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