The Tree of Life?” She could feel herself upon the rack already. “How—”

         “How did I get to the Tree of Life?” he asked. Elymas had puffed up considerably. “You forget, dear lady, I am the Earth Skyll. I’ve access to the Sacred Garden at any time. In any event, when I saw these trees growing at the base, I knew what to do. Not the tree itself, no, no, never the Tree, but from the Tree. They were mine to take.” 

         “How does the blood—”

         “The blood grows them.”  His tone condescending. “Use your reason. If life is in the blood, then the trees which thrive on it can be replenished, daily if necessary, and live forever. The Tree of Life is a dead tree.” When she said nothing, he continued, pressing close against her now. “As you can see, they’re all healthy, though the bark is a trifle odd. I’m sure the color of the trunk will even out as they grow. There,” He pointed to the tallest in the middle. “That one is the most promising.”

         No natural light was in the room, so like the vats of blood, the trees were illumined by candles hanging from the ceiling. They would all die, and soon. The bark was diseased and Elymas was deluded.

         Rizla stepped apart, and with only a look, directed the Earth Skyll to step back until they stood in front of the shelves again.

         “They will all be dead in a few weeks, if not sooner.” Rizla felt the wrath in her, building. “The garden is the one place, the only place, where the Curse-Blessed forbade interference. It is sacred, even to him.”

         “But I only took a few trees. Seedlings, really! And as for the blood, I didn’t kill the Nawabs there. I killed them in this very room!” 

         Rizla didn’t care where he’d killed them, but how—Done properly, death was final, clean, almost an art. Here she felt like she’d was standing in a butcher’s shop. And while she’d been thinking of all the ways to placate the Curse-Blessed and, probably, the Tu’el, he’d been babbling about new trees, keeping down the draft, and telling her to use her reason.

         Taking him by the wrist, Rizla pulled him to the vat closet. “This blood is dead. Taste it.”

         He didn’t move, so she stuck her finger in the congealed mess and popped it in her mouth. Elymas stared, until the sound of her foot tapping permeated his consciousness. He quickly did the same.

         “Life is in the blood when the blood is inside the living. Use your reason,” she mimicked. “Life is not in dead blood and this blood is not only dead but rotten.” She waved her arms at the trees. “Spring rains caused the shoots to push through. These aren’t from the Tree of Life. You’ve only pulled up black ash, which will grow anywhere, given enough rain.”

         “I don’t think—” he began.

         “Obviously. Unless I find a way, your actions will send us into the Void, or else to the Nevers to be tortured.”

         “Us?” he asked.