Hishands were shaking.After all he had done, they still shook.
He wasstill weak.
Hethought he had changed.
“Let meguess,” Berith said.“She ambushed you, out in the dunes.Never mind how someilliterate beastwoman managed to get the better of you, but she did, and shestuck a knife in your neck, and she made you spill the Diet’s secrets.You toldher what you were doing, and I imagine she stabbed half her friends to death,on the spot, just for the chance to steal the treasure.Am I right?”
“No,”Isaac said.“There was not—it was my fault—”
“I’mright, aren’t I?”
“No!”
“Youbetrayed your mission!You let these pirates plunder the tomb!”
“No.No!That’s not—”
“Howmany Diet safehouses are in danger because of you, Isaac?Did you betray thetrust of the nine kingdoms just to save your own neck?”The bald necromancersnorted in disbelief.“You had my letter.You stupid boy, they would’ve justtaken you hostage.They would have sold you for ransom.You could’ve kept yourmouth shut!”
“That’snot how it happened!”Isaac shouted.“She—she saved my life!I would’ve beendead without her!She’s—” He turned his head, justenough to glimpse her from the corner of his vision.It was enough to steadyhis voice.“She’s helping me.I trust her.”
“Oh,truly?”Berith said.“Have you grown fond of her?Is that it?Forgiven her forsticking a knife to your throat?”His laugh was angry and hollow.“You werealways like this.Always fawning over every visitor I brought to the tower.Practically begging all your instructors for attention, like some snivelingdog.It wasembarrassing.”The bones above his head shook in the air.“Of course you’ve grown attached to the first mongrel that showed you theslightest kindness.I suppose you’re just too weak to help yourself.”
For amoment, Isaac was so overcome with fear and guilt and rage that he stoodquietly, surrounded by the machinery of death, completely unable to offer aretort.The old instincts were worming through histhoughts, the ones that always forced him to nod and agree and admit everyaccusation, because it would always end the lecture faster.
Zarianudged him from behind.
Hisheart quickened.
Hisfists clenched into balls.
“Is ittrue?”Isaac asked, stepping forward.It was taking all of his strength not tolose his voice in fear.“Did you trick me into walking through a nest ofwyrms?”
Berith’sglowing eyes pierced into him.
Slowly,making the movements deliberate and obvious, Isaac adopted the first mnemonicposition for a fireball.
“Watchyour hands, boy.”
He didnot drop his stance.
Hisuncle’s eyes never left his face.“Yes.It’s true.I knew your knowledge ofgeography was lacking.That was by design.You were supposed to die in thedesert.You were never meant to make it this far.”
Hewanted his next reply to be loud, angry.He wanted his voice to boom indefiance.Instead, it was almost a whisper.“Why?”
Berithstayed silent, the red stripes of the standard billowing behind him.
Isaacadopted the second mnemonic position.Flames began to trickle from his palms,exceeding the weakened fire of every thrall before him.
“Why?”he shouted.
“Icould not bear to see your corpse,” Berith said.
Isaacalmost lost his stance.
“Icould’ve done it a number of ways,” his uncle continued.“I could havesabotaged the wax symbol on the letter, tricking the shibboleth intoimmolation.I could have poisoned your food.I could have weakened your ropes,filled your vials with explosive reagents.My preferred method, if I had one,would have been to sabotage the sigils on your scrolls, causing the catalyst tobackfire.I had many options.”
Isaacfelt suddenly, inexplicably, like he was living a nightmare, like he had neverwoken from his sleep in the bathhouse, and now he was trapped in a falsereality, one that was cruel, endless, and singularly malevolent.
