Читать книгу Shadow Study - Maria Snyder V. - Страница 14
ОглавлениеValek studied the figure standing behind the Commander. Five feet eight inches tall, about one hundred and forty pounds, either a young male or female—hard to tell when the only thing not covered with black was the assassin’s light gray eyes. Armed with a dagger, which was currently pressed against the Commander’s throat, but Valek guessed the assassin carried more than one knife.
The Commander frowned with annoyance.
“Impressive,” Valek said, sipping his brandy. He tightened his grip on his knife, suppressing his anger at the Commander’s security detail for not stopping the intruder. He’d deal with them later.
“Move and I’ll slit his throat,” the assassin said in a gravelly voice.
Not a natural tone, and Valek suspected the person wished to hide his or her true voice. It was an empty threat. If the assassin had wanted to kill the Commander, he’d have been dead before Valek had turned around.
“I’m not the one you should be worried about,” Valek said.
Ambrose moved, grabbing the attacker’s wrists, yanking the blade down and away from his body. He spun, trapping the assassin’s arm. Within a minute the knife clanged to the floor and the Commander had the intruder at his mercy.
“Good show, old man,” he said even though Ambrose was only about seven years older than Valek. “You still have the best knife-defense skills in the Territory. Do you want me to dispose of...that for you?” He set his drink down.
“No,” the assassin cried in a higher-pitched voice this time. “I have the right to challenge you to a fight!”
“As soon as you climbed through that window, you gave up all your rights.” Valek moved closer and yanked the hood off the intruder.
Unafraid, a young woman glared at him. “You know I had the drop on him. How many others have sneaked in here? None. Come on. Let me show you what I can do with a knife.”
“Fine by me. Commander?”
The Commander released her. “Don’t take too long, Valek. I’ve an early meeting.” He settled behind his desk.
She glanced from him to the Commander and back.
“Don’t worry. He won’t interfere.”
“How about when I’m about to gut you?” she asked.
“If you can gut him, go ahead,” the Commander said.
“Such love. I’m touched.” Valek patted his chest. “Pick up your knife,” he said to the intruder. He switched his dagger to his right hand and turned his body sideways, keeping the weapon close to his stomach. He bent his left arm and held it in front of him to block any incoming strikes.
She mirrored his stance except she held her knife in her left hand. Ah, a lefty. Interesting. They circled and she slashed. He blocked. She shuffled forward and stabbed. He sidestepped. Recovering quickly, she spun and aimed for his throat. He ducked.
Valek remained on the defense as she tried all her offensive moves. She had learned an impressive number of them and he’d gotten a few cuts during a couple of her combination strikes. He had to admit, she was fast. Her style of fighting seemed eerily familiar.
A slight swirl of unease brushed his stomach. Knife fighters tended to let their guard down when striking, believing their opponent would be too busy protecting himself to counterstrike. Not her. She stayed tight.
Without warning, Valek switched to an offensive series of jabs and kicks, bringing the level of the fight up a notch. She dodged, blocked and kept up with the speed of his attack.
As they fought, he tested her weaknesses and found little. When she executed a perfect feint and lunge, he cursed as the tip of her blade jabbed his gut. Pain burned and blood seeped, but Valek increased the pressure. After she snaked past his defense again in another near miss, Valek recognized her fighting style.
“You’re a student of Hedda’s, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Save your breath.” She advanced with a Janco-like flurry of jabs.
He wasn’t winded. But if she kept this pace, he’d be sucking air. Concern grew. He’d managed to slip past her blocks a few times, but years of experience showed him how this fight would play out. It didn’t look good for him.
As the fight continued, her style of attacks changed. She fought more like the Commander. Perhaps she had two teachers—a deadly combination. He needed to end this match. The sooner the better.
Fortunately, he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Well, not tricks exactly—he yanked another knife from his right sleeve and attacked with both.
She floundered for a bit, backing up. Then she sidestepped and drew a second knife, as well. While competent with two, she didn’t have the same precision and speed.
After a few minutes, Valek lunged and slashed at her midsection, knocking the weapon from her right hand. He pressed his advantage before she could pull another blade, keeping her arms busy. If Hedda had trained her, she would have three or four more daggers hidden in her clothes.
As the fight continued, she managed to grab another knife. By that time, Valek’d had enough. He stepped back, flipped his weapons over, grasping the blades, and threw them. The hilts slammed into her wrists, numbing her hands. She yelped and her knives clanged to the floor.
Then he shuffled in close and punched her. Hard. With a whoosh, she fell back. He followed her to the floor and pressed one of his favorite daggers to her throat.
“That’s...” she panted “...not...fair.”
“Hedda must have gotten soft in her old age. When she trained me, the words not fair were not part of her vocabulary.”
She grimaced. Ah, he’d hit a nerve. Perhaps the young assassin didn’t agree with all of Hedda’s philosophies.
“Did she send you?” he asked.
Clamping her mouth shut, she stared at him.
“Who trained you?”
The Commander stood and yawned. “While that was entertaining, I must get to bed. Clean up the mess, Valek.”
“Yes, sir.”
The assassin sucked in a quick breath, showing her fear. Hedda hadn’t driven all emotion from the young woman. Which made him wonder if this young pup had finished the training.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“To kill you and take your place.”
That would explain why she hadn’t slit the Commander’s throat. But he couldn’t trust her. He yanked a dart from his belt and jabbed it into her arm.
“Listen up. If what you said is true, then I’ll lock you in the dungeon. Escape and find me and we’ll talk. There’s no need to kill me to take my job. Just show that you’re smart, capable, resourceful, cunning, trustworthy, loyal, ruthless and are willing to give your life for the Commander’s and the job is yours.”
She opened her mouth, but instead of words a soft “oh” escaped her lips as the goo-goo juice pumped through her body. Valek stood, gathered all the weapons and pulled her to her feet. She swayed. He grabbed his drink and downed it in one gulp.
What a night.
Picking up a lantern, he led her to his suite so their conversation didn’t bother the Commander. She plopped into a chair and scanned the room with a bewildered expression. “So...much...junk! Are you an assassin or a crow?”
Crouching next to her, he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Onora. I’m an assassin. Shh...don’t tell anyone.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Which Military District are you from?”
“MD-2. I escaped.”
“Escaped from what?”
“The captain. Shh...don’t tell him I’m here.”
“Captain who?”
“Cap-pa-tain Timmer, thinks he’s a winner, and we must all obey,” she sang.
“Why are you here?” he asked again since it was almost impossible to lie while under the influence of the goo-goo juice.
“To kill. You, of all people, should know that! King killer.”
No doubt Hedda had trained her. “Did Hedda send you?”
“Hedda smedda. Crazy old bat. Stubborn. Stupid. Gone. Gone for good.”
“You killed her?”
“I...stopped her. No more assassins.”
Ice coated his heart. “She’s dead?”
“Right-o! Dead to the world.”
Valek stood and fingered his dagger. Hedda had taught him the skills that had kept him alive all these years. Anger and sorrow melted the ice inside him and Valek aimed the tip of the knife at her throat.
He buried the blade into the cushion next to her head. Onora jumped. He could always change his mind. Perhaps after he’d wrung every bit of information from her.
“How did you get into the castle?”
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.
“How good is she, sir?” Qamra asked.
“Don’t let her get close to you. Bring your darts and blowpipe.”
“Yes, sir.” She hopped from her bed.
He left and headed to his office. Qamra had the best aim in his entire corps. He’d put her through the paces, thrown every obstacle and distraction in her way, and she never missed. Valek wished he could say that about all his operatives. Blow in Janco’s ear and he’d miss every time. But that was the beauty of training—it exposed the strengths and weaknesses of his corps so he could match jobs to agents.
At Hedda’s school, though, she hadn’t allowed weaknesses. Every skill had to be mastered before learning another. When Valek had been a student and he’d regained his health, his training began in earnest.
Arbon had shown him the long narrow one-story building then left Valek there without a word. An instructor gave Valek a stone about as big as his thumbnail. The man pointed to a target at one end of the building, then swept an arm out, indicating a series of red marks along the floor.
“Stand on the first mark, closest to the target. When you hit the bull’s-eye with that stone at that position ten times in a row, move to the next one. Repeat. When you can hit the bull’s-eye from the last mark, you will go back to the first mark and practice hitting the target with a knife. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Who would have thought hitting a bull’s-eye with a stone would be that difficult? Hours turned into days and, determined to succeed, Valek only stopped when it was too dark to see. Hedda’s training methods were simple and effective. No one taught you how to throw the stone. Repetition and practice until calluses coated your hands and you figured out the best way to hit a target.
Valek wished he had the time to train his corps the same way. However, time was always an issue. Back in the days before the Commander’s takeover, he had sent promising individuals to Hedda’s school to be trained. After the takeover, the Commander wished to incorporate her school into his military. She refused and had retired. Or so she claimed. Obviously she’d lied, and there might be more assassins in Ixia. Yet another detail to investigate.
He unlocked the door to his office. Even with the first rays of dawn creeping in through the square window, it remained too dark to read. He lit the lanterns. Searching through the files, he found the one on Gerik and read through the man’s dossier. Nothing popped out at him. Maren had performed a thorough background check.
His door banged open. Valek stood and drew both knives without thought.
“Easy there, boss,” Janco said, spreading his hands wide.
“I said to knock. Not to knock the door down.” Ari entered.
“I barely touched it. It wasn’t latched tight.”
Valek returned his knives to their hidden locations and sank into his seat. “Come on in.”
They drew closer.
“Is it true?” Ari asked him.
Nice to know the castle’s gossip network still worked with lightning-fast precision. “Yes.”
“Son of a snow cat!” Janco slapped his thigh. “Did you kill him?”
“Her. And no, I didn’t.”
Ari and Janco glanced at each other in amazement.
“But she reached the Commander.” Janco’s voice held outrage.
“He wasn’t her target.” Valek leaned back in his chair.
Ari smiled. “Possible recruit?”
Or replacement. But Valek wouldn’t say that aloud. “We’ll see if she escapes the dungeon.”
“You want us to hang out near the dungeon, catch her in the act?” Janco asked.
“No. Continue with your assignment, and I’d also like you to nose around and see if you can dig up anything on Sergeant Gerik. He’s a transfer from...” Valek consulted the file. “MD-2 about a year ago, and managed to impress his commanding officer enough to be promoted to the Commander’s security detail.”
“Seems sketchy to me,” Janco said.
“Maren approved it. Do you know where she is?” Valek asked.
“No,” Ari said. “No one does. She slipped out of here without a word a month ago, leaving Mannix in charge, but all the poor guy’s been doing is sorting reports into piles.”
“Keep asking around. See what you can discover.”
“Yes, sir.”
They left and Valek returned to the files. After a few hours, a light tap broke his concentration.
“Yes,” he said.
Gerik poked his head in. Strain lined his haggard face, but he kept his voice even. “The Commander wishes to see you in his war room, sir.”
“Now?”
“Yes, sir.”
Valek straightened a pile of files then followed Gerik out. He locked his door and strode to the war room. Gerik didn’t say a word as he trailed behind. The guards waiting near the entrance flinched when Valek approached. White-faced and with eyebrows pinched tight together, he sensed there was more going on than their fear of being reprimanded.
They pulled open the double doors. Valek entered the room.
Onora sat at the table with the Commander, eating breakfast.
