Sorrows slipped off the side of the bed and grabbed the frame with both hands. Lifted.
“Help me,” he said.
The bed was oak, thick. Heavy. It lay solid outside the gods-stream because it moved slowly within it. Davrosh left the door, ran across the room.
“Brilliant,” she said.
She stood beside him. Vanilla and leather. Strong, half-dwarf muscles. They lifted the bed. Lifted it until she was standing on her toes. Just high enough. Half-elf limbs, longer than a dwarf’s. She dropped, flipped her hands so they pressed up against the underside of the frame. Her face was red with effort, her muscles shook.
His muscles shook. But the bed was almost high enough. A little higher and Jace would struggle to deal with Nisha’s limp body. It might be enough to keep Jace busy until Ga’Shel arrived. If they could just lift it a little more.
Davrosh vanished. The full weight of the frame weighed against Sorrows. Too much. He strained, it lowered. Slow at first, then faster as he lost leverage. It slipped the last handspan to the floor and fell hard on the stone.
Boom!
“Oh, gods,” he said.
“What was that?” asked Davrosh’s father anxiously.
The door started to open. Just a crack. A test. Keep the door shut, Sorrows thought. But he didn’t say it. Was too late to say anything. For a second, half a heartbeat, he felt the god-stream slipping away.
Then the room went black, and he didn’t feel anything.
✽✽✽
IT IS ALWAYS the arrow that kills in the end, after the soul has been torn from the body. It falls within the gods-stream, inevitable. The daughter slips, the point passes through her skin and bone. The daughter returns. Death is sudden. Always sudden. Suffering lingers, but life vanishes in an instant. One moment it is there; one moment it is gone.
It will be the arrow that kills again, but sooner this time. It will mean less suffering for Nisha Davrosh. A death that leaves her wrists intact and allows her soul to return to her gods. A merciful death from a merciful god.
You wait, slipped. And you watch from the hallway as the human and half-born tend to the female goblin. You are there when Nisha Davrosh appears, converses with her stepsister. Nisha turns away. One step, two steps, three steps. And you have her. You pull her from the gods-stream as easy as plucking a stone from the river. You take her hand and lead her upstairs. You guide her to her bed, lay her down. You leave her for a moment. Long enough to close the door, lock it. Then you return to her bedside. You bend over, take the arrow you’d left in the morning. You rise.
She lays still, serene, unaware. Her green eyes sparkle within a mask of painted leaves and blossoms. You breathe. She breathes. You relax. It is always like this in the beginning. Quiet. Peaceful. You no longer hear the songs, the laughter, the murmur of conversation seeping into the bedroom from the party below. You are slipped from the noise and distraction. It helps clear your mind. It helps you to focus.
But it prevents you from hearing the crash of a body against the door. It prevents you from hearing a heavy boot strike the oak. It is not until the iron pin skitters across the floor like a mouse or roach, catching your eye, that you realize they’ve found you. It is not until you turn and see the human’s eyes that you wonder if you might have a problem.
✽✽✽
IVRA JACE STOOD two paces beyond the front door, just beyond reach of the light spilling from within. Not beyond reach of the sound. She tipped her head, turned her ear, leaned forward. Music, conversation, laughter. Then footsteps. Heavy footsteps moving fast.
She took a cautious step forward, then a quick step to the side as Solomon Sorrows emerged from a hallway. He turned up the stairs, took them three at a time with long, powerful strides. Master Remma Davrosh followed close behind. Jace raced in, glanced up the stairs, but instead turned down the hallway. She ran down its length. A female dwarf stepped out of a room, forehead wrinkled. Their eyes met; Jace smiled. The dwarf frowned and narrowed her eyes. She was asking, Who in all hells are you? She might have asked it out loud, but a crash sounded upstairs. The dwarf ran past Jace, and Jace stepped into the room. She rushed to a sofa, knelt beside Mig Costennati.
Jace placed a hand on Mig’s forehead, raised her eyebrows, placed a hand on Mig’s chest. A second crash shook the house. Mig’s eyes fluttered and opened. A third crash. Mig sat up, startled, and turned to Jace.
“What happened?” she asked. A fourth crash. Metal clanged against stone.
“Do you have the bow?” Jace asked. She brushed away a strand of Mig’s hair, ran her fingers along Mig’s cheek.
Master Remma Davrosh’s shouting carried from upstairs.
Mig nodded. “I do. I’m sorry. I was afraid for him.”
“It’s fine. I understand. But right now, Solomon needs us. How do you feel?”
“Like I was hit by a gods-shunned dragon. He threw me. Sol did. I startled him.”
“It’s not your fault. He probably thought you were me. You should be fine in another minute. Once you are, I need you upstairs. Bring the bow.”
“I will. Is he up there?”
“They both are,” Jace said.
“What if he recognizes you? Won’t he realize what’s happened?”
“He’s seen me before. Briefly. He doesn’t remember this face. He remembers Ivra Jace as someone old. Like her sister in Godscry.”
“Her twin. The one who betrayed her.”
“Not so much betrayal as ideological disagreement. But there were rather severe consequences.”
“Gods,” Mig said. “If she knew.”
Jace smiled. “If she knew.”
A fifth crash. Something heavy landed on the floor above.
“I need to go,” Jace said. “Join me as soon as you can.”
“What about the dagger? Aren’t you afraid?”
“Very.”
Jace disappeared.
✽✽✽
YOU SLIP INTO the room behind the half-born just before she closes the door. The elf turns,
