‘I am happy about the baby,’ she said. ‘It will be nice for the house, too, to have a child in it. Make it lighter, full of noise. You will be a good father, Orhan. It’s just … why does it have to be Darath, of all people? I used to play with Elis when I was little. He was horrible. My father seemed quite keen for me to marry him at one point. Before …’
‘Well it’s lucky for all of us it’s not Elis I’m fucking then, I suppose.’ A great wave of tiredness swept over Orhan. He yawned. Not much sleep, the last couple of nights, and now this. ‘I’m sorry. That was crude. Go to bed, Bil. You need to sleep to keep the baby strong. I need to sleep.’
‘Good night, Orhan.’ She looked at him with her pale eyes and for a moment he thought she, too, knew something. Realized how much guilt he would feel, towards her and the tiny thing inside her, if the plan failed.
‘Good night, Bil,’ he said.
Chapter Twenty
Shadows.
White light.
Everything falling. Like broken glass.
Moving and blurring together.
Lines of fire. Coloured stars. His mouth tasted of blood and rot and honey. Sweet taste. Like water in the desert. Like the light of the sun.
Tasted of peace.
He licked his lips, trying to suck the last dried remnants into his mouth.
Gods, his head hurt.
Dug his hands into his pockets. Money. He had some money. Enough for more.
Tried to stand but his body was shaking and the room spun and he fell down. Tried to crawl but his legs wouldn’t work and he lay staring at the wall. Moving. Things moving there.
Clutched the coins in his hands.
Hurting. Enough for more.
The thing’s he’d done. Please. Please. Make it all go away.
Pretend the world’s a good place.
‘So you’re awake, then?’ Tobias’s voice. Marith sat up dizzily. He seemed to be on the floor. The room was bright and a warm breeze drifted in through the open window. Tobias was standing in the doorway, carrying a tray with a jug and two cups. Marith stared in hopeful fascination at the jug.
‘I’ve brought you some water. Thought you might be wanting some.’
Water. He almost wanted to weep. ‘Water … yes … thank you …’ It felt strange to speak, his voice hoarse, his throat dry and burning. Crashing in his head.
Tobias set the tray down on the table. Closed the door. Sat down at the table and looked at him with disgust. Not surprising: his lips would be stained blue-black, his hair and clothes were crusted with vomit and sweat. Carin had once told him he looked like something that had been buried for several days. ‘Looking like that, I’d be driven to drink,’ Carin had said, and they’d both laughed until he was sick.
‘I’ve told the lads you were delirious,’ Tobias said shortly. ‘You were delirious, so it’s hardly a lie. But I want a straight answer out of you. What you told me: it’s true, isn’t it? Who you are?’
Oh gods and demons. Marith tried to laugh. ‘I’d been drinking firewine for most of a day. I don’t know what I told you I was. A god. A barrow-wraith. A stone.’
Tobias poured him a cup of water. ‘No, boy. You know very well what you told me, and you know very well it’s true. So who exactly are you, and what in all hells are you doing traipsing around penniless with the likes of us?’
Marith looked at him for a long time. The bright flickering lines of fire no longer flashed across his eyes, but Tobias’s head had a lingering nimbus around it, like the crown of a god. Some people drank firewine to see visions. They were fools. He realized he was clutching a handful of coins and dropped them heavily onto the table. A metallic clink like sword blades. He closed his eyes in pain.
The truth, then. A relief, perhaps, to get it out. Stop lying and pretending, knowing they all stared at him unconvinced. Plain as day you’re high-born … They might stop laughing at him if they knew. Or laugh at him all the more.
‘My name is Marith Altrersyr,’ he said at last. ‘I am the eldest son of King Illyn Altrersyr of the White Isles, of the line of Amrath the Word Conqueror and of Serelethe who loosed Him on the world. My mother was Marissa of Ith, in whose veins flowed the blood of the Godkings of Immier and Caltath.’ He looked down at his hands and licked his lips again. A last fleeting taste of firewine. There was vomit on the sleeve of his jacket; he felt a maddening desire to lick it off. Like the alcohol-stinking blood he’d wiped off his hands a few days before, it seemed a terrible waste not to. He sighed and looked back up at Tobias. ‘Until a short time ago, I was heir to the White Isles, and fourth in line to the throne of Ith.’
A long, strained silence. Finally Tobias said very faintly, ‘I see.’ Looked weary. ‘Marith Altrersyr. That makes you, what, one of the highest-ranking people in the whole of Irlast? So high pretty much everyone apart from the Yellow Emperor himself ought to be bowing and scraping to you. It also makes you dead, or so I heard.’
‘I am dead. Or hadn’t you noticed?’ Waves of pain shuddered across Marith’s eyes. Picked up the cup to take a sip of water and his hands shook so much it splashed down his front, fell with a clatter and rolled across the floor.
‘Who says I’m dead, then? My father?’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘The oldest and greatest lineage this side of the Bitter Sea. Even the Asekemlene Emperor is just a man, of a kind: the Altrersyr are descended from gods and monsters. And I am the first-born heir.’ Even now, it felt so good saying it. Good and terrible. Help me, Carin. Help me. Help me blot it out … ‘Or rather, I was. My father disowned and exiled me. I hadn’t realized he was actually telling people I was dead. But as he’s been wanting me dead for years now, it must have pleased him greatly to say it had finally happened.’
Tobias’s eyes bulged. ‘Disowned you?’ he echoed dully. ‘Why?’
A scream welling up inside him. I can’t say it, he thought. I can’t. My mouth will turn to stone, my heart will crack and break. I’ll choke on the words. Knives in his head, twisting and turning. You don’t have a heart, though, Marith. You think you do but you don’t. You’re vile! Vile! A woman’s voice, screaming, filled with hate.
‘He had his reasons. Ones I’d have to be considerably drunker than I was last night to tell you.’ He smiled sweetly: ‘You can take that as an offer if you like.’
Another silence. The tension in the room choking him. Tobias looked stupefied. Bent down, retrieved Marith’s cup, refilled it, handed it back.
‘I believe you,’ Tobias said finally. ‘Perhaps I’m a fool, but I believe you. I’ve seen things in you. Dark things. The others just think you’re some stupid little lordling playing at living rough. But you’ve got enough death in you I can believe you’re one of Amrath’s kind. You’re a dragon killer, after all. And if last night’s anything to go by, I can believe your family’s glad to see the back of you and call you dead, too.’