"He did, but he could not see the holes in the world."

Her eyes were rolling. Her frail body was no match for Oba's strength. Blood ran from her right ear.

"What?" Oba reasoned that Lathea was babbling nonsense now.

"Only Althea can. .»

She had ceased to make sense. He wondered how much of what she had said was true.

Her head lolled to the side. "I should have… saved us all… when I had the chance. Althea was wrong. ."

He shook her, trying to get her to say more. Red froth bubbled from her nose. Despite his yelling, his demanding, his shaking her, no more words came. He held her close, his heavy, hot breath lifting thin strands of her hair as he glared into her aimless eyes.

He had learned all he would from her.

He remembered all the burning powder he'd had to drink, the potions she had mixed for him, the days he'd spent in the pen. He remembered all the times he'd vomited his guts out and it still wouldn't stop burning his insides.

Oba growled as he lifted the bony woman. With a roar of anger he slammed her against the wall. Her cries were fuel for the tire of his vengeance. He reveled in her helpless agony.

He smashed her down against the heavy trestle table, breaking it, and breaking her. With each crash, she became more limp, bloody, incoherent.

But Oba had only just begun to rage at her.