I blinked against the blindness. I wished I could see his face. I had no idea what his expression was as he stared down at me. “I have no parents.”

“Of course you do.”

“I was abandoned,” I said. “I am an orphan.”

“If I give you to the god of death, there will be nothing left for me to steal. And to be honest, I am in trouble enough with my brethren without tempting their wrath by killing one of their favorites, whosesoever you are.”

“Are there more gods hidden in this city? Where are they?”

“Gone,” he said.

“But you are here.”

“As punishment.”

“For what?”

“I killed my brother.”

“Why?”

“Nirrim, why did you wish to read my book?”

“Because I need to know what happened here.”

“Why?”

“So I understand why things are the way they are.”

“Why?”

I struggled to move my dead muscles. I strained to see. Yet, although blind to his expression, I sensed his curiosity, and sensed that this curiosity kept him, at least for now, from being cruel. It was hopeless to believe he would truly strike a bargain with me and let me go unharmed, but at least I could breathe; at least my life wasn’t slowly dwindling out of me as it had been a moment ago, my lungs burning with pain. So I answered honestly: “I want to know where magic comes from. I want to know why the Half Kith are walled off from the rest of the city, and anything can be taken from them at any time.” Like me right now, I thought, at the mercy of the god of thieves. “If I know, I can change things.”

“How?” His voice was thoughtful.

“I will explain the city’s history to the Half Kith so that we can seize the source of magic.”

“Will you be believed?”

Slowly, I said, “I don’t know.”

“Revolution is a messy matter, and those who rebel may find themselves crushed under rebellion’s wheels. I was. Ethin is as it is. I warn you—against my own best interests, I might add—to leave it that way.”

I wanted to shake my head, but couldn’t.

“No?” he said. “Then hear my bargain. I will tell you your city’s history, and mine. But if you wish to leave this library with what you have learned, you must tithe something precious unto me.”

At the word tithe, my skin crawled. “Will I be able to live without it?”

“Oh, yes.”

“What is it?”

“Your heart.”

I blinked rapidly against the darkness. “Impossible. I can’t live without a heart.”

“Not that lump of muscle beating in your chest. I mean what humans mean when they say heart: your delectable mix of worry and awe and love. I mean what makes you you.”

“Why?”