, staring gloomily at the maps. From the course the captain had plotted, the Swallow was small enough to make the ascent of the Vor all the way to Vordan City. That would be considerably faster than riding overland, assuming the wind cooperated. Nautical charts were very different from the campaign maps she was used to, and she was just trying to work out the meanings of some of the more obscure markings when she heard someone in the corridor. Sothe, a bucket in one hand and a towel in the other, paused in the open doorway.

“I talked to Ennika,” Winter said. “Janus told her we need to get to Vordan City, and he’ll try to give me an opening.”

“Good to know.” Sothe was damp with sweat after her exercise, her short dark hair plastered to her skull.

“You said you wanted to talk to me, after.”

The assassin gave her a long, unreadable look. “I suppose this is as good a time as any. Come on.”

Winter followed Sothe back to her cabin. Ennika was gone, above decks for a change. Winter had noticed the crew of the Swallow was very solicitous of the blind girl, and she wondered briefly what Sothe had told them about her. Maybe nothing. If Captain Kerrak was in fact a smuggler, then he’d have cultivated a crew who were comfortable not asking questions.

Sothe set the bucket down, shut the door, and reached for the buttons on her vest. She paused, glancing at Winter, who shrugged, a little uncomfortably.

“I must admit I’ve never liked being aboard ship this long,” Sothe said, nimble fingers working down the row of buttons. “It’s... confining. I’m only really comfortable when I have an escape route ready.”

“Never go to Khandar, then,” Winter said. The month​long voyage to and from the distant colony had been pure misery.

“I don’t intend to, if I can help it.” Sothe shrugged out of her vest. Underneath, she wore only a linen wrap around her breasts. The skin of her stomach and back was just as heavily scarred as her arms, the records of decades of battles written in pale, crisscrossing lines.

Sothe undid her wrap, dipped her towel in the bucket, and started wiping herself clean. She sighed heavily.

“And, of course, you can’t get a proper bath.” She shook her head. “I suppose I’m getting soft in my old age.”

“Someday,” Winter said, “I’ll be done with marching around and living in tents. And then there’ll be baths.”

“Every soldier’s prayer,” Sothe said, with a slight smile.