“You’ll have your vengeance, Princess,” Denth whispered.
She looked at him. “I want them to hurt, Denth. The attack today wasn’t about subduing a rebellious element. The Hallandren sent those soldiers in to kill. Kill the poor that they created. We’re going to stop them from doing things like that. I don’t care what it takes. I’m tired of being pretty and nice and ignoring ostentation. I want to do something.”
Denth nodded slowly. “All right. We’ll change course, start making our attacks a little more painful.”
“Good,” she said. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling frustrated, wishing that she was strong enough to keep all of these emotions away. But she wasn’t. She’d kept them in too long. That was the problem.
“This was never about your sister, was it?” Denth asked. “Coming here?”
She shook her head, eyes still shut.
“Why, then?”
“I had trained all of my life,” she whispered. “I was the one who would sacrifice herself. When Siri left in my place, I became nothing. I had to come and get it back.”
“But you just said that you’ve always hated Hallandren,” he said, sounding confused.
“I have. And I do. That’s why I had to come.”
He was silent for a few moments. “Too complicated for a mercenary, I guess.”
She opened her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she understood, either. She’d always kept a firm grip on her hatred, only letting it manifest in disdain for Hallandren and its ways. She confronted the hatred now. Acknowledged it. Somehow, Hallandren could be loathsome yet enticing at the same time. It was as if . . . she knew that until she came and saw the place for herself, she wouldn’t have a real focus—a real understanding, a real image—of what it was that had destroyed her life.
Now she understood. If her Breaths would help, then she would use them. Just like Lemex. Just like those slumlords. She wasn’t above that. She never had been.
She doubted Denth would understand. Instead, Vivenna nodded toward Jewels. “What is she doing?”
Denth turned. “Attaching a new muscle,” he said. “One of the ones in his side got cut, sheared right through. Muscles won’t work right if you just sew them together. She has to replace the whole thing.”
“With screws?”
Denth nodded. “Right into the bone. It works all right. Not perfectly, but all right. No wound can ever be perfectly fixed on a Lifeless, though he will heal some. You just sew them up and pump them full of fresh ichor-alcohol. If you fix them enough times, the body will stop working right and you’ll have to spend another Breath to keep them going. By then, it’s usually just best to buy another body.”
Saved by a monster. Perhaps that was what made her so determined to use her Breath. She should be dead, but Clod had saved her. A Lifeless. She owed her life to something that should not exist. Even worse, if she looked deep within herself, she found herself feeling a traitorous pity for the thing. Even an affection. Considering that, she figured that she was already damned to the point where using her Breaths wouldn’t matter.
“He fought well,” she whispered. “Better than the Lifeless that the city guard was using.”
Denth glanced at Clod. “They’re not all equal. Most Lifeless, they’re just made out of whatever body happens to be around. If you pay good money, you can get one who was very skillful in life.”
She felt a chill, remembering then that moment of humanity she’d seen on Clod’s face as he defended her. If an undead monstrosity could be a hero, then a pious princess could blaspheme. Or was she still just trying to justify her actions?
“Skill,” she whispered. “They keep it?”
Denth nodded. “Some semblance of it, at least. Considering what we paid for this guy, he’d must have been quite the soldier. And that’s why it’s worth the money, time, and trouble to repair him, rather than buy a new Lifeless.”
They treat him just like a thing, Vivenna thought. Just as she should. And yet, more and more, she thought of Clod as a “he.” He had saved her life. Not Denth, not Tonk Fah. Clod. It seemed to her that they should show more respect for him.
Jewels finished with the muscles, then sewed the skin closed with a thick string.
“Though he’ll kind of heal,” Denth said, “it’s best to use something strong in the repair, so the wound doesn’t rip apart again.”
Vivenna nodded. “And the . . . juice.”
“Ichor-alcohol,” Denth said. “Discovered by the Five Scholars. Wonderful stuff. Keeps a Lifeless going really well.”
“That’s what let the Manywar occur?” she whispered. “Getting the mixture right?”
“That’s part of it. That and the discovery—again by one of the Five Scholars, I forget which one—of some new Commands. If you really want to be an Awakener, Princess, that’s what you have to learn. The Commands.”
She nodded. “Teach me.”
To the side Jewels got out a small pump and attached a small hose to a little valve at the base of Clod’s neck. She began to pump the ichor-alcohol, moving the pump very slowly, probably in order to keep from bursting the blood vessels.
“Well,” Denth said, “there are a lot of Commands. If you want to bring a rope to life—like that one you tried to use back in the alleyway—a good Command is ‘hold things.’ Speak it with a clear voice, willing your Breath to act. If you do it right, the rope will grab whatever is closest. ‘Protect me’ is another good one, though it can be interpreted in fairly strange ways if you don’t imagine exactly what you want.”
“Imagine?” Vivenna asked.