Death Sworn(14)

“What is that?” she asked, glad of an excuse to pause and lean against a wall. Sorin’s quick pace, and the itching pain in her left ankle, had drained her surge of adrenaline.

Sorin stopped a few feet away from the column and braced his legs wide, as if balancing to attack. But it was just his natural stance; he glanced from the column to her with pride. “That’s the Roll of Honor. It lists those who successfully killed their targets.”

The painstakingly carved names took up the entire surface of the white rock, from its base through its narrow middle, and then circled around the column where it began thickening toward the ceiling. About a quarter of the names were not merely chiseled but inlaid with gold, glimmering by the dim light of the glowstones.

Each name represented a death, a man or woman whose life had ended suddenly and brutally. Ileni wrapped her arms around her body as a shiver ran through her. It had been a mistake to stop, to give herself time to think.

“The master suggested I show you this,” Sorin added. “Since it’s on the way.”

Ileni forced her arms to her sides. This was meant to scare her. Well, then, she refused to act scared.

Sorin was watching her, his forehead wrinkled, probably trying to judge her reaction so he could report it to his master. It was hard to believe he couldn’t see her terror. She said the first thing that came to mind. “Are you on it?”

“Yes.”

Said with quiet pride, but with a defensive curve to his shoulders. A part of her wanted to ask who he had killed, but she thought better of it. “Why are some of the names in gold?”

“They not only killed their targets, but stayed alive afterward.” Sorin tilted his chin, looking up at the column. “On their first missions, at least.”

So his name was one of the gold ones. “Is that considered especially impressive?”

“We are permitted to stay alive, if we can do so without compromising our mission. But the mission comes first.”

“I’m sure,” Ileni said.

“We are not afraid to die. And we know how to overcome our own petty desires and fears.” He met her eyes. “Something you might consider learning.”

“Really.”

“I don’t mean to be insulting,” Sorin said, managing to make it sound completely sincere and completely untrue at the same time. “I can help make your time here more successful, if you’ll listen to my advice.”

“How kind.” At least this was distracting her, and delaying the inevitable.

Sorin’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. “I want you to succeed.”

“You do?”

He looked faintly irritated. “If I didn’t, why would I be helping you find Cadrel’s killer? Magic helps us accomplish our missions. We all want you to be our tutor for as long as possible.”

“All?” Ileni said. “That wasn’t my impression.”

As soon as she said it, she wished she could take it back. She hadn’t meant to show how much Irun’s attack had shaken her. But Sorin’s voice softened. “Irun is . . . a problem. He’s an imperial noble.”

Ileni blinked. Back home, imperial noble was the filthiest insult possible. The thought that Irun had actually been one of them . . . well. It made sense. “If he’s a noble, how did he—”

“He was kidnapped at a young age. No one knew why at the time. It was years before the master revealed his reasons.”

Ileni chewed her lower lip. “Kidnapped? Does he know?”

“Of course.”

“Is that how all of you—”

“Not usually. About half of us are abandoned street children. The other half are sent by secret pockets of supporters throughout the Empire. They send us their sons, when they can.”

“Supporters of what?” Ileni said. “The right kind of knife thrust?”

Sorin’s lips tightened, but he went on without responding. “We’re also not . . . discouraged . . . from fathering children, while we’re on our missions. If we have time.”

And did you have time? Ileni’s cheeks flamed. She had heard that assassins had a reputation in the Empire, that women found them irresistible . . . and she didn’t particularly want to hear the details. But she was too curious to stop. “And then you go collect them afterward? How do their mothers feel about that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sorin said. “The children belong here.”