Kitabı oku: «The Deathless», sayfa 4

A tear fell onto Satyendra’s head and she heard the tiniest intake of breath.

Then, summoning the inner voice of her mother, Chandni berated herself until the tears stopped falling. This is not how a child of the Sapphire behaves! It simply will not do! Your face should be inscrutable, a puzzle for your enemies to fret over and your allies to admire. It should be held still, a weapon, only moving when it serves your purpose. It should not wobble and blush like a spanked bottom!

Chandni nodded, shaking, but herself again. Thank you, Mother.

She forged on, gritting her teeth as the skin of her knees ground against the stone.

Just as she began to despair that the tunnel was endless, her head connected with the exit, causing her to curse Pari, the assassins, the castle’s architects, and her own stupidity.

A panel slid away, admitting her into the main entrance hall behind the feet of an ancient statue from a time long-forgotten. The crystal had been grown through several floors of the castle and carved in sections, so that the head emerged in the feast hall and the feet straddled the entrance. There was an old belief that the great sapphire giant held the castle together, and kept it in the sky. Chandni had always liked the statue and thought it sad they did not have a name for it. The man depicted had a kind face and was the only crystal-forged smile to be found in Lord Rochant’s home.

Mohit had said the hollows where the eyes should have been were creepy, but she disagreed. She felt the dark spaces gave the statue a sense of intelligence that the others lacked.

Mohit, my poor, poor, Mohit. He had been kind, respectful. And though not the best of lovers, he had endeavoured to follow her instructions to the best of his ability. What he had lacked in initiative, he’d made up for in determination. In fact, by the end of their time together, she’d hardly been bored by him at all.

The panel closed behind her, softly, bringing her back to the present. It was a short walk from here to the main doors of the castle. Unfortunately, they were closed and barred, and from her hiding place, she could see several alert looking guards in place.

Even from a distance, she could tell they weren’t her people. Chandni made it her business to know every member of staff at the castle. She didn’t tell them of course, saving the knowledge for when it could be employed to maximum advantage.

These are the assassins. Not just one more as Pari believed, but a group, possibly a whole unit.

The castle kept only a small team of defenders but they were highly trained, at least she had always considered them so. It troubled her that they had been dealt with so easily.

There was no way she could leave by the main entrance, but there was more than one path in and out of the castle. Using the statue as cover and keeping out of sight of the gates as best she could, she made her way towards the kitchens.

She had almost reached the stairwell off the main corridor when she heard a woman’s voice behind her. ‘Hold there!’ It was coming from the other end of the entrance hall. She was not surprised that the speaker was unfamiliar.

Pretending not to hear, she walked a little faster, giving Satyendra a calming smile, and making sure her body blocked him from sight.

‘Hold there, I say!’

She turned into the stairwell and, as soon as she was out of view, took the steps three at a time, her feet skidding off the end of one, straight onto the other, threatening to fly out in front, as her long hair flew out behind.

Satyendra’s eyes grew wide and his hold on her tightened, but the baby kept his peace, just as his mother did.

Like a thing tossed from a storm, she burst into the kitchens, her feet bruised, her nightdress filthy, her knees swollen.

‘Ooooh!’ crowed the old cook, who moments ago had been asleep but was now most definitely awake.

Chandni straightened, and raised an imperious finger, cutting off the questions forming on the cook’s lips. She’d served the Sapphires all her long life and was talented but slow, and liked the sound of her own voice far too much for Chandni’s liking. ‘Open the outer door. Tell no one that I’ve been here. You have not seen me or Satyendra, do you understand?’

‘Of course, Honoured Mother. But what—’

‘—Immediately, dear Roh.’

The cook beamed at the use of her name, then went the wrong way, snatching up a bag and stuffing it with food.

Chandni channelled her mother again as she admonished the cook. ‘Were you not listening? Or is this an act of deliberate insubordination?’

‘But you’ll be wanting something for the baby, and a cloak for your shoulders. Wouldn’t do for you to be seen out there in your nightwear, I’d never forgive myself. And what about your poor feet?’

Behind her, Chandni felt rather than heard someone enter the room. She went to step away but a hand caught her arm.

She turned to find a woman dressed in House Sapphire uniform – but most definitely not House Sapphire – looking at her. The absolute lack of respect in the assassin’s eyes was chilling. She was about to say something when the assassin pulled out, not a sword, but a long, thin needle coated in something that glistened in the gemlight.

Chandni made to pull away but the assassin simply stepped with her, keeping close, the needle arcing down towards Satyendra’s neck.

Instinct took over, and in the next moment she felt something bite into her palm, briefly painful, and then suddenly, worryingly numb.

The point of the needle protruded from the back of Chandni’s hand, quivering inches away from her baby’s skin. Blood rather than poison coated it now.

Chandni exchanged a helpless look with Satyendra, whose little eyebrows raised questioningly, as if asking if this was an appropriate time to cry.

Yes, she thought. This is the perfect time to cry.

If the Bringers saw Pari, they made no comment as they passed out of the chamber, keeping to their ritual path. She listened intently as their robes whispered their way to the door, paused, then came the measured sweep of the door opening and them passing through, one by one, taking the light with them. The door closed with a heavy thud, plunging them into darkness. She heard Rochant sigh.

‘You can come out now.’

Pari used the pillars to navigate through the darkness, letting each one brush cool against her fingertips. ‘How did you know I was here?’

His voice was tired but not without warmth. ‘I didn’t, I just hoped.’

She reached out for him, finding the line of his shoulder in the dark. ‘Ah, there you are.’

‘Yes.’

She wiggled onto the side of the slab, enjoying the feeling of his warmth against her, and leaned down so that her lips hovered just above his. ‘And here I am.’

‘Yes.’ He lifted his head so that the word brought their mouths brushing together.

Pari longed to stay like that but neither her conscience nor her back would allow it. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, breathlessly. ‘But we have to talk, you and yours are under threat.’

‘Something’s happened?’

She told him quickly of the assassins, of the recent deaths in his line and the attempt against baby Satyendra that she’d foiled. He didn’t argue or interrupt until she’d finished.

‘Who would do this to me?’

Pari considered. ‘High Lord Sapphire could have done it, the Bringers implied he was angry with you.’

‘You heard them? By the Thrice Blessed Suns, is nothing sacred?’

‘No, and you should be grateful. Without me things would be much worse.’

Rochant found her hand and squeezed it. ‘You’re right about me but wrong about my High Lord. If he had wanted me removed it would be done publicly, as an example to others. He would never stoop to knives in the dark.’

‘Perhaps that was true once but I hear rumours that High Lord Sapphire is not the man he was.’

She felt Rochant turn his head away. ‘I tell you it is not his way.’

‘Who then?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Even someone as charming as you must have enemies.’

‘Whoever it is has planned well. They’ve taken full advantage of the disruption the ceremony causes.’ She could hear the interest in his voice. Despite the threat, he was intrigued by the puzzle. ‘The assassin you confronted, you said he was in Sapphire uniform?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did it fit?’

Pari thought for a moment. ‘Yes, like it was made for him, in fact.’

‘So that means either he had been working here for some time, or he’d had the uniform made specially.’

Pari shook her head, then realized Rochant wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. ‘Or he found a guard of similar size and stole his.’

‘In any case,’ Rochant continued, ‘this is something that has been planned well in advance.’

‘I agree but how does that help us here?’

‘Motivation. Someone wants this done but is willing to wait to achieve it.’

‘But why? Revenge? Ambition?’

‘That’s the next thing we have to understand.’

‘No,’ said Pari. ‘The next thing we have to do is get you out of here.’

‘Wait, I’m not ready to move just yet.’ Though his new body was exhausted, his mind seemed agile as ever. ‘There are two obvious reasons to remove my line. One, because the person or persons behind this desire my death. Two, the person or persons behind this stand to gain from my death. If I and all of my descendants were gone—’

Pari nodded, ‘—then High Lord Sapphire would be able to raise a new member into the Crystal Dynasties. Who would he have in mind? We need to find out …’

‘And I need to think about the past, cases I have presided over, decrees I’ve made, anything that could have seeded resentment.’

‘While you’re doing that, I’ll go and make sure Chandni is coping with Satyendra. I fear life outside the castle is going to be a bit of a shock for her.’

‘Quite.’

Though she couldn’t see it, she could imagine Rochant’s expression. His face rarely gave much away, but there was a whole language kept in the crinkles around his eyes. She resisted the urge to touch his face, seeking them. ‘It’s good to have you back.’

He took breath to reply but the second door to the chamber opened suddenly, interrupting him.

Pari slid from the slab, darting behind the nearest pillar.

She just had time to tuck herself out of sight before a pair of boots could be heard marching on the stone, and then Dil’s voice, oddly cold, ‘My lord.’

‘Dil? Is that you?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Ah, the mantle of adulthood suits you, captain.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

Something in Dil’s manner seemed off, but it was hard to read the man by sound alone. Unable to help herself, Pari peeked round the pillar. With the second entrance wide open and light flooding the chamber, she was able to see, not just Dil, but two other guards alongside him.

But I only heard one pair of boots!

She had to hold her hands together to stop them shaking. The assassins were here, and Dil was oblivious. She prepared herself to act. Perhaps between them, they could hold off the killers long enough for help to arrive.

‘Forgive me, my lord,’ said Dil, ‘but you are about to be attacked by an assassin sent by the Tanzanites.’

The comment was so ridiculous, so unexpected, that she nearly came out of her hiding spot to argue.

Luckily Rochant seemed happy to do it for her. ‘Explain yourself, captain. The last I heard, our accords were strong with all the crystal dynasties.’

‘They are, my lord. But after we’ve killed you, that’s what we’re going to tell everyone, and I suspect the accords won’t matter then.’

Dil turned to the man and woman behind him. ‘Find the Tanzanite.’

They immediately drew weapons and split up.

Pari retreated further into the darkness on the opposite side of the chamber. After we’ve killed you! Who is this man? Dil had served Rochant his whole life. Where was the faithful, quiet child she remembered?

‘There’s no one here but us, captain,’ said Rochant, the epitome of calm.

‘That’s a lie,’ replied Dil, ‘but then you’ve always been good at lying, haven’t you?’

If the sudden change of tone surprised Rochant, again he gave no sign. ‘Ah. I see anger in your eyes and can only assume I am responsible. Whatever the problem is, let us solve it peaceably. You have always been reasonable, even as a boy. Negotiation is the only path, surely you can see that?’

Dil snarled and sprang across the gap.

Still weak from the ritual rebirth, Rochant was unable to defend himself and Dil clapped something over his mouth, hissing, ‘I don’t want to hear your voice ever again. But I want you to know that I was the one that ended your line. Me!’

Pari could see her lover struggling to breathe. Dil intended to kill him, wanted to, but something was holding him back. Perhaps he just wanted to make Rochant suffer first but that didn’t fit. The man seemed impatient, even desperate, to get revenge. Whatever the reason, she would not stand idly by as her lover was murdered. She edged into position, removing her remaining earring. The pin was too short to be very effective but if she could get it into one of his eyes, she might have a chance.

But, before she could make her move, another figure appeared at the door.

‘We’ve searched the castle. There’s no sign of the baby or the mother.’

‘Then search further,’ snapped Dil, releasing the pressure from Rochant’s face, ‘and keep searching until you find them.’

Without a word, the silhouette vanished as quickly as it came.

From nearby, startling Pari, the woman spoke, ‘What now?’ She’d been so absorbed in what was happening to Rochant, she hadn’t realized how close she’d come to being discovered.

‘Have you found the Tanzanite?’ Dil demanded.

‘You’d know if I had.’

Dil swore under his breath, then covered Rochant’s mouth again, and Pari tensed, the urge to protect her lover battling a strong instinct that she should wait, though it tore at her to stand by.

Dil maintained the pressure until Rochant stopped struggling and flopped on the slab, unconscious.

‘You, grab one end,’ he called out to the man, then to the woman, ‘you the other. We take him with us.’

‘They won’t like this,’ muttered the woman.

‘Piss on them! We can’t kill him yet and we can’t leave him here. Now do what I say.’

Pari stayed silent as the two assassins carried Rochant from the room, Dil following behind. Several times he checked over his shoulder, but each time, she ducked out of sight. She was just about to give chase when the door swung shut behind them, sealing her inside.

In the dark again, Pari fumbled her way forward until her palms pressed against stone, then the door they’d left through. She tried the handle but the door was locked. Frantically, she made her way round the outside of the chamber to the first door, the one the Bringers had used, but this too was locked. She let her forehead rest against the stone, trying not to panic as she thought about what to do next. About Rochant. About Chandni and the baby.

To be of any use she had to escape, and there was only one other way out of the Rebirthing Chamber.

Pari hugged herself tight, feeling the many complaints of her tired, aching body.

Come on! she urged herself and felt her way to the third exit. It was set into the floor directly beneath the slab of stone that Rochant had recently lain on; seven hinged triangles that could be released independently or all at once. This allowed the Bringers to jettison abominations, slab and all, without needing to untie them, and ensured they would fall fast and hard. She felt the edge of one of the triangles, marvelling at the intricate designs under her fingertips that would never be seen or appreciated by anyone save the Bringers, and pushed down. Unlike the other doors, this opened easily, and a cool breeze washed across her face. Pari climbed inside, settling her legs over the edge of the chute.

The other end would eject her from a hole at the base of the floating castle. If she failed to hold on, a long drop would follow to the chasm waiting below, and then another, into the bowels of the earth and beyond.

In order to avoid thinking about what could go wrong, she thought of Rochant, and she thought of Dil, of what she would do to the traitor when she caught up with him. And she thought of the mystery demanding to be solved.

And then she jumped.

CHAPTER FOUR

Chandni blinked, at least she thought it was only a blink, but when her eyes opened she was sat in a chair, Satyendra in her lap, and a thick wad of fabric strapped around her hand and several bands wrapped painfully tight around her wrist. Underneath the padding her hand felt hot, far too hot.

On the floor at her feet the assassin was sprawled out flat, dead, her expression frozen halfway between smug and surprised.

‘Nasty little fingers,’ said the cook, looking at the body with disdain. ‘Dirty nails. In all my years I’ve never seen one of good Lord Rochant’s soldiers with dirty nails. You can’t trust one that can’t clean themselves.’

‘Thank you, Roh. I won’t forget this, but how did you—’

The cook waved off her questions and hooked a bag over Chandni’s shoulder, plucking her own cloak from a peg. It was warm from the stove and full of pouches, many of which felt full. ‘Eat from the left pockets but not the right, Honoured Mother, never the right.’

She tried to take this in as a wave of nausea hit her. ‘I don’t … I don’t feel myself, there was poison …’

‘Aye. I’ve drawn and treated it best I can. Have to wait and see now. Stick a pin in the wound when the suns are at their peak. If you don’t feel the pin, lose the hand. Then stick a pin in your wrist, your forearm, until it hurts. Keep what hurts, Honoured Mother, lose the rest.’

Chandni nodded, too shocked to speak as the cook unbarred the outer door and pulled it open. Air, cold and fresh, rushed in, and she closed the cloak around Satyendra to protect him.

The cook helped her to her feet and propelled her towards the door. ‘Do you have somewhere to go?’

‘I do, a—’

The cook raised a finger, mirroring Chandni’s earlier gesture with almost mocking perfection. ‘Less you say, Honoured Mother, less I can say.’

‘There are more enemies in the castle. They’ll be angry that you helped me.’

‘They won’t suspect a daft old woman,’ replied the cook with a wink, pushing Chandni outside.

‘But what are you going to do about the body?’

The cook tapped the side of her nose and smiled to reveal a full set of yellowing teeth. ‘Don’t worry, Honoured Mother,’ she said as she closed the door, ‘they won’t even find the bones.’

Chandni stumbled away from the castle. She was so tired she felt it should be dark outside, but all three suns were just visible on the horizon, the two greater ones, red and gold, Vexation and Fortune’s Eye, only half visible, while the smaller third, Wrath’s Tear, arced above.

Underneath her cloak, a small hand tugged at Chandni’s nightdress and she realized she’d stopped moving. She’d lost focus, lost time, staring at the suns like a simpleton.

This will not do!

She staggered on, feeling the vibrations beneath her feet. For the great chunk of rock that the castle sat on was shot through with veins of crystal, and these crystals chimed and sang, rising and falling like the tides.

Though Rochant’s castle floated it was not static above the chasm, it bobbed slowly up and down. Because of its size these movements were rarely noticed, like being on board a vast ship, but if one looked outside, they would see the horizon gradually moving.

An outer wall circled the perimeter of the rock, protecting Chandni from the worst of the winds but doing nothing about the cold. Soon her feet had become clumsy lumps on the end of her ankles and she feared she would fall. The drop in temperature was easing her fever however, allowing her mind to function more clearly, and the burning sensation in her hand was less distracting.

A few eager travellers had tucked their tents alongside the wall, like plush barnacles, no doubt wanting to be the first to take advantage of Rochant’s return. None of them were flying Tanzanite flags but that was no surprise. Wherever Pari’s man was, he’d be trying to keep a low profile.

She could not escape the feeling that she was being watched, and began to worry that more assassins had been placed outside.

It’s what I would have done.

After discounting the first tent because it was too grand, and the second because it was crammed full of people, Chandni came to one discreetly pitched next to a wagon. A five-legged Dogkin, white-furred and almost as big as the wagon itself, slept alongside.

Though the tent’s occupant had not come out to meet her, she could make out his tensed silhouette against the fabric. Here is a man ready to take action.

She looked over her shoulder, sure that someone would be there, but the courtyard was empty, save for the slow-turning shadows of the wall.

Chandni turned back to the tent and whispered, ‘Varg?’

The flap opened almost immediately and a man’s face appeared, broad and bearded, with a high, weathered forehead. He took a long look at her and the baby, his lips paling as he mashed them together. One arm held open the tent flap but the other was kept out of sight and she was in no doubt that he was armed.

‘My name is Honoured Mother Chandni of House Sapphire,’ she said carefully, watching for any hint of malice, ‘and this is my son, Satyendra. Lady Pari sent us. We need you to get us to safety, urgently.’

‘Piss off,’ said the man, vanishing back into the tent.

Chandni crouched down, unsteadily, and slid Pari’s earring under the entrance flap.

There was a pause. Then, from within: ‘Fuck.’

Seconds later he was scrambling out of the tent and throwing a pre-packed bag into the back of the wagon. ‘I’m Varg,’ he confirmed as he bent down to grab the edge of the tent, pulling until the under-suckers came free of the stone with a loud pop. ‘Where’s Pari?’

‘She’s not coming.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Varg, if we are going to travel together you will need to broaden your vocabulary.’

He was halfway through hauling the tent onto the back of the wagon when her words sunk in. ‘Doesn’t bother Pari, and she’s a lady.’

If things weren’t so desperate Chandni would have laughed. ‘That’s a debate for another time. What can I do to speed things up?’

‘Start waking Glider. But watch out, she’s a biter.’

She went straight over to the Dogkin, taking a large floppy ear and shaking it, while calling Glider’s name. Satyendra leaned forward in her arms, trying in vain to make contact with the glossy coat.

Eyelids slowly lifted, revealing a dark eye, hostile, and a second lighter eye, glassy, unseeing, human. One legend had it that Dogkin were the reincarnated souls of children who had wandered so long between lives they’d forgotten what they were. Another, that Dogkin were descended from people cursed by the old gods during the Unbroken Age.

Chandni preferred the first legend as it came with the promise that if a Dogkin could remember its true nature, it would be reborn as a human child in the next life. She liked to think that there was always a way to make things better.

‘It’s time to get up,’ said Chandni.

Glider growled meaningfully and then shut her eyes.

Refusing to be ignored by an animal, Chandni tried again. This time Glider’s growl was louder and her teeth snapped in the air, coming awfully close to Satyendra’s reaching hands.

Rather than intimidate, the animal’s behaviour converted all of her pent up worry into anger, and Chandni slapped the Dogkin across the muzzle so hard that a lance of pain shot through her bandaged hand.

Glider looked up in surprise, before opening her mouth to snap again.

‘No!’ said Chandni, pitching her voice as deep as it would go, and slapping the Dogkin’s mouth a second time.

Glider whined pitifully and lowered her head but Chandni resisted the sudden urge to cuddle her, and kept her expression stern.

‘Better. Now get up.’

Glider stood up.

‘Good.’ She reached into the left hand pockets of the cook’s cloak, searching, and found one that contained some dried sausage. She held it up in front of Glider. ‘If you run fast and without complaint, I have more.’

Glider’s mouth opened and Chandni threw the sausage in. The little chunk of meat vanished, like a coin into a well. Glider’s mouth remained open however.

‘No more until you’ve earned it.’

The Dogkin made to lick the grease from Chandni’s fingers but she pulled back her hand. ‘No more I said, not even a sniff.’

With another noise of disgruntlement, Glider padded over to the front of the wagon, where Varg stood staring at Chandni in astonishment.

‘Well don’t just stand there,’ she said, ‘help us up.’

She placed Satyendra within the wagon but was forced to rely heavily on Varg’s strength to climb on – her own was fading fast.

‘You don’t look right,’ he muttered. ‘Are you sick?’

‘No. Just tired.’

Varg didn’t look like he believed her but gave no argument, fitting a harness over Glider’s head and untangling the reins.

Chandni looked back to the castle. The great doors remained shut, and all appeared far too peaceful. On a normal day the early risers would already be up, preparing for business, and Chandni was always one of them. It forced the staff to match her example and made sure things started when they were supposed to.

She didn’t believe that people were inherently lazy, but it was better to take away the temptation just in case.

How many of the castle’s inhabitants would be rising early today? she wondered. How many would not be rising at all?

Varg leapt up alongside her on the seat, bumping against her as he settled into position. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

She glared, about to reprimand him, when she realized she’d naturally sat dead centre of the driver’s block. He’d been forced to squeeze onto the end, one of his buttocks hanging, precarious, from the side.

Not quite willing to apologize, she made a noise that she hoped sounded sympathetic and slid away from him.

It only took one shake of the reins and Glider was off, pulling them bumping across the courtyard.

‘You certainly got a way with Glider,’ he said. ‘She’s been a stubborn one ever since she was a pup.’

‘Animals know authority when they meet it,’ she replied.

‘Usually have to scream murder to get her arse off the mud.’ He shook his head. ‘Never seen her so obedient.’

‘Not even for your mistress?’

‘Pari?’ He laughed, a short and nasty sound. ‘Pari’s no good with Glider. They can’t stand each other.’

Chandni quickly turned her head away so that Varg wouldn’t see the pleasure she took from hearing about Pari’s shortcomings. She’d felt usurped by the Tanzanite in her own castle and it had awakened a petty need to score back some points. However, it wouldn’t do for Varg to realize that. Sapphires were supposed to be above such things.

The wagon was soon approaching the gap in the outer wall, big enough to manage a unit of ten soldiers marching shoulder to shoulder. A short lip of rock stuck out on the other side before cutting off, abrupt, leaving a long fall to the chasm below, and then another, longer fall after that.

There was nothing to bar their exit, no gates, no guards, which was odd as there was usually someone posted at the outer wall at all times.

Chandni shook her head, feeling sleep draw her in.

As they continued forward the Bridge of Friends and Fools came into view. Made of chains and planks, it was the only way back to earth. It had to be flexible to account for the air currents that moved the castle in constant, shifting increments.

The bridge was also the main defence. Two mechanisms held it fast to the rock. If the castle came under attack, it took only one soldier to release them both and send the bridge, and any unfortunates still on it, plunging to their doom.

She remembered being terrified of the bridge as a child, and a single look down reminded her why.

Through gaps in the slats she could see the crack in the earth far below. And from those depths, plumes of mist rose, pale purple, green, and yellow, seeming to hold some shape as they first broke free before dispersing, like mouths stretched so far they tore themselves open and scattered on the wind.

It was the power of the rising mists that held Lord Rochant Sapphire’s castle in the sky. Chandni did not understand how or why, but accepted it as part of life.

Meanwhile, the wagon bounced its way across the bridge. Satyendra watched for a while but it soon became too much stimulation for young eyes and he buried his head in Chandni’s chest.

‘Sshh,’ she said, stroking his dark gossamer hair.

‘Be best if you get in the back,’ said Varg. ‘Keep quiet and out of sight. There’s a little den back there you can use.’

This was true though it was also smelly in the back of the wagon, a mixture of musty cloth and Pari’s perfume. The idea of resting in a place where Pari had no doubt slept filled her with horror but she did not complain. Varg was right about the need to hide.

Her mind was full of worries, for her own health, for the safety of her son, and how this treachery and murder would impact on the family in general. She tried to process what she’d seen and make appropriate plans, but as soon as she’d arranged herself and Satyendra had settled down, the warmth of his body and the exertions of her own lulled her into a swift, dreamless sleep.

Even as she fell, and Pari’s mind was questioning the sanity of her decision, her body was reacting, adrenaline overriding fatigue, lifetimes of training overriding fear.