The Blackgod

Yen reached down for him and lifted him off the floor as if he weighed no more than a feather, cradling him like a baby. Ghan tried to protest, but the pain and his exertions had left him without a voice. The bed was soft, wonderful, when Yen laid him in it.

“Thanks,” he managed to breathe.

“No, thank you,” Yen answered. “I … may I stay in your cabin for a time?”

“I think you should,” Ghan replied. “Someone up there is trying to kill you.”

Yen raised an eyebrow. “You know who it is?”

“I saw him. I don't know his name.”

“Really? That's good. That you saw him, I mean.” He sat down and drew his knees up to his chest. His breathing seemed to have evened out.

“It might be Li, I suppose,” Ghan offered.

Yen looked startled—no, he was shocked. “What? Why do you say that?”

“It's the first thing you said, when you came up out of the water.”

“Oh. No, I… Li was someone I used to know, when I was a boy. I thought you were her for a moment.”

“She must have been hideously ugly,” Ghan remarked.

Yen chuckled. “Most found her so,” he said, “though I did not. Funny.” He looked at Ghan with clear eyes. “I believed I had forgotten her. And yet there she is.”

“Memory is strange,” Ghan said. “There are moments from my boyhood sixty years ago that I recall more vividly than yesterday. As you grow older, you become accustomed to that.”

“There is no 'older' for me,” Yen mumbled, and Ghan caught the glitter of tears in the dim lantern light.

Ghan swung his legs toward the edge of the bed, still worried about the ache in his hip, but certain he could walk now.

“I'll find Lady Qwen Shen. There must be someone on board who has medical knowledge.”

Yen shook his head vigorously. “No, let it be. I'm growing stronger each moment.”

“Let me see your wound, then.”

“You won't see much.”

“What do you mean?” But Ghan felt a sharp jab of premonition. It turned into a pain in the center of his chest, and he clutched at it, astonished by the sudden force beneath his sternum. The room shuddered. Somewhere, inside the maelstrom of pain and fear, he knew he was about to die.

But then Yen quietly said “No,” as he had before, and the ball of pain in his chest was released. A sweet breath surged into his lungs, and another.

“I'm sorry,” Yen said. “You didn't deserve that. I—”

“What are you jabbering about?“ Ghan snarled, pain and relief suddenly churning into anger.

“Listen to me, Ghan. I wasn't lying when I said you and I were Hezhi's only hope. We are, and that is more certain to me now than ever. The emperor gave this expedition into my hands, do you understand? Not Bone Eel's.”

“Yes, yes. That much is clear. You and Qwen Shen control this expedition.”

Yen nodded grimly. “So I am betrayed by the emperor or more likely the priesthood. Possibly both.”

“I don't understand.”

Yen sighed. “I'm not certain I do, either. Have you explained to anyone else about our destination? Does anyone else but myself know even generally where we are bound?”

“The Lady Qwen Shen knows as much as you do. No one knows more.”

“Then they must feel certain they can get the information from you. They don't want to risk me because they can't control me.”

Ghan realized that Yen no longer seemed as if he was in pain at all. He had risen, begun pacing furiously about the cabin, though he kept his voice low, raspy.

“I saw your wound,” Ghan said, articulating each word with great care.

“You are the greatest scholar I know,” Yen said. He stopped pacing, and Ghan could see that his face was nearly drained of color. “Probably the greatest scholar in Nhol. And so you must tell me what I am, Ghan.” He reached to his throat and unbraided the silly-looking scarf he always wore, let it drift to the deck. Ghan stared, frowning for an instant, before what he saw made itself understood. Yen turned slowly, to help him.

Another shudder touched his chest, just a light caress, but Ghan thought he knew now where the pain came from, what it threatened.

“L-let me think,” he gasped, stammering for the first time since his eleventh birthday, eyes fixed on the impossible scar.

“Take your time,” Yen said.

THERE was a rap at the door. Ghan, deep in furious thought, looked up at Yen. Yen placidly replaced the scarf on his horribly scarred neck and went to the door.

Their visitor was Bone Eel, dressed handsomely in blue turban and matching robe. Ghan caught the gleam of steel beneath the robe, however. Bone Eel had apparently been moved to don a cuirass, at least.

“Ah, there you both are,” he said, sounding delighted. ”I only wanted to make certain you had both weathered our recent bit of trouble. Very exciting, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh, indeed,” Yen answered.

“Master Yen, your clothes are wet.”

“True. Unfortunately, as I rushed to defend the barge, I stumbled and fell overboard.”

“No! That's dreadful.”

“It was. Happily, one of the mooring lines hadn't been tied up properly, and I managed to get hold of it. Otherwise, the boat might have left me behind with those barbarians.”

Bone Eel smiled happily. “There wouldn't have been many to bother about, I assure you. We killed most of them, I'm happy to report, and the others will think long and hard about ever attacking an imperial vessel again.”

“That's good to hear.”

“Master Ghan? All is well with you?”

Ghan tried to focus his thoughts on the lord's demented patter. It was difficult. It was very much like sitting near a fantastically poisonous viper; the viper had struck, playfully, once, just to show him its speed, leaving him to wonder whether the viper would strike him, or Bone Eel—or not at all.

“Well enough,” Ghan tried to snap. “Though I would be better—far better—if I had never been included in this ridiculous mission.” His tension loosened, just a bit, as he warmed to playing himself. ”I think your charter has been well satisfied. We have sailed to Wun and 'points beyond,' and I think it's time we pointed the nose of this scow back down-River, to civilization.”

“Now, Master Ghan,” Bone Eel soothed. “One day up-River of Wun is hardly 'points beyond.' I think young Yen here would agree with that.”

“I do,” Yen confirmed.

“I never asked to be included on this trip, however,” Ghan acidly retorted. ”If I had —”

“Master Ghan, I've heard this objection from you before, several times, and I say what I said then. It is the emperor's wish that you chronicle this voyage, and so chronicle it you will. Now, I'm sorry for all of this unpleasantness, but the barge was never in any serious danger. We repelled all boarders and lost only seven men in doing so. Those are remarkably small losses, as I'm sure you know. Now, I must see to things, and knowing you are well, I do so without concerns for your health.” He made as if to leave and then stuck his head back in and said, “Try to be more cheerful, Master Ghan. It is good for digestion.” Then the noble left, closing the door behind him.

“Yes,” Yen repeated. “Try to be more cheerful.”

Ghan turned to face him. His speech about going back was contrived, but the outrage he had discovered was real. “You ask me what you are? Don't you know?”

Yen's show of tears was over; his face was placid, his eyes frozen jewels. But though his lips formed a faint smirk, Ghan thought they lay there uneasily. He had a brief ridiculous thought that Yen had