Colin turned his attention to Brunt. Walter’s heavy hesitated, shifted from one foot to another, but then Walter shot him a black glare, and with a roar of anger Brunt charged forward.
Warm terror flooded through Colin as Brunt bore down on him, his arm tightening, the swing increasing. He waited a single breath, two, Brunt closing in with surprising speed, and then let the knot go.
A dark splotch of red bloomed on Brunt’s forehead, but Brunt didn’t slow. Colin took a startled step backward, reached to place another stone with his opposite hand, knew he wouldn’t have enough time to load it, swing, and throw before Brunt hit him But then Brunt’s legs gave out beneath him. He toppled forward, knees hitting the street first with a sickening crunch, body following gracelessly, a surprised expression cutting through the rage in his eyes. His face slammed into the dirt, then ground forward an inch before coming to a halt.
He didn’t move, his arms stretched out by his sides.
Colin gasped and swallowed, wiped the sudden sweat from his face, then grinned at Walter as he placed another stone in the sling. “Now what, Walter? You’ve lost your heavy, and you’ve lost your thinker. Who’s next?”
Rick bolted for the end of the street, but Colin didn’t care. His gaze remained fixed on Walter, on the livid expression on his face, on the cold, hard desperate sensation of satisfaction that coursed through his own body, making him tremble. Stepping around Brunt’s limp form, he let the stone fly before Walter had time to move, before the dust from Brunt’s landing had even settled to the ground.
And he didn’t aim for Walter’s head.
Walter screamed, the rage on his face transformed into pure pain as he clutched at his groin and toppled to the ground. The scream bled down into harsh sobbing as Colin advanced, another stone in place, the sling already swinging, even though Colin couldn’t remember reloading. A sheet of white rage fell over him, blinded him to everything but Walter, writhing on the ground, everything but the sound of the cords of the sling as he whirled it at his side, everything but the remembered taste of bitter blood in his mouth and the stench of his own urine soaking his breeches.
“That was for my father!” he yelled, moving forward slowly, his voice wild, cracking with emotion. He let the second stone fly, the rock catching Walter hard in the chest. “And that was for my mother!” Walter groaned and rolled away, hands between his legs, body curled into a tight ball, his fine clothes covered with dust and dirt from the street.
Colin had moved too close to use the sling. He circled the Proprietor’s son, blood pounding in his ears as he glared down at him. “And this is for me.”
He kicked Walter in the stomach, hard, as hard as he could. He wanted to see him piss his pants, wanted him to taste blood, but the arms that protected Walter’s balls also protected his gut. The kick landed awkwardly, and with it, all of the intensity of Colin’s rage and terror fled. He stood over Walter’s body, breathing hard, body flushed, the prickling sensation in his skin feverish now, sticky. He wiped at his nose with one hand, realized that tears streaked his face, hot tears, but he didn’t care. The urge-the need -to beat Walter unconscious died.
He turned, glanced at Brunt’s prone form, at Gregor’s, shame mingling with the heat of anger. He’d imagined running away from the encounter triumphant, laughing like a maniac, grinning like a madman.
Instead, he scrubbed the tears and snot from his face with one arm, cast one last glance at Walter where he lay, moaning and rocking back and forth in the dirt Then he turned and walked away, head down.
His mother knew something was wrong the moment he pushed through the entrance to the hut. He hadn’t expected her to be there, had thought she’d be out to the north of Lean-to, where the refugees had claimed and dug up their own section of land, had planted and now tended their own crops. A plot of ground small enough for Sartori to ignore but enough to provide Lean-to with some fresh vegetables.
“Colin?” she asked, setting the cloth she was stitching down in her lap. “Colin, what’s wrong?”
He couldn’t look at her. Keeping his eyes on the floor, he stalked over to his pallet, tossed his satchel and sling to one side, and collapsed onto the blanket, lying with his back to the rest of the hut, his arms crossed over his chest, hands hugging his shoulders. He still felt overheated, the skin of his face tight, and his chest ached. So much that it was difficult to breathe.
He stared at the back wall of the hut, at the planks his father had bought when they’d first arrived in Portstown. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He felt lost. He didn’t know what to think, didn’t know how to feel. He knew he shouldn’t have led Walter to that back street. He knew it.
Yet part of him thrilled at the idea that it had worked. Part of him reveled in the bewildered expression on Brunt’s face before he collapsed, in the terror on Gregor’s when he’d seen the sling.
And he couldn’t keep his mouth from twitching into a tight smile when he heard Walter’s scream of pain as the first stone caught him in the balls.
Colin shuddered, trapped between the smile and the feverish guilt, then stilled as he heard the rustle of shifting clothes behind him, his mother moving closer, then kneeling at his back.
He flinched when she laid her hand over his.
“Colin, what happened?”
He drew breath to answer… but couldn’t. Because he knew she’d be angry, after everything she’d taught him about the Codex of Diermani, after everything he’d learned.
But her disappointment in him would be worse.
“Nothing.” His voice sounded thick and hoarse, deeper than usual, as if he’d been sobbing uncontrollably for hours. Or as if he’d been shouting. “Nothing happened.”
His mother’s hand began rubbing his shoulder as she considered this. Colin could feel her thinking, could feel her debating whether to press him.
But then she patted his hand and stood, moving back to her work.
“Your father and the others have gone down to the docks. There’s a new ship expected today, and they’re hoping to get some work unloading the cargo. As soon as I’m finished here with the stitching, do you think you could run the clothes up to Miriam? She should have a few loaves of bread for us in return.”
She spoke as if nothing were wrong, as if nothing had happened. But Colin could feel her eyes on his back, so he nodded.
“Good.”
And then she left him alone, working in silence behind him. Slowly, the ache in his chest receded, and he could no longer feel the blood pulsing in his skin, in his throat. He found he could breathe.
When he finally rolled over, arms sluggish, body tired, as if exhausted, he found her watching him, her brow creased slightly in concern.
“All right?” she asked, her voice soft and calm.
He nodded, even though it wasn’t. He didn’t think it would ever be all right again.
His mother accepted the nod, and somehow that made it worse. She handed over the basket of clothes with a smile, reached to tousle his hair, but then caught herself, a fleeting expression of regret passing through her eyes.
“Don’t forget the bread,” she said.
Colin ducked out of the hut, paused outside. He squinted up at the afternoon light, the sun almost too bright, then headed off up the slope toward Miriam’s, moving slowly.
He hadn’t gone twenty paces when Karen fell into step beside him. She smiled when he looked up, then glanced down at the basket of clothing.
“Finally learned to wash your own clothes?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice.
He rolled his eyes. “No. These are for Miriam. My mother mended them.”
“Oh.” Karen hesitated, then added, “Mind if I join you?”
Colin answered her with a confused look and she laughed.
“I’m headed that way anyway,” she said. “We may as well walk together, right?”
Colin shrugged. “I guess.” He didn’t want to deal with Karen. Not now.
Karen gave him a questioning look. “Is there anything wrong? You seem… different somehow.”
“Different from what?”
“I don’t know. Different from when we crashed into each other by the stream.”
Colin blushed. “We’ve seen each other since then.”
“I know,” Karen said. “I’ve seen you watching me.”
The blush suddenly deepened, and Colin found he couldn’t speak.
