The Broken Kingdoms: Book Two of the Inheritance Trilogy

by N. K. Jemisin

  The steps trailed twenty feet or so behind, keeping pace. I turned a corner and hoped, to no avail; the feet moved with me. I turned again. The same.

  Thieves, probably. Rapists and killers didn’t much care for the cold. I had little money on me, and I did not look wealthy by any stretch, but most likely it was enough that I looked alone and lost and blind. That made me easy pickings on a day when the pickings would be slim.

  I did not walk faster, though of course I was afraid. Some thieves didn’t like leaving witnesses. But to hurry would let this thief know that he had been spotted, and worse, I might still break my neck. Better to let him come, give him what he wanted, and hope that would be enough.

  Except… he wasn’t coming. I walked a block, two blocks, three. I heard few other people on the street, and those few were moving quickly, some of them muttering about the cold and paying no attention to anything but their misery. For long stretches, there was only me and my pursuer. Now he will come, I thought several times. But there was no attack.

  As I turned my head for a better listen, something glinted at the corner of my vision. Startled—in those days I was not quite used to magic—I forgot wisdom, stopped, and turned to see.

  My pursuer was a young woman. She was plump, short, with curly pale green hair and skin of a nearly similar shade. That alone would have alerted me as to her nature, though it was obvious in the fact that I could see her.

  She stopped when I did. I noticed that her expression was very sad. She said nothing, so I ventured, “Hello.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You can see me?”

  I frowned a bit. “Yes. You’re standing right there.”

  “How interesting.” She resumed walking, though she stopped when I took a step back.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so,” I said cautiously, “I’ve never been mugged by a godling.”

  If anything, her expression grew even more mournful. “I mean you no harm.”

  “You’ve been following me since that street back there. The one with the clogged sewer.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you might die,” she said.

  I stumbled back, but only one step, because my heel slipped on a bit of ice alarmingly. “What?”

  “You will very likely die in the next few moments. It may be difficult… painful. I’ve come to be with you.” She sighed gently. “My nature is mercy. Do you understand?”

  I had not met many godlings at that point, but anyone who dwelled for long in Shadow learned this much: they drew their strength from a particular thing—a concept, a state of being, an emotion. The priests and scriveners called it affinity, though I had never heard any godling use the term. When they encountered their affinity, it drew them like a beacon, and some of them could not quite help responding to it.

  I swallowed and nodded. “You… You’re here to watch me die. Or”—I shivered as I realized—“or to kill me, if something only does the job halfway. Is that right?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.” And she really did seem sorry, her eyes heavy-lidded, her brow furrowed with the beginnings of grief. She wore only a thin, shapeless shift—more proof of her nature, since any mortal would have frozen to death in that. It made her look younger than me, vulnerable. Like someone you’d want to stop and help.

  I shuddered and said, “Well, ah, maybe you could tell me what’s going to kill me, and I can, ah, walk away from it, and then you won’t have to waste time on me. Would that be all right?”

  “There are many pathways to any future. But when I am drawn to a mortal, it means most paths have exhausted themselves.”

  My heart, already beating fast, gave an unpleasant little lurch. “You’re saying it’s inevitable?”

  “Not inevitable. But likely.”

  I needed to sit down. The buildings on either side of me were not residential; I thought they might be storehouses. Nowhere to sit but the cold, hard ground. And for all I knew, doing that might kill me.

  That was when I became aware of how utterly quiet it was.

  There had been three other people on the street two blocks back. Only the green woman’s steps had stood out to me, for obvious reasons, but now there were no other footfalls at all. The street was completely empty.

  Yet I could hear… something. No—it was not a sound so much as a feeling. A pressure to the air. A lingering whiff of scent, teasingly unidentifiable. And it was…

  Behind me. I turned, stumbling again, my heart leaping into my throat as I saw another godling standing across the street from me.

  This one was paying no attention to me, however. She looked middle-aged, islander or Amn, black-haired, ordinary enough except that I could see her, too. She stood with legs apart and hands fisted at her sides, body taut, an expression of pure fury on her face. When I followed her gaze to see who this fury was directed at, I spied a third person, equally tense and still but on my side of the street, closer by. A man. Madding, though I didn’t know this at the time.

  The air between these two godlings was a cloud the color of blood and rage. It curled and shivered, flexing larger and flinching compact with whatever forces they were using against each other. Because that was, indeed, what I had walked into, for all that it was silent and still: a battle. One did not need magic-seeing eyes to know that.

  I licked my lips and glanced back at the green-skinned woman. She nodded: this was how I might die, caught in the cross fire of a duel between gods.

  Very quickly, as quietly as I could, I began to back up, toward the green woman. I didn’t think she would protect me—she’d made her interest clear—but there was no other safe direction.

  I’d forgotten the ice patch behind me. Of course I slipped and fell, jarring a grunt of pain from my throat and my stick from my hand. It landed on the cobblestones with a loud, echoing clatter.

  The woman across the street jerked in surprise and looked at me. I had an instant to register that her face was not as ordinary as I’d thought, the skin too shiny, hard-smooth, like porcelain. Then the stones under me began to shake, and the wall behind me buckled, and my skin prickled all over.

  Suddenly the man was in front of me, opening his mouth to utter a roar like surf crashing in an ocean cave. The porcelain-skinned woman screamed, flinging up her arms as something (I could not see what, exactly) shattered around her. That same force flung her backward. I heard mortar crack and crumble as her body struck a wall, then crumpled to the ground.

  “What the hells are you doing?” the man shouted at her. Dazed, I stared up at him. A vein in his temple was visible, pounding with his anger. It fascinated me because I hadn’t realized godlings had veins. But of course they did; I had not been in the city long, but already I had heard of godsblood.

  The woman pushed herself up slowly, though the blow she had taken would have crushed half her bones if she’d been mortal. It did seem to have weakened her, as she stayed on one knee while glaring at the man.

  “You can’t stay here,” he said, calmer now, though still visibly furious. “You’re not careful enough. By threatening this mortal’s life, you’ve already broken the most important rule.”

  The woman’s lip curled in a sneer. “Your rule.”

  “The rule agreed upon by all of us who chose to dwell here! None of us wants another Interdiction. You were warned.” He held up a hand.

  And suddenly the street was full of godlings. Everywhere I looked, I could see them. Most looked human, but a few had either shed their mortal guises or had never bothered in the first place. I caught glimpses of skin like metal, hair like wood, legs with animal joints, tentacle fingers. There must have been two, maybe three dozen of them standing in the street or sitting on the curbs. One even flitted overhead on gossamer insect wings.

  The porcelain-faced woman got to her feet, though she still looked shaky. She looked around at the assemblage of godlings, and there was no mistaking the unease on her face. But she straightened and scowled, pushing her should
ers back. “So this is how you fight your duels?” This was directed at the man.

  “The duel is over,” the man said. He stepped back, closer to me, and then to my surprise bent to help me up. I blinked at him in confusion, then frowned as he moved in front of me, blocking my view of the woman. I tried to lean around him to keep an eye on her, since I had a notion she’d almost killed me a moment before, but the man moved with me.

  “No,” he said. “You don’t need to see this.”

  “What?” I asked. “I—”

  There was a sound like the tolling of a great bell behind him, followed by a sudden swift concussion of air. Then all the godlings around us vanished. When I craned my head around the man this time, I saw only an empty street.

  “You killed her,” I whispered, shocked.

  “No, of course not. We opened a door, that’s all—sent her back to our realm. That’s what I didn’t want you to see.” To my surprise, the man smiled, and I was momentarily caught by how human this made him look. “We try not to kill each other. That tends to upset our parents.”

  Before I could stop myself, I laughed, then realized I was laughing with a god and fell silent. Which confused me more, so I just stared up at his strangely comforting smile.

  “Everything all right, Eo?” The man didn’t turn from me as he raised his voice to speak. I suddenly remembered the green woman.

  When I looked at her, I started again. The green woman—Eo, apparently—was smiling at me as fondly as a new mother. Her coloring had changed, too, from green to a soft pale pink. Even her hair was pink. As I stared at her, she inclined her head to me and again to the man, then turned and walked away.

  I gaped after her for a moment, then shook my head.

  “I suppose I owe you my life,” I said, turning back to the man.

  “Since it was in danger partly because of me, let’s just call it even,” he said, and there was a faint ringing in the air, as of wind chimes, though there was no wind. I looked around, confused. “But I wouldn’t mind buying you a drink, if you’re feeling the need to celebrate life.”

  That startled me into another laugh as I finally realized what he was up to. “Do you try to pick up all the mortal girls you almost kill?”

  “Just the ones who don’t scream and run,” he said. And then he startled me further by touching my face, just under one eye. I tensed just a little, as I always did when someone noticed my eyes. Bracing myself for the if only.

  But there was no revulsion in his gaze and nothing but fascination in his touch. “And the ones with pretty eyes,” he added.

  You can imagine the rest, can’t you? That smile, the strength of his presence, his calm acceptance of my strangeness, the fact that he was stranger still. I barely stood a chance. Two days after we met, I kissed him. He took the opportunity to pour a taste of himself into my mouth, the wretch, trying to lure me into bed. It didn’t work then—I had some principles—but a few days later, I went home with him. Naked before Madding, I felt for the first time that someone saw the whole of me, not just my parts. He found my eyes fascinating, but he also waxed eloquent about my elbows. He liked it all.

  I miss him. Gods, how I miss him.

  * * *

  I slept late the next day and woke up in agony. My back hurt all over, and because I was not used to sleeping on my belly, my neck was stiff. Between that, my sore and puffy eyes, and the headache that had returned with a vengeance, I could perhaps be forgiven for not realizing at first that there was someone new in the house.

  I stumbled blearily into the kitchen, drawn by the smells and sounds of cooking breakfast. “Good morning,” I mumbled.

  “Good morning,” said a cheery woman’s voice, and I nearly fell. I caught myself against a counter, spun, and grabbed for the block of kitchen knives.

  Hands caught mine and I cried out, immediately struggling. But the hands were warm, big, familiar.

  Shiny, thank the gods. I stopped trying to reach for a weapon, though my heart was still racing. Shiny, and a woman. Who?

  Then I recalled her greeting. That raspy, too-sweet voice. Lil was in my home, making me breakfast, after eating some Order-Keepers that Shiny had murdered.

  “What in the Maelstrom are you doing here?” I demanded. “And show yourself, damn it. Don’t hide from me in my own home.”

  She sounded amused. “I didn’t think you liked my looks.”

  “I don’t, but I’d rather know you’re not standing there slavering at me.”

  “You won’t know that even if you see me.” But she appeared, facing me in her deceptively normal form. Or maybe the other shape—the mouth—was normal for her, and this was only a courtesy that she offered me. Either way, I was grateful. “As for why I’m here, I brought him home.” She nodded beyond me, where I heard Shiny breathing.

  “Oh.” I was beginning to feel calm again. “Er. Thank you, then. But, um, Lady Lil—”

  “Just Lil.” She beamed and turned back to the stove. “Ham.”

  “What?”

  “Ham.” She turned and looked past me, at Shiny. “I would like some ham.”

  “There’s no ham in the house,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, sounding heartbroken. Her face fell, too, almost comically tragic. I hardly noticed, stunned by Shiny’s response.

  He moved behind me to the cupboard and took something out, setting it on the counter. “Smoked velly.”

  Lil brightened immediately. “Ah! Better than ham. Now we’ll have a proper breakfast.” She turned back to her preparations, beginning to hum some toneless song.

  I was beginning to feel light-headed. I went to the table and sat down, not sure what to think. Shiny sat down across from me, watching me with his heavy gaze.

  “I must apologize,” he said softly.

  I jumped. “You’re talking more?”

  He didn’t bother to respond to that question, since the answer was obvious. “I didn’t expect Lil to impose on your hospitality. That was not my intention.”

  For a moment I did not respond, distracted. He’d spoken at the site of Role’s murder, but this was the first time I’d heard him say several sentences in a row.

  And dear gods, his voice was beautiful. Tenor. I’d expected him to be baritone. And it was rich, every precisely enunciated word reverberating through my ears all the way down to my toes. I could listen to a voice like that all day.

  Or all night… Sternly, I turned my thoughts away from that path. I had enough gods in my love life.

  Then I realized I’d been staring blankly at him. “Oh, ah, I don’t mind that so much,” I said at last. “Though I wish you’d asked first.”

  “She insisted.”

  That threw me. “Why?”

  “I have a warning to pass on,” Lil interjected, coming over to the table. She put a plate in front of me, then another in front of Shiny. My kitchen had only two chairs, so she hoisted herself up on a counter, then picked up a plate she’d apparently set aside for herself. Her eyes gleamed as she gazed at her food, and I looked away, afraid she would open her mouth wide again.

  “A warning?” In spite of everything, the food smelled good. I poked it a bit and realized she’d incorporated the velly into the eggs, along with peppers and herbs I’d forgotten I had. I tried it—delicious.

  “Someone is looking for you,” Lil said.

  It took a moment to figure out she meant me, not Shiny. Then I sobered, realizing who might be looking for me. “Everyone saw Previt Rimarn talking to me yesterday. Now that he’s, um, gone, I imagine his fellow previts will come around.”

  “Oh, he’s not dead,” said Lil, surprised. “The three I ate last night were just Order-Keepers. Young, healthy, quite juicy beneath the crust.” She uttered a lascivious sigh. I put down my fork, appetite gone. “There was no magic on them to spoil the taste, except that used to kill them. I imagine they were just there to do the beating.”

  In spite of myself, I groaned inwardly. That had been the one benefit I could
see in the priests’ deaths; Rimarn was the only one who knew of my magic and suspected me of being Role’s killer. Now, with his men dead, he would definitely be looking for me.

  Madding’s words came back to me: leave town. Yet the problem of money haunted me. And I did not want to leave. Shadow was my home.

  “He’s not the one I meant, in any case,” Lil said, interrupting my thoughts. Surprised, I focused on her. Her plate, faintly visible to me in the reflected glow of her body, was empty—clean, as if she’d polished it. She was licking her fork now, with long, slow strokes of her tongue that seemed obscene.

  “What?”

  She turned and looked at me, and abruptly I was pinned by her mottled gaze. The dark spots in her eyes moved, spinning about her pupils in a slow, restless dance. I found myself wondering if the spots in her hair moved, too.

  “So much hunger,” she said in a soft, raspy purr. “It wraps about you like a layered cloak. A previt’s anger. Madding’s desire.” My cheeks grew warm. “And one other, more hungry than the others. Powerful. Dangerous.” She shivered, and I shivered with her. “He could reshape the world with such hunger, especially if he gets what he wants. And what he wants is you.”

  I stared at her, confused and alarmed. “Who is this person? What does he want me for?”

  “I don’t know.” She licked her lips, then regarded me thoughtfully. “Perhaps if I stay near you, I can meet him.”

  I frowned, too unnerved to comment on this. Why would anyone powerful want me? I was nothing, nobody. Even Rimarn would be disappointed if he knew the truth of the magic he’d sensed in me. All I could do was see.

  And… I frowned. There were also my paintings. I kept those out of sight; only Madding and Shiny knew about them. There was something magical to those. I didn’t know what, but my father had taught me long ago that it was important to keep such things hidden, and so I did.

  Was it those, then, that this mysterious person wanted?

  No, no, I was jumping to conclusions. I didn’t even know if this person existed. All I had to go on was the word of a goddess who saw nothing wrong with eating human beings. She might see nothing wrong with lying to them, too.