“Youdon’t gotta explain shit.”She jabbed her polearm.“He does.”
Thelayers of bone on Berith’s chest began to twist and writhe, forming the crookedpaw of a necrotic sigil.“You will address me with respect, pirate.”
“Don’tgot any for you.”
“You’llfind that a grievous mistake.”
Zariaspat on the floor.
Aroundthem, the thralls were spreading into a fan, their palms laced with ice andfire.The light of their sigils reflected on the machinery above.
“To answeryour query,” Zaria said.“Your nephew, here, did follow your instruction.Hewent marching straight through the sand, and he charred off a whole hide o’wyrms on the way into death, as well as a skimmer of throatcuts.He did everything you wanted, except for perishing of thirst.I had to save himfrom that.”
Therewas a silence.
“Oh,sure,” Zaria continued.“Don’t trip over yourself, thankin’me for it.”
Somethingcompelled Isaac to raise his gaze.When he did, he saw a mixture of expressionsin his uncle’s face.
Lingeringsurprise.
Confusion.
Apprehension.
Fear.
Hisuncle was afraid of him.He had the face of someone caught in the middle of acrime.Berith, the Bone Hunter, a college instructor, a man who had pioneeredthe reacclimation of undead thralls, the man who had scoured the Diet of roguenecrotics, was watching his own nephew like violence had become inevitable.
Isaacfelt a knife piercing through his heart.
“Say italoud, then,” Zaria said.“You tried to kill your kin.You told him to walkthrough a pit of dragons, and, for good measure, you gave him bad direction towater, all to make his final days a long, miserable crawl.I’ve seen it done tofolk, out here.A marooned pirate begs for the sword.The waste will eat youalive.”
Berithdid not reply.
Thesilence dragged and rolled.
Zariapeeled her lip.“You may have whipped him into thinking better of you, but Ihad you pegged from the start, you gutless coward.”
Berithclenched his fists.His blue eyes glowed.Below him, in ranks and files, histhralls raised their arms.Thirty spears of ice and fire aimed themselves atZaria.Above, more of the glass coffins shattered, entire starfields of boneflitting through the air until they were posed motionlessly above him, held inwait like bolts in a crossbow.
“I amtalking to my nephew,” Berith said, “not some filthy, delusional marauder whothinks she has any right to lecture me on morality.Speak another word, and itwill be your last.”
Isaacstepped in front of Zaria, shielding her with his body.
Berith’seyes continued to glow.“Get out of the way, Isaac.”
He didnot move.
“Getout of the way!”
Heremained in place.His heart was pounding, his palms were slick with sweat, andhe could already feel the memory of the cane burning across his back.
Berithsneered.“Why are you defending this cutthroat?She’s a murderer!A commonthief!”
Isaacdid not answer.He knew his voice would crack.It always did, whenever he spokein defiance.A weak reply was worse than none.Most of all, he did not wantZaria to see it happen.
“Whathave you been doing behind my back, Isaac?Is this another one of your littlerebellions?Another asinine fantasy?”
