Death Sworn(60)

Karyn remained seated, her hands braced on the ground at her sides. Her attention was wholly on Sorin. “What’s this?”

“His name is Sorin.” Bazel’s voice was flat. Every person in the small space—Bazel, the traders, Sorin—was taut with anticipation. Violence brimmed in the damp air, and a shudder ran through the length of Ileni’s body. She was suddenly certain she had done something terrible.

Karyn’s expression changed from anger to cold calculation. “I don’t suppose you would consider keeping quiet about our presence here? In return for, perhaps—”

Bazel interrupted her with a harsh laugh. “Don’t bother asking him to lie to the master.”

“Well, then.” Karyn leaned forward. “There’s only one way to ensure his silence.”

“Don’t bother trying that, either.” Bazel got to his feet. “He’s one of the best. The three of us together couldn’t so much as ruffle his hair.”

Three—so he assumed Ileni was on Sorin’s side. Or simply irrelevant.

“I know what you are,” Sorin said to Karyn. “You’re an imperial spy.”

Karyn sprang to her feet, and everything happened at once. As she drew a knife, Sorin leaped, with deceptive grace, and kicked. The knife flew from Karyn’s hand and thudded, hilt first, into the blond man’s forehead.

The blond man staggered back with a cry. He recovered, then raised his own blade.

Bazel darted in, grabbed the fallen knife, and sliced it neatly across the blond man’s throat.

He did it so easily, his movements as smooth—though not as fast—as Sorin’s. Blood spurted and the blond man fell, his arms flailing sideways and his heavy body hitting the ground with a thud. He cried out again, a staccato gurgling sound, and then the only noise was the rushing of the river.

It was that fast, that easy, that . . . irreversible. Bazel stepped back, the knife still in his hand, his face showing no more expression than if he had merely knocked the man unconscious. Karyn whirled and ran for the canoe, and Bazel cut her off. Sorin remained where he was.

Ileni stared at the blond man, at the blood spreading slowly across the stone. She could smell it, sharp and metallic. His blue eyes were wide and sightless, his mouth slightly open. A few minutes before, he had been laughing.

Ileni’s stomach twisted into a knot so tight she couldn’t breathe; then all at once it untwisted, and she was spewing its contents onto the white rock. She dropped to her hands and knees, stomach heaving again and again, even when there was nothing left to expel.

When she looked up, her throat burning, Bazel had Karyn trapped against the cliffside. He held the knife ready—a red drop dripped from its edge and splattered on the rock—but didn’t make a move toward her. Instead he glanced at Sorin.

“It’s not enough,” Sorin snarled at him. “This doesn’t make up for what you did.”

Bazel laughed wildly. Then he lunged at Karyn.

She dodged. Bazel’s blade slid across the side of her neck, not deep enough to kill. At the same moment, a surge of magic pulsed through the cavern. Ileni jerked her head up as the spell washed over her.

A thin shimmer of white flew down from the top of the cliff: a rope, lashing against the rock. While Ileni scrambled to her feet, Bazel grabbed the end of the rope and leaped upward, bracing his feet against the rock wall, moving faster than she would have believed possible. By the time she had closed her mouth, he was already invisible in the darkness above, the end of the rope twitching violently against the cliffside.

Sorin swore. He took a step toward Karyn, who was still as a statue. Then he flung himself at the rope, which thudded against the cliff as the two assassins raced up into darkness.

“I think,” Karyn said, pressing her hand to her neck, “that’s my cue to leave.”

Ileni turned sharply, her throat burning and tears stinging her eyes. Her voice came out in a croak. “You’re going to abandon Bazel?”

“He’s not exactly under my protection.” Karyn wiped her bloody hand on her tunic, then strode toward the blond man’s corpse. Ileni opened her mouth and closed it, feeling acutely helpless. If she’d had a knife . . . but she didn’t have a knife. “Besides, he’s probably already dead.”

Ileni hoped Bazel hadn’t heard that—or rather, hadn’t heard the total unconcern with which Karyn said it.

Why had Sorin gone after Bazel and left Karyn free to escape?