Silence.
‘I didn’t know about it,’ Rate said. Defensive. Raw with guilt. ‘Tobias didn’t tell me. Not until … Until it was done …’ He trailed off, started sharpening his sword again. ‘It’s better this way, girl. We all said at the time you were a fool. I should have warned you before you got tangled up with him. You’re worth twenty of him. Me and Tobias will look after you, yeah?’
Thalia said nothing. Watched Rate sharpening the sword.
‘I’ll go and check on him,’ said Rate awkwardly. ‘See how he’s doing. Get him ready to go.’ He got up, stamped around to the back of the wagon. Thalia went with him. See him again one last time, she thought. Say goodbye.
Marith was semi-conscious. He attempted to say something, blinking at them, when he saw Thalia she almost thought that his eyes lit up. But all that came out was an incoherent babble that trailed away into silence. His eyes left her, stared desperately at Rate.
‘I haven’t got any more,’ said Rate shortly.
Marith blinked and closed his eyes.
Thalia ducked her head back out of the wagon, shaking. Sick. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
‘As I said, better off without him,’ said Rate. He sat down again beside her. ‘Gods … Stupid boy! What I could have done, in his place … Looks! Wealth! Power! Women like you throwing yourselves at his feet! And he just pissed and puked it all away. Prince Ruin, that Lady Landra called him. Good name, hey?’
‘Tobias gave it to him,’ said Thalia.
‘He took it,’ Rate said.
His face, frightened of her. His face, alight with laughter, bending to kiss her, whispering her name. His face, when the dragon spoke to him, and he had the power in him to rule the world. He had helped her. He had been kind to her. Loved her, even, perhaps.
I know what he is, she thought. But he’s a better man, she thought, a better man than he knows. Beautiful. Kind. Powerful. My lover. A king.
Thalia looked at Rate. Rate looked at her. Looked away. Looked back.
Thalia stood up.
The sunlight dimmed. Shadows. The air hissed. She could feel them, the shadows, crawling and calling around the wagon, in the cracks of things, around him.
‘Kneel,’ she said to Rate.
Rate laughed uncertainly.
‘Kneel,’ she said.
Rate laughed again. ‘I’m not … not …’
‘Kneel.’
The horses snorted and nickered and stamped, frightened. Clouds over the sun. Something in the air screaming. The shadows, screaming. Triumphant. From the wagon, Marith made a choking weeping sound.
Rate knelt on the ground before her. His face was white. ‘Don’t … Don’t … I’m not … Please, girl … Thalia … I didn’t want to do it … I didn’t know … You’re better off …’
The abyss opening beneath him. Death. And life, as terrible. Futile. Darkness. Light. All fear. Fear of living. Fear of dying. Shadows. Death.
Rate whimpered and shivered and buried his face in the ground.
Thalia went round to the back of the wagon. Her lover sat where she had left him, his face lost.
‘Marith.’
No answer. She fumbled at the rope binding him, got it untied.
‘Marith. Get up. Get up.’
He raised his head. Blinked at her.
‘Get up!’
‘Thalia?’ His voice was heavy and slurred. ‘What’s … what’s happening? My head … hurts …’
‘Just get up.’ She pulled Marith awkwardly to his feet. He almost fell over again, clutching at her for support. ‘Come on.’
‘I can’t see,’ Marith said weakly. ‘I don’t … I can’t see.’
‘Just come on. Please.’ She pushed him violently down the steps of the cart. He fell face first into the grass, lay there mumbling something. Thalia climbed out after him.
Rate was pulling himself to his feet. He saw Marith and shouted. Thalia turned to him, caught between the two. Get Marith upright. Rate’s hands went to his sword.
‘Get up!’ she screamed at Marith.
Rate had his sword out. The blade flashed. He was going to kill them, she thought. Marith was crawling across the ground towards the sword.
She screamed in rage.
Rate froze, his eyes wide as the cartwheels. Terror in his face.
‘Kneel,’ Thalia said to Rate.
He knelt.
‘Put the sword down.’
He dropped it. Thalia picked it up. She looked at him a long moment.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Rate. She stuck the sword into him. He fell down dead in a heap.
I’m sorry, she thought.
She turned to Marith. ‘Get up.’
Marith stared at her.
Why? she thought. Why any of this? Why do they all have to do this to each other? Hurt each other? Fight? What is it they all think they need?
So what to do now? she thought. Looking around. What to do? Get the horses. But Marith was hardly in a fit state to ride a horse. Just walk. Get somewhere. Find some cover. Rest. She began to search through the wagon. Water. Food. Blankets. Had to get going. Tobias could be back any minute. She gathered up a round loaf of dry bread, a water-skin, a blanket. Maybe she could lead a horse? No: Tobias would see. You couldn’t hide a horse. She hesitated, then carefully picked up the sword again. He’d need it, surely? If … if they met with trouble. If Tobias found them. If the dragon came back. She held it like a snake, far out in front of her, afraid of it. Its blade was filthy with Rate’s blood.
‘Come on, Marith.’ She looked at him, crawling feebly across the ground towards her. He barely knew who she was. Barely knew who he was. And she was going to give him a sword? Water. She should give him water. She knelt down beside him and offered him the water-skin. He drank it gratefully, then coughed and was almost sick. The water seemed to help a little: he managed to get to his feet, looked at her almost coherently, blinking and shaking his head. Looked at Rate’s body, then back at her.
Is this really a good idea? she thought. Just leave him. Look at him! Worthless. Pitiful. Damaged. I knew him for a few days and slept with him a couple of times. That’s all. I’ve given him a chance. Now leave him and go.
She could go into the town … Send someone to find him. She could tell people he was sick, needed help. There must be money, in the packs somewhere, she could sell the horses, the sword, get a room in an inn … Her hands were sticky with blood.
Leave him. Go.
Then the sound of horses in the road, coming towards them.
‘Run!’ Thalia cried out, and then the horsemen were on them. So quick. Everything so quick. So many. They could just be people passing, she thought desperately. Travellers. They might even help them. She could say Marith was sick, that they’d been attacked by bandits, that— The horses slowed and stopped. Seven. Big, heavy and dark, far larger than the horses they had bought outside Sorlost. Six dark, and one roan.