Death Marked (Death Sworn #2)(38)

Evin cleared his throat. Ileni glanced at him sideways and saw that he was watching her. Arxis was watching her, too, and a shiver ran through her. The assassins were even fewer in number than the Renegai, yet probably every person in this city had heard of them.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Evin said.

Ileni tried to compose her face, aware that she was failing miserably. But he didn’t look smug. He looked . . . proud. Like it meant something to him that she was impressed. Like the Empire was a work of art for him to show off.

“Yes,” she managed, and his cheeks creased sharply as he grinned at her.

“It’s not even the biggest city in the Empire,” Arxis added. He was definitely smug.

Ileni pulled her gaze from Evin’s, reminding herself that the Empire was held together by the Academy, and the Academy’s fate lay in her hands. It helped. She straightened and said, “How far is the Merchants’ Triangle?”

“Not far,” Evin said, which was a singularly unhelpful answer. “But let’s go to the Black Sisters first.”

They walked through the crowded streets, passing so many people that Ileni couldn’t focus on any of them. A few caught her attention briefly—a woman taller than she had realized people could be, a nearly naked man with elaborate blue tattoos wreathing over his body, a child with his ears stretched long by dangling coils of gold. Small, bright green birds whizzed occasionally through the street, veering around unconcerned people, leaking magic from every feather. Neither Evin nor Arxis seemed to find any of this unusual, and every time Ileni opened her mouth to ask a question, a combination of shame and despair made her shut it again.

They turned a corner, and Evin swerved to lead them around a group of ragged children. One, a boy no older than eight, watched them with surly fury. But his anger shone only out of one eye; beneath a dirty lock of ragged hair, his other eye was sealed shut, covered with red and brown pus.

“Keep walking,” Evin said, not lowering his voice. “Give them half a chance and they’ll rob you blind.”

The boy made a rude gesture at them, somewhat hindered by the fact that he had only one hand. His left arm ended in a stump, the skin smooth and round.

Sorin’s voice in her mind. She could still remember his exact words, his flat, emotionless tone—back then, she still hadn’t been able to read his expressions. That’s the punishment for theft all through the Empire, no matter the age of the thief.

She almost stopped. Instead she quickened her pace, so that she was right beside Evin.

“Who are they?” she asked.

Her voice was tight with anger, but Evin didn’t slow down. “Abandoned children, probably. Or runaways.”

He said it the way he would have answered a question about what was for dinner. And he hadn’t spared the children a second glance.

Sorin had been a boy like that once. Ileni dug her fingers into the side of her leg. “Shouldn’t someone help them?”

Arxis snorted. “Feel free to be that someone.”

“These children are all over the city,” Evin said. “There’s nothing to be done.”

Ileni sucked in her breath. “It must make life easier,” she said bitingly, “when you just accept everything in it.”

“It does.” Evin gave her a sideways nod, as if pleased that she’d understood.

A week ago, she might have dropped it, with perhaps a snort at his perpetual laziness. She clenched her hands until they hurt. “There must be something to be done. You—you—could make a difference, if you really wanted to. But you’d rather play with lights and colors. I understand.”

Evin smiled, but there was something hard in it. “No, Ileni. I don’t think you do.”

Evin was dangerous, of course—he must be, with the amount of power he possessed—yet she had never, until this moment, thought of him that way. It was an oddly disconcerting realization, even though she was thoroughly accustomed to dangerous people by now. Ileni covered her confusion with a sneer. “What, do you have hidden depths and secret plans?”

He laughed aloud, and the edge vanished, replaced by his perpetual amusement. “If it comforts you to think so, far be it from me to deny it. I have great and noble ambitions. I want to save the world.”

And for a moment, she felt as he did: that it was a ridiculous thing to want.

Her breath rasped painfully through her chest. She faced forward and strode ahead.

After some indeterminate amount of time—long enough for Ileni’s calves to start aching—the streets widened again, and the press of people thinned out. Another sound became audible through the buzz of conversation and footsteps: a rushing, rhythmic murmur. It sounded like a waterfall, but controlled and regular, almost musical.

Ileni struggled with herself for a moment—she was so tired of the condescending looks her questions always elicited—but curiosity won out. “What’s that?”

The corners of Evin’s lips curled up. “You’ll see.”

“Or you could just—” Ileni began, then stopped. Behind Evin, a wiry figure darted between two buildings and out of sight.

She stood frozen, staring at the space between the buildings. An ornate, heavily warded carriage pulled in front of the spot where the figure had disappeared, then rolled on. The space was dark and still. If someone was lurking within it, she couldn’t tell.