I swallowed half a vial of the painkiller, then tucked the packet away in my small satchel.
It took an hour of climbing to reach the top. I had to stop several times along the way to rest. The city was smaller every time, its lit windows just blinking lights up here. I could always find Noavek manor, glowing white near the city’s center, and the amphitheater, even now protected by a web of light. Somewhere beneath that amphitheater was Orieve Benesit, waiting to die.
When I reached the top, I backed away from the edge as quickly as I could. Just because I wasn’t faint of heart didn’t mean I enjoyed taunting death.
I followed the road to the Zetsyvis house, into the forests where they bred fenzu for export. The path I walked was guarded by metal grates, to keep people from stealing the valuable insects. Draped over the trees were nets to prevent the fenzu from escaping, more a precaution than anything. Fenzu built their nests around the delicate branches nearest to the sky. The trees themselves were tall and thin, their trunks so dark they looked black, adorned with wiry, dark green clusters instead of the floppy leaves I had seen on other planets.
Finally the Zetsyvis house came into view. There was a guard at the gate, but by the time I punched him in the jaw, it was already too late for him to defend himself. I used his limp hand to unlock the gate. I paused there, remembering how my hand hadn’t unlocked Ryzek’s room in Noavek manor. How my blood, my genes, hadn’t unlocked it. And I still didn’t know why.
Now is not the time. I shook myself out of the daze, continuing on. I didn’t think I would encounter any other security; only Yma lived here now.
I had made sure of that, hadn’t I?
The house was modern, recently renovated from the drafty stone castle that had been there before. Large sections of wall had been replaced with glass, and little orbs full of blue-glowing insects were draped across the trees in front, creating a bright canopy that reflected in the windows. Strange plants twisted together in front of the house, some of them creeping up the remaining stone. Some were blooming, too, huge flowers from different worlds in colors I rarely saw on ours: pink as a tongue, rich blue green, black as space.
When I reached the front door, I drew the small currentblade sheathed at my hip, just in case. I was almost afraid to break the silence that surrounded me. But then I pounded, hard, with the handle of the knife, until Yma Zetsyvis answered.
“Miss Noavek,” Yma said. She wasn’t smiling, for once. She was staring at the weapon in my right hand.
“Hello,” I said. “Mind if I come in?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I stepped into the foyer. The floor was made of wood, likely from the dark trees that surrounded the Zetsyvis estate, the same wood used so liberally in Noavek manor. There were few walls here, the whole first floor bare for me to see, and all the furniture stark white.
Yma wore a robe with a pale sheen, and her hair was loose around her shoulders.
“Have you come to kill me?” she said, her face placid. “I suppose it’s only fitting that you finish what you started. First my husband, then my daughter . . .”
I thought about telling her that I had not wanted to kill either of them, that their deaths still haunted me in my dreams. That I heard Uzul’s heartbeat before I woke, and saw Lety in corners where she had never stood. But there was no reason to say any of those things.
“I just came to talk to you,” I said. “The knife is for my protection.”
“I didn’t think you needed knives,” Yma said.
“Sometimes they’re more efficient,” I said. “Subtle intimidation, and all that.”
“Ah.” Yma turned away. “Come on, then, let’s sit.”
She led the way to the sitting area, which I could see from where I stood, the low couches arranged in a square. She turned on a few lights with a gentle touch, so the couches glowed from beneath, and fenzu swarmed in a lantern on the low glass table. I didn’t sit down until she did, arranging her robe over her legs so they weren’t exposed. She was an elegant woman.
“You’re looking better than you were last time I saw you,” she said. “I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching you bleed.”
“Yes, I’m sure that was entertaining for quite a few people,” I said tartly. “A little harder for you to claim moral superiority when you’re thirsting for someone else’s blood, though, isn’t it?”
“Your crime came first.”
“I’ve never argued that I’m on some kind of high ground with you,” I said. “Just that you might be on the low ground with me.”
Yma laughed, and she was about to aim another insult at me, I was sure, but I spoke over her.