Then, at the battle itself, she saw Dzhenushkunutushen die. (He did not die, as it happened. But Nukurren had been certain he would, and had been utterly astonished to find him still alive when she broke through). She watched Dzhenushkunutushen die, and the demonlord he cherished, and the other demons for whom he was their champion and protector, and knew they were dying because they were young. The universe had not given them time. The universe had given them, demons that they were, all the colors of creation. It had given them all the things which Nukurren had never had, and never would. It had even given the demons the power to extend friendship to one whom all others had cast out since birth. And then, had denied them the time to learn from the friendship. Had cast them, in the fearlessness of their youth, into a battlefield that needed the cunning of experience to survive.
The universe, which had tortured Nukurren all her life, would extract this final, gleeful moment of agony.
Though it never showed on her mantle, Nukurren’s shoroku had broken then. Had shattered into pieces. The one tie which might have held her back, her love for Dhowifa and concern over his wellbeing, had snapped like the slenderest thread. Dhowifa was safe, now, with Ushulubang and the demons, as safe as he could ever be.
Nothing, now, held Nukurren from her revenge.
The Utuku cannibals who died under her flail and fork that day, died horribly by eights and eights, had simply the misfortune of being the manifestation, to Nukurren, of that ultimate cannibal. They could not stand against her any more than they could have withstood Death itself, Despair itself, Nothing itself.
Nukurren had wreaked her terrible rage on the universe, and had taken from it the last, full, bitter measure. Her spirit had blazed the blinding blue of pure fury, and her soul had been filled with the purest black of the most pitiless executioner. But never, not once, had she allowed the universe to see the colors of her vengeance.
No, she would repay the universe in the same bleak hue with which it had always tormented her. She had not expected to survive the charge, but she had intended, on that last day of her life, to have the grim satisfaction of casting her death into the beak of creation in the same color it had first spewed her forth. Nothing.
In the event, to her surprise, she had survived. Had survived, she realized later, only because she had not expected to, and had not cared if she did.
She still did not care. She was glad that Dzhenushkunutushen and most of the other young demons had survived. She was especially glad that the demon Ludumilaroshokavashiki had survived, to bring comfort and joy to Dzhenushkunutushen during the many hours she spent in the hospital with him. (Even, toward the end of Dzhenushkunutushen’s convalescence, making love to her mate; and if the demon way of lovemaking was, like so much else, messy and wet and grotesque, Nukurren had not minded.) Nukurren was glad, even, that the demonlord had survived. She did not much care for Yoshefadekunula, but she knew how much he meant to Dzhenushkunutushen, and Ludumilaroshokavashiki, and all the demons.
But Nukurren’s own survival meant nothing to her. She had survived, but so had the universe. Cannibals had died, but the cannibal remained. So it had always been. So it would always be.
When she heard what Dhowifa had to say, she felt a slight curiosity. Nothing more. Later, in the command circle, after Kopporu explained the proposal to her, Nukurren felt, if anything, even less.
So. Once again, I am to be a mercenary.
Then, harshly:
Be thankful, fool. Not many people would hire a one-eyed, perverted mercenary. And you have no other skills. And nowhere else to go.
“I accept,” she said, and turned away.
“Stop.”
The voice belonged to the Mother of Demons.
Nukurren turned back.
“Yes, Mother of De—”
“Call me Inudira.”
Nukurren made the gesture of obedience.
“Tell me how you understand our proposal, Nukurren.”
“You want to hire my services as a trainer of warriors. It is a common job for mercenaries. The pay is not as good as battle pay, but—” she gestured to her eye “—I am satisfied. I do not ask as to the pay itself. So long as Dhowifa and I have food and shelter, I will not complain.”