dying.
He looked down and almost wished he hadn't. Twelve inches of wooden shaft jutted between his first and second ribs on the right side, not far enough back to hit a kidney, thank the gods of his forefathers. And he wasn't spitting up blood, so it hadn't punctured a lung. He let out a slow breath. The wound wasn't fatal in and of itself. He might even survive, if he could get the bolt out, if infection didn't set in, if a physician appeared out of thin air. If, if, if…
He knew it would be useless, but he reached back with his right hand anyway and grasped the shaft. He tugged, just a little, to see how deep the head was buried and clamped his jaws together to stifle the cry that raced up his throat.
The girl grabbed his wrist. 'Don't touch that!' She sounded angry, as if he was her responsibility. Strange. Maybe he was still dreaming.
He dropped his hand away, too weak to resist her. He took a better look around. They must be underneath the city. The Othir of modern day was constructed over the ruins of the ancient Nimean capital. Invading peoples from a variety of nations had sacked the old city several times before the empire reasserted itself on the world stage, emerging from its own ashes like the legendary phoenix. Now, centuries later, those ruins festered beneath the city, only seen from above whenever somebody's cellar caved in. This chamber may have once been part of a villa, or a food merchant's shop. Somehow the girl had carried him here, or dragged him more likely. Still, it was no small feat for such a tiny waif. The lantern looked like an antique, probably leftover from the days of the empire, but it still had some oil in the reservoir. Another miracle. It would be nice to die with some light.
As he looked around, Caim almost missed Kit sitting in the far corner, arms around her knees. She watched him with sad, tearful eyes. He offered what he hoped was a cheery smile, but the pain transformed it into a grimace. The frown she tossed back at him didn't hold much hope. Good old Kit. She never pulled any punches.
'Thank you,' he mouthed.
Josephine frowned as she glanced into the corner where Kit sat, and then turned back to regard him with a pensive expression. 'What are you looking at?'
'Why did you help me?'
She shrugged, a simple raising and lowering of her shoulders, but he could see the pain behind her eyes. It raged like a beast within her, a feeling he knew all too well.
'What else could I do? You're hurt.'
'You could have left me.'
'Maybe I wanted to look into your eyes as you died.'
He took a deeper breath and let it out. 'You don't seem the type, Miss Frenig. But I'll do my best to make it quick.'
'Caim!' Kit chided through a veil of tears.
'Call me Josey.'
'All right, Josey. You'll get your wish soon enough. Just keep that lamp burning a little while longer.'
'You can't die. I need you alive.'
Caim couldn't stop the racking laugh that erupted from his belly. When he had recovered from the agony that almost sent him reeling back into the darkness, he ventured to speak again.
'I'd sooner believe the first answer,' he said. 'You're harder than you look, Josey. So, now you get your revenge. After I'm gone, go find somewhere safe. Get out of Othir if you can.'
'Where can I go? I can't go to the authorities. I don't know who will try to kill me next. Whom should I trust?'
'Trust no one.'
'What about you?'
'Especially not me. I don't know what to tell you. Go back to your lord father's estate until things settle down. Or find a nice farm boy and start a family.'
'I don't want to run.' She glanced down at her hands resting in her lap. 'I want to find out who killed my father. For that, I need your help.'
Caim tested his strength by pulling himself up into a sitting position. The wound didn't pain him much when he moved slow and took small breaths.
'I'm no use to anyone anymore, girl.'
She gazed back at him. Wetness gathered in the corners of her eyes. He hadn't realized how green they were, like glittering jewels. Even bedraggled and mud-stained, she was beautiful.
'Those men meant to kill me, and Markus is part of it,' she said, softly as if she couldn't believe the words coming from her own mouth. 'But you risked your life to save me. You're all I have.'
Caim closed his eyes. Deep inside his chest, the old anger smoldered. He wasn't ready to relinquish this life. He had things to do yet, debts that needed settling. The dream loitered in the back of his mind, and the vow he'd made on that night with his father's blood on his hands. Somehow, other things had gotten in the way of fulfilling that oath, but he saw it clearly now. His life up to this point had been a path toward that goal, if he lived to see the end.
'You'll have to get the bolt out.'
'What?' She shook her head, sending her straggly ebon locks flying in all directions. 'No. We'll find a physician. There's got to be a way out of these sewers.'
'I'll never make it. I'm losing too much blood.'
'But I don't know how to do that. I've never-'
He reached under his back and drew a knife. He held the blade up to the light. 'This is a good time to learn.'
She recoiled from the weapon. 'No, I can't. We need help.'
Caim hissed. The pain was spreading up his arm and through his chest. He flipped the knife and offered it to her, handle first.
'I'm running out of time. You can't make it any worse than it already is. Don't worry. I'll talk you through it.'
She took the suete with both hands. 'You've done this before?'
He peeled off his tunic, careful not to jar the shaft of the bolt, and rolled onto his left side to give her better access to the wound.
'Not exactly.' As the apprehension returned to her eyes, he added, 'But I've cut open enough people to know where the important parts are.'
She looked at the knife in her hands, and for a moment he thought she would balk, but her brow came together in a determined frown.
'All right,' she said. 'I'll try.'
Caim let out a long breath. 'First thing, get that lantern down here. You'll need to be able to see what you're doing.'
She did as he instructed and set the lantern on the floor beside him.
'Now open the shutter and hold the edge of the blade over the flame for a few seconds.' When she looked askance at him, he said, 'It cleanses the blade. The wound is probably going to get infected in any case, but no use in stacking the odds.'
'Should we wash your side first?'
'Not with any water you'd find down here. And we'll need something to pack the wound afterward.'
Josey set down the knife and reached under her skirt. Caim watched with amusement as she rocked and shimmied. A petticoat of delicate lace appeared, only slightly damp and shielded from the worst of the effluent by her nightgown.
'That will have to do,' he said. 'Now, it's time to start cutting.'
'It's so deep.' She peered into the hole in his side. A dewy sheen of perspiration beaded on her cheeks and upper lip.
'Don't think of it as flesh you're cutting. Think of it as a piece of meat.'
She put a hand to her mouth. 'I'm going to be sick.'
He grabbed her wrist hard. The bones under her skin were thin and sharp. He forced his voice to remain
