webcrawl/APGTE/Book-2/tex/Ch-032.md.tex

\hypertarget{chapter-27-cut}{%
\section{Chapter 27: Cut}\label{chapter-27-cut}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``The worst sin a villain can commit is to hesitate.''}

-Dread Empress Maleficent II
\end{quote}

``She's awake,'' an orc's voice said.

I recognized it. Male. Adjutant. Trustworthy.

``Take another step and I'll activate the wards on you,'' someone
barked.

Spoken Mtethwa. Soninke, the son of Warlock. Apprentice.

``Masego-``

``That may not be Catherine looking through those eyes,'' the second
voice hissed.

Light flared and I screamed again. Bindings on my legs and wrists, but
not made of rope. Roiling blue sorcery, burning into my skin.

``You're hurting her,'' Adjutant growled.

Angry. He sounded tall and angry, ready for violence.

``Shut up,'' Apprentice snarled. ``Diagnostic spells are complicated
enough without -- \emph{fale'ibashe.}''

I laughed, or sobbed. I'd never heard this man swear in Mthetwa before.

``She's still her. But it got to her third aspect,'' the Soninke
whispered hoarsely. ``We have to\ldots{}''

``What?'' Adjutant pressed. ``Do what?''

``I don't know,'' Apprentice bit out. ``The corruption is spreading.''

``So stop it,'' the orc barked. ``\emph{Now}.''

``It's not that simple, it's rooted in the aspect,'' the mage replied.

``So rip out the godsdamned aspect,'' Adjutant ordered, thundering.

I could hear something beyond them, faintly. Like a song. I'd heard it
before, I knew that. Where was it from?

``I'd be mutilating her soul,'' the Soninke spoke, sounding sick. ``She
could die.''

Oh, Apprentice. So delicate. Why was he with us? I still wasn't sure.
The song was getting easier to make out. There were words, and if I just
listened right I could --

``Gods Below, Apprentice, if you don't get started \emph{right now} I
will not answer for my actions,'' the orc said.

Troubled, he was troubled. But a word was spoken that was like an order
unto Creation and I slept.

---

There was something missing.

Before I ever opened my eyes, I knew this as well as I knew my own
breath. I was no longer tied to the bed, or even in the same room. This
was not the manor, everything was too small and the wooden walls were
shoddy. There was a window, its painted shutters left open. Night had
yet to fall but the sky was full of clouds, as they had been in my
dream. This did not feel like a coincidence and I shivered, feeling
nauseous. The door to my left swung wide a moment later, Apprentice
absently waving a hand and snuffing out a rune I hadn't noticed lighting
up on the bedside table.

``Catherine,'' he said, tone hesitant.

``Masego,'' I frowned.

Relief took over his face and he hurried to my bedside. His hair was a
mess, without most of the trinkets usually in it, and his eyes were red
like he hadn't gotten to sleep in too long.

``Lay back,'' he ordered, and I deigned to obey.

I'd dealt with healers before, and their presumptuousness was usually
there for the patient's sake. At least this one didn't drink, unlike the
man I'd had to rely on at the Pit. His hands were soft but sure as he
inspected my wrists, grimacing at the sight of the healing burns on
them. They throbbed dimly, though not as much as William's gift of a
scar did on bad days.

``It's not as bad as I thought,'' Apprentice said, keeping one of my
pupils open with one hand and passing a finger wreathed in flame in
front of the eye with the other. ``Your eyesight is unaffected and the
discoloration I'll be able to fix, with the proper ritual.''

``Discoloration?'' I repeated weakly.

There was a strange taste in my mouth, and not the kind you got after a
long sleep. Someone had fed me a potion. Everything still felt hazy.
Masego paused, smothering the flame and taking his hand out of my sight.

``I'm sorry, Catherine,'' he said. ``Burning out the contamination was
harder than I thought. Some of the\ldots{} effects may be permanent.''

``I feel fine,'' I protested.

``I know,'' he acknowledged. ``And I've been pushing a needle into your
cheek for the last twenty heartbeats.''

I jerked away my head, watching a small sliver of metal fly away and
land on the floor.

``I- I didn't,'' I began, not sure what to say.

``It only affects the left side of your face,'' he explained, and I
could feel him make an effort to be dispassionate.

I appreciated that more than I could put into words. I felt like I was
walking on the edge of a precipice, and even the slightest show of
emotion might tip me over.

``Your right leg,'' he said, walking around the bed and gently pulling
away the covers after I nodded my permission. Someone had put me into
soft cotton trousers at some point. ``Try to kick with it.''

I broke into a hiss of pain hallway through. A shadow passed through
Masego's eyes, gone as quickly as it had come.

``The limb remains mostly functional, and I'll brew you something for
the pain,'' he said. ``But you'll have a limp for the rest of your
life.''

``The necrotized flesh,'' I guessed.

The dark-skinned mage looked away.

``If I'd begun to work on containment quicker, you'd still have full
functionality,'' he admitted, ashamed.

I closed my eyes. Every inch of me wanted to lash out at him right now.
Slowly I took in a breath, then let it out.

``You saved my life,'' I said.

He looked pained.

``Catherine, I-``

``Masego,'' I interrupted. ``You've known Black much longer than I have.
If he knew I'd been corrupted by a demon, what would he do?''

The bespectacled man let his fingers ball into a fist.

``He'd kill you,'' he said softly. ``Immediately, without warning, and
destroy the corpse. He would then quarantine everyone you'd come in
contact with and do the same to anyone affected, however slightly.''

``And he'd be right to do so,'' I whispered.

I let a long moment pass, which he seemed unable or unwilling to break.
Several times he opened his mouth, then closed it. I scrambled for
whatever little strength I had left in me and steeled myself.

``Tell me,'' I ordered. ``Tell me why I feel like I'm missing a limb
I've never had.''

The dark-skinned man bit his lip.

``I operated on your soul,'' he said. ``The aspect that got corrupted
needed to be cut out, or it would continue to spread.''

I forced my hands to stop shaking.

``It's gone, the entire thing?''

``And some other parts of your soul,'' he admitted. ``I did not have the
right tools to be entirely precise.''

I smiled bitterly. My body was already a mangled mess, even if mage
healing had seen to it precious few scars showed. Now it seemed my very
soul was following suit. I wondered what would happen if they buried me
in consecrated grounds after my death. The thought sent a fresh shiver
of fear down my spine: tinkering with a soul in any way was blasphemy of
the highest order.

``No replacement will grow, will it?'' I asked softly.

``The Name of Squire is permanently crippled,'' he replied just as
quietly.

I looked away, through the window. The clouds were roiling, just like
the magic that had bound my wrists when I'd been screaming. I forced a
smile on my face.

``I suppose I'll have to do with two aspects, then,'' I told him.

Masego's face was unreadable, and for a long moment he remained silent.

``You don't have to do that, you know,'' he finally said. ``I was raised
by a villain. I know we're not untouchable. We bleed. We cry.''

``I can't afford either of those,'' I replied, keeping my tone calm. ``I
don't have the time for it.''

``I don't think you can afford \emph{not} to. Not anymore,'' Apprentice
said.

``Black-`` I started.

``Wept, when he buried his parents,'' Masego interrupted me gently.
``Father was there, so I know.''

``\emph{I am not weak},'' I snarled, the words escaping me against my
will, and my fist broke the bedside table into kindling.

He did not flinch.

``It's not a weakness, to acknowledge when you've been hurt,'' the
bespectacled man replied. ``We all have to stop sometimes. Roles don't
make us more than human, Catherine. They just give us powers and
responsibilities.''

He was speaking from the heart, and maybe that was why I didn't ram my
fist into his face. He was too genuine to be trying to hurt me, at least
wilfully. The anger drained out of me, and the strength it had brought
followed.

``I can't stop,'' I replied tiredly. ``I owe people better than that.
Gods, Masego, not even two years out of Laure and I have enough dead on
my conscience to fill a dozen graveyards. I can't let it be meaningless.
I can't \emph{lose}.''

To my shame and fury, tears were welling up in my eyes. Like I was a
bloody child with a scraped knee. My own body was betraying me, with
trembling hands and a throat that wouldn't stop choking up. And now
there was \emph{fear} in me, because of that stark reminder that there
were things that cared nothing for how beyond reach a Name was supposed
to make me.

``When you came back from trying to rescue the wounded,'' Apprentice
said. ``I expected you to be in shock. Devils are some of the most
horrifying creatures to ever be born of Creation and you'd just seen
them slaughter hundreds of your men.''

``I pulled through then,'' I muttered angrily, ``and I'll pull through
now.''

Masego sighed.

``I was honestly more worried about you when you started bantering with
Hakram than when you came in barely able to walk,'' he admitted.
``People don't just walk off that kind of experience, Catherine, not
even those with Names.''

``I do,'' I spoke through gritted teeth.

The mage slowly rose to his feet, then looked at me sadly.

``I shouldn't have to tell you how dangerous it is, for a villain to lie
to themselves,'' he replied, and left me to my thoughts.

The words lingered in the room long after he'd left.

---

I wasn't supposed to leave the room, I learned.

Whatever it was Masego had done to my soul, it had left it vulnerable.
The wards on the bedroom where I was kept it safe from outside
influences, but until dawn tomorrow I could not wander. Visitors were
allowed, but only one at a time. Hakram came first, with reports and
some of my personal effects.

``Apprentice's ritual worked,'' the orc told me. ``The boundaries were
set and we're preparing defences for when the enemy comes. Juniper went
over the reports from your encounter with the devils, and she's cooked
up some countermeasures with Pickler's help.''

``And the city?'' I asked.

``It's been quiet,'' he grunted. ``The sky has people afraid to come
out, and we've found few volunteers to join the defences. Ratface
managed to dig up a few mages, but there's less than twenty in total and
most wouldn't qualify for legion service.''

``They have to be watched over,'' I said. ``The firefly devils make them
a liability. Has there been any sign of them or the Silver Spears?''

``Our scouts have seen a few devils, but they're staying away for now.
There's a watch set up to keep an eye on the hills, so the moment the
Spears come out we'll know.''

``It'll be soon,'' I murmured.

``The Hellhound agrees,'' Adjutant gravelled. ``Two days at most.''

``I'll be back in fighting shape by then,'' I said.

Hakram paused, then licked his lips.

``Will you?'' he asked. ``There'd be no shame in sitting this one out,
Cat. You're still recovering.''

``I will not \emph{sit pretty} in this fucking room while the city is
under attack,'' I growled.

Adjutant raised a hand in appeasement.

``If you say you'll be in fighting shape, you'll be in fighting shape,''
he replied.

We talked for a little while longer, then he rose.

``I'd stay, but I have duties,'' he gravelled. ``I'll leave the reports
with you. Send a runner if you need anything.''

I waved him away pleasantly, keeping my dismay off my face. I knew
everything was in good hands -- if anyone could prepare Marchford for
what was coming, it was Juniper -- but I could not quell the feeling
that this entire situation was slipping out of my grasp. The bundle of
parchments was full of logistics and schedules, and though I knew it was
important stuff my mind refused to focus on it. I eventually set them
aside and lay back on the bed, looking at the ceiling. I was still
staring at the wooden panels, thinking of nothing, when Kilian came in.

``Cat,'' she breathed, and before I could blink I had a lapful of
redhead in my arms.

I let my face rest against the crook of her neck and basked in the
warmth.

``Kilian,'' I replied belatedly.

For the first time today I felt the ever-present tremor in my arms
cease.

``I was worried,'' the mage said. ``I mean, \emph{obviously} I was
worried but\ldots{}''

``Yeah,'' I spoke quietly. ``I get it.''

There'd always been a chance that a sliver of what made me Catherine
Foundling would be gone, by the time Masego was done. I still wasn't
sure there wasn't, and the notion definitely wasn't going to help me
sleep at night. If there was something missing, would I notice?
\emph{Could} I notice? The feeling that something was missing had yet to
abate. Maybe it never would. Kilian wiggled a little out of my grasp,
and to my surprise I found I'd been clutching at her like she was a
lifeline. She kissed my forehead gently, and then her lips were on mine.
My blood heated up in the best way and I found my hands reaching for the
small of her back under her tunic, stroking the soft skin and then
greedily going for lower. She let out a small sound of pleasure, then
lightly bit the side of my neck with an impish smile.

``Are you sure your body can handle that?'' she asked, with more than a
little lust in her eyes.

``Only one way to find out,'' I replied, and tipped her under me in the
bed.

There was precious little talking after that.

---

We lay together afterwards, more intertwined than not.

It'd been a while since we'd had the time to just bask in the afterglow,
without any pressing need to get anything done afterwards. She wasn't
due for a meeting for another bell, she'd told me. My body felt sore but
for once it was a pleasant sort of soreness: I lazily reached for my
shirt, which had at some point ended up in the kindling I'd made of the
former bedside table.

``You don't need to hide it, you know,'' Kilian murmured, tracing the
red scar across my chest with a finger.

That got a pleasurable shiver out of me, but I put on the shirt
nonetheless.

``I don't like to leave it out in the open,'' I admitted.

``Orcs have it right about scars, I think,'' the redheaded mage said.
``They're a reminder that you were strong enough to survive, not a mark
of shame.''

``Doesn't make it any prettier to look at,'' I replied.

``Makes you different,'' Kilian told me. ``That's not a bad thing.''

I ran a hand up her ribs, then allowed a finger to trace where the same
scar would be on her. My lover shuddered, eyes fluttering but never
quite closing. Now if she bit her lip after that, it meant we were about
to go for a second round. I'd learned to recognize that sign very
quickly, given the benefits picking up on it gave. Instead she moved a
little closer to me, and I was only half-disappointed: strenuous
exercise was still difficult, and strenuous was the least of adjectives
I'd grant to spending time in bed with Kilian.

``You're trembling again,'' she noted quietly.

I moved away, but she grasped my shoulder and held me back.

``It's all right,'' she whispered.

She smiled gently.

``I'm afraid,'' she admitted.

That was the way it always went with her. She never shied away from
speaking her own weaknesses, just to make me comfortable with
acknowledging mine. I loved that about her, even if I didn't quite love
her.

``We're in a bad situation,'' she continued. ``And you've seen it up
close, unlike me.''

I let myself come close to her again, putting an arm over her stomach
and slipping another under her.

``It's bad,'' I agreed softly. ``And I don't know how we're going to get
out of it.''

Her hand came up to stroke the side of my cheek, and though I saw it
there was no feeling from the side of my face. I felt my throat choke
up.

``It's that side, then,'' she murmured with a frown.

She didn't stop, though she moved her fingers further down to my neck.

``You're soothing me like I would a horse,'' I muttered with a snort.

``You don't have to save us every time, Cat,'' she told me, ignoring my
attempt to change the subject. ``We can help too. Isn't that the point
of having a legion?''

``If I need you to do my dirty work for me,'' I replied, ``then why do I
deserve to be in charge?''

Kilian sighed, then drew away her hand to clasp one of mine.

``Juniper rants about you now and then,'' she informed me. ``About your
recklessness, about how you tend to think with your fists. But for all
that, never once have I heard her question your ability to lead the
Fifteenth. Do you really think that will change because you won't have a
third aspect?''

I clutched her hand tighter, and I couldn't really express how much it
meant to me that even when it almost became painful she didn't try to
unlace our fingers.

``I fucked up,'' I whispered. ``I thought maybe if I had the power I
could get us out of this mess, but all I did was make it worse. It's
coming, Kilian. For us. We're preparing for the devils and the Spears,
but it's not them we should be afraid of. I made the wrong decision, and
it might not have been the only one.''

I hesitated, then spoke the fear I'd been carrying in me since the night
we'd decided to defend Marchford.

``What if I condemned all of us to worse than death, just because I
wanted to be principled for once? Because I wanted to do the \emph{right
thing}.''

The words came out bitterer than I'd thought they would.

``There's been Squires before you,'' Kilian whispered back. ``There will
be Squires after you. But we're not following a Name, you see, we're
following Catherine Foundling. And I don't think she's out of the game
yet.''

I didn't fight the tears that time, and the last thing I remembered was
Kilian smoothing away my hair as she settled the covers around me.

For all that, I did not sleep well.