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“Wh-Who was the other?” I ask. “The other you called ...”
“Shifted? An old man in Ungo.”
I perk up at the name of the township.
“He passed away some time ago.”
Which means I never could have met him.
“He was very open about it,” Ritha continues. “Anyone who came into his home left feeling light on their feet, good in their heart.” She chuckles to herself. “When I asked, he told me he’d been an only child, born to parentsfiftyyears of age, who had been barren. The joy of his coming passed on to him.”
I stare at her a long time. “Joy?” I repeat, raspy. “He gets blessed with joy, and I’m cursed with fear?”
“You seem to have used it well.”
I turn away. “It’s the reason I had to come here. People don’t cast joy from their homes, their townships.”Their families.
Several heartbeats pass before Ritha says, “I’m sorry.”
“Who was the other?” I meet her gaze. “You said you knew of one other?”
“The other was just a story. A story of a child who could cast fear into the heart of any man, just by looking at him. But”—she pauses—“that child would be a woman now.”
My lips part.
She holds up a hand. “I know nothing more than that.”
I hug myself, trying to process Ritha’s words, trying to piece together the dark history of the mother I never knew and the person I’ve become. So often, I’ve wanted my fear gone from me. I wanted to be normal. Had I been normal, perhaps my father would have seen me as a human instead of a tool. And yet in some sick, disturbing way, thisshiftingis all I have of my mother.
I think of how frightened I’d been when Grodd had his thick fingers around my neck, dangling my body over the chasm. Was that what Artlina had felt like, running through the dusty dark, while in labor, with my father at her heels? Or had it been worse?
What a terrible,horribleway to die.
“I shouldn’t tarry.” Ritha stands and places a hand on my shoulder.
“O-Of course.” I wipe my eyes and pick up the candle, taking it to the door. I open it and move aside, allowing her to pass through. She bids me no farewell. Doesn’t even look back, but heads west, down one of the narrower tunnels with no lifts. I know there are more servants’ quarters down that way, but I didn’t know it connected with anything. I wonder where it leads.
I turn back too quickly, and the small flame of my candle extinguishes. Lamps dimly light the corridor. I glance down the other way just as a familiar form in the lift drops out of sight.
My hands go limp. The candle holder clanks against the stone floor.
Ritha had been followed.
And as Grodd vanishes, I choke on the realization that he now knows where I sleep.
Chapter 15
My fear doesn’t linger.
It’s one of the disadvantages of wielding it: even if Qequan hadn’t threatened me with my life should I use it against one of his kind, Grodd’s fear would dissipate after he left. I had to actively project it into him, to keep him afraid. In truth, I will always be afraid of Grodd, but he will not always be afraid of me.
I can’t leave Cagmar. I have nowhere else to turn. And even if I did, I wouldn’t want to leave. I have a place here, though it feels as precarious as a harness without a rope.
I think of Tayler and wonder if he’ll keep his promise to meet with me. If the worst happened and I had to flee ... perhaps he’d trust me enough to take me with him.
And then I think of Azmar, and misery darkens my thoughts.
I don’t sleep. Every creak, every imagined footstep, keeps me alert long after my candle drowns itself, until the early rays of dawn brush my little window. Grodd does not come. I need to bathe, so I drag myself upstairs. Neither Azmar nor Unach has woken. I pump water to get the job done, only what I need, not even bothering to heat it first, and work quickly, scrubbing dirt from my hair, my skin, my nails. I clean everything up when I’m done, and I’ve a little time left until my shift. Dragging myself to the kitchen, I start breakfast, yet I’m unable to compensate for my sluggish movements and sloppy knife cuts. Gripping theend of the short counter, I close my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to find some semblance of peace.
