Dark room. No one else even breathing. Beams of light picked out the shutters. Raised her head. Beams of light picking out a small door. The light hurt her. Very very bright in the dark. Closed her eyes again. Rough sheets. Thick soft pillows. Her skin hurt. And too hot. She pushed a leg out of the bed. Painful. Her leg hurt. Heard herself groan. It sounded odd. Far away. She coughed. Like a dog barking. Her mouth was dry. Tried to move a hand to look for a cup of water. Her hand flailed. Couldn’t move. Hurting. A dry painful sound in her throat. Too dark.

Blind, she thought. I’m blind. Her body was clammy, like she’d been running. Sticky. Been in bed a long time. Blind. Paralysed. Bed-ridden. Bandages on her head and arms. Thirsty. Blind.

The door opened. Very bright light. A figure behind it. Wavered. Too bright. Closed her eyes, whimpering. Light burned into her eyes. The figure like a ghost. Still see it. Too bright. Blind.

She thought: Bilale? My Lady? Bilale?

“Nilesh?” Janush’s voice. Worried. Relieved.

“Janush?” Her voice was so dry. Struggling to make her mouth work. Hurting. Odd.

“Nilesh. It’s all right. Lie still.”

“Water.” Opened her eyes again. Too bright. Too dark. No vision. Just shadow. Janush, flickering. Black shadow. White light. Hurting. Wrong.

“Here.” Hands on her head, lifting her. Drank water. Sweet. Cool. Bitter. Something in it.

“Janush—”

Sleep.

Dark room. Someone by the bed. Breathing quietly. Still. Light at the shutters. Easier to see. Dry mouth.

Hurt.

“Who’s there?” Her voice sounded funny. Not like her voice. Coming from the corners of the room. “Who’s there?” Whispery. Hurt to speak.

“Nilesh. It’s all right. Can you see?”

“Dark …”

Light. A lamp, flickering. Hands, bringing the lamp.

“Janush?”

Face. Blinked in the lamplight. She blinked. Face shimmered. Drew together. Mosaic tiles. Making a face.

“Nilesh. Are you in pain? Can you see?”

“Janush.” Coughed. “I … can see.”

“Great Tanis be praised.” Raised her head, held a cup to her. “Drink this.”

Drank. Hurting. Sweet. Cool. Bitter. Dry lips.

She spat. “No. Don’t want … to sleep.”

“It will stop the pain.”

“No!” Dry, cracked mouth. Voice sounded all funny. Coming from somewhere else. Hurting. “No. Don’t want to sleep.”

Cup at her lips. Sweet. Cool. Bitter. Janush holding her head. Thirsty. Dry mouth.

Sleep.

Light room. Shutters open. Sunlight. Breeze. Birdsong. Dusty gold sky.

“Janush?”

The figure by her bed turned his head. Been staring out of the window. Watching birds.

“Good morning, Nilesh.”

“Janush—” Sickness. She bent forward and vomited. Crying. Hurt.

“It’s all right, Nilesh.” Held a bowl under her. Vomited again. Silver. Blurred through her tears. Thin yellow spatter of bile.

“Sick …” Her eyes were hurting her, sore and hot. Rubbed her eyes, spat into the bowl. “Janush!”

“Try to keep calm.” He poured her a cup of water. Drank gratefully. Sweet. Lemon and flowers. Washing the taste out of her mouth.

Janush said, “We had to give you hatha. To help you rest. You’re suffering … after-effects.”

“To help me?” Memory coming back to her. Fighting. Bil screaming. Pain. “The baby! The baby, Janush! Bilale’s baby!”

“The baby is fine, Nilesh. Alive. Babbling. Smiling at our mistress’s face.”

“And Bilale?”

Frowned. His face sad. “Alive.”

“And?”

“You should rest, Nilesh.”

Sick again. Water and bile in the silver bowl. So violent her shoulders ached. Itching eyes. After-effects of hatha. She had seen them, the hatha eaters, vomiting and crying in the streets. Their faces running sores.

“Janush. Please. How is Bilale? Please?”

Winced. “Her hands … Her hands are … She has lost both of her hands, Nilesh.”

Oh Bilale. Bilale. She asked slowly, “How long have I been sleeping, Janush?”

Janush sighed. “You were wounded in the head, Nilesh. I thought you were dead. Then I thought you were going to die. Then I thought you might stay … as you were. Sleeping, and waking, and screaming. All day and all night. In pain. Blind. Our mistress could not bear it. The sound you made. I gave you hatha, to keep you asleep.”

Eyes itching. Heaviness in her. Tired. Hatha. Janush gave me hatha. Screaming all day and all night in pain. “How long, Janush?”

He said slowly, “A month, Nilesh. You have been sleeping and drugged for almost a month.”

She wept. A month! And other things came back to her. “Lord Emmereth. The Emperor. We went to the Temple.” Her head felt so heavy, confused. “We have not been burned, then. We are … we are safe?”

Almost laughed. “The girl Dyani died in the attack, and two of the guards. The assassins also. Lord Emmereth sent their bodies back to the House of Silver with bags of gold talents and garlands of copperstem around their necks. Lord Emmereth sits in his study, writing long lists of plans. Then he burns them. He has borrowed money from Lord Vorley, to pay the guardsmen’s fee. Lord Vorley came yesterday to demand some of his money back The cetalasophrase was reported to have blossomed early. We celebrated the Festival of Sleeping Eyes. Lord Tardein’s daughter Zoa married Lord Magreth in a gown sewn with a thousand yellow diamonds. The dead High Priestess was crowned Queen of Ith in a gown sewn with human skin. The Lord of Empty Mirrors held a party last night, they say he served wine spiked with hatha while his lamps burned rose oil.” He tried to smile. “But yes, Nilesh. We would seem to be safe.”

“That’s good, then.” So much of everything she did not understand. Why should she understand?

“It’s good.” Janush got up, roughly, choking on his words. “Now that you are awake, I’ll see that some food is sent up to you. You may vomit it up, at first. But you must eat. The sickness will ease, as the hatha leaves you.”

Nilesh thought: but the itching. The feeling in my head. That won’t leave, will it? Everyone knows that, about hatha eaters. Her hand jerked, as she thought it, to her eyes.

“Try not to scratch, Nilesh,” said Janush. “I will see if I can find anything, to soothe the skin. Keep the scratches from becoming inflamed.”

She dozed. Empty. A pounding needing clouded feeling in her head. Craving hatha. And exhausted. The vile sticky feeling of her limbs, that had lain so long in the bed. Jumpy, wanting to run around. She pissed and shat in a bowl in the corner. The effect of getting up made her vomit again. Her head hurt. Her arms hurt. Felt strange to walk.

They brought her some food: bread and creamy cheese and soft red fruit. She ate and felt a little better. Then vomited again. Hatha cravings. Her body jittery, like a fly buzzing round and round a room. Two body servants came to help her wash herself. Change her clothes. She felt better. Ate again. Kept it down. Slept a little, afterwards. Didn’t remember her dreams. Woke in the night, sat up listening to the silence. Been used her whole remembered life to hearing Bilale breathing in her sleep.

Janush didn’t come the next morning. He no longer felt guilty, perhaps, now she was awake. Ate and kept it down, drank water, her lips and skin feeling less dry. Another wash. More clean clothes. Itching madly around her eyes. Already scratched and bleeding. Janush had forgotten the lotion he had promised to send.

It was strange, not having Bilale to tend to. Just lying down. She kept starting up in panic, thinking there must be something she should do. Janush had said something about that … About servants, and masters … But she couldn’t remember. Some things were hazy. It was hard to think, anyway, with the itching pain in her eyes. And her body ached, where the wounds were. Her legs shook from the effort of walking across the room to the pot.

She was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. The door opened. Janush came in.

“Nilesh. Nilesh. Get up, Nilesh.”

She sat up. Too fast: her head swam and she felt her eyes burn. Sick feeling coming up in her. Fought it down. Janush hanging around the doorway. Disappeared. She went to lie back down again and suddenly the door opened again and Lord Emmereth was there.

He sat down by her bedside on the chair Janush had sat in. Looked at her but didn’t speak. His face was tired. More grey in his hair. Heaviness around his eyes, a thinness to his cheeks. It shocked her. He looked like a tired servant. Not like Lord Emmereth at all.

Still he was silent. He shifted and stirred in his chair, seemed about to speak but said nothing.

“My Lord?” she said at last. A servant of a household should never speak to her Lord without first being spoken to. Never. She should be whipped for it.

He shifted in the chair. “Nilesh. I …” Looked away at the window, ran his hands through his hair. “I am sorry. I owe you great thanks. You and Lady Emmereth, and the child—and our child. I ordered candles lit at the Temple, prayers said for you. Any good a healer or a magic worker could do you. But your head was injured. You may not … You may not entirely recover, Nilesh. Janush and I … we both fear that.”

Lord Emmereth was the master of her world. If he spoke a thing, it was true.

Lord Emmereth had studied medicine and the mysteries of the body. He would know.

“And Lady Emmereth … Your mistress. She … As you perhaps can understand, she does not wish to see you again.”

No.

Bilale had burned the litter. The green one. After they had been spat on. Nilesh saw the green before her eyes, cool and lovely, like being in the garden after rain.

Burned.

“It reminds me of what happened,” Bilale had told Lord Emmereth. “I cannot look at it. I will not have it in the house.”

Lord Emmereth said, “And so I do not know what to do with you, Nilesh. The proper course for an unwanted servant would be to have you thrown out on the street. But that … as you were harmed in Lady Emmereth’s service … I do not think … I can find you a room somewhere, give you some money. A pension. I did that, after all, for others who were injured on my account.”

A room? Some money? Nilesh said, “Thank you, My Lord.”

“You almost sound as if you are thankful, Nilesh. Curse me, if you want.”

Her eyes were hurting. She rubbed her eyes. Lord Emmereth winced as she did so. Frightening, to see him look so sad and weak. Like Janush did when he’d been drinking. Like he wasn’t the great strong centre of the world.

She jerked her hand down.

A tap on the door. The door keep. Familiar. She should know his name. She couldn’t remember his name.

“My Lord? Forgive me, but you wanted to be told at once, you said. Lord Vorley is here.”

“Darath?” Lord Emmereth got up. His face was changed. More and even less himself. Eager and frightened, both together, light flashing in his eyes. He left without speaking. The door was still open. She heard the clatter of men’s footsteps. His guards.