The Inheritance Trilogy Omnibus(159)

“They’re still dead,” I said. “My intentions don’t change that.”

“True.” He shifted, putting the other foot into the water. “They probably intended to kill you, though.”

I laughed softly. It echoed off the shifting surface of the water and sounded demented. “Stop trying, Mad. Please.”

He fell silent for a while, letting me wallow. When he decided I’d done enough of that, he slipped into the waist-high water and came over, lifting me against him. That was all it took, really. I buried my face in his chest and let myself turn to noodle in his arms. He rubbed my back and murmured soothing things in his language while I cried, and then he carried me out of the room of pools and up curving stairs and laid me down in the tumbled pile of cushions that served as his bed. I fell asleep there, not caring whether I ever woke up again.


Of course, I did wake up eventually, disturbed by voices talking softly nearby. When I opened my eyes and looked around, I was surprised to see a strange godling sitting beside the cushion pile. She was very pale, with short black hair molded like a cap around a pleasant, heart-shaped face. Two things struck me at once: first, that she looked ordinary enough to pass for human, which marked her as a godling who regularly did business with mortals. Second, for some reason, she sat in shadow, though there was nothing nearby that could have thrown a shadow on her, and I shouldn’t have been able to see the shadow in any case.

She had been talking with Madding but paused as I sat up. “Hello,” I said, nodding to her and rubbing my face. I knew all his people, and this one wasn’t one of them.

She nodded back, smiling. “So you’re Mad’s killer.”

I stiffened. Madding scowled. “Nemmer.”

“I meant no insult,” she said, shrugging, still smiling. “I like killers.”

I glanced at Madding, wondering whether it was all right for me to tell this kinswoman of his to go to the infinite hells. He didn’t seem tense, which told me she was no threat or enemy, but he wasn’t happy, either. He noticed my look and sighed. “Nemmer came to warn me, Oree. She runs another organization here in town—”

“More like a guild of independent professionals,” Nemmer put in.

Madding threw her a look that was pure brotherly annoyance, then focused on me again. “Oree… the Order of Itempas just contacted her, asking to commission her services. Hers specifically, not one of her people.”

I picked up a big pillow and pulled it against me, not to hide my nudity but to cover my shiver of unease. Madding noticed and went to his closet to fetch something for me. To Nemmer I said, “Not that I know much about it, but I was under the impression that the Order could call upon the Arameri assassin corps whenever they had need.”

“Yes,” said Nemmer, “when the Arameri approve of, or care about, what they’re doing. But there are a great many small matters that are beneath the Arameri’s notice, and the Order prefers to take care of such matters itself.” She shrugged.

I nodded slowly. “I take it you’re a god of… death?”

“Oh, no, that’s the Lady. I’m just stealth, secrets, a little infiltration. The sort of business that takes place under the Night-father’s cloak.”

I could not help blinking at this title. She was referring to one of the new gods, the Lord of Shadows, but her term had sounded much like Nightlord. That could not be, of course; the Nightlord was in the keeping of the Arameri.

“I don’t mind the odd elimination,” Nemmer continued, “but only as a sideline.” She shrugged, then glanced at Madding. “I might reconsider, though, given how much the Order is offering. Probably a big unexploited market in taking out godlings who piss off mortals.”

I gasped and whirled toward Mad, who was coming back to the bed with a robe. He lifted an eyebrow, unworried. Nemmer laughed and reached over to poke my bare knee, which made me jump. “I could be here for you, you know.”

“No,” I said softly. Madding could take care of himself. There was no reason for me to worry. “No one would send a godling to kill me. Easier to pay some beggar twenty meri and make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Not that they need to hide it at all; they’re the Order.”

“Ah, but you forget,” Nemmer said. “You used magic to kill those Keepers at the park. And the Order thinks you killed three others who’d been assigned to discipline a Maro man, reportedly your cousin, for assaulting a previt. They couldn’t find the bodies, but word’s going around about how your magic works.” She shrugged.