“Benjamin Reese, I am hurt.” Catseye laid a hand over his chest. “You act as if I wouldn’t slaughter these townsfolk where they stand were they to burden you with so much as the briefest judgmental stare.”
“And I appreciate it, but I couldn’t put you out like that.”
“Nonsense. It would be my pleasure.”
The nonchalance with which Catseye threatened to murder a small portion of Everferd for causing Ben the slightest hint of anxiety made Helspira smile. It probably shouldn’t have, but it was rather sweet in a horrifying, hopefully-he-was-only-kidding sort of way. “I’d really love to hear you play, Ben.”
“You too, Hels?” Ben’s shoulders dropped, and he rubbed the back of his neck bones. “Fuck me. I never could disappoint a woman.”
“That’s the spirit. Off you go.” Catseye shooed him away.
With languid movements, Ben repositioned his lute in front of him. “If I get heckled by these people—”
“They’ll be dead before the chorus.”
“Promise?”
Catseye dragged his finger over his chest to form anX. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t mean as much from a guy with eight lives left, but”—Ben approached the crowd and strummed—“here we go.” He matched the lyre player’s song, a popular Siapharian tune, seamlessly coming in on the bridge.
The other musician faltered at the sight of him, fingers missing the correct strings.
Helspira held her breath, watching Catseye discreetly catch the attention of those who gawked. With two fingers, he pointed to his eyes, rotated those two fingers back to the crowd, dragged his thumb across his throat in a violent, sweeping motion, and donned a fake smile, while making the gesture to clap—the unanimous, unspoken signal for ‘I will annihilate every last one of you if you do not applaud this man’s talents.’
They didn’t seem to believe him until his hands followed the careful movements required to cast a spell. One whispered word later, his palm lit with a sickly green glow.
They clapped rather quickly under the looming threat of magic.
Eyes closed, Helspira lost herself in the melody, while Catseye took tottering steps backward and slumped onto the retaining wall.
“I’m glad he went out there.” Helspira opened her eyes to see how Ben’s song had slowly turned the audience’s horrified expressions into genuine captivation. “I know all too well how nerve-racking public scrutiny can be.”
“Irritates me to no end that they require threats before appreciating his talents,” Catseye rasped. “Benjamin is one of the finest musicians I know.”
The fatigue in his voice made her turn to inspect him. She gasped at the sight before her. “B’yehnz, are you all right?”
“Hmm? Never better.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Am I?” Frowning, Catseye pressed a finger into his upper lip. He pulled his hand back to view the blood, though he appeared to have trouble focusing his gaze. “Why is it always the nose? I have other orifices that can bleed. On second thought, perhaps I should be happy it’s always the nose.”
“Here.” Helspira reached into her leather armor and proffered the handkerchief he had given her in Vinepool. “I had to return this to you anyway. Don’t worry; I cleaned it.”
He accepted it with a gentle hand, somehow managing a grateful smile from behind the cloth that soaked up his blood.
As Ben pulled in a larger crowd, either by the quality of his performance or genuine curiosity, Helspira studied Catseye with concern. Cecil had rarely used his body’s energy to fuel his spells, but on the rare occasions he did, he never appeared to suffer the ill effects of magical backlash to the same degree. “Why is the recoil so much worse for you?”
“It’s not.” He wiped the last speck of red from his skin and cleared his throat. “I just don’t have much left to give, so it looks worse by comparison.”
Her gaze flitted to the ground. “I can’t imagine how high a price you’d have to pay to cast a spell that defies death itself.”
“Death and the gods,” he mumbled. “Dionus, the god Benjamin worships, clamors for his soul daily. Greedy bastard. He’ll have Benjamin for eternity once I’m dead. Don’t see why he can’t just share him for the next decade or two.”
The disguised torment in his voice filled her with pity. “Was it worth it? Everything you did?”
In the wake of his obvious pain, Catseye smirked. “Are you kidding? Look at him.” Reverence brightened his tired eyes when he glimpsed his brother-in-law. “Anyone who’s met Benjamin can see I got the better end of the deal. On that matter”—he stood, knees quivering, as he leaned his scythe against the retaining wall—“I can’t leave him out there alone, so if you’ll excuse me.” Catseye doffed an imaginary hat and headed into the crowd.
