скачать книгу бесплатно
In the mornings she trained her mind – languages and numbers and histories both known and hidden. She sat with the others in a semi-circle around the tutor, ignoring the whispers and the smirks and the laughs if ever she got a question wrong.
The afternoons were for training of a different sort. That was when they fought and climbed and ran and swam. That was when their muscles were stretched and torn and built up again, when their bodies were taught how to move independently of their minds. Muscle memory, the tutors called it. Making fighting second nature. Making killing an instinct.
The girl didn’t like the idea of killing, even while she recognised it would have to be a necessary part of her training. The others claimed they didn’t mind it. Avaunt even insisted she was looking forward to her first kill – then she’d always glance at the girl and everyone else would laugh. Avaunt kept up the act until the morning when she was called away by Quoneel.
When she returned, her robe was drenched in blood and her face was pale. Her eyes were wide and wet. The girl found her later, sobbing quietly in a dark corner. Avaunt looked up and called her Highborn again, called her worse names until the girl walked away and left her to her tears.
The girl wasn’t looking forward to her first kill.
Quoneel took her out of lessons one day, and the girl followed dutifully after him, her belly in knots. They came to a small room where a woman was chained to a wall. She was the first person not dressed in robes that the girl had seen in a long, long time.
“Who are you?” the woman asked, frightened. Her hair was brown. She was slightly overweight. She looked the same age as the girl’s own mother. “What do you want? If you let me go, I won’t tell the police, I swear.”
Quoneel handed the girl a dagger. “Kill her,” he said.
The woman’s eyes widened. The girl looked at the dagger.
“I can’t,” she said.
“But this is what you’ve been training for,” said Quoneel. “When you are a hidden blade, you will claim many lives. This will be your first.”
“But I don’t even know this woman,” said the girl.
“Your name,” said Quoneel. “Loudly now, so the girl can hear.”
“Tanith,” said the woman. “Tanith Woodall. I have a son and daughter and they need me. Please. Please let me go back to them.”
“There,” said Quoneel. “Now you know her. Will taking her life be easier now?”
The girl shook her head. “She hasn’t done anything to me. She hasn’t hurt me. I can’t just kill her.”
“You can. It’s quite easy.”
“But why?”
“Because, as a hidden blade, you must kill those you are told to kill. And I am telling you to kill this woman.”
Quoneel clicked his fingers and the chains holding the woman to the wall sprang open. The woman stumbled a little, rubbing her wrists, free but still terrified.
“Master, please...”
“I ask you, child, what use is a killer who cannot kill?”
The girl swallowed. “No use, Master.”
“No use indeed. Since you joined us, you have been tested every day in every way. Every question we ask is a test. Every task you are given is a test. But none of those tests would end in your death were you to fail them. This is the first real test you’ve been given. Think carefully on how you wish to proceed.”
“If... if I could just have a little more time,” said the girl.
“To do what?”
“To prepare. To get myself ready.”
“I see. So if we were to delay this test for six months or so, maybe a year, do you think you would be ready then?”
“Maybe,” said the girl. Then she nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure of it.”
“Well,” said Quoneel, “it wouldn’t be much of a test then, would it?”
The woman was sobbing now, quiet little sobs that moved her shoulders.
“I can’t kill her,” the girl explained.
“Then I will,” said her master. “And before her heart has stopped beating I will have killed you, also.”
The girl gripped the knife. “I’d fight you.”
“You’d lose. This woman will die today whatever you decide. Make the right choice and kill her quickly. If I have to do it, I’ll chop her into little bits and she’ll die screaming.”
The girl looked at the sobbing woman, and tears came to her own eyes. “Please don’t make me...”
“I am sorry, child,” said Quoneel. “But this is something you must do.”
The woman lunged suddenly for the door, knocking Quoneel to the side, and barrelled straight towards the girl, her face twisted in desperation and rage. She ran into the girl and stopped, and the girl stepped away, her hand empty. The woman looked down at the dagger in her belly. She sobbed again, and her legs collapsed from under her. She sat on the ground and shook her head.
“No,” the woman said quietly. “No, please... not me...”
She sobbed, and took a short, rattling breath, and when she breathed out, she leaned over until her head rested on the ground. She didn’t move, and she didn’t take another breath.
The girl looked at her hands. No blood on them. All the woman’s blood was leaking to the floor. She could hear it drip. But none on her hands. Her hands were clean. She didn’t think that was right. They should be stained red. She thought about kneeling down, putting her hands in the growing pool of blood, but the idea, the very idea, was making something rise up in her mind, something dark and ugly and scared, and it made her body shake and the tears flow.
“You’ve done well,” said Quoneel. “Your lessons for today are at an end. You are dismissed.”
She ran from the room, tears blurring her vision.
The next morning Quoneel sat next to her as she ate. The girl wasn’t used to people sitting next to her.
“Some of the children said they heard you crying last night,” he said, his voice quiet but casual, like he was just asking her to pass the bread.
The girl said nothing.
“Is this true?” Quoneel asked. “Were you crying in your room, child?”
“You made me kill someone.”
“Yes, I did. Is that why you wept?”
“I thought we only killed bad people. That’s what you said. That’s what you told me.”
Quoneel shook his head. “I said we kill people for a reason. If you chose to understand that as only killing the wicked, then how can I be held responsible?”
“But if we kill good people, then we can’t be good.”
Quoneel smiled. “We have a code. We have guidelines. We kill people who deserve death. But sometimes those who deserve death are not wicked people.”
“My brother would never kill an innocent person.”
“You don’t know your brother.”
“I know him better than you,” she said, anger flushing her face. “He’s good and he’s a hero and he helps people.”
“He helps people, this is true. As do we all. That is why we’re here, we knives in the shadows. To help people.”
“Then why did you make me kill an innocent person?”
“To see if you would. To see if you could. You passed that test. The first time is always the hardest. It will be easier from now on.”
“I’m not killing any more innocent people.”
Quoneel smiled again. “You haven’t killed any innocent people, child. That woman murdered her husband.” A long pause. “You look surprised. You think all murderers look like murderers? You think they plot and scheme and twirl moustaches? She poisoned her husband to be rid of him and to get his money. She deserved death.”
“What... what will happen to her children?”
“The mortals know how to deal with things like this. The children will be taken care of.”
The girl looked down at her plate. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would it have made it easier to kill a murderer?”
The girl paused. “Yes.”
“Then what kind of test would it have been?” Quoneel asked.
(#ulink_17fdbcd5-1db2-599b-b72d-9c79efd31f45)
nnis had never been a people person, unless ‘people person’ was defined as a person who ate people. She had spent most of her childhood miserable and alone while the other children in her village threw stones at her and called her names. Her teenage years had been typically awkward as a result, and then she ate everyone in her village so the opportunity for decent conversation became decidedly slimmer. When she was sixteen, the sun started to turn her to stone, so her entire adult life was spent in a variety of caves and ditches where her only source of friendship had been Scrannal, an idiot. So being in a room with other people was an unusual and unsettling development, and one which she hadn’t planned on... and then he walked in.
Annis felt her heart surge in her chest. Her belly squirmed like it was filled with a hundred undigested snakes. She felt blood rush to her face and hoped desperately that she wasn’t turning blue. Was this it? Was this what so many of her screaming victims referred to as ‘love’? Was this what they felt for the names they cried out as she devoured them?
He was tall, dark, and handsome. He had a quality about him, a mysterious, brooding quality that she found intoxicating. She could stare into his eyes and be lost forever. He didn’t bother sitting. She saw that he wasn’t wearing shoes. Another thing to love about this beautiful creature, this thing, this Springheeled Jack.
Black Annis was a weird one. Sabine didn’t know what to make of her. She’d heard the stories, of course. Knew what Annis was capable of. But the stories she’d heard were of a wild woman with jagged teeth and jagged nails and impenetrable blue skin. The person seated across from her wasn’t blue. She was squat in both frame and face, and her long, untamed hair was streaked with grey. She was somewhere over two hundred years old and Sabine reckoned she could see every one of those years etched into the lines around her mouth and eyes and on her forehead and... good God, this woman’s lines had lines. She looked her age and then some, unlike sorcerers and certain other creatures who had a pleasing habit of retaining their youth. Like vampires.
Sabine didn’t like vampires. They were too still, like statues. And the way they moved was unnatural. No living thing should be that graceful. But there he sat, the vampire, with his beautiful face marred by a single scar. He wasn’t even breathing. At least, she didn’t think he was. It was hard to tell.
Her eyes drifted from Dusk to Springheeled Jack, a creature who couldn’t seem to stay still. When he was in his chair, the hardened nails of his long fingers beat a rapid rhythm against the tabletop, but only moments would pass before he was on his feet again, pacing up and down like he was waiting for someone to let him out of his cage. And he stank. His clothes, which looked like he’d robbed them off the corpse of a Victorian gentleman, were musty, and he smelled of stale body odour. His face was long and lined and his hair – when he finally took off that battered top hat – was lank and greasy. He’d only said a few words to her so far, but they were accompanied by breath so foul she thought she might gag. And he spoke in a London accent so ridiculous she thought he was having her on.
“Luv a duck,” he said, “is this meetin’ gonna come to bleedin’ order before or after we all die of old age?”
At the head of the table, Tanith sat and smiled. Billy-Ray Sanguine stood behind her with his square jaw and his sunglasses.
“Before we begin,” Tanith said, “I’d just like to tell you all how much I appreciate your help in this matter. I know you’re all going to receive a reward when it’s over, but I like to think that you’re helping me because you see a person who needs help, and out of the goodness of your hearts you decided to pitch in.”
The others looked at her, saying nothing. Undeterred, Tanith continued.
“What we have here is a mission. Missions are exciting. You should look on this whole thing as an adventure, and just have fun.”
Again, everyone looked at her. Like she was nuts.
Big, bright smile. “I have a friend who’ll be arriving sometime over the next year or so,” said Tanith. “She’s awesome, and she’ll do some pretty awesome things. But there’ll be a lot of people who will want to hurt my friend, and they’ll use four God-Killer weapons to do that.”
Sabine shifted in her seat. “Who’s your friend?”
“I’m glad you asked me that,” said Tanith. “Her name’s Darquesse and she’s lovely. You’ll love her, you really will. She’s so funny and nice and she’s great to hang out with.”
Sabine frowned. “Isn’t she the one they’re saying will destroy the world?”
“OK, Sabine, for a start, I don’t know why you’re being so negative about this. How about waiting until you’ve met her before you start judging her? Think you can do that? Secondly, it’s not destroying the world, it’s destroying some bits of the world. It’s like a sculptor chipping away at a rock until she gets it just right. That’s what Darquesse is going to do. That’s all I’m going to say about it right now, but I’m glad you asked because now the question has been answered and we can move on. Any more questions?”
Annis put up her hand.
“No questions till after,” said Tanith. “Where was I? Dexter Vex has assembled a group of seven sorcerers, including himself, from different Sanctuaries around the world – Frightening Jones, Aurora Jane, Wilhelm Scream, the Monster Hunters, and his old friend and Dead Men colleague Saracen Rue. I feel, in the interest of full disclosure, I should make it known at this point that I have had relationships with both Frightening and Saracen, and a little bit of a thing with Aurora. Aurora was lovely, but it didn’t work out, Frightening and I gradually drifted apart and, with Saracen, I assure you it was purely physical.”
“They probably don’t need to know all that,” Sanguine said from behind her, his face stony.
“Vex used to have another sorcerer on his team,” Tanith continued. “They had a Sensitive named Jerry. Just to let you know, I did not have a relationship with Jerry. Let’s be clear about that. He was a rubbish Sensitive, but that’s not why I didn’t have a relationship with him. For a start, he wasn’t my type. Reason number two, I was already in a relationship with Billy-Ray here, and I was trying my best to be monogamous.”
At that, Sanguine frowned. “You were trying?”
“Please don’t interrupt, darling,” Tanith said. “Back to Jerry. As I said, he was a rubbish Sensitive, and I cut his head off. If he’d been any good at looking into the future, he’d have ducked. But he didn’t, so... off with his head. Anyway, what Jerry did do was give us a list of possible locations where three of these weapons are being kept. We have since had these confirmed. We got the fourth from Christophe Nocturnal before he tragically died when I killed him. I’ll miss Christophe, I don’t mind telling you. Was he boyfriend material? Probably not, but we had a moment.”
“The four locations,” Sanguine prompted.
“Yes,” Tanith said, focusing on the task at hand. “The first weapon we’re going after will be the dagger, which is in the possession of Johann Starke. I know what you’re thinking – Johann Starke, Elder with the German Sanctuary, how can we possibly sneak in and steal what we’re there to steal? Well, let me just reassure you – I have a plan, and I’m fairly confident it stands a chance of not failing, if we’re lucky.”
“I have a question,” said Jack.
“Questions later.”
“You keep sayin’ sneak in and sneak out and stuff. My question is—”
“No questions.”
“—once this Starke bloke realises he’s been robbed—”
“I’m pretty sure I said no questions.”
“—the owners of the other weapons are gonna heighten security, so won’t that mess up our mission?”
