Brimborion says, “I don’t understand you. Yesterday you cut off my finger and today you save my life. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m just really tired.”
“You could have thrown me to those things and gotten away.”
“I’ll have to remember it for next time.”
He leans over me and makes a face like he smells spoiled milk.
“Your hand looks awful.”
“ ‘Awful’ is a kind of relative term. I mean, it looks better than Lahash.”
Brimborion lifts his head to get a better look at the smear of bone and gristle on the bed.
“You knew him. Who was he?”
“An herbalist,” Brimborion says. “He worked with the palace thaumaturgists. I used to buy . . . things from him.”
“You mean he’s your dealer.”
“If you wish.”
“Did he have access to the good stuff?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like maybe hypnotics. Something that would loosen him up enough for psychic control.”
“Do you think that’s what happened to him?”
“I don’t know. What kind of persuading would it take for you to sit still while someone pumped you full of carnivorous bugs?”
Brimborion crosses his arms. Uncrosses them. Leans his head against the wall and looks at the ceiling.
I roll over onto my Kissi arm, the only part of me that doesn’t hurt, and push myself into a sitting position. I try to move my burned fingers. When they flex, flakes of black skin drop off, revealing blistered red flesh underneath. At least there’s enough good skin left to heal.
“Would you like me to get you something?” Brimborion asks.
“What?” I say, my brain and body not quite on speaking terms yet.
Brimborion points to my hand.
“Would you like me to get you something for that? The palace witches make some powerful healing potions.”
“Yeah. Sure,” I say. “And some cigarettes. I really need a cigarette.”
“I’ll be back.”
He pushes himself to his feet.
“Don’t tell anyone about this. Especially not Vetis. I don’t want to be up to my eyeballs in security,” I say. “Act like nothing happened. That should give whoever set this up something to think about.”>I don’t hear from Brimborion all day. I wonder if he got someone to sew the finger back on. I don’t even know if they do that kind of thing down here. Probably they think if you’re dumb enough to lose a finger, you deserve for it to stay lost.
Vetis comes by to check on me later.
“You were burned in effigy in the market last night, lord.”
“I heard. And don’t call me ‘lord.’ ”