“There are special books, with raised letters,” Ennika said. She leaned forward, holding out the book to Winter. “This one is just an ordinary copy of the Wisdoms, though.”
Winter took it and opened it to a random page. It was blank, or nearly so—?the letters that had once been there had been worn away by the passage of Ennika’s fingers, until only traces of ink remained.
She handed it back. “If you can’t read it, then why...?”
“I know the Wisdoms by heart,” Ennika said. “I don’t need to be reminded of the words. But tracing it out is... a comfort.”
“How old were you when they took your eyes?” Winter realized a bit too late that the question might not be polite, but Ennika didn’t seem to mind.
“Five or six, I think. I don’t know my real birthday. It was just after my sister and I spoke the names of our demons and formed our bond. Once they knew we would live, our eyes were put out, so that we would not compromise the security of the Priests of the Black with what we saw.”
“Saints and martyrs,” Winter said. “That’s horrible.”
Ennika shrugged. “Ahdon ivahnt vi, Ignahta Sempria. What’s done to me in this life is only a small taste of what I’ll receive in hell, when my time is up.”
“You really believe that? That you’re damned for eternity because of what they made you do when you were a little girl?”
“I chose to do it,” Ennika said. “I was young, but not unaware.”
“You can’t have understood,” Winter said. “Not really.”
“I understood enough. I wanted to help people.” She shrugged again. “I probably would have ended in hell in any case, you understand. My sister and I were living on the streets before the priests took us. We would have been whores, or worse. This way, I can at least save the souls of others. Or I thought I could.”
The Priests of the Black have a lot to answer for. It was bad enough that they captured, tortured, and killed those who were born with demons through no fault of their own. But to take innocent children and feed them this line of nonsense...
“I have been trying,” Ennika said, “to make sense of what’s happened. The Beast’s return. At first I was in despair. I would have taken my own life, if Sothe hadn’t stopped me.”
“At first? You’ve changed your mind?”
Ennika nodded. “I talked with Janus. If it is Janus who touches my mind, where my sister once was. He asked me if all this was not also part of God’s plan. The Lord tested mankind once before, when the Beast of Judgment first came, and Karis proved equal to the challenge. Now He tests us again, and we have you.”
Winter sat up straighter. “Wait, wait. I’m not a prophet.”
“I know. It may be that you fail and the Beast will bring about the end of man. That, too, would be part of the plan. But my role in it, my purpose, will be fulfilled. It’s not an accident that I’m here, with you.”
“It’s sometimes hard to tell the difference between God’s plans and Janus’,” Winter said dryly. “Is that why you wanted to see me? To talk theology?”
“No. Janus gave me a message for you. He said that the core of the Beast is coming south, toward Vordan City, and that this is where you will have your chance.” She frowned. “He also said that if you fail, you will not get another. If the Beast takes Vordan City, it will grow so fast that it will be unstoppable.”
“If I fail, I’ll probably be dead.”
“And in hell,” Ennika agreed. “So it won’t matter much to you. But that was the message.”
Winter bit back a sarcastic response. “Fine. It’s good to know we’ll have one chance at this, at least. Was there anything else?”
“Not from Janus.” Ennika’s hands went tight in her lap. “I... wanted to ask you something.”
“You—” Winter frowned. “Go ahead, I suppose.”
“Your demon, the Infernivore. It tears the demons from others and devours them, correct?”
“More or less,” Winter said uncomfortably.
“When we reach Vordan City, will you use it on me?”
“Use—?you want me to take your demon?”
Ennika nodded solemnly.
“Why? I thought it was all part of God’s plan.”
“My part will be finished soon. And when Janus is not speaking to me, there is... emptiness where my sister’s mind once was. A gap. It pulls at me all the time. I can’t...” She brought her hand to her head. “I can’t explain it well. But I can’t live with it.”
“I’m not sure using Infernivore on you would be any better,” Winter said. “Everyone whose demon I’ve taken has ended up dead, one way or the other. You might not survive. It could break your mind.”
“As I said, I was going to kill myself in any event, to get away from the pain.” Ennika smiled slightly. “Suicide is a sin, of course, but once one is bound to hell regardless, what’s another sin? But I am not... eager to die. If there is a chance, I would like to take it.” Her smile faded. “Though if it breaks my mind, I hope you will... take pity on me.”
“I...” Winter shook her head, realized Ennika couldn’t see it, and cleared her throat. “Let me think about it.” The girl had helped them—?that was undeniable—?but... I don’t know.
“Thank you,” Ennika said. “I understand it may be difficult for you. I will inform you if Janus contacts me again.”
*
Since her own cabin was still decidedly occupied, Winter spent some time in the chart room, staring gloomily at the maps. From the course the captain had plotted, the Swallow was small enough to make the ascent of the Vor all the way to Vordan City. That would be considerably faster than riding overland, assuming the wind cooperated. Nautical charts were very different from the campaign maps she was used to, and she was just trying to work out the meanings of some of the more obscure markings when she heard someone in the corridor. Sothe, a bucket in one hand and a towel in the other, paused in the open doorway.
“I talked to Ennika,” Winter said. “Janus told her we need to get to Vordan City, and he’ll try to give me an opening.”
“Good to know.” Sothe was damp with sweat after her exercise, her short dark hair plastered to her skull.
“You said you wanted to talk to me, after.”
The assassin gave her a long, unreadable look. “I suppose this is as good a time as any. Come on.”
Winter followed Sothe back to her cabin. Ennika was gone, above decks for a change. Winter had noticed the crew of the Swallow was very solicitous of the blind girl, and she wondered briefly what Sothe had told them about her. Maybe nothing. If Captain Kerrak was in fact a smuggler, then he’d have cultivated a crew who were comfortable not asking questions.
Sothe set the bucket down, shut the door, and reached for the buttons on her vest. She paused, glancing at Winter, who shrugged, a little uncomfortably.
“I must admit I’ve never liked being aboard ship this long,” Sothe said, nimble fingers working down the row of buttons. “It’s... confining. I’m only really comfortable when I have an escape route ready.”