Page 12 of Shadow and Bone (The Grisha 1)
My curiosity got the best of me, and I edged forward to get a better view. It looked like a cluster of sharp black claws.
“What are they?”
“My amplifier,” Ivan said with pride. “The claws from the forepaw of a Sherborn bear. I killed it myself when I left school and joined the Darkling’s service. ” He leaned back in his seat and tucked the chain into his collar.
“An amplifier increases a Grisha’s power,” said Fedyor. “But the power must be there to begin with. ”
“Do all Grisha have them?” I asked.
Fedyor stiffened. “No,” he said. “Amplifiers are rare and hard to obtain. ”
“Only the Darkling’s most favored Grisha have them,” Ivan said smugly. I was sorry I’d asked.
“The Darkling is a living amplifier,” Fedyor said. “That’s what you felt. ”
“Like the claws? That’s his power?”
“One of his powers,” corrected Ivan.
I pulled the kefta tighter around me, feeling suddenly cold. I remembered the surety that had flooded through me with the Darkling’s touch, and that strangely familiar sensation of a call echoing through me, a call that demanded an answer. It had been frightening, but exhilarating, too. In that moment, all my doubt and fear had been replaced by a kind of absolute certainty. I was no one, a refugee from an unnamed village, a scrawny, clumsy girl hurtling alone through the gathering dark. But when the Darkling had closed his fingers around my wrist, I’d felt different, like something more. I shut my eyes and tried to focus, tried to remember that feeling of certainty, to bring that sure and perfect power into blazing life. But nothing happened.
I sighed and opened my eyes. Ivan looked highly amused. The urge to kick him was almost overwhelming.
“You’re all in for a big disappointment,” I muttered.
“For your sake, I hope you’re wrong,” said Ivan.
“For all our sakes,” said Fedyor.
I LOST TRACK OF TIME. Night and day passed through the windows of the coach. I spent most of my time staring out at the landscape, searching for landmarks to give me some sense of the familiar. I’d expected that we would take side roads, but instead we stuck to the Vy, and Fedyor explained that the Darkling had opted for speed over stealth. He was hoping to get me safe behind Os Alta’s double walls before rumor of my power spread to the enemy spies and assassins who operated within Ravka’s borders.
We kept a brutal pace. Occasionally, we stopped to change horses and I was allowed to stretch my legs. When I was able to sleep, my dreams were plagued by monsters.
Once, I awoke with a start, my heart pounding, to find Fedyor watching me. Ivan was asleep beside him, snoring loudly.
“Who’s Mal?” he asked.
I realized I must have been talking in my sleep. Embarrassed, I glanced at the oprichniki guards flanking me. One stared impassively forward. The other was dozing. Outside, the afternoon sun shone through a grove of birchwood trees as we rumbled past.
“No one,” I said. “A friend. ”
“The tracker?”
I nodded. “He was with me on the Shadow Fold. He saved my life. ”
“And you saved his. ”
I opened my mouth to disagree, but stopped. Had I saved Mal’s life? The thought brought me up short.
“It’s a great honor,” said Fedyor. “To save a life. You saved many. ”
“Not enough,” I murmured, thinking of the terrified look on Alexei’s face as he was pulled into the darkness. If I had this power, why hadn’t I been able to save him? Or any of the others who had perished on the Fold? I looked at Fedyor. “If you really believe that saving a life is an honor, then why not become a Healer instead of a Heartrender?”
Fedyor considered the passing scenery. “Of all Grisha, Corporalki have the hardest road. We require the most training and the most study. At the end of it all, I felt I could save more lives as a Heartrender. ”
“As a killer?” I asked in surprise.
“As a soldier,” Fedyor corrected. He shrugged. “To kill or to cure?” he said with a sad smile. “We each have our own gifts. ” Abruptly, his expression changed. He sat up straight and jabbed Ivan in the side. “Wake up!”
The coach had stopped. I looked around in confusion. “Are we—,” I began, but the guard beside me clapped a hand over my mouth and put a finger to his lips.
The coach door flew open and a soldier ducked his head in.
“There’s a fallen tree across the road,” he said. “But it could be a trap. Be alert and—”
He never finished his sentence. A shot rang out and he fell forward, a bullet in his back. Suddenly, the air was full of panicked cries and the teeth-rattling sound of rifle fire as a volley of bullets struck the coach.
