Page 143 of Quicksilver
“Allof us,”the quicksilver emphasized.“We are one thing. One weapon.”
It was being ridiculous or stubborn, one of the two. And I wasn’t in the mood. “I could guide you out. I can feel you inside him. I can put you back with the other quicksilver at Cahlish? Or forge you into the most impressive blade that’s ever been—”
“We were forged hundreds of years ago. We cannot be unmade.”
“You’rehurtinghim.”Even in my head, my voice seemed to crack with emotion.“He’s suffering because of you.”
The quicksilver was quiet. I could sense it, thinking about this. But not for long. “We are him. He is us. We all suffer, Alchemist. There is nothing to be done.”
“So you’re just going to keep pushing him until he cracks? Until he dies? If you kill him, what then?”
“Then we do as all dying things do. We return to the dirt, and the sea, and the sky. We sleep. We evolve. We change. We transcend.”
“You’re stealing his life from him,”I spat.“You have no right—”
“We gave him his life. A boy. Just a boy. He was young when he entered our pool. He should not have survived it. But he was strong, and the grand halls of the universe rang aloud with his purpose. We permitted him to live so that he might fulfill that purpose. We bound ourselves to him that he might survive.”
“And…there’s no other way? For him to live without…”
“This dye was cast centuries ago. We accepted our fate, Alchemist.Allof us did.”
I heard the implication in the quicksilver’s words. It wanted me to understand that Fisher had agreed to this somehow. That he’d allowed the quicksilver to bind with him and had known what it would mean. But I couldn’t make my peace with that.Why would he have struck a bargain that would eventually cost him his mind?
My eyes stung behind my eyelids. I couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t. There had to be a way to convince the quicksilver to willingly leave Fisher’s body. If I could talk the quicksilver in Danya’s sword into being reforged and to channel magic again, then surely I could find some deal or bargain that would entice the quicksilver out of the male sleeping next to me.
I started when something brushed my cheek. My eyes snapped open, and…oh. Fisherwasn’tasleep, after all. Great. Just what I needed. If I was going to try and negotiate with his quicksilver, I hadn’t wanted him knowing about it. A deep sadness radiated from him as he swept away the tear that had rolled over the bridge of my nose. “I assume that didn’t go how you thought it would,” he whispered.
I sniffed. “Did you hear it all?”
He gave a small shake of his head. “Only pieces of what it said to you. But it was pretty easy to work out what you were talking about, based on its responses.”
Damn. I should have kept my thoughts to myself. Now he knew I’d gone prying. That wasn’t the best feeling. I should have just minded my own business.
As if he knew what I was thinking, he said, “I’ve been waiting to see if you’d try and yank it out of me.”
“You’re not angry?”
His mouth tugged up into the smallest, saddest smile. Closing his eyes, he sighed. “Of course not. How can I be angry? You wanted to help. But now you know. It’s not just inside of me. It’s a part of me. Without it, I’ll die anyway. So, it’s—”
Renfis burst into the tent, dressed in full armor. His expression was wild, his face smeared with dirt. I sat up, grabbing the sheets and clutching them to my chest, alert and ready. Conversation forgotten. Quicksilver forgotten. Thefact that I wasn’t wearing much beneath the sheets was also forgotten. Ren cursed through his teeth in OId Fae, casting his eyes away when he saw me. “Gods. Apologies. I thought you were up at Cahlish, Saeris. I'm sorry, truly I am, but I need him.”
Fisher was up and out of bed a second later, a shadowy blur streaking across the tent. When he stilled by the bookcase, he was already dressed in his black leather armor, plate at his throat and murder in his eyes. “What is it?” demanded.
“The horde. They're at the banks again,” Ren clipped out. “All hell's breaking loose out there.”
“Fuck.”Out of nowhere, the wall of silence that had fallen over the tent as Fisher had put me to bed shattered, and the sound of chaos crashed down upon us. Screams and shouts. The thunder of hundreds of boots running through the sucking mud. Commands being bellowed from one side of the camp to the other. And underpinning it all, the steady pounding rhythm of hammers striking thick ice.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
“Fuck!” Fisher repeated. A length of curling black shadow extended in his hand, becoming Nimerelle. “I'm sor—”
“Don't. There's no need for apologies. No one's been hurt. It's a token showing. Barely a thousand of them. Still, you should come,” Ren rushed out. “I'll see you at the river. Saeris, it'd be best if you stayed here—”
“No. I'm coming.” That was it. Final. I was sick of being told to wait, told to stay, told to hide where it was safe. I wasn't hanging back here, pacing in a tent while Fisher, my friends, and the rest of the entire fucking war camp faced down Malcolm’s monsters. It just wasn't happening. I got out of bed, not caring that I was still only wearing the shorts and the camisole. Fisher saw to that, anyway. By the time my bare feet hit the rug, I wasdressed in black fighting leathers and a long-sleeved black shirt to match them.
