LANDRY, MUTTERING “BALAHUL” UNDER his breath, wheeled the cart into the tiny room with exaggerated care, as if he’d only recently learned how gravity worked. My hostess smiled blandly as he maneuvered the cart between us, bearing a delicate-looking teapot with pink flowers on it, two white teacups, and a small plate of butter cookies. I looked up at her and opened my mouth. “I—” The Bleeder behind her moved in a flash to cut himself, a thin, precise line of red opening up on his forearm. The grandma spoke a single Word, sed, gently, almost absent-mindedly, and my words died in my mouth. It was really disturbing that I hadn’t seen any sign from her. Her Bleeder had just moved. I didn’t often travel in the swanky circles of enustari, the powerful and the ruthless, but usually they had to give some sign to their Bleeders. I sat in polite silence while Landry made his stiff, dead way out of the room, humming his one Word.
