The Rest is Riddles

Chapter 22: The Oath-Spell

In the kitchen the next morning, Lidea puttered about, preparing potions and baking bread. She handed Jane a platter of toast and eggs, which Jane accepted with a grateful smile.

"Still no sign of your sister," said Lidea. "I have the mirrors set so they'll chime if she appears." She nodded toward Nikolay's room. "His death will be agonizing," she added soberly, as Jane slathered liberal quantities of jam over her toast. "We must hope the tsar arrives soon."

The smile slid off Jane's face, and her stomach clenched. Her sleep had been fitful, tormented with nightmares. This time, it had been Nikolay's dying face that featured prominently in her dreams.

"How will the tsar coming help Nikolay?" she asked. "Can you cure the tsar's illness?"

"No," said Lidea.

"Can you... extend his life, then?" Jane toyed with the food on her plate.

Lidea put a hand on her shoulder. "There are times," she said, "when fighting is the best option. When doing battle and facing the enemy head-on is the right answer, the only answer. But sometimes..."

Her voice trailed off.

"If the tsar was the only one affected, it wouldn't be so... I mean, the tsar's older." Jane squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them until they hurt. "He seemed to have come to terms with the fact that he was going to die." She began to pace. "I guess Nikolay—if he lived—would rightfully spend the rest of his life rotting in prison for what he's done. Is that what you're saying? That he's done so many unforgivable things there's just no point?"

"Do you think Nikolay deserves to die?" said Lidea quietly.

Jane froze. "I—I didn't say that. I thought you..."

She trailed off.

"Sometimes," said Lidea, into the silence that ensued, "the bravest thing you can do is not to rail against what's broken, but to put your rage behind you and move on."

Jane stared at the table. Her fingers, she noticed suddenly, were so tightly clenched that her knuckles were turning white.

"He controlled my mind," she whispered. "With that potion. He could have made me do literally anything, he could have told me to kill my own brother, and I would have had no choice but to do it. So, no, I don't want to put my rage behind me. I don't think that's a fair thing to ask me."

"It is not," Lidea said soberly.

"Then why..."

"Do you know how many unfair things have been asked of me over the years?" said Lidea. "Before I came to Mir, I was a healer—a nurse. Healers are bound to save those they don't like, even those who have done despicable things, out of duty to their profession and their oath. They heal them anyway, because it is a calling, because they believe it is right." Lidea pierced her with a stare. "Hold onto your rage as you will, but have a care you are the one controlling it and not the other way around. Do not let it stop you from doing what's right."

"I haven't been—"

Jane broke off. Lidea was watching her with a knowing look, and Jane felt a stab of uncertainty.

Because now that Lidea had put the thought in her head, she couldn't help but remember how she'd felt on Mount Naridnya, with the Book of Truths in front of her and two Writings left. She'd been terrified for Phillip's life, overwhelmed by the time crunch and near panicking with uncertainty, but there had also been a sense of deep injustice driving her actions in that moment.

Part of her had wanted to see the gods suffer.

To see Nikolay suffer.

To make him feel what it was to be powerless, for once in his life.