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Onora explained in a roundabout rambling way how she slipped past the gate’s guards, climbed up the side of the castle, jimmied open a window. “Easy as pie in the oven.”
“How did you know where the Commander’s suite is?”
“Gotta friend working inside. Shh...sweet soul doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know what?”
“Doesn’t know I know. I tricked. Have to protect... Have to protect...”
“Protect who?”
She shook her head. “Have to... Have to...protect.”
Even with the goo-goo juice, Onora wouldn’t say the name of her friend. Frustrating. At least it sounded as if the friend had been an unwitting accomplice.
When Valek was satisfied, he pulled her up and towed her to the guards outside the main door.
“I found an intruder in the Commander’s suite,” Valek said, handing her over.
The guards straightened as the color leaked from their faces.
“Ha,” Onora said. “I found him!”
Valek gestured to two of the men. “Take her to the dungeon. Have Lieutenant Abira strip-search her, check every inch of her skin for putty, comb her hair for weapons and dress her in one of our coveralls before incarcerating her. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We will discuss this incident in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Before they left, Valek pricked Onora with another dose of goo-goo juice to ensure she’d remain incapacitated until morning. It would be interesting to see if she was resourceful enough to escape the dungeon.
Returning to his apartment, Valek picked up the lantern and searched the first floor. Aside from being filled with boxes and clutter, the three rooms off his living area were empty of intruders. Valek paused at the threshold of the bedroom that had been Yelena’s. He’d kept her close to him with the pretense of protecting her. And while she attracted trouble like a sweet cake drew ants, the true reason had been that he had been fascinated by her and wanted her near.
Back then he couldn’t touch her and they were together all the time, but now...they were heart mates and apart most of the time. The dusty air scratched at the back of his throat. What if Onora had succeeded and killed him? He’d never see Yelena again. Unless she visited him in the fire world. He huffed with dry amusement. He’d taken Hedda’s teachings to heart. His soul was destined for an eternity trapped in the fire world.
He shut the door and climbed the steps to the second floor. It mirrored the first floor with three rooms to the right of a sitting area. More boxes, books and piles of rocks littered the floor. After a quick peek inside the bedrooms, he retreated down a long hallway to the left of the sitting area. A few more chambers lined the right side of the corridor. A stone wall ran along the left. More packed rooms. Empty of threats. The only organized area was Valek’s carving room.
Stone dust covered the grinding wheels, worktable and pyramids of the gray stone he used for his carvings. The lumpy rocks were dull and lifeless, but with a chisel, grinder and sand, they transformed into beautiful black statues with flecks of silver. The hours he spent in here not only honed his artistic skills, but his mind, as well. Many times he’d enter with a vexing problem and leave with a solution.
He unlocked the door to his bedroom, then secured it behind him. No windows in this chamber. Glancing under the bed and in the armoire, he relaxed for a moment. Then Valek stripped off his shirt. The cut in his stomach had stopped bleeding. Good. He changed into his black skintight sneak suit. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he checked the castle walls for spiders.
* * *
Alighting on the balcony outside his apartment’s first-floor living area, Valek flexed his fingers. The combination of climbing up and down the cold stone walls plus the fight with Onora earlier had stiffened his muscles. He had found no other intruders—the good news—but he’d also discovered how Onora had reached the Commander’s room—the bad.
The lapse in security would be addressed in the morning. Valek glanced to the east. The sun would be up in a few hours. He headed to his bed, peeled off the sneak suit and slid under the blankets.
Exhausted beyond measure, Valek still couldn’t sleep. He stared at the ceiling, mourning Hedda’s death. After his brothers had been murdered, he’d searched for a teacher for two seasons. During that time, many people took advantage of him, selling him bad information, tricking him, or outright knocking him down and stealing the money he’d earned when he’d worked at his father’s tannery. A hard lesson on whom to trust. No one.
Hungry, sick and drained, he’d spent his last coin on the slim chance that the street rat did indeed know the location of a teacher. Valek found the remote complex along the rocky coast of MD-1 at the beginning of the warm season. The gates had been secured for the night and he sat on the stoop and waited in the cold damp air that smelled like salted fish. The irony of having searched all of Ixia for a teacher only to end up within miles of Icefaren, his hometown, was not lost on him.
Eventually he passed out on the hard stone for hours or days—he didn’t know nor care at that point. Cold water splashed, jolting him awake. The sun was high in the sky. He blinked, wiping his eyes.
A woman in her midthirties with long red hair peered at him through the gate’s bars. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” She set the bucket down.
“Are you the mistress of this school?”
“I am. What do you want?”
He stood to face her. His legs shook with the effort, but he met her hard gaze without flinching. “I. Want. To. Kill. The. King.”
She studied him. “Ambitious.”
At least she didn’t laugh at him. A good sign.
“Can you fight?”
“No.”
“Have you killed anyone?”
“No.”
“Do you have any family?”
“No.” His parents had pleaded with him to stay at home and not ruin his life by seeking revenge. He ignored them. When he left, they told him never to return. He was no longer their son.
“Do you have any skills?”
“No.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen.”
She shook her head. “Scrawny, penniless, homeless and without any redeeming qualities. Why should I accept you as my student?”
“Because I will kill the King. And the claim that you trained the man who assassinated the King will be a nice feather in your cap.”
The humid air thickened around Valek, pressing against his skin like a sticky syrup. She pursed her lips as she stared at him. “Ten days.”
“Ten?”
“To prove yourself.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. If you don’t prove yourself—”
“Save it for the next applicant. I won’t fail.”
Hedda opened the gate and he followed her up a narrow winding path to a sprawling complex of buildings atop a cliff overlooking the Sunset Ocean. The stone walls resembled the grayish-white rocky outcroppings surrounding the complex. The few people working outside wore subdued tunics and pants that also blended in with the landscape.
She made a grand sweeping gesture, indicating the buildings. “Welcome to the School of Night and Shadows. How many people do you see?”
Valek scanned the area, counting. “Ten.”
Hedda whistled. Movement exploded and figures jumped, crawled and slid from various nooks and shadows around the complex.
“Now how many?” she asked.
“More than ten.”
“Correct. The best assassins are invisible. No magic needed.”
When they drew close to the biggest structure—a four-story-high building with balconies facing the sea—Hedda called to a man. “Fetch Arbon. Tell him to meet me in my office.”
“Yes, sir.” The man dashed away.
Hedda led him into the main building and to an office on the ground floor. Out of the bright sunlight, Valek studied the woman. She wore a soft gray-green tunic and matching pants. Long red eyelashes framed light green eyes.
Gesturing to a chair, she settled behind a pristine desk. Nothing occupied the surface. He glanced around the room. A few tapestries hung on the gray-white-black walls. The color reminded him of seagull droppings. No fire burned in the fireplace. The sparse furnishings held no warmth and he guessed this wasn’t her true office, but a place to conduct business with outsiders.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Valek.”
“Tell me why you want to kill the King.”
“Does it matter?”
“Very much.”
“His men murdered my brothers.” Red-hot agony burned in the center of his heart as an image of their bodies flashed in front of him, but he clamped down on his emotions.
She studied him. “Then why not go after them?”
“Oh, they will die, too.”
“But that’s not good enough?”
“No.” He spat the word out. “They murder in his name. The King’s corruption has gone too far.”
“Did you know the King is a powerful magician?”
“Yes.”
“And that he’s well protected?”
“Yes.”
“And you still believe you can kill him?”
“Yes.”
“How much time are you willing to dedicate to this endeavor?”
“As long as it takes. If my last breath is one second after the King’s last gasp, I will die a happy man.”
Hedda grinned. “One thing at a time. Let’s see how long you last, King Killer.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Arbon, come in and meet Valek.”
A young teen around Valek’s age slipped into the room. His black hair had been shorn close to his scalp.
“Take him to the medic then feed him and show him around. He can have Pyo’s cell.”
“Yes, sir,” Arbon said.
“Valek, I’d suggest you concentrate on getting healthy. Once you begin training, luxuries like eating and sleeping are not guaranteed.”
Valek smiled at the memory. He had used that phrase—eating and sleeping are not guaranteed—a thousand times with the men and women he had trained for his corps. It was as true today as it had been twenty-eight years ago. Of course, then he’d been a stupid kid and had no idea that lack of sleep and missed meals would be the least of his problems. Ah, youth.
Still unable to sleep, Valek pushed off his covers, dressed in his uniform and ghosted down to the dungeon to check on the newest occupant.
The guards snapped to attention and followed protocol to the letter. Everyone was worried about the consequences of the midnight assassin. As well they should be. Valek planned to demote them to privates and send them to guard the diamond mines in MD-3.
A thought occurred to him. What if the new guy...Gerik, was Onora’s friend and he’d inadvertently tipped her off to the lapse in security? Even if that was the case, the members of the Commander’s detail had been chosen for a reason and their system of double checks should have revealed the gap.
Sleeping off the goo-goo juice, Onora sprawled on the cell’s metal bed, which had been bolted to the bars. Her brown braid had been pulled apart and her hair fanned around her face like a messy mane.
“Keep a close eye on her, but don’t alert her to the extra security,” Valek said to the guard.
“Sir?”
“I want to see if she tries to escape.”
“And if she does?”
“Let her go. I’ll have one of my corps in place to follow her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Satisfied, Valek swung by the kitchen to swipe a couple of apples before waking up Qamra and assigning her babysitting duties.
