A face swam before her: a face half her mother and half hard, grimac- ing giant-and the other part, the part that was not her mother, was in control. But mostly there was blood as the last fortress loyal to Shupan- sea fell to their enemies and the noblest individuals of the empire scram- bled for their lives like lowiy peasants.
Illyra, whose childish memory held scenes no less graphic, shared Chabostu’s terror-and an unhealable outrage that not one of those gi- ants who habitually controlled her world took notice of her. Worse, her mother, Shupansea, seemed herself to have been reduced to gibbering.
In the starkly judgmental mind of young Cha-bos, Shupansea had usurped the attention and comforting that belonged to her. Cha-bos was unable to comprehend this inversion of the universe and so had trans- formed it into something she could understand: She had never felt like this before and she’d never seen so much blood before, so blood must cause the feeling. Must lead to the feeling inevitably.
And blood became the ultimate terror in her world.
Vanda worked furiously to cleanse and conceal the child’s wound, well aware of the child’s progressive fears if not of their cause. Though the guards had been assured that the injury was neither serious nor the result of any malfeasance, they raised a racket in the nearby corridors-primar- ily designed to prove to Shupansea (who had also been summoned) that they were diligent in their duties. Illyra watched the commotion from a greater distance. She had freed herself from the child’s visions, thereby insulating herself somewhat from her own fear of the poisonous fluids still staining her arm. She had wisely resisted returning completely to the world of the frantic nursery.