But then Yen quietly said “No,” as he had before, and the ball of pain in his chest was released. A sweet breath surged into his lungs, and another.
“I'm sorry,” Yen said. “You didn't deserve that. I—”
“What are you jabbering about?“ Ghan snarled, pain and relief suddenly churning into anger.
“Listen to me, Ghan. I wasn't lying when I said you and I were Hezhi's only hope. We are, and that is more certain to me now than ever. The emperor gave this expedition into my hands, do you understand? Not Bone Eel's.”
“Yes, yes. That much is clear. You and Qwen Shen control this expedition.”
Yen nodded grimly. “So I am betrayed by the emperor or more likely the priesthood. Possibly both.”
“I don't understand.”
Yen sighed. “I'm not certain I do, either. Have you explained to anyone else about our destination? Does anyone else but myself know even generally where we are bound?”
“The Lady Qwen Shen knows as much as you do. No one knows more.”
“Then they must feel certain they can get the information from you. They don't want to risk me because they can't control me.”
Ghan realized that Yen no longer seemed as if he was in pain at all. He had risen, begun pacing furiously about the cabin, though he kept his voice low, raspy.
“I saw your wound,” Ghan said, articulating each word with great care.
“You are the greatest scholar I know,” Yen said. He stopped pacing, and Ghan could see that his face was nearly drained of color. “Probably the greatest scholar in Nhol. And so you must tell me what I am, Ghan.” He reached to his throat and unbraided the silly-looking scarf he always wore, let it drift to the deck. Ghan stared, frowning for an instant, before what he saw made itself understood. Yen turned slowly, to help him.
Another shudder touched his chest, just a light caress, but Ghan thought he knew now where the pain came from, what it threatened.
“L-let me think,” he gasped, stammering for the first time since his eleventh birthday, eyes fixed on the impossible scar.
“Take your time,” Yen said.
THERE was a rap at the door. Ghan, deep in furious thought, looked up at Yen. Yen placidly replaced the scarf on his horribly scarred neck and went to the door.
Their visitor was Bone Eel, dressed handsomely in blue turban and matching robe. Ghan caught the gleam of steel beneath the robe, however. Bone Eel had apparently been moved to don a cuirass, at least.
“Ah, there you both are,” he said, sounding delighted. ”I only wanted to make certain you had both weathered our recent bit of trouble. Very exciting, wouldn't you say?”
“Oh, indeed,” Yen answered.
“Master Yen, your clothes are wet.”
“True. Unfortunately, as I rushed to defend the barge, I stumbled and fell overboard.”
“No! That's dreadful.”
“It was. Happily, one of the mooring lines hadn't been tied up properly, and I managed to get hold of it. Otherwise, the boat might have left me behind with those barbarians.”
Bone Eel smiled happily. “There wouldn't have been many to bother about, I assure you. We killed most of them, I'm happy to report, and the others will think long and hard about ever attacking an imperial vessel again.”
“That's good to hear.”
“Master Ghan? All is well with you?”
Ghan tried to focus his thoughts on the lord's demented patter. It was difficult. It was very much like sitting near a fantastically poisonous viper; the viper had struck, playfully, once, just to show him its speed, leaving him to wonder whether the viper would strike him, or Bone Eel—or not at all.
“Well enough,” Ghan tried to snap. “Though I would be better—far better—if I had never been included in this ridiculous mission.” His tension loosened, just a bit, as he warmed to playing himself. ”I think your charter has been well satisfied. We have sailed to Wun and 'points beyond,' and I think it's time we pointed the nose of this scow back down-River, to civilization.”
“Now, Master Ghan,” Bone Eel soothed. “One day up-River of Wun is hardly 'points beyond.' I think young Yen here would agree with that.”
“I do,” Yen confirmed.
“I never asked to be included on this trip, however,” Ghan acidly retorted. ”If I had—”
“Master Ghan, I've heard this objection from you before, several times, and I say what I said then. It is the emperor's wish that you chronicle this voyage, and so chronicle it you will. Now, I'm sorry for all of this unpleasantness, but the barge was never in any serious danger. We repelled all boarders and lost only seven men in doing so. Those are remarkably small losses, as I'm sure you know. Now, I must see to things, and knowing you are well, I do so without concerns for your health.” He made as if to leave and then stuck his head back in and said, “Try to be more cheerful, Master Ghan. It is good for digestion.” Then the noble left, closing the door behind him.
“Yes,” Yen repeated. “Try to be more cheerful.”
Ghan turned to face him. His speech about going back was contrived, but the outrage he had discovered was real. “You ask me what you are? Don't you know?”
Yen's show of tears was over; his face was placid, his eyes frozen jewels. But though his lips formed a faint smirk, Ghan thought they lay there uneasily. He had a brief ridiculous thought that Yen had pressed them into shape with his fingers while Ghan's own attention was on Bone Eel. In any event, Yen did not answer except to gesture with his hand for Ghan to go on.
Ghan shook his head stubbornly. “No. You can kill me if you wish—that much is clear to me—”
“I can do far worse than kill you,” Yen interposed, sending a chill down the knotted bone of the old man's back.
Ghan drew on all of his obstinance to continue. “But if you want my help, you must help me. What do you think you are?”
Yen stared at him poisonously for a moment, and Ghan wondered how this could be the same boy who had seemed so grateful a moment ago, who had so thoroughly charmed Hezhi a year before. But, of course, they probably were not the same.
“Very well,” Yen snapped. “I call myself a ghoul. That was what we called creatures such as myself when I was a child.”
“You have been a ghoul since childhood?” Ghan asked, his accustomed sarcasm reasserting itself finally. It was an old friend, comforting to have around, especially in the face of this.
“Very clever. I am not asking you to be clever in that way, Master Ghan.”
Ghan was impressed by the gentle force behind the threat, but he had found himself now and wasn't about to retreat to that younger, fearful self. He was Ghan, and Ghan would not cringe.
“When did you become this?”
“The day that Hezhi escaped from Nhol. Her white-skinned demon—”
“Perkar.”
Yen stopped, and a look of utter hatred crossed his face. “Perkar. He has a name. I knew I should have consulted you long ago.”
“What did Perkar do?”