I looked over my shoulder and glared at Teraeth. “You do realize no one asked your opinion, don’t you?”
He ignored me and sat down on a crate opposite mine. “Why have you appointed yourself the only person who can stop Gadrith and Darzin? Do you think men like that are rare? Believe me, they’re not. The only thing exceptional about those two is the fact you know their names. The Court of Gems is filled with men and women just as vile, every bit as evil. The whole system is set up, rigged, to support them. Are you going to stop all of them? Overthrow the Royal Courts, the High Council?”
“Of course not—”
“Why not? It would be the right thing to do.”
I found myself taken aback. He’d ambushed me; my mouth worked for a moment without making a sound.
He leaned closer, resting his elbows on his knees. “Your problem isn’t that you’re stupid. You’re not stupid. But you think that evil is like the Old Man, like Relos Var, like that thing sleeping in the middle of Kharas Gulgoth. You think evil is something you can just slay.”
I scoffed. “Should I point out that none of those are ‘something I can just slay’?”
“Oh, but you would try, wouldn’t you? Except real evil isn’t a demon or a rogue wizard. Real evil is an empire like Quur, a society that feeds on its poor and its oppressed like a mother eating her own children. Demons and monsters are obvious; we’ll always band together to fight them off. But real evil, insidious evil, is what lets us just walk away from another person’s pain and say, well, that’s none of my business.”
I flashed back to years earlier, breaking into the Kazivar House, telling myself the torture I witnessed there wasn’t my problem. I shook it off. “What the hell is wrong with you, Teraeth? Do you want me to go to Quur or not? One minute you’re suggesting I’m an idiot for returning to the Capital and the next you’re telling me I should start a revolution to overthrow the government. Make up your mind.”
“It’s your mind that I’m worried about. I want to make sure you’re not just doing this because you feel guilty about being away from your family for four years. Between slavery and the Old Man, you had an excuse, but now you get to choose. Gadrith really isn’t your problem—”
“Yes, he is—”
“No,” Teraeth corrected. “He’s not. Yes, he is evil and yes, people will suffer and die if he continues to roam about free, but he has no reason to go after the D’Mons. Is it about Darzin? Because if Darzin’s the issue, I’ll arrange for him to be taken out of the picture. Easily. They’ll never find the body and we can concentrate on the real enemy: Relos Var.”
“We can’t kill Darzin,” I muttered. “I’d love to, but we need him to lead us to where Gadrith’s hiding.”
“Thurvishar—”
“Isn’t stupid enough to be that sloppy.” I glared. “And I’ve paid attention to the spy reports. After that last assassination attempt, do you even know where Thurvishar is spending his nights these days?”
Teraeth put his hand to his chest. “That wasn’t us. The D’Lorus family have their own enemies. It can’t be too surprising that someone else thought it was worth the risk of removing the D’Lorus Lord Heir. And you’re trying to change the subject.”
“Why do I have to be the one who takes down Gadrith?” I stood up. “Haven’t you been paying attention? I won’t be. All I’m going to be is bait. You’re going to be the one who follows Darzin back to wherever Gadrith is hiding so you can tell Tyentso. She is going to be the one who contacts Emperor Sandus and lets him know where to bring the wrath of the Empire. And Sandus is going to be the one who puts that bastard permanently in the ground. See? Team effort.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He stood up too, scowling.
“I know what you meant. Why am I doing this? Because someone damn well should. Because four years ago when I saw Gadrith and Darzin torturing that vané, I could have put a stop to this whole thing if I’d just known who to talk to. Now I do know, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let those bastards ruin any more lives when I can stop them. This isn’t about Relos Var or Vol Karoth or any demon prophecies. This is about Galen. This is about Talea. This is about Thurvishar.” There were other names, of course. Miya, most of all. I knew in that moment that regardless of what happened with the others, Therin and I were going to have a talk about my mother’s freedom.
Teraeth raised an eyebrow in surprise at the last name I’d spoken aloud. “Thurvishar? I don’t think he should be counted—”
I flicked my thumb and forefinger at the gaesh around my neck. “I know how someone acts when they’ve been gaeshed. I would bet you whatever price you named Gadrith has a trinket somewhere on him that contains a sliver of Thurvishar’s soul. That’s why Gadrith never bothered to lie to Thurvishar about his real parentage; he knew Thurvishar would never be able to tell anyone. Thurvishar may be the D’Lorus Lord Heir and he may be an amazing wizard, but he’s still a slave. Just as much as any of the other people I named.” I shook my head. “Killing Gadrith and Darzin may not save thousands. It may not even save hundreds, but it will absolutely free those people. So why am I doing this? Because I can.”
Teraeth blinked at my vehemence, and then began to laugh.
I took a deep breath, feeling the anger wash over me. To hell with him.
As I turned around to leave, Teraeth grabbed my hand. “Wait, wait. Please, I’m sorry. I promise I wasn’t laughing at you.” He let go of my hand and sat back down on the edge of the crates, still grinning but looking more embarrassed. “Did Khaemezra or Doc ever tell you who I used to be? In my past life?”
I paused, sensing a rare opportunity had just presented itself. I turned around. “No.”
He nodded. “I started to remember right around puberty. All of it. Not just my last past life either. I also remember being in the Land of Peace.” Teraeth gave me a sideways glance. “It’s nice.”
“What does this have to do with—”
He ignored my interruption. “So naturally, I remember when the Eight Immortals showed up and asked for volunteers: four souls willing to help fulfill the prophecies. But there was a price. They had to be willing to leave paradise, to be reborn to all the pain, hardship, and suffering of the living world. And do you know who the first volunteer was? Without a second’s hesitation?”
“You?”
He chuckled. “No. You.”
My stomach rolled over. “Teraeth—”
“You showed up in the Land of Peace not too long after I did. And for five hundred years, give or take, you never spoke. Not a single word. Not to anyone. You just stared off into nothing, like for you the Land of Peace was anything but. And the gods didn’t expect you to volunteer. I remember the shock on their faces when you did. One of them asked you why you wanted to go back and you said—” He gestured toward me, inviting me to finish the sentence.
My throat tried to close on me, but I still managed the words. “Because I can.”
“Because you can. And that was the moment I knew—” He stopped himself.