head, her and the weird moment of stillness I’d experienced at the touch of her hand. Maybe if—I pushed the thought away. No time to think about what might be. I had to deal with the pain now. I drew in a long breath, my head still screaming in protest.
“What do you see?”
“Right at this moment,” I managed to say, “your very fine carpet.”
Martin wrenched me upright. “Hurts, does it? Still think you don’t need my help?”
“I’m not an
immuable
, Martin. I’m a mongrel, remember?” One who was going to stay far away from anything that resembled a leash.
“If you don’t want my help, it’s on your head.” The grip of the huge hand on the back of my neck tightened, sharp nails pricking at my skin. “But I will know what you see. So look, boy. Look hard.”
I didn’t see any alternative. I didn’t have to tell him everything I saw of course, but I wasn’t getting out of here until I told him
something
. Something that would make it worth his while to keep me alive. After all, he lacked a seer and if I wasn’t going to fulfill that role for him, he had no reason not to indulge the anger that smoked his voice.
Martin was not the delicate type. He would hurt me or kill me with no compunction. The images that flickered at the edges of my peripheral vision, the ones rising in response to Martin’s proximity were littered with bodies and blood.
For now they didn’t contain anyone I knew, but that could change.
I swallowed hard, fighting the nausea, and opened myself to the visions. It felt like stepping off a cliff and falling into a nightmare. The room went away and I stood alone in darkness, watching the flickering show that only I could see. Images danced around me, almost too fast to interpret. Some were faded and indistinct but some flared almost too bright to bear. Flames searing bright across the City turning the moonlight to smoky orange. A broken sword lying on marble tiles. The face of Ignatius Grey snarling in triumph, eyes blazing as red as the blood that stained his mouth. A crumpled pile of white fabric. Ash falling over cobblestones. But no Simon. Not this time.
Thank the Lady
.
I tried to find the Ignatius image again. If I couldn’t offer Martin the insights into Simon that he sought, then perhaps knowledge of the Blood would be an acceptable substitute. Ignatius Grey was currently the Blood lord most likely to retake control of the Blood Court. The Blood had been embroiled in deadly politics since Lord Lucius had vanished. As far as I knew, Ignatius was allied with the Roussellines, one of the packs who had backed Lucius. Perhaps Martin could use some leverage to better the position of the Kruegers there.
I let my mind focus on Ignatius, remembering the last time I had seen him. At one of the Blood Assemblies, feeling sweat trickle down my back in the overcrowded, overheated room, trying not to breathe in the smell of blood and smoke and fear too deeply. Ignatius had passed just a few feet away from me, moving amidst a pack of his supporters as they walked toward the stairs that led to the private chambers above. He had scanned the room with arrogant brown eyes, the very image of a man well satisfied with himself and his place in the world. He exuded an air of casual cruelty, of belief that whatever he wanted should be reality, that made the crowds part to let him through. Even now the memory made my spine crawl.
I had told Martin that I needed to be near someone to see their future but that wasn’t strictly true. It was easier that way, but sometimes, if I caught a glimpse of someone in a vision, I could follow that glimpse and expand upon it.
I didn’t do it often. Hells, I did as little as possible with my power. Each time I used it, it grew stronger and the pain of resisting grew worse. The deepest I cared to go was the surface skimming I did to tell fortunes to foolish women and men. That had once been bearable, but lately even taking such quick glimpses was
“What do you see?”
“Right at this moment,” I managed to say, “your very fine carpet.”
Martin wrenched me upright. “Hurts, does it? Still think you don’t need my help?”
“I’m not an
immuable
, Martin. I’m a mongrel, remember?” One who was going to stay far away from anything that resembled a leash.
“If you don’t want my help, it’s on your head.” The grip of the huge hand on the back of my neck tightened, sharp nails pricking at my skin. “But I will know what you see. So look, boy. Look hard.”
I didn’t see any alternative. I didn’t have to tell him everything I saw of course, but I wasn’t getting out of here until I told him
something
. Something that would make it worth his while to keep me alive. After all, he lacked a seer and if I wasn’t going to fulfill that role for him, he had no reason not to indulge the anger that smoked his voice.
Martin was not the delicate type. He would hurt me or kill me with no compunction. The images that flickered at the edges of my peripheral vision, the ones rising in response to Martin’s proximity were littered with bodies and blood.
For now they didn’t contain anyone I knew, but that could change.
I swallowed hard, fighting the nausea, and opened myself to the visions. It felt like stepping off a cliff and falling into a nightmare. The room went away and I stood alone in darkness, watching the flickering show that only I could see. Images danced around me, almost too fast to interpret. Some were faded and indistinct but some flared almost too bright to bear. Flames searing bright across the City turning the moonlight to smoky orange. A broken sword lying on marble tiles. The face of Ignatius Grey snarling in triumph, eyes blazing as red as the blood that stained his mouth. A crumpled pile of white fabric. Ash falling over cobblestones. But no Simon. Not this time.
Thank the Lady
.
I tried to find the Ignatius image again. If I couldn’t offer Martin the insights into Simon that he sought, then perhaps knowledge of the Blood would be an acceptable substitute. Ignatius Grey was currently the Blood lord most likely to retake control of the Blood Court. The Blood had been embroiled in deadly politics since Lord Lucius had vanished. As far as I knew, Ignatius was allied with the Roussellines, one of the packs who had backed Lucius. Perhaps Martin could use some leverage to better the position of the Kruegers there.
I let my mind focus on Ignatius, remembering the last time I had seen him. At one of the Blood Assemblies, feeling sweat trickle down my back in the overcrowded, overheated room, trying not to breathe in the smell of blood and smoke and fear too deeply. Ignatius had passed just a few feet away from me, moving amidst a pack of his supporters as they walked toward the stairs that led to the private chambers above. He had scanned the room with arrogant brown eyes, the very image of a man well satisfied with himself and his place in the world. He exuded an air of casual cruelty, of belief that whatever he wanted should be reality, that made the crowds part to let him through. Even now the memory made my spine crawl.
I had told Martin that I needed to be near someone to see their future but that wasn’t strictly true. It was easier that way, but sometimes, if I caught a glimpse of someone in a vision, I could follow that glimpse and expand upon it.
I didn’t do it often. Hells, I did as little as possible with my power. Each time I used it, it grew stronger and the pain of resisting grew worse. The deepest I cared to go was the surface skimming I did to tell fortunes to foolish women and men. That had once been bearable, but lately even taking such quick glimpses was
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