“God, you always remember these extras’ names … You’re right. It was Trio. Don’t worry, the ward’s going to keep Deuteros unconscious … for a little while. Come with me now, Corona. I want you and I to shut ourselves up and talk and talk and talk … alone. You’ve hardly told me anything. That’s a hint to make yourself scarce, by the way, Duty. God, how to refer to you? We’re going to need to give you a nickname to differentiate. What did Harrowhark used to always call you? Tortoise? Blorgus?”
Pyrrha’s voice was cool. “You cut slits in her brain.”
Crown said, “You pardon?”
“Long story. Very funny. Come and hear it,” said the third voice. “Let’s lock this door … I don’t want Deuteros crashing the party, sweetheart.”
Nona and We Suffer and Camilla were very silent for a while, but there was nothing after that. Camilla had written a whole page of scribbled nonsense. We Suffer said tightly, “Was that anything to you?”
Camilla didn’t answer at first. She had taken her pen and was underlining things, her lips moving soundlessly as she repeated phrases to herself. Nona sat down in front of her, tired from listening and from holding her breath to help her concentrate. She put her cheek up against Cam’s knee. Cam did not seem to notice or mind, until she looked down at Nona, and then at her paper, and she said— “What are Pyrrha’s nicknames for you?”
“Kiddie,” said Nona immediately. “Junior. Small Fry. Cutie Pie. Li’l Bits. Small Cam. Hairy Maclary.”
“Keep going.”
“Nums. No-No. Nope. None. Sweet Nons. Nona-Palona. The Big No.”
“She should be arrested,” murmured Camilla, then: “Got it.”
We Suffer leant forward eagerly. “What have you got?”
“Nona,” said Camilla, putting the paper aside, “look at me.”
Nona, already so near to Camilla’s knee, was happy to raise her chin and have both of her hands taken—unusual!—by Camilla. Camilla squeezed her hands briefly, then paused, then put one of her hands to Nona’s forehead, and said: “You’re running a temperature.”
“Oh—I’m dying, that’s probably why,” said Nona. “Don’t worry though, I’ve got whole days if I don’t do anything stupid.”
Cam’s expression said that she found this both surprising and unfortunate. She said, “Stupid how?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Does Palamedes know?”
“Yes, I told him.”
“Okay,” said Camilla, with what Pyrrha always called her I will talk to your mother later face. Then— “Nona, Pyrrha thinks you’re the key to something we want.”
“The body.”
“Yes.” And: “You’re going to have to be brave.”
“Oh, please,” said Nona dismissively. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”
Camilla smiled at her. For that smile Nona would have lived, if she had had any say in the matter. She did not answer, but said to We Suffer: “How long until sundown?”
“You have over eight hours.”
“Can you get the Sixth House by then? Can you get me some materials right now?”
“As you promised me, so I promise you—I will devote every resource I have to the attempt. Tell me what you need.”
“A pair of scissors,” said Camilla. “Iris dye.” She looked at Nona’s button-up shirt, which was unbuttoned to show the T-shirt underneath. “And the blackest clothes you can find.”
JOHN 9:22
IN THE DREAM he finally took her to the front of the concrete wreck. It had taken him a while to clear the rubble away from the door. He seemed to want to do it by hand. After watching him for an hour, she helped. The rocks cut their fingers and strained their wrists, and the cuts knitted back up so quickly that they were in danger of healing their skin over the sharp edges of the jagged concrete chunks, of sucking slivers of glass into their hands. Sometimes they did suck glass in. Every few hours they had to pause so he could get rid of all the grit that was accumulating underneath their skins, stuff they’d healed over by accident.
When the doors were clear he took her into a room he said was the old reception area. The water had smashed it to bits, but he said it had been smashed to bits before. At some point the desk had been broken up and pushed in front of the door but then the door had burst open and flung piles of desk on either side of the room. There were puddles of foetid water, and bones—leftover bones, bones in clothes, bones with meat still clinging to them. She pointed out that some of the bones still had meat on them and he said to stop.