She heard his words but it was too late. “Only one left. We had been training for months and as all children do when forced to survive we learned quickly. Bullet, Arrow, Blade, Ninka, and I were housed separately from the other children. We trained together, ate together, slept together. He was forming us as a unit even then. Looking back we were all exceptional except Ninka. She had good days and bad days but most days she struggled. Sometimes it seemed as if she was two people in one body. I don’t know that I’ve ever thought of her that way until now.” She shook her head and continued, “In the end to prevent her, or me, from being punished, Blade would make her kills with the paper targets. Joseph knew this and would simply write in his little fucking book, watching us always.
“Bullet’s weapon was the gun. Arrow’s was the bow. Blade’s was the sword or knife. Mine was my body. Ninka’s was to be a combination of all four but she was without the capacity to embrace violence.
“Joseph had decided it was time to see what Ninka could do so he had us all taken to the field. I mentioned there were other groups of children being trained. We all knew this but we rarely saw them. I can only assume he did that to prevent any uprising. The other groups were older than us by a few years. I remember seeing them and thinking they too had known pain. Their faces were blank, emotionless, and it made my skin prickle.”
She sighed and turned from Dmitry then. She could not look at him now.
“I remember the sun shining and it was hot in the mountains that day but I also remember Ninka shivering. ‘I cannot do this,’ she told us over and over and over. Blade looked at me and she and I made a pact—one of us would intervene and make her kill—even if we were punished, we would protect Ninka. Because two entered the field but only one left. We knew she would not survive.
The contests began. Ninka was first. Joseph watched all of our faces. Arrow told us to be like a mask. “Do not let him know your fear, sisters. Calm your minds,” she said in her very broken English. Ninka didn’t cry but her eyes were bright and her shoulders drooped. “I want my mama,” she said.
Blade told her to step onto the field, that we would take care of her like her mama had. Blade took the lead but I stepped in front of her. Blade did not have any weapon that day because she had messed up a sword with the smithy. She couldn’t handle the bigger kids. But I could.”
Some sane part of her that remained in the present prompted her to stop—Dmitry did not need to know these things. But she had been cracked open by his loving and the blue of his eyes made her remember…
“Ninka entered the field and I stood on the periphery. Another girl easily twice her size entered with nothing but herself and I knew at that moment it was my test, not Ninka’s. Joseph never looked at her, he kept his black gaze on me.
“The older girl attacked and Ninka fell quickly, unable to handle the bigger opponent but also because she simply wasn’t a killer. Hadn’t been cut from the same cloth as the rest of us. She took a punch to the face and I stepped into the field. My gaze met Joseph’s and I smiled, relishing the fight to come.
“He smiled back and elation filled me at the same time a burning started in my gut. The other girl had hurt Ninka. Our Ninka. She needed to be stopped but she also needed to suffer. She stepped away from Ninka, who lay sobbing in the dirt and I remember the red of her blood dotting her hair,” she mused and finally turned back to Dmitry. “You have her hair.”
He didn’t move but he swallowed and Bone was suddenly tired.
“You are taking me apart, Asinimov. I do not like it. I fear I will hate you before we are finished,” she admitted. “And I know you will hate me.”
He shook his head and then stilled, spearing her with his gaze. “Finish,” he said simply, his voice dictating his struggle. His hands were clenched into fists and his skin seemed stretched over his cheekbones.
She nodded. “The girl laughed at me as did her sisters. I ignored them and simply walked around her. She turned with me, arrogance on her face, the blood of my sister on her hands and clothes. She wasn’t as strong as she thought herself. Her weakness was her arrogance. I wanted to punish her so I attacked. I feinted left and when she moved to block my blow I struck her once in the throat.”
Bone could still feel that punch, the way the girl’s throat had caved and the surprise on her face.
“She was taller and bigger than me. I was no older than six and a half to her ten or so. She had years on me and yet with a single punch I discovered her weakness and exploited it.” She met Dmitry’s gaze. “She crumpled at my feet, her eyes wide as she tried to suck in air. Do you know what death looks like as it creeps across someone’s face, Asinimov?”
He didn’t respond.
“It’s an eerie beauty—pain and acceptance for most, denial for some. In her gaze was hate and it fed my rage, so as her sisters took the field, I took them all down, dancing the raked shel mavet and sending them wherever their souls fled with a smile on my face.”
“Stop,” he urged, his voice broken finally.
“Ninka’s kill was my first in Arequipa but in no way my last. I stood there, at least three other groups of girls watching, as well as my sisters, all silent and Joseph simply stood and walked away. I was punished that night.”
“How?” he asked hoarsely.