Death Sworn(10)

So perhaps she should avoid answering them.

She glanced again at the dog. “When do you have to kill him?”

Sorin stopped in mid-step. “Kill him?”

“Isn’t that how it works? You’re given the dog when it’s a puppy. You raise it and care for it.” Ileni glanced at the dog, who lolled his tongue at her. “Then, when your training is done, you have to kill it.”

Sorin leaned back slightly, his body poised, perfectly balanced. “Is that the story they tell of us?”

“One of the stories,” Ileni said evenly. Cautiously, she levered herself up onto her elbows. “They also say that your first kill, once you’re through training, has to be your parents. That you believe your master is a god. And that from the time you enter these caves, you are given a drug that induces unimaginable ecstasy, but that will kill you slowly if you ever stop taking it.”

He cocked his head at her. His skin was near white in the magelight, his eyes even blacker by contrast. “And which of those stories do you believe?”

“I don’t know,” Ileni said. “Yet.”

He regarded her silently, then gestured at the dog. “He’s not mine. We have a kennel so we can be taught to deal with guard dogs. I was practicing when I heard you.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“We’re trained to go without sleep.”

Ileni risked pushing herself up to a sitting position. The dog growled softly but didn’t move.

“Why were you following me?” she said.

His eyebrows arched slightly. Had he actually expected her to believe his ridiculous story? “Because you left your room. Did you think I wouldn’t be able to tell?”

“So you were watching my room?”

Sorin moved closer, and her breath hitched, but he merely knelt beside the dog. He ran one hand over the animal’s head, scratching behind the ears, and the dog half-closed his eyes without removing his gaze from Ileni. Sorin’s gaze was every bit as steady, but colder. “This is not distracting me from the more pressing question. What are you doing here?”

Unfortunately, Ileni still hadn’t thought of a reasonable lie. Possibly because there wasn’t one. She hesitated, then said, “I’m trying to find out who killed Cadrel.”

Sorin frowned. “Cadrel’s death was an accident.”

“I’m sure it was. Merely a coincidence that he was surrounded by hundreds of trained killers at the time.”

Sorin dropped his hand from the dog’s head and shifted toward her—a slight motion, but suddenly Ileni couldn’t breathe. The unspent power in that movement, the focused strength in his body, made her feel soft and helpless. He could kill her. She reminded herself that her ward would protect her against a direct attack . . . but it would do nothing if he unleashed the dog on her. She could die like Cadrel had, deep in these caves, and they would call it another accident.

With her blood pounding through her, all she could think of was to tell him the truth. Or part of it. “I would rather not be the next Renegai murdered down here. I came to find out what Cadrel’s body looked like right after he died.”

Sorin pivoted with sinuous grace, coming to a crouch right beside her. He was so close she could feel the heat coming off his skin, and she drew away as subtly as she could. The dog was still watching her closely, sharp teeth very much in evidence.

“And what,” Sorin said, “did it look like?”

“He had a knife in his back.”

Sorin went so utterly still she could have sworn he stopped breathing. “Describe it.”

“A straight steel knife. The hilt had a spiral design.”

“That’s a standard assassin’s knife. It doesn’t tell us anything.”

“It could have, if you hadn’t interrupted me. But it did tell me Cadrel didn’t die in a fall.”

Silence. Apparently she had gotten so in the habit of defiance that even abject terror didn’t stop her. She told herself that was a good thing, even as her muscles clenched so hard they hurt. If she was as powerful as he believed she was, maybe she really wouldn’t be afraid of him.

Sorin’s eyes narrowed. Softly, he said, “Are you calling me a liar?”

His tone sent a new bolt of fear through her, and with it a sudden, fatalistic recklessness. She might be about to die, but she didn’t have to do it cowering. “You are a killer,” she reminded him. “You might not know it, but to most people, that’s worse than being a liar. Don’t expect me to trust you.”