shivered, despite the growing heat in the trunk. It was four days, maybe five to Baseer by road. I’d gone three days without food before, but never longer. I’d known folks who had, so I could probably manage, but how long could I survive without water?
“Ferry’s boarding.”
“About time,” said Uncle. “Saints, my head is killing me. Wake me when we hit the mainland. I’m gonna nap.”
A door squeaked and shut, and the carriage lurched forward.
The shifted pain. How long before it thickened Uncle’s blood and wore out his body? It had taken only a day for Danello and his brothers to get pain sick after I’d shifted their father’s pain into them, but there had been a lot more of it. How soon until Uncle got sick?
How soon until he died?
Hope and guilt merged in a very uncomfortable knot in my guts. I’d killed him sure as if I’d stabbed him, only he didn’t know it. I didn’t see any of them going to a Healer. Maybe a pain merchant, but I doubted there’d be any of those along the way.
I shouldn’t feel guilty. He’d have killed me in a heartbeat. Cut off my head, just for money. Still, Healers didn’t take lives.
The crowd’s shouts echoed in my ears. Abomination! Murderer!
I wasn’t a Healer and I never would be. I had other paths: hero or murderer.
Saints forgive me, but I felt more like one than the other.
My stomach rolled with every sway, queasy again from the heat and closeness of the trunk. I focused on breathing – in, out, in, out – trying not to be sick. I didn’t think Fieso would open the trunk for any reason, no matter what noises I made or smells I emitted.
Reins cracked and the rocking got worse as the horses picked up speed. Getting to Baseer faster might help keep me alive, but it was a whole lot more uncomfortable. I banged off the sides, bruising my bruises and opening up the cut on my cheek again. Already every inch of me hurt. My arms and legs burned from being crumpled like dirty laundry, and I doubted my spine would ever straighten up again. At least I’d have some pain to shift when they did let me out.
And kill more people?
I swallowed the thought. They weren’t people, they were criminals – real murderers. It should have made a difference, but the knot in my guts didn’t go away. Maybe I could escape without shifting. I always had before, though I’d never been in this much trouble.
Hours later the light vanished from the holes in the trunk. The carriage slowed and stopped. Not long enough to be Baseer, so they must be stopping to camp.
Footsteps.
Someone fumbled with the latch and the lid lifted. Fresh air poured in and I gulped it like water. Night had fallen and stars speckled the sky over Resik’s shoulder.
“You move even a little bit,” he said, hovering over me with a knife, “and I’ll slam this lid down hard as I can.”
“I won’t.”
He dropped a water flask on to my lap.
“Thank you.” Sweat dripped into my eyes, but I didn’t wipe it away or go for the flask yet.
He shrugged. “Be a waste of money if you died on us.”
“Are you really this heartless?”
He seemed taken aback at that, his expression shocked, then guilty, then angry. “It’s business. Nothing personal.”
“Trade places with me and see if you still think so.”
“You’d do the same thing.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, you say that now, but try turning it down when it’s offered. Not so easy.”
I smiled, which seemed to unsettle him. “I’ve turned down more wealth than you’ll see in your entire life.”
“Then you’re an idiot.” He slammed the lid shut and relocked it.
I sighed, sucking down the water and treasuring the last of the fresh air before it grew stale again. Maybe I had been an idiot. Where would I be now if I’d really accepted Zertanik’s offer, emptied the League’s pynvium Slab, and helped him and the Luminary sell it? Would I be standing in Verlatta, showing them empty healing bricks of ill-gotten pynvium and demanding a fortune for them? Or living without worry in my own villa with Tali and Aylin?
Most likely I’d be dead or sharing a prison cell with both men. I had a feeling either was better than what the Duke had planned for me.
Chapter Six
The trunk opened again, maybe two days later, but I wasn’t sure. The sky was grey tinged in red this time. Sunset.
“What’s wrong with him?” Resik asked, looking both mad and scared.
“Wha?” I squeaked, my mouth too dry to talk.
“Uncle won’t wake up. I know you did this, so heal him.”
I said nothing.
“Tell me or you won’t get any more water.”
“Yo— won—” I coughed and my lips cracked.
Resik ran a hand through his hair and looked around. He yanked a much bigger water flask out of his pocket and dropped it on me. “Drink, then tell me.”
I sucked down the water, warm, but good. My head stopped pounding, but the rest of me still hurt. I handed Resik the flask. “You won’t get paid if I die.”
He groaned in frustration and walked away, leaving the lid open. I revelled in the cool, fresh air. Much too soon he was back.
“Heal him and I’ll let you out of the trunk. We’ll keep you inside the carriage with us.”
“If I heal him, it’ll kill me instead and you won’t get any money.”
He swore. “You’re lying.”
“You need pynvium to heal and you don’t have any.” Not that it would do me any good if he did, but he didn’t know that. “You can have five thousand oppas or your uncle’s life. Your choice.”
He banged his fist on the trunk and walked away again, muttering, pacing. Then he was back once more.
“You can shift it into someone else though, right? That’s why the Duke wants you so badly?” He glanced away and brushed a hand across his upper lip. “Someone like—”
Fieso yanked him away from the trunk. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing! Just giving her some water.”
“Stay away from her.”
“I will.”
“I mean it.”
“I heard you the first time.” Resik reached over and shut the lid, but not before I caught the hateful look he shot at Fieso.
The lid opened again and pale sunlight poured in. The air tasted damp and clean. The sword pointed at my face shone bright.
“You’re going to get up, get out of the trunk, and heal my uncle.” Resik kept his gaze on me, but it jerked, like he really wanted to look somewhere else.
“Where’s Fieso?”
“Don’t worry about him, just do what I said.”
I sat up, muscles burning and tingling as blood rushed into them. My head spun and I gulped in air until it steadied.
“Hurry up!”
“I’ve been folded in a trunk for days,” I said, gripping the side with my bound hands. “Moving isn’t easy.”