Jarda took a deep breath. “Look at me, boy.” Glaucus’ eyes slowly came up, and Jarda saw tears in them, but whether they were from fear or guilt, he did not know. “I want you to know that you are the only one of the guilty ones who had the courage to tell me the truth. It does not mean that you will not be punished for your actions, but it does show that you have some integrity and honor in you.”

The boy nodded, and his voice caught as he whispered, “Thank you, General. That means a lot to me.”

Jarda tilted his head as he crooked his finger toward the shadows. Tero stepped forward with the other three guardsmen. Unlike with Juston and the other three, he merely gestured toward the door, and Glaucus saluted as the first tear trickled down his cheek.

“I am sorry, General Mistri,” he whispered as he turned and trudged out the door.

Tero started after him, but Jarda stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Let the others take him, Tero. I want to talk to you.”

“Yes, sir.” Tero stood at attention and waited.

“Not here. Follow me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jarda led him out of the quartermaster’s, his eyebrows together and a frown on his face as they made their way to his office.

Frank sat listening intently as Ma’ikel spoke of the Anmah. So intently, in fact, that the man felt uncomfortable being the object of the boy’s gaze.

“You understand that since you have already been killed by a bladed weapon, you cannot be killed by one again, yes?” Frank just nodded. “Even if someone were to cut off your head, you would not die from it.”

The boy gave no indication that he understood. He simply stared at Ma’ikel, an unnerving look in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly, and then he did something the older Anmah had almost given up hope of ever experiencing.

“Does it always hurt to die, Ma’ikel?”

The little voice was quiet, but he spoke clearly and with no hesitation. Ma’ikel’s eyes went wide in shock, and it took him a moment to respond. When he did, he tried to act as if everything was normal, but he had a strong feeling he failed.

“Yes, usually. Why do you ask?”

Frank frowned. “Then I do not ever want to die again. The pain is not something I like to experience. Not even once more.” He got a look of intense concentration on his face before it disappeared, and the boy said with a sigh, “But that is not very realistic, is it?”

Ma’ikel was speechless for a moment. The fact that the child was speaking was amazing in itself, but his vocabulary and the clarity and intelligence in his questions were even more so. He spoke in such a way that made him seem to be much older than six. Normally, the Anmah would have sugar-coated his answer for such a young child, but he knew that was not the right thing to do here.

He cleared his throat and said, “No, Ga’briyel, it is not realistic. I know you have already died many times, but there are still a lot of ways you have not died. It is going to happen again, I promise you. Hopefully not for a very long time, but it will happen.”

The boy was silent for so long that Ma’ikel was concerned his speaking had only been temporary, but then he stood up and walked to a window and stared out at the city, his little hands clasped behind his back.

“How have you died, Ma’ikel?”

“I will not tell you that yet,” the older Anmah said. “Not until you tell me of your deaths.”

Frank turned from the window slowly. “You already know.”

“Maybe so, but I need to hear it from you.”

The boy slid to the floor, rested his back against the wall, and wrapped his arms around his knees. Several minutes passed before he spoke.

“The Asabya raided my village of Desa on my sixth naming-day, over seven moons ago. They killed everyone—my baba, my mama, my brother and my sisters, all of my friends, all of my people. One killed me when he stuck his sword in my chest. When I woke up, everyone was dead. I did not know what had happened. I expected pain from the sword, but there was nothing. No wound, no pain, just blood and the memory of the agony before I died. I walked around the village looking for anyone who was still alive, but there was no one. I stayed in the village for almost three sennights. The wolves came the night after the raid, and I hid in one of the huts. I could not get to the well, though, so I died of thirst three days later. When I woke up again, I still had no idea what was happening. The wolves stayed for two more days, but even after they left, I could not get any food. I did not know how to hunt, and all the food had been taken by the Asabya. So three sennights later, I starved to death after trying to live off grass.”

He took a deep breath, and Ma’ikel moved to sit beside him on the floor and place a hand on his arm.

“You do not have to tell me everything right now, Ga’briyel.”

“I know, but I want to.”

Ma’ikel nodded. “Go ahead, then.”

“After I woke up the third time, I had figured out that I must be Anmah, and when I saw my reflection, I knew that I was right. I could not stay in Desa, so I decided to walk to Torkeln.” He scoffed. “I did not realize how far it was. It took two sennights just to get to the forest, and I had not eaten in over a moon, so when I found a patch of wild onions, I gorged myself.” He cocked his head, a motion Ma’ikel was learning meant the boy was thinking hard. “It surprised me that I could die from eating too much.It took four days for me to die. One day I just collapsed in the middle of the forest and couldn’t get up.”

“It was because your body was not used to processing food after so long. It simply shut down on you.”

“Is that what it was? I thought maybe my stomach burst from putting too much into it all at once. Anyway, when I woke up, I continued through the forest. Eventually I got to the mountains. Halfway to the top, there was a lightning storm, and I think I was hit.” Frank paused. “That is the only death that did not hurt. I do not even remember anything but the smell of burnt flesh and waking up the next morning.” He shifted his position so that his feet were curled up underneath him. “Then, two days after that, I was caught by an animal. I do not know what it was, but it tore me up. It even bit some chunks of flesh out of me, but when I woke up, I was whole.” He stopped and looked at Ma’ikel. “How does that work?”

“No one knows for sure. We simply heal quickly and completely no matter what happens to us.”

“So,” the boy said slowly, “what happens if an Anmah’s first death is when his head or his arm or leg gets cut off? What happens then?”

Ma’ikel hesitated. “You have to understand something before I answer that. Most Anmah have their first deaths around someone who knows who they are and what has happened. So, if a beheading is their first death, there is someone who can help them. Someone like myself. I have seen three Anmah die first from being beheaded.” He stopped and looked at the boy. “This is not a pleasant tale. Are you sure you want to know the answer to your question? You know it cannot happen to you.”

“I know, but I need to understand.”

“Very well. I knew they were Anmah when the head opened its eyes and spoke to me. At that point, all I had to do was place the head with the body, and it healed itself.”

“That is…” The boy frowned. “That is disturbing.”

“Yes, it is.”

Frank was once again silent. Ma’ikel waited a few moments before speaking.

“Do you want to tell me the rest now? I know there are still six deaths to tell me about. We can finish later if you would rather.”

“No,” the boy said, “I want to finish now.” He sighed heavily and laid down on his side, looking but still not sounding like the child he was. “After the animal killed me, I was walking along a mountain trail and there was a rock slide. I was caught in it and got crushed. It took me almost two days to dig my way free of the rocks. The slide had taken my bag with it, so I had no food again. After I walked a few more days, I found some nuts. I choked on one of them. Then I fell into a river and drowned. That was bad enough, but the river also took me back down the mountain almost to where I had started. Two sennights later, I finally reached the top, but it was so cold that I froze.” He shivered. “I can still feel the wind and wet and my body turning to ice.” He looked up at Ma’ikel. “I am glad I cannot die that way again.”

“I am, too.”

“Anyway, after I started down the other side of the mountain, I fell off a cliff. I am pretty sure I broke every bone on the way down. The last thing I remember is hitting my head on a rock when I landed. Finally, I made it down the mountain. While I was walking through the forest, a tree fell on me. I was expecting to die from that, but I did not.”

“No, you had already been crushed to death.”

“I know that now. What happened was even worse. The tree had landed on my chest, and I could not breathe. I remember the pain as I tried to take a breath, and I remember the light fading when I could not.”

“You suffocated.”

The boy nodded. “After that, I just kept walking. I found some plants that I was able to eat, but not many.” He shrugged. “Then General Mistri found me and brought me to his house and then here.”

The silence that followed stretched out, and Ma’ikel stood up. His head was reeling with what he had just heard. While Frank had been speaking, the Anmah had almost forgotten that he was only six years old, he spoke with such eloquence. Now, however, reality slammed into him as he thought of what this child had been through. He stood up, walked a few paces away, and then turned back to the boy who was still lying on the floor.

“I am so sorry, Ga’briyel,” he said softly. “You should never have had to go through all of that alone. I have never heard of a young Anmah who did not have a Siskaska, a teacher, nearby when they first died, someone who guided them through the confusion. Someone who made sure they did not die again right away. For you to still be sane after twelve deaths in four moons is rLisarkable.”