The Pattern Scars by Caitlin Sweet

Author:Caitlin Sweet
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781926851501
Publisher: ChiZine Publications
Published: 2011-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Teldaru came in very quietly. Perhaps he intended to surprise me, or to watch me sleep—but I was awake and sitting atop the sarcophagus with my legs dangling. He put the lantern down by the stairs and walked over to me. There was a bag in his hand. He looked at me—only at me; not even once at Borl.

I took the bag when he held it up to me. It was heavy, full of lumpy, bumpy things: a waterskin, I saw when I opened the cloth, and an apple, a rounded end of bread, a block of yellow cheese. I ate and drank everything, but not greedily. “I have better manners than I did the last time you watched me eat,” I said, between bites. “Good castle manners. Must be much less interesting for you.”

He said nothing. Just stood below me, watching me with still, black eyes.

When I was done I dabbed at my mouth with the hem of my skirt. We looked at each other for a very long time. “You didn’t expect that,” I said at last, gesturing at Borl. “You expected me to succeed, but you had no idea what would happen after. It surprised you.”

Another silence. I had no trouble meeting his gaze. I was strong and sure, and I knew that this feeling would not last, and the knowledge only made it all the sweeter. “Isn’t there anything you want to tell me? Like why he’s blind?”

Teldaru frowned but I knew he would speak; he could never resist an opportunity to instruct. “It is a result of remaking. Those who are remade are always blind. Also, sometimes they can only move a bit, and sometimes not at all—this depends on how long they were dead.”

“How do you know this?”

“I have done just the tiniest bit of studying, in my time.”

“Studying? That is hardly proof. In fact, you have hardly ever proven anything to me—I wonder if you really—”

As I was saying those last three words he drew the knife from his belt and plunged its blade into Borl’s side. I leapt from the sarcophagus as he went on stabbing: belly, throat, belly, while I hammered at him with my fists and wrapped my arms around his jerking shoulders. Borl made no sound. A few moments later, Teldaru sagged back into my arms, pressing them against his chest so that I could not move them.

“So,” he said, and poked Borl with the toe of his shoe. The dog was oozing black liquid that did not quite look like blood. His breath whistled. He lifted his head and blinked at me with his new, blind eyes; a moment later he sat up, shook himself, and growled. “The creature cannot die again, for good, unless you do,” Teldaru said. “Shall I prove this part to you, now?”

I shook my head. All my bravado had been swept away by a sickness that made my limbs judder. When he let me go I crumpled to my knees.

“No?” he said from above me.

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