“You’re going to leave?” I asked.
“Got no choice, do I? Not stupid enough to stick around when Naha’s this pissed. Just glad he hasn’t cursed us, too.” He sighed, looking unhappy. “All the mortals, though… They’re marked—everybody who was in the city at the time Role and the others died. Even if they leave, they still see the black sun. I tried to send some of my kids down south to one of the coast towns, and they just came back. Said they wanted to be with me when…” He shook his head. “Kill ’em all, guilty and innocent alike. He and Itempas never were all that damn different.”
I lowered my head and sighed, weary in more than body. Had it even done any good, escaping the Lights? Would it make any difference if I found a way to expose them? Would the Night-lord destroy the city anyway, for sheer spite?
Dump shifted from foot to foot, abruptly looking uncomfortable. “Can’t help you, though.”
“What?”
“Someone wants you. Him, too. Can’t help either of you.”
All at once I understood. “You’re the Lord of Discards,” I said. I could not help smiling. I’d grown up on tales of him, though I’d never known his true name. They’d been favorites of my childhood. He was another trickster figure, humorous, appearing prominently in stories of runaway children and lost treasures. Once something was thrown away, unwanted, or forgotten, it belonged to him.
He grinned back at me with those unnervingly flat teeth. “Yeah.” Then his smile faded. “But you ain’t thrown away. Someone wants you bad.” He took a step back as if my very presence pained him, grimacing in distaste. “You’re gonna have to go. I’ll send you somewhere, if you can’t walk—”
“I know about the missing godlings,” I blurted. “I know who’s been killing them.”
Dump stiffened all at once, his massive fists clenching. “Who?”
“A cult of crazy mortals. Up there.” I pointed back toward the Tree. “There’s one of them, a scrivener who…” I hesitated, suddenly aware of the danger of naming Dateh a demon. If the gods knew there were still demons in the world…
No. I no longer cared what happened to me. Let them kill me, as long as they dealt with Madding’s killers, too.
But before I could say the words, Dump suddenly caught his breath and whirled away from me, his image flaring brighter as he summoned his magic. There was a scream in the distance, and then I heard small feet come pelting around a pile of rubbish, scrabbling once as they trotted along what sounded like a loose board.
“Dump!” a young girl cried. “People in the yard! Rexy told ’em to get the hells out and they hit him! He’s bleedin’!”
Abruptly I was jostled as Dump shoved the girl into the little alcove with me and Shiny. “Stay there,” he commanded. “I’ll go take care of ’em.”
I squirmed around the girl. There wasn’t much room for her, but she was small. I pushed at her; she was all lanky bones and ragged clothes. “Lord Dump, be careful! The scrivener I told you about, his magic—”
Dump made a sound of annoyance and vanished.
“Damn it!” I pounded my good fist into Shiny’s unresponsive leg. If Dateh was among the Lights who had come looking for me, or if they had another arrowhead made from demons’ blood…
“Hey,” said the girl, annoyed. “Shove the dead guy, not me.”
Dead, dead, uselessly dead. I couldn’t say he hadn’t warned me, though; this was why he’d wanted me stronger before we attempted the escape. So that I could leave him behind? For a moment, the possibility turned in my thoughts. If the Lights didn’t find him, Shiny would return to life and make his own way in the city, however he’d done it before meeting me. If they did find him… Well, perhaps he would slow them down enough for me to escape.
Even as I thought it, though, I knew I couldn’t do it. As much as I wanted to hate Shiny for his self-absorption and his temper and his miserable personality, he had loved Madding, too. For that alone, he deserved some loyalty.
In the meantime, I needed help. I couldn’t count on Dump returning. I had no way to reach mortal aid. If I could summon another godling to help, or better still…
My first thought was so repellent that I actually had trouble considering it. I forced myself to do so, anyhow, because Shiny had said it himself: there was one god who would want to deal with his children’s killers. Yet I also knew from my people’s history that Lord Nahadoth would not stop there. He might decide to wipe out the Lights by wiping out the entire city of Shadow, or perhaps the whole world. He was already angry, and we were nothing to him—worse than nothing. His betrayers and tormentors. It would probably please him to see us all die.