The Inheritance Trilogy Omnibus(112)

“Be silent,” Dekarta snarled at her. His diamond-pale eyes fixed on her so sharply that she actually flinched. “You don’t know how close I came to killing you when I heard of Kinneth’s death.”

Scimina went stiff, echoing Dekarta’s own posture. Predictably she did not obey his order. “That would have been your privilege, my lord. But I had no part in Kinneth’s death; I paid no attention to her or this mongrel daughter of hers. I don’t even know why you chose her as today’s sacrifice.”

“To see if she was a true Arameri,” Dekarta said very softly. His eyes drifted back to mine. It took three full heartbeats for me to realize what he meant, and the blood drained from my face as I did.

“You thought I killed her,” I whispered. “Father of All, you honestly believed that.”

“Murdering those we love best is a long tradition in our family,” Dekarta said.


Beyond us, the eastern sky had grown very bright.


I spluttered. It took me several tries to muster a coherent sentence through my fury, and when I did it was in Darre. I only realized it when Dekarta looked more confused than offended by my curses. “I am not Arameri!” I finished, fists clenched at my sides. “You eat your own young, you feed on suffering, like monsters out of some ancient tale! I will never be one of you in anything but blood, and if I could burn that out of myself I would!”

“Perhaps you aren’t one of us,” Dekarta said. “Now I see that you are innocent, and by killing you I only destroy what remains of her. There is a part of me which regrets this. But I will not lie, Granddaughter. There is another part of me that will rejoice in your death. You took her from me. She left Sky to be with your father, and to raise you.”

“Do you wonder why?” I gestured around the glass chamber, at gods and blood relatives come to watch me die. “You killed her mother. What did you think she would do, get over it?”

For the first time since I had met him, there was a flicker of humanity in Dekarta’s sad, self-deprecating smile. “I suppose I did. Foolish of me, wasn’t it?”

I could not help it; I echoed his smile. “Yes, Grandfather. It was.”

Viraine touched Dekarta’s shoulder then. A patch of gold had grown against the eastern horizon, bright and warning. Dawn was coming. The time for confessions had passed.

Dekarta nodded, then gazed at me for a long, silent moment before speaking. “I’m sorry,” he said very softly. An apology that covered many transgressions. “We must begin.”


Even then, I did not say what I believed. I did not point at Viraine and name him my mother’s killer. There was still time. I could have asked Dekarta to see to him before completing the succession, as a last tribute to Kinneth’s memory. I don’t know why I didn’t—No. I do. I think in that moment, vengeance and answers ceased to have meaning for me. What difference would it make to know why my mother had died? She would still be dead. What good did it do me to punish her killer? I would be dead, too. Would any of this give meaning to my death, or hers?

There is always meaning in death, child. You will understand, soon.


Viraine began a slow circuit of the room. He raised his hands, lifted his face, and—still walking—began to speak.

“Father of the sky and of the earth below you, master of all creation, hear your favored servants. We beg your guidance through the chaos of transition.”

He stopped in front of Relad, whose face looked waxy in the gray light. I did not see the gesture that Viraine made, but Relad’s sigil suddenly glowed white, like a tiny sun etched upon his forehead. He did not wince or show any sign of pain, though the light made him look paler still. Nodding to himself, Viraine moved on around the room, now passing behind me. I turned my head to follow him; for some reason it bothered me to have him out of sight.

“We beg your assistance in subduing your enemies.” Behind me, Nahadoth had turned his face away from the rising dawn. The black aura around him had begun to wisp away, as it had on the night of Scimina’s torture. Viraine touched Nahadoth’s forehead. A sigil appeared out of nowhere, also white-hot, and Nahadoth hissed as if this caused him further pain. But the leaking of his aura stopped, and when he lifted his head, panting, the dawn’s light no longer seemed to bother him. Viraine moved on.

“We beg your blessing upon your newest chosen,” he said, and touched Scimina’s forehead. She smiled as her sigil ignited, the white light illuminating her face in stark angles and eager, fierce planes.

Viraine came to stand before me then, with the plinth between us. As he passed behind it, my eyes were again drawn to the Stone of Earth. I had never dreamt it would look so singularly unimpressive.