Death Sworn(35)

“You knew,” she said slowly. “You knew Absalm’s and Cadrel’s deaths might have been part of some test, or some plan.”

Sorin’s arm knotted, but his voice remained even. “Everything that happens here is part of the master’s plan. What happened to Absalm and Cadrel, what happened to Jastim, what Irun did . . . it’s all part of a pattern, and the master is the one weaving the pattern. But I can only see pieces of it. I don’t understand the whole thing.”

“Even I can see this part of it. The part where I’m going to be the next sorcerer to die.” She said it without feeling much of anything at all. A film of clammy sweat covered her forehead.

“No,” Sorin said, with a fierceness that surprised her. He sounded as if he really cared.

But she was only surprised for a moment. The master had, after all, assigned him to keep her safe. Had given him permission to care.

Which meant it somehow fit into the master’s plans that he care. But she couldn’t think about that right now. Her fear receded, very slightly, and that was all that mattered. He was on her side. Perhaps she did have a chance after all.

“Thank you,” she said, and Sorin looked at her sharply.

“I can’t be with you all the time, Teacher. I think it’s time I taught you to fight.”

She stared at him as if he had started spouting poetry. “What? No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a Renegai. We don’t fight.”

He laughed. “You threw me into a wall the day you arrived. What was that?”

“A defensive spell!”

“Fine. I’ll teach you defensive maneuvers.”

She could still feel Irun’s hands on her mouth, and her complete helplessness as she struggled for air. Defensive maneuvers . . . But she was forgetting something. She said, as haughtily as she could, “I’m a sorceress, remember? I have certain defenses of my own.”

“They didn’t do you much good today, did they?”

And how was she going to explain that? “I was overconfident. I thought I had time, once he stopped talking. Next time I won’t make that mistake.”

“Neither will Irun,” Sorin said. “He must be able to sense it when you draw upon your magic, or he wouldn’t have talked at all before he attacked. But does it matter? Two weapons are always better than one, especially when neither has to be carried. The more skills you hold within yourself—”

“Spare me the pithy one-liners of assassin philosophy.”

“It’s one of the master’s teachings,” Sorin said stiffly.

Despite herself, Ileni thought of the fighters on the training floor, the deadly graceful dances she walked past every day. As a child she had been athletic, outstripping most of the others at races and games. She had left all that behind, of course, when it came time to focus on her truly important skills.

Sorin was watching her with smoky coal eyes. “You could never match one of us, but any ability at all would give you the advantage of surprise. And what if you were fighting another sorcerer, one more powerful than you? A physical attack wouldn’t be expected among your kind. It could give you an edge.”

She would never fight, or even meet, another sorcerer again. It came back to her in a second, how it felt to be surrounded by people who thought the way she did, accepted her, respected her. And then, just as fast, the memory rushed away, leaving a dull ache behind.

“All right,” Ileni said abruptly.

“How gracious of you to agree.” He walked over and held out his hand. “But first things first. Are you calm enough to use magic yet?”

“Yes,” she said, hoping it was true. Ignoring the hand, she pushed herself to her knees, then to her feet. She swayed a little bit, but he didn’t try to steady her. Instead he stepped back.

“You’re not even bruised,” he observed.

She wasn’t? Ileni held up her unblemished arms, white but for some faint brown freckles, and saw that he was right. She still felt hurt, but that was just memory.

Healing magic had always been a focus for the Renegai, and those spells were so well practiced and so ingrained that using them was an instinct. She had used the healing spell without even realizing she was doing it. It had taken so little power she hadn’t felt the difference.

“Of course not,” she said, but despite her best effort, her voice didn’t sound even slightly confident. “I’m a sorceress.”