“That’s crazy,” she coughed out. “There’s got to be a hundred men in there, and they’ll be on guard. She and the Haeta will be killed.”
“I know!” Alex said. “That’s what I told her. But she’s not listening to me anymore.”
“I have to talk to her.” Winter groped around the bedroll for her coat, breathing hard. “I—”
Alex put a hand on her shoulder. “Wait. At least a little while.” She got to her feet. “It’s at least two hours before sunset. I’m going to get Abraham, and we’ll see if he can help with your pain.”
Winter nodded wearily. I’m not going to be able to talk sense into Vess if I can’t stand up. She lay back down, slowly and carefully, while Alex slipped out of the tent. Distantly, she could hear raised voices, arguments in the Haeta language. She recognized Vess’ voice, cold and hard.
Blame me if you need to, Winter wanted to tell her. You don’t have to get yourself killed.
Abraham came in, thin-?faced and worn in his battered traveling clothes. He knelt beside Winter and smiled.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Winter said. “I’ll live.”
“I’m fine,” Abraham said. “Alex worries too much.” He shook his head. “Having her carry me like that is just... a little hard on my stomach.”
“I can imagine.” Winter remembered the terrifying descent from the tower at Elysium, being supported only by Alex’s power and a few scraps of rope. “Thank you for helping Yath.”
“Thank you for pushing so hard to get to us quickly,” Abraham said. “She had lost a lot of blood. I’m not sure she would have survived much longer.” He put his hands on Winter’s shoulder and hip and closed his eyes. “Now, be quiet for a moment.”
Winter closed her eyes, too. Infernivore perked up, as it always did when someone who carried a demon touched her. She’d grown so used to Alex’s and Abraham’s presence that she barely sensed them anymore unless they were very close by, but physical contact came with the awareness that only an effort of will would be required to send her demon surging into their bodies.
Abraham’s power slowly flowed into her, like cool water running just under her skin. The cramps in her muscles eased, and the burning faded away. She took a deep breath, relishing the lack of pain along her ribs, and blew it out.
“There.” Abraham took his hands away, and she opened her eyes. “I can’t fix everything, but you should be in a lot less pain.”
“Thank you,” Winter said. She sat up, this time much more comfortably, and stretched. “You really do have an incredible gift.”
He bowed his head. “I think I agree with you, though I haven’t always thought so. There are times when it’s brought me... hardship.” He looked up again. “It’s been much the same with you, I imagine.”
“My demon?” Winter looked at her hands. “I suppose so.”
“Your demon is not your only gift. You would never have come this far if it were.”
She snorted. “In that case, my ‘gift’ is a lot of luck and a knack for getting other people killed.”
“Leti,” Abraham said.
“She’s only the latest. Ever since they made me a sergeant in Khandar, I’ve just been trying to keep my head above water.” Winter felt her eyes filling with tears again. “Bobby trusted me. She’s dead now, along with most of the rest of my company. I found Jane again, dragged her and the girls from the Leatherbacks into this. Now most of them are lying in graves somewhere between here and Desland. I pulled Jane into a life she couldn’t face, and it broke her. I led twenty-?five brave women to Elysium when Janus was hurt and left a trail of frozen corpses behind me. And then I led the ones who were left to the fucking Beast of Judgment.” Winter’s jaw trembled, and tears were running hot down her cheeks. “And now Leti. Saints and fucking martyrs. She...” She shook her head. “Why? Why do they trust me? Why do you trust me? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. You and Alex ought to go back to the Mountain, before... before...”
Her throat went tight, and she couldn’t say any more. It was like Abraham’s words had been a lance, pressed into an angry boil of guilt until it burst. She’d never said it out loud before, the ugly truth, only kept it in the privacy of her skull.
Abraham was silent, and Winter was suddenly certain he was horrified. He’d trusted her, too, after all, put his faith in her. Now he knows better. I’m just a gibbering mess. She wondered if he’d just leave, take Alex and go. Better for both of them.
She wanted, very badly, for Cyte to be by her side. To feel her arms around her and pull her close. At the same time, she was glad her lover was a thousand miles away. Because she put her faith in me, too.
“There were times,” Abraham said slowly, “when I thought the world would be better off without me. I hurt people—?sometimes on purpose, sometimes without meaning to, sometimes just by being who I am. If I hadn’t met Alex, I don’t know...” He stopped, took a deep breath. “Once we made it to the Mountain, I talked to the Eldest about it.”
“Did he give you some pious platitude?” Winter said.
She’d meant it to hurt, but he sounded unruffled. “He told me I’d have to work it out for myself.”
Winter snorted. “Priests and Mages.”
“I did a lot of thinking,” Abraham went on. “When we weigh up the balance sheet of our lives, it’s always easy to see the costs. People we’ve hurt, mistakes we’ve made. But the other side of the balance can be harder to make out. How do you measure what didn’t happen? Friends who didn’t die because of something you did, wars that didn’t start, cities that never burned. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?”
“You can’t know what would have happened,” Winter said. “Maybe everyone would have been better off.”
“It’s possible,” Abraham said placidly. “But you can’t know that for certain, either. Out of all the possible worlds, we can’t know if this is the best, the worst, or somewhere in between. But it’s the one we’ve got.” He shrugged. “The Eldest didn’t have an answer for me, and I don’t have one for you. But I can say why I chose to put my faith in you. You have your gifts—?intelligence, leadership, your demon—?but more important is that I trust you to try to do the right thing.”
“More fool you,” Winter said, wiping angrily at her eyes.
“Perhaps. But I suspect Bobby and all the others would agree with me. Not that you always succeed, but that you always try.” He got to his feet. “You’re here, after all. Trying to save the world.”
Winter was silent. Abraham bowed his head and left the tent.
*
The sun was nearing the horizon when she emerged, hair washed and face wiped clean. Alex and Abraham were sitting on the ground outside the tent, talking quietly. They both jumped up at the sight of her.
“Winter!” Alex said. “Are you feeling better?”
“A little,” Winter said. She still felt like there was a storm inside her, but she was floating atop it, not drowning in the waves. She caught Abraham’s eye. “Thank you.”