it!”
“I’ll get it,” Jihan cried, and: “Danunit, no!” Tempus shouted at her, for Niko
flung out the arm she let go: she grabbed it again, grabbed all of him and held
onto him with bonecrushing strength, her unnatural skin aglow and her eyes full
of violence for whoever had done this thing.
It was still going on, in whatever Place that racked body contained or was
linked to: Molin could not describe it. He had only the conviction it existed,
and it was coming apart under their hands: Roxane was tearing it apart from
inside, he understood that much, while Niko’s joints and muscles cracked and
strained. Niko would shatter his own bones, rip tendons from their moorings,
break his own spine in the extremity of the convulsions: it was a preternatural
strength. It destroyed the body it lodged in; and the mind-
A wind was blowing through the room, the air was cold where it met bare skin,
and Straton came up from his abyss with a gasp after air and a wild motion of
his arm that sought after Ischade.
It met chill, empty sheets.
“Damn!” he cried and rolled off the bed, staggering on the rumpled rug and the
sheets and the forgotten obstacle of Tas-falen’s body lying there stark and
cooling with the chill.
It was true. It was all true, what they said about Ischade, she had left him
with her dead and gone off somewhere to sleep it off. He felt of his throat and
felt of his chest with a chilled hand and staggered about with a throbbing
headache and no concept of direction while he got his clothes to rights.
Damn her. Damn, damn, and damn her to bloody hell.