Death Sworn(19)

His dark eyes were grave and serious, and he watched her with an odd intentness, as if her answer was important.

Ileni couldn’t bring herself to shoot back a flippant reply. So she told the truth, grudgingly. “Yes.”

Sorin sighed, a sound so small it could have been merely an uncontrolled breath. Then he walked on, and they made their way through the long passageways and empty caverns in silence.



After the sorceress and Sorin left, the master sat silently for several heartbeats, contemplating the empty window where the boy had crouched. A few brief minutes ago Jastim had been alive, his mind bright with fear; now he was a crushed pile of bone and blood. At times, even after all these years and all these deaths, the contrast still struck the master. Once, it had seemed important.

He tilted his head and said, “What do you make of that?”

A man stepped out of the shadows on the far side of the room. He was thin to the point of gauntness, the bones of his face jutting out around his narrow features. He watched the master, his hands clasped behind his back. “I think it was effective.”

“She wasn’t completely cowed. I like that.” The master stroked the side of his chin. “And so, I think, did Sorin.”

The thin man pressed his lips together. “We’ll have to put a stop to that.”

“Will we?” the master said.

His voice was smooth and level, but the thin man cringed slightly. “I mean—I would suggest that we don’t allow any interest to develop. It could be dangerous.”

“Or it could be useful.”

The thin man tugged at his earlobe, and immediately regretted it. It was a nervous habit of his, and he wished to appear calm . . . not that he thought he could fool the master. But there was no need to be obvious. “I know your pupils’ reputation out in the Empire. But this girl is no easy picking. And it would not be wise to encourage your students to . . . think of her that way. It’s risky enough as it is, bringing a girl into these caves.”

“Is it?” The master smiled faintly, and the thin man bit his lip. He knew that smile. It meant he had fallen prey to the master’s misdirection, had missed some crucial part of his plan. Or plans. The master always had more than one. “I don’t think so. My students are, as you have seen, well trained in controlling their natural instincts.”

“Not that it wasn’t impressive.” The thin man cleared his throat. “But killing yourself takes only one second. Control takes every second. Your students are extraordinarily disciplined, but they are still boys beneath it all.”

“True enough.” The master seemed to be considering this, though the thin man knew, from long experience, that he must have already considered it. Now he couldn’t tell if the master was truly reconsidering, or just testing him in some way. He waited, resisting the urge to fidget.

Finally, the master nodded. “If necessary, someone other than Sorin can be assigned as her guardian.”

“Who would you trust more than Sorin?” the thin man objected. “He is a perfect assassin.”

“Yes,” the master said, almost to himself. “But there is a part of him that wishes not to be.”

The thin man blinked. “A part of him that objects to killing?”

The master smiled faintly. “Of course not. He is far beyond that. But there is a part of him that objects to perfection.”

The thin man did not understand, but he was used to that. He had seen the master’s plans turn out successfully too many times to worry—much—about what he didn’t understand.

The master turned his attention back to the window. “I believe I will take the risk.”

“We should not take any risk,” the thin man said. “Not with this. Not with her.”

“Don’t grow too attached to your plans, old friend. She is a useful tool. But if a tool turns out to be flawed, one discards it, yes?”

The thin man lifted his hand toward his earlobe, then caught himself and scratched his chin instead. He bowed his head briefly, then turned and left.

The master of assassins thought for a long time, his fingers drumming steadily on the arm of his chair, his eyes on the bruised purple hues the sky took on with the fading of night.





Chapter 6

Much to her surprise, Ileni fell asleep instantly after she crawled into her cot. She dreamed of falling, of toppling over the edge of a stone windowsill, of the master’s cold eyes watching her from the hard ground below. She woke up sweat soaked, sandy eyed, and in no mood to tutor a group of killers who would die as easily as they would kill.