Death Marked (Death Sworn #2)(45)

Karyn snapped her mouth shut. She blinked, and Ileni had the now-familiar sense that she had missed something, revealed her ignorance once again.

“Most of them would die anyhow,” Karyn said finally. “While they live, they are weak and useless. We are giving them a way to be valuable, to serve the Empire.”

“By harvesting their lives to add to your power!”

“You can blame your assassin friends for that,” Karyn said. “We need more power for the coming war.”

For the coming . . . Ileni drew in her breath.

Wouldn’t you rather it was our soldiers? Think how many lodestones would be in the training arena now.

“You get power from war, too,” Ileni said. “Don’t you? From dying soldiers. They can be a source, too.”

Karyn pressed her lips together. “Yes. We don’t waste lives.”

“And because of that, their deaths don’t matter to you.” Lis had told her the truth, but she hadn’t understood: We win either way.

It didn’t matter, to the Empire, if they won or lost a battle. If they won, their enemies died. And if they lost, they died, and their power was gathered into the lodestones. Dead soldiers became power sources for sorcerer-soldiers. Even defeats added to the Empire’s strength. No wonder it was unstoppable.

“Why bother going through the motions of a fight?” Ileni snapped. “Why not just order them to kill themselves and give you their power?”

Karyn stared at her. “Who would obey that order?”

Ileni knew several hundred people who would obey. But this was, clearly, not the time to bring that up. She had to back down before it was too late.

Except she suspected it was already too late.

Karyn’s eyes narrowed. “I think your viewpoint has been a little skewed by your time in the caves. We don’t murder people for no reason. We don’t send soldiers into battle to die. We prefer to win. But if we lose, we see no reason to waste their deaths.”

Start acting convinced. But Ileni couldn’t think of how to do it—how to pretend she thought the murder of innocents could be justified. That the Empire could value life so little, and then hide behind speeches about necessity.

“I . . .” she began, choking before she even knew what to say. And then, just in time, realized that she was going about this all wrong.

Karyn didn’t expect Ileni to be convinced. She expected her to be tempted.

“I could heal some of those people,” she said. “If I . . . if I had a lodestone bracelet of my own.”

Karyn let out a tiny victorious snort. “Could you, indeed?”

“Yes.” Deep breath. “If what you’re saying is true, if you would prefer that people not die, then give me a bracelet and let me serve as their healer.”

“How noble of you.” Karyn let go of Ileni’s wrist, and Ileni forced herself not to rub the indentations left by the sorceress’s fingers. “I’ll consider it. Although you do realize that the lodestone on your bracelet will have cost a life. You’ll just be trading one life for another.”

So Karyn, too, didn’t know how to stop arguing just because she had what she wanted. Ileni shrugged. “Renegai healing spells have been honed for centuries to require as little power as possible. Unless someone is actually dying, it shouldn’t drain a lodestone to cure them. I could cure dozens of people with the power of a single stone.”

“I see,” Karyn said. “I’ll consider it.”

And now they both had what they wanted. Ileni’s mouth tasted sour.

Karyn let out a breath. “Well. Much as I would love to continue this discussion, I don’t have the time. The Oksain River is flooding again, and I need a dozen mid-level sorcerers to help me contain it.” She stepped back. “By keeping the river in its banks, we’ll save hundreds of lives and prevent a famine. But don’t let that interfere with your self-righteous horror.”

Killing people to save other people’s lives. Ileni had heard that before. She bit her lip, hard enough to hurt, and said nothing.

Karyn vanished. But right before she did, she gave Ileni a look of such triumph, such certainty, that Ileni’s entire body clenched.

She ran the rest of the way up the mountain, racing past clustered spikes of grass and thorny bushes clinging to the rock. She pulled in power as soon as she was in range of the lodestones, healing muscles recklessly so she could keep up a breakneck pace. She slammed the door to her room, yanked open two of her desk drawers, and grabbed what she needed: a piece of a chalk and a stone paperweight in the shape of a tiny mountain. She didn’t bother to close the drawers. She dropped to her hands and knees and began to draw, so hard and fast that chalk dust sputtered up from the rock.

It was a complicated pattern to work so quickly, and that helped; she had to focus on it entirely, her mind clear and cold, distractions like life and death and betrayal becoming misty and distant. When she was done, she sat cross-legged on the floor with a thump. Then, with slow deliberateness, she placed her fingers on the right places on the paperweight.

She knew how to do this spell. She had run it through her mind a dozen times. And this time, she had to see him. Had to tell him that he was right, that she was ready to come back. . . .

Her fingers froze.

Was she ready?

This wasn’t about running away. She was a weapon. If she opened the portal, he would think it meant she was ready to be used.