Authors: Leah Cypess
Death Marked (23 page)
Sorin wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t even understand it, but that was too bad for him.
“We need to get out of here,” Arxis said, “before Karyn comes back.”
Evin nodded. “Ileni, if you tell me where to transport you—”
“I can’t go back.” Ileni said it as fast as she could, in an attempt to make it hurt less. “I have no magic of my own, and my people don’t steal magic. If I go back, I’ll be powerless.”
“There is more than one type of power,” Evin said.
Easy for you to say.
She shook her head. “I was the most powerful sorceress of my people, once. But there was . . . they made a mistake.” It hadn’t been a mistake.
They designed me to kill you.
“My power started fading, when I got older, and it faded until it was gone. And then I came here, and I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t resist it. If my people knew what I did here, the sort of magic I used, the way I used it . . .”
“But you can’t stay here,” Evin said. “Is there anywhere else you can go?”
“Maybe.” Ileni didn’t dare look at Arxis. “But I can’t leave yet. There’s something I have to do here first.”
Arxis’s voice was sharp and smooth. “And what’s that?”
Ileni hesitated.
“If what you need to do here is a secret,” Arxis said, “it’s going to be harder for us to help you with it.”
Ileni choked down a laugh. They both focused on her, and she bit her lip hard, using the pain to hold back her growing hysteria. She didn’t know which side was right, or even less wrong. She didn’t know if destroying the Academy was an act of heroism or of murder. But she knew one small thing that was simple and right, one choice she could be proud of.
“I made a promise to a dying girl,” she said. “I have to keep it before I go.”
T
he knife thudded into the target with a force that made the man-shaped cloth swish against the stone wall. Another knife followed it, and then another. All three knives quivered, inches apart, exactly where the man’s heart would have been.
“Impressive,” Absalm said.
Sorin walked over to the weapons rack and pulled out a blade. The slight hitch in the sorcerer’s breathing told him that Absalm knew which knife he had drawn.
He flipped it up in the air. The blade twirled, a deadly circle of steel, until he caught it by the hilt.
“Shouldn’t you be careful with that?” Absalm asked. He
had recovered his usual gentle cadence—what Sorin thought of as his wise teacher tone.
“Should I?” Sorin said. “Can’t the Renegai heal poison?”
“Not
that
poison.”
Sorin threw the blade up again, spun on his heel, and was facing the sorcerer when he caught it.
“So if I nicked myself,” he mused, “I would die. And what would
you
do, then?”
“Not heal you,” Absalm said. “Because I can’t.”
“I believe you. I meant, after I died.” Sorin’s arm tensed, wanting to fling the knife up again.
Restraint
, the master’s voice whispered,
is more impressive than courage
. “Who would become the new leader?”
Absalm tugged his earlobe, watching Sorin warily. “There is no obvious candidate.”
“No, there isn’t, is there? It was always going to be me or Irun. And Irun is dead.” He ran one thumb down the spiral design on the knife hilt. “So there would be chaos. Several hundred killers, trained to follow orders, with no orders to follow. Who do you think they would turn on?”
“I understand your point,” Absalm snapped. “I need you. So? You need me, too.”
Sorin moved like lightning. The sorcerer didn’t have time
to utter the first word of a spell before the dagger’s edge was against his throat, so close it must feel like it was brushing his skin.
“Actually,” Sorin said, “I’m not sure I need you at all.”
Only Absalm’s mouth moved. “But are you sure you don’t?”
Sorin laughed, low and soft, then twisted sideways and threw the poisoned dagger. It landed in the center of the other three.
“No,” he said. “That’s why you’re alive. But if you ever contradict my orders again, I will change my mind.”
“I don’t know what you—”
“You met with Bazel, before he left on his mission.”
Sorin saw the sorcerer consider lying and decide against it. Absalm tugged his earlobe again. “How do you know?”
“You’re not asking questions right now, Absalm. You’re answering them.
What did you tell Bazel to do?
”
Despite Sorin’s best effort, his voice hardened, just a bit. It wouldn’t have given him away to most people, but Absalm had lived in the Assassins’ Caves for years. His gray eyes narrowed. “I think you know.”
Anger is a weakness.
Sorin had to work to keep his face cool.
“You told him,” he said, “to kill Ileni.”
“Only,” Absalm said, “if he believes she’s going to betray us.”
“Bazel hates Ileni. I think he’ll find that easy to believe.”
“He’s an assassin. He won’t let personal feelings interfere with his mission.”
Sorin allowed his anger to show, and told himself it was a calculated decision. “How very subtle.”
“It was the master’s intent,” Absalm said. “To kill her if she wouldn’t go along with his plan. He didn’t leave loose ends.”
“She won’t betray us,” Sorin said. “She will see the truth about the Empire, and she will help us destroy it. She’s not a loose end.”
“If you’re so sure,” Absalm said, “why are you recruiting people to convince her?”
Recruiting
, not
sending.
Sorin’s expression didn’t change, but Absalm looked satisfied anyhow. “Oh, yes. I know about the Renegai boy.”
“I’m reminding her who she is,” Sorin said. The edge in his voice made the sorcerer flinch, but not step back. The air between them felt hot. “But I’m not worried. She’s on our side.”
“In that case,” Absalm said, “she’ll be in no danger at all.”
T
he front of Death’s Door was far more respectable than its side entrance. A façade of pink-veined white marble stretched beside a narrow street, occupied only by a trio of slouching young men, a mangy dog, and an old woman squatting next to a basket of apples. None of them seemed startled when three sorcerers popped out of thin air in front of the imposing building.
They did glance over when Ileni pitched forward onto her hands and knees and vomited on the dirt street. But only for a second.
“Oh, good,” Arxis said. “That’s inconspicuous.”
“Too many translocation spells,” Evin said. “I wish I had Karyn’s silent-spelled boots—they’re the only thing that would make them easier. But you understand why I couldn’t put in a request.”
“I’m fine,” Ileni said through gritted teeth. Sourness burned her mouth, her face muscles hurt, and she was more chagrined than she wanted to admit that Evin was seeing this. Without thinking, she used a trickle of magic to clean her mouth and breath. As she did, the blond girl’s desperate eyes floated through her mind, reminding her what she was using. Where this power came from.
She got to her feet. Evin flicked his fingers at the small puddle of vomit, and it vanished.
An auspicious beginning. Cheeks hot, Ileni faced the front entrance of Death’s Door. Ironically enough, it consisted of
two
doors, austere and imposing, both built of heavy dark wood and inscribed with symbols she didn’t understand. Nothing like what hid behind them, the lines of beds with their suffering victims, waiting to be tortured and killed.
“What now?” Evin said.
Ileni squared her shoulders. “We go inside and ask where that woman’s child is.”
“Ask who?” Arxis drawled.
The silence stretched. Ileni frowned at Evin. “Don’t you know?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never been here before.”
“But you knew where it was.”
“Sure. I’ve heard of it. But I’ve never had a reason to come here.”
Of course not. That way he didn’t have to see the beds, hear the cries, truly understand where the Academy’s lodestones were coming from. “Fine. We’ll just have to figure it out as we go.”
“That should be easy,” Arxis said. “We’ll explain to them that you want to rescue a baby, but you haven’t the first idea what its name is or where it might be.”
“She,” Ileni said. “It’s a girl.”
“Oh, good. That should narrow things down considerably.”
“You said you promised her mother,” Evin interrupted, before Ileni could retort. “What do you know about
her
?”
“That she’s dead, and she died at Death’s Door.” Ileni couldn’t resist adding, “She died to give her magic to the Academy. She traded it for her child’s care.”
Evin nodded. “Then the Black Sisters will take care of her child. If we can find her.”
Disappointment dropped right through Ileni’s throat and into her stomach. She wasn’t sure why. Had she really thought that Evin might not know? Or if he knew, that he would care?
“Of course,” Arxis said, “that brings us right back to the
finding her
problem. If neither of you have any idea where to start, may I suggest—”
“Actually,” a familiar voice behind Ileni said, “I believe I can help.”
Ileni whirled. One of the wooden doors was now partly open. Bazel stood in the entrance, wearing a white robe and a large blue belt.
“Welcome,” he said. “Please enter.”
Absolute silence. Bazel glanced over Ileni’s shoulder at Arxis. Not a trace of recognition on either face, of course. No matter his weaknesses, Bazel was assassin-trained.
“Someone you know?” Evin said.
“Just someone I met last time I was in the city.” Ileni smiled at Bazel. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”
Bazel stepped back into the hall and swept his hand out in a welcoming gesture.
Arxis strode in, passing within inches of Bazel. Every muscle in Ileni’s body tensed, even though the two didn’t touch or even exchange a glance.
“Coming?” Arxis inquired.
“Ileni?” Evin’s voice was soft, his brows furrowed.
If Evin had picked up on her tension, the assassins certainly had. Bazel’s eyes were blank and steady, but Ileni detected—thought she detected—a hint of mockery in their depths. Since it was Bazel, she was probably right. He wasn’t as good as the others at anything, including hiding his intent.
But what
was
his intent?
I’m here to show you something.
He had said that last time, and brought her here, and made no attempt to harm her. But last time, her body hadn’t screamed
danger
at her.
“We don’t have to go in.” Evin stepped up beside her. “I can take you somewhere else. He
is
wearing a blue belt.”
Which meant what, exactly? But this wasn’t the time to ask. Ileni pushed her unreasoning fear away and shook her head. “Thank you. But I do have to.” She met his long-lashed brown eyes. “You—you don’t have to. If you don’t want to.”
“Ileni.” Evin sighed. “Don’t you know anything about me by now?” His hand closed around hers, hesitantly. She pulled away. “I never do anything I don’t want to.”
She laughed, and the corners of Evin’s eyes crinkled. She
walked ahead of him through the large door, into a long hall lit by glowstones.
The hallway was starkly clean, lined with evenly spaced doors, and absolutely silent. Sound-dampening spells were woven into the thick wooden doors, shutting out the groans and cries from downstairs.
“Do you know who keeps the recent records?” Evin asked Bazel. “We’re trying to find the child of a woman who died here recently.”
Bazel opened his mouth to reply, and one of the doors creaked open. A tall man with gold-streaked white hair strolled down the corridor toward them. “Who are these people?” he demanded.
“They’re from the Academy,” Bazel said. “I’m helping them.”
The man nodded and walked past. He opened another door, and through it came, for a moment, the sound of a woman screaming. Then he shut the door behind him, and the hall was silent again.
Ileni drew in a series of shallow breaths, hoping that would be less obvious than a single deep one. So Bazel had infiltrated Death’s Door, was known and trusted by the people here. No surprise. That was what assassins did.
But had he done it just so he could show her this place, open her eyes to the source of imperial magic? Or did
he
have a target, too?
You thought I would never leave the caves.
She could still hear the pride in his voice. Oh, yes. The only mission an assassin would be proud of was one designed to end in death.
But whose?
Evin touched her lightly on the shoulder, reminding her that she, too, was an infiltrator. Known and trusted by the people she was meant to kill. “Maybe you should rest,” he said. “That many translocations can leave you dizzy for a while.”
Bazel’s gaze snapped to the point of contact between Evin’s finger and Ileni’s tunic. His mouth curved in a small, smug smile.
A mistake no other assassin would have made. Ileni recognized the anticipation in that smile.
And she knew who Bazel was here to kill.
She moved without hesitating, pulling in magic, gasping out the words of the most powerful shield she knew. She moved faster than thought, because she didn’t need to think.
She knew when she was prey.
Bazel’s dagger streaked toward her, and she got the shield
up barely in time. The dagger stuck in thin air, its point inches from her eye.
Arxis screamed, very convincingly. Bazel flung out a spell, wild and chaotic and immensely powerful. Ileni’s shield shattered with a force that drove her against the wall, and Bazel was across the hall in seconds. He slammed into her, pressing her to the wall, and his dagger whispered cold and sharp on the side of her neck.
“I’m so glad I get to do this,” he hissed in her ear, and sliced the blade across the front of her throat.
It shattered into a hundred pieces.
Bazel dropped the broken dagger hilt and wrapped his hands around her throat, ribbons of blood crisscrossing his face. Ileni’s throat had been stone a second ago, but a wild spell from Bazel turned it back to flesh. Ileni had forgotten how much power he had.
And someone had been teaching him how to use it.
