Page 43 of Ship of Smoke and Steel

She gasps and shudders as I pull her leg straight, then relaxes when I tie the straps tight. I trickle water into her mouth for a while, then get to work on the crab meat. Cooking with my Melos blades is not an ideal process. I manage to sear the meat by holding it close to the crackling green energy. The middle of each strip still feels raw, but it’s the best I can do, and I devour a few. In spite of the preparation, it’s palatable. As to whether it will make me sick—as with the water, no other options seem to be available, so we’ll find out.

I cut some thinner strips and sear them a little more thoroughly, hoping that will help them keep longer. I’ve got most of one leg carved when Meroe groans, and her eyelids flutter. I let my blades disappear and station myself at her side.

Her eyes open, and find mine immediately. We stare at each other for a long moment.

“I’m not dead?” Meroe says.

“You know, that was my first question as well,” I tell her.

“And?”

“You’re not dead. We’re in the Deeps.”

“My leg hurts.” She shifts, and beads of sweat pop out on her forehead. “Really hurts.”

“It’s broken. I’ve got it set as best I can.”

“Oh.” She swallows. “I thought it might be.”

“Do you think you can drink some water?”

She nods weakly, and I hand over the canteen. She finishes it, then looks up sheepishly.

“Sorry. I probably should have saved that.”

“There’s more,” I tell her. I set the canteen aside and pick up a strip of meat. “Food?”

Another nod. She pops the crab meat into her mouth and chews thoughtfully, watching me out of the corner of her eye. Tension is thick in the air, and for a moment I feel sorry for her. After all, how do you ask someone if they’ve figured out you’re a ghulwitch?

“Isoka—” she starts, after the second strip of meat.

“I know,” I tell her, tapping the line of blue marks across my face.

“Oh.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I could feel you dying and I’d never done anything like it before, but I wanted to save you, and I just…” She shakes her head, not looking at me. “I didn’t know it would leave marks. I don’t really understand anything.”

“I was dying?”

She nods. “We hit hard. Your armor protected us some, but not enough. And the powerburn was … bad. You’d lost so much blood already.…” She swallows again. “I was just lying there and I could feel you slipping away. And I didn’t…” Meroe looks up at me, brown eyes shining. “I didn’t want to be alone. That’s what I was thinking. I’m an awful person, Isoka. You were dying and all I could think was, oh, gods, I don’t want to be alone down here.”

There’s a long pause. Meroe presses the heels of her bandaged palms into her eyes, scrubbing away the tears.

“So you’re a ghulwitch.” I hesitate. “A Ghul … adept.”

“I … think so,” she says. “I’ve never tested my power.”

“Why not heal yourself?”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t work. Believe me, I’ve tried. I can’t affect my own body.”

I’d heard that was true for ghulwitches, but I’d never met one to ask before. Looking down at Meroe, battered and crying, I found it hard to square her with the monstrous stories everyone tells.

“Does anyone else know?” I ask her.

“Not anymore.” She takes a deep breath. “When I was little my keeper was a servant named Gigi. She was the one who noticed my power. I had been playing in the garden, and the plants were … strange.”

I nod silently. Most mage-born, especially adepts, are noticed at a young age, when they do something clearly unnatural. The power comes to us when we’re too young to know any better, or to control what feels like a perfectly normal part of ourselves. I’d been lucky enough that I could lose myself in the slum, staying away from anyone who’d seen my occasional outbursts until I eventually learned enough control to keep myself hidden.

“She saved my life,” Meroe went on. “Gigi told everyone I was ill. Do you have the crowfoot pox in the Empire?” When I shrug, she says, “It’s an uncommon disease in Nimar, but not unknown. It’s dangerous for children, but almost always deadly for adults who catch it. Gigi told everyone I had the pox, and isolated herself with me in one of the monastery towers. We lived there for nearly a year, servants leaving our food outside the door. All that time, Gigi tried to make me understand what my power was, and what it would mean if anyone found out.”