Death Sworn(3)

Ileni didn’t want to face him. She knew she would have to, eventually . . . but not right now, when she had just entered his caves. Not yet.

Three passageways opened at the end of the majestic cavern, and the assassin swerved smoothly to lead her down the one to the right. “Afterward, I’ll show you the training room, where you will be teaching those of us who are skilled at magic.”

“Will you be one of them?”

“I will.” He left the of course unspoken. “I showed the most skill at magic under your predecessor.”

It could be true. Ileni couldn’t sense much power in him, but sometimes even people with little power possessed great skill. As she should know.

“That doesn’t mean much,” was all she said. “He wasn’t alive long enough to do any meaningful testing.”

The assassin’s smooth stride faltered, for less than a second. Because she was behind him, Ileni allowed herself a smile.

He glanced over his shoulder. The way the light hit his hair made it look as golden as Tellis’s—which made her heart first leap, then hurt. “I also showed the greatest skill under his predecessor, who lasted much longer. And was a better teacher besides. The quality of our tutors seems to be continually declining.”

“Along with their lifespans, perhaps,” Ileni said. “These caves have become a dangerous place for sorcerers.”

“These caves have never been a safe place for anyone, Teacher.”

Was that a warning or a threat? “My name is Ileni,” she said finally.

“Mine is Sorin.”

The walls on either side of her were smooth and even, inlaid with glowing stones that cast a soft white light through the tunnel. Except for the dryness of the air and the oppressive sense of heavy stone suspended over her head—both of which might easily be products of her imagination—she could have been in a completely man-made structure. Like the stone prisons within the Empire where, she had been told, anyone who opposed the emperor was sent to never see sunlight again.

She was too tired to keep track of the numerous turns they took, through arched doorways and smooth rectangular openings that led to yet more curving corridors. By the time Sorin stopped in front of an actual wooden door, she felt they must be buried deep in the earth, with tons of solid rock pressing down above her.

“This will be your room,” Sorin said, pushing the door open. No lock, Ileni noted—but she felt the wards thrumming through the wooden door, layers of interlocking spells, reinforced over and over by the succession of sorcerers who had lived here. One of the tasks of the Renegai tutors was to ward the Assassins’ Caves against magical attack, but these wards, smaller and tighter, were directed against anyone and anything. Once she was inside, nobody else would be able to open the door.

She swallowed hard, unbearably grateful for a place of safety—however small, however confined.

Of course, Cadrel had lived in this room a few weeks ago, and Absalm before him. The wards hadn’t kept either of them alive.

To her surprise, the room was decorated, with a brightly colored rug thrown over the stone floor and a tapestry hanging on the wall by the bed. Nothing elaborate, by any means—to most people, the room would probably have appeared sparse—but it was opulent compared to her room in the sorcerers’ training compound, which had been a rectangular cell with a bed, a clothes chest, a small window, and nothing else. And the introduction of beds had been fairly recent, hotly contested and eventually allowed only because mattresses on the floor were more quickly infested by insects. Austerity, they had been told, was necessary for the development of their magic.

She felt her lip start to curl, and turned to Sorin for distraction before the bitterness could come flowing in. She caught him watching her speculatively, and once again had the sense that he was deciding her fate. She met his gaze, feeling like prey. She had seen how fast he moved. If he decided to kill her, she probably wouldn’t realize it until she was already dying.

Maybe that would be a mercy.

But he only leaned back against the doorpost and said, “I’ll show you the training area now. You start teaching tomorrow.”

“In a little while. I’d like to unpack first.”

Sorin looked at her pack, which was barely the size of a cooking pot, and then at her. Ileni smiled blandly.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll return after I report your arrival.”

Ileni waited until he had shut the door behind him, then pulled a roll of clothing out of the pack and emptied the rest of its contents onto the floor.