Death Sworn(46)

“What is this?” she demanded. “A reminder of what I owe you?”

Sorin gave her a look that was half-amused, half-reproachful. “We’re here for weapons training.”

“Why?”

“Because, as you pointed out, the hand-to-hand lessons are somewhat pointless.” He walked over to the racks, pulled a knife, and threw it over his shoulder without looking. It landed in the center of one of the targets. “With a weapon, you can be far more effective.”

“Or I could cut off my own hand by mistake.”

“We’ll practice not doing that. It will be our first lesson.”

She didn’t laugh. She kept looking at the knife he had thrown, which still quivered in the center of what would have been a person’s heart. “When you and Irun . . . when you took the knives . . . he said it was dangerous.”

“Because those were poisoned knives.” That wild gleam leaped briefly back into his eyes. “I like to take unexpected risks, once in a while. It’s dangerous to be predictable.”

“Um,” Ileni said.

“Most of us aren’t permitted to use the poisoned knives. It requires training and preparation.” He looked at the shiny blades proudly. “The poison is called vernath. There is no antidote, so we have to take care.”

“Marvelous,” Ileni muttered.

“Don’t worry. We’ll start with unpoisoned ones.”

“Start?”

“First, let’s see if you have knack for throwing—”

“No,” Ileni said.

He blinked at her. “Why not?”

“Renegai don’t use weapons.”

“You’re not exactly a Renegai anymore, are you?”

She should have seen that coming, but she flinched anyhow, so violently that Sorin saw it. He looked at her in silence, his dark eyes slits above his sharply planed cheeks, and she felt her heart thud against her ribs. He was going to figure it out . . . he was smart, she should have been more careful. . . .

But when he spoke, his voice was soft. “You could be happy here, you know.”

Her laugh sounded like a sob. “I doubt that.”

“You should know . . .” He trailed off, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “That you have choices. Even here. I understand what it’s like to grow up outside and then know you’ll spend the rest of your life underground. I used to be angry, too.”

“Oh?” This time it sounded more like a laugh. “And who were you angry at?”

“Nobody. Everybody. Just like you.” He walked to the target and pulled out the knife. “Undirected anger accomplishes nothing. Anger can be a powerful tool, but only if you treat it like one.”

By the practiced rhythm of his words, she knew that was another of the master’s sayings. “I’m fine with my anger as it is. But thank you.”

“You don’t have to be resentful all the time. Once you understand that your life here has a goal, and a purpose . . . you could be happy. I am.” He drew another knife. The blade looked natural in his hand, like it belonged there. “Absalm was, too.”

Ileni shook her head violently. “No. He wasn’t. Maybe you thought—”

“We’re trained to recognize truths, Ileni. No matter how unpleasant.” Sorin was watching her so intently it made her feel almost panicked. “He wasn’t an outsider. He didn’t feel like an exile. We considered him one of us.”

“Quite the honor. I’m sure he was overwhelmed with pride.”

“He was a good teacher. A wise man. Even the master respected him.”

“Don’t you understand?” Ileni clenched her fists. “Absalm was an Elder of our people before he volunteered to be the next tutor. So you respected him. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe the respect of a group of student killers wasn’t all that important to him.” She spoke as hotly as if she had known the man. She hadn’t known Cadrel, either. But she knew that both of them, like every tutor in the past two centuries, had viewed their sojourn in these caves as forced labor, a lifelong sacrifice made for the good of all Renegai. As she did, and would, however long she managed to survive.

No matter how tiring it became, being miserable all the time.

You could be happy.

“This is because of last night.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You think I’m one of you now. Because I celebrated a murder.”