Assassin of Curses: (The Coren Hart Chronicles Book 3)

by Jessie D. Eaker

  Outside, I could hear the sounds of night creatures around us and the occasional movements of the villagers in the huts nearby. A child cried out in the distance, but it was quickly answered by a mother’s soothing shush.

  One of your party is going to die.

  Beside me, I searched for Zofie’s hand and grasped it tightly. She couldn’t acknowledge the gesture, but I drew what comfort I could from it. I prayed it wasn’t her. And then immediately felt guilty. Did I want to wish it instead on someone else of my group? My master perhaps, or even steadfast Fumiko? Could I even allow myself to think of sacrificing Cabrina?

  I had immediately asked what would happen if we abandoned our quest. But she said the result was the same. All the paths into the future converged at that point. We might change who it was, or exactly when it occurred, but the outcome would be the same. Which was why she could tell me. Her words wouldn’t change anything for me or my party. The one change that could possibly occur had already happened—by telling me her mother would be saved. She had apologized for her selfishness. Not that I could blame her.

  I heard one of our attendants shuffle outside, thinking Spraggel might be returning. There were whispers in their language and then steps away, so evidently not—just a changing of our escort. I grinned. Spraggel must have found someone more interesting to spend time with.

  Upon entering our assigned hut for the night, Cabrina had collapsed exhausted onto her mat and instantly fallen asleep. I could hear her softly snoring.

  I heard movement on the other side of Zofie and saw Fumiko sit up. She rubbed her side where she had been injured. I sighed. It was hard to believe it had only been three days since that had happened.

  She glanced in my direction and saw I was awake. She whispered, “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m having trouble sleeping. My ribs still hurt.”

  I shook my head and whispered back. “You didn’t bother me.” I thought of a line from a play Zofie liked. “‘Darkness may fall and sleep elude us...’” I paused, hoping Fumiko would complete it. But she just shook her head.

  I sighed. “‘But dawn waits for no man.’”

  Fumiko rubbed her side. “Sorry Coren. I know you’re trying to get me to complete it, but I don’t know what it is. Only Zofie can do those.”

  And I knew she was right. It made me miss her all the more.

  Fumiko pulled at her bindings. “Could you loosen these? They rebound me after my bath, but they got them too tight.”

  She knelt on her mat while I sat behind her. She tried to lower her tunic but couldn’t get through the opening. “Turn away for a moment,” she asked.

  I did and heard rustling cloth.

  “All right,” she said.

  I turned around to find she had taken off her tunic and wrapped it around her waist but left her bare back facing me.

  I set about my task, unwinding it while she held up her arms. I then reversed course and felt around trying to get the binding restarted, but something didn’t feel right.

  Fumiko chuckled. “A little lower Coren, or I’m going to think you’re trying to seduce me.”

  My face burned hot. I was far from an expert in female anatomy, but I quickly figured out what I was touching. “Sorry,” I mumbled and shifted my aim. I worked in silence, basking in my embarrassment.

  “How does that feel,” I asked when the last wrap was secured.

  She rotated her arm. “Much better. Not nearly as uncomfortable.

  She held the tunic to her chest and shifted around to kneel facing me. I couldn’t help but notice the slender curves of her shoulders. She smiled. “Thank you. You have good hands.”

  Zofie sighed in her sleep, and I suddenly realized how near Fumiko was. How little she wore. And how beautiful she was.

  I looked away. “I guess I’ll try going to sleep now.”

  But she put a hand on my knee keeping me from rising. She searched my eyes, and her expression grew serious. She leaned closer. I froze, a rabbit caught in a myst light.

  Then she seemed to catch herself and slowly straightened and clutched the tunic tightly to her chest. “You need some more skills. If you’re not too tired, I can share some more with you.”

  I glanced to Zofie and then back to Fumiko. “How many more until I’m done.”

  “At least one more. You’re a sponge for the information. But from here on out, you’ll need to practice harder to cement the skills. Otherwise, the transfer will evaporate.”

  I was tired, but if all went to plan, we would be at the gates of the Kuiojia Empire tomorrow. There wasn’t much time.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

  Fumiko made a twirling gesture, and I realized she needed to put her tunic back on. I blushed and once again turned away.

  Once dressed, she knelt beside my head as I lay on my mat and put her fingers on my temples. She had her back to the dim myst light in the room, so her face was nothing but a shadow.

  “Coren, the skills I’m giving you tonight are tied to a memory you will not like. I beg your forgiveness, but I cannot change the past.”

  I shrugged. “It can’t be that bad.”

  I felt her myst gathering. “Coren, you severely underestimate me.”

  And then I was sucked into Fumiko’s memory.

  I paused in the dark corridor, my back to the wall, and listened to the small sounds around me. I heard the light steps of a guard in another part of the building, a light snoring in the room up ahead, and as expected, a much heavier snoring from one floor up. No one was close by. I quietly crept down the corridor—the placement of my feet deliberate and entirely silent.

  It was three years since the sorting. After that event, our training had changed. The basics had been learned, so instead, we were taught how to apply them. To deadly effect.

  After the sorting, I had received two things, both of which I was extremely proud of. The first was a small tattoo in the upper corner of my back—a butterfly, beautifully done in reds and blues. The second was a pair of daggers of unsurpassed beauty and utility with blades of an unusual dark forging—to better hide with the weapons drawn. I kept them sharp enough to cut your finger if you lightly touched them. And this night was my first mission. I would be handsomely rewarded if I completed it successfully. Or killed if I didn’t.

  My deadly blades were now strapped to my back within easy reach, but so they wouldn’t move as I walked. It would be only a few more minutes before I needed them.

  I made my way to a set of stairs and silently climbed them, flitting from shadow to shadow as I moved. This opened into another corridor, which unlike the one below, was lit with a dim myst lantern.

  I could see two guards standing at the room’s only door. Up until this point, the map I had memorized and the information I had been given had been completely accurate. That information had said there was only one guard at the door. Unfortunately, it was doubly wrong. I wondered what other pieces of information were incorrect.

  But I could not afford to hesitate. I used my myst to cloak myself in shadow and crept forward. I pulled my knives and before they knew it, slammed both blades into their throats. Neither made a sound as I eased them to the floor.

  Being careful not to step in their blood, I listened at the door. There was only snoring. But listening closer, there was also another even fainter breathing. Another piece of information omitted. I had not been warned that he might have a bed partner.

  I silently lifted the latch on the heavy door and slowly, oh so slowly, pushed it until its opening was barely large enough to admit me. I slipped inside and quickly stepped into the shadow offered by the lee of the door. Then ever so quietly, I eased the door shut.

  The inside of the room was almost totally dark. There were no windows, and the walls were of dense stone. The only way in or out was through the door behind me.

  I pulled out my special myst light, which provided a dim but narrowly focused illumination. I used it to quickly scan the interior.

&nbs
p; My intelligence had been vague on the room. Not many people were allowed inside. I had been assured there was a large bed, a high ceiling, and a door leading to a bath. But that was all they had been able to discern. Even the servants had been tightlipped. Of course, it was because if they revealed any details of the room, they would be executed. And they were tested regularly.

  Clothes had been carelessly thrown about the room. I frowned. One was a ripped woman’s blouse—someone had certainly been eager.

  I stepped toward the bed, careful of the soft carpet I tread on, and using my light to closely watch for any sign of a trap. It would have been easy to hide a myst alarm within its plushness. I froze. Something didn’t look right. I reversed the step and went to one knee to look closer. And indeed found something. While it used a myst concealment, a tiny ridge ran the perimeter of the bed.

  I stared at it. If I crossed it, it would likely set off all manner of alarms. I swung my light back and forth over it. The carpet was indeed plush, and my feet sunk into it. But if I looked closely, I could tell there was a path where the fibers were trampled just a bit more than the others. It was a path that led from the bed toward the bath. I smiled. Someone liked to come straight to the bed after their bath.

  I moved to that path and noticed there seemed to be a gap in the bed’s protection. I followed the path exactly and came to the edge of the bed.

  Peering down, I could see my target. I knew he was a powerful lord, but otherwise, I knew little else. All I had were my orders. It was all I needed.

  In one smooth stroke, I put a hand over his mouth and slit his throat. He died quietly. His awful snoring dying with him.

  The bed’s other occupant groaned and sat up—female by the sound. I froze in place and readied my knife. She swung her legs over the other side and stood. I heard fumbling and realized she was going to turn on a light. My eyes went wide. I could not be seen.

  As fast as I could move, I came around the perimeter of the bed to confront her. My knife quickly found her throat, but not before the light started. She gazed at me wide-eyed as she died.

  To my horror, she was only a girl at least a handful of years younger than me. She was barely more than a child. Her face was covered in bruises, and dried blood came from her nose. I carefully eased her back to the bed. I clenched my fists as guilt flooded me. She had been no wife or concubine. But a victim. Beaten and raped, only to then be murdered because she was in the wrong place.

  I extinguished the light returning the room to blackness.

  But I could still see her eyes.

  I was jerked out of Fumiko’s memory.

  Disoriented, I looked around the interior trying to figure out where I was. I gradually realized I was in one of the village’s huts and not in some lord’s huge manor. But the memory felt incomplete. I hadn’t received any skills.

  Fumiko still leaned over me, her hands trembling. I felt something wet hit my cheek. She jerked her hands away from me and wrapped them around herself. With her change in position, I could see her eyes rimmed with tears and her face a mask of sorrow.

  I turned and put a hand on her knee. “Are you all right?” I asked.

  She didn’t respond at first. She took a deep breath before looking up at me through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she said shakily. “I couldn’t finish. I thought I had buried those feelings, but apparently, they’re still there.”

  I moved to sit cross-legged before her, processing what she had just revealed. The implications were hard to accept.

  “You were an assassin.” It wasn’t an accusation, but a statement of fact.

  She nodded. “I’ve killed so many people, I don’t remember them all.” She took a ragged breath. “Although there are a few, I can’t seem to forget.” She gazed at me levelly for a moment and then suddenly stood. “I’m sorry. I can’t continue tonight. I’ve lost focus. Maybe we can try this again tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” I mumbled as my eyes followed her.

  She returned to her mat and then lay down, her back to me.

  I laid back down on my own mat. My brain swirled. Fumiko had been trained as an assassin. A lot of things fell into place—her sword skills, her ability at stealth, even the fine dagger she carried around. The calm, shy, intellectual girl I knew—was a cold-blooded murderer.

  I suddenly wondered if perhaps there had been another reason for Fumiko sharing her memories with me. The normally cool young woman had trouble expressing her feelings, so maybe this was her way of sharing her misery.

  She had told me previously that sleep was not her friend. I now understood why.

  Because now, the eyes of that young girl haunted me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Reunion

  A fitful sleep finally found me, but I awoke the next morning, unrested and groggy. My slumber had been interrupted several times by the nightmares of a young girl’s shocked face. But in the final dream, it had been Cabrina. I gave up after that.

  Fumiko was already gone from her mat.

  I hadn’t been up too much longer when two of the villagers quietly brought our clothes back to us. I thanked them and proceeded to get Zofie up and dressed. Cabrina refused to budge, grumbling, and turning over when I nudged her. I finally gave up and just left her to sleep.

  Spraggel, accompanied by the older woman I had seen him with the evening before, came in half-way through getting Zofie dressed. He was chipper and bright, talking incessantly about the people and their culture. He claimed to have already learned some of their language. He patted the arm of his companion, explaining he had an excellent teacher. She practically beamed at him.

  I couldn’t handle all the cheerfulness and grabbed my sword, heading off for a few minutes of practice. Spraggel promised to make sure Zofie got fed and to get Cabrina up. I looked to the youth deep in slumber and wished him luck.

  I was hoping a little exercise would clear my mind, and I was not the only one with such thoughts. I found Fumiko in a nearby clear spot at the edge of the village. A few of the villagers were watching as she practiced.

  I had never observed Fumiko going through her forms before. She tended to practice in private, and now I understood why. I watched as she went through a series of moves I remembered from the first memory she had shared. And just like Jiaying had, she was going through them agonizingly slow.

  I know she saw me approach, but she deliberately ignored me. And I thought I knew the reason. She was expecting rejection.

  Instead, I stepped up beside her and picked up the form with her. She cut her eyes in my direction, but otherwise gave no indication I was there. Together in perfect synchrony, we went through the form—turn, step, point, stab, block, slice. We went through the whole routine. Then without a pause, did it again, only this time at a slightly faster pace. And finally again, going faster still. I had never moved so well. I was still rough, but the skills she had shared with me were unbelievable. And then I realized that each and every memory she gave me had cost her dearly. It was part of a life she no longer had wanted. But she had been willing to dig those awful memories up to give me a few pieces of gold. It was indeed a rich gift.

  When we had finished, covered in sweat and out of breath, I turned to her, and as I had seen in her memory, bowed from the waist. She hesitated a moment but returned the bow. When she stood, she started to turn away, her expression frozen. But I extended my right hand toward her.

  “Thank you,” I said simply. “For everything. This has cost you greatly, and I am forever in your debt.”

  She hesitated, looking down at my hand and then back up to my face.

  “Fumiko,” I said, looking into her eyes. “Will you still be my friend?”

  Her lower lip began to tremble, and her eyes grew moist. But she did not break her frozen expression. As someone drowning and reaching for help, she grasped my hand and gripped it tightly. I pulled her forward and gave her a friendly hug, only to have her openly weep into my shoulder. And I understood why.

  T
here was no more hiding. No more pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She had shown me her worst, and I had accepted it.

  When she stepped back, still wearing that frozen expression, I thought I saw the corner of her mouth curl up into the glimmer of a smile.

  At a little before noon, we gathered in the center of the village and prepared to resume our journey. I had already briefed Fumiko and Spraggel on Haahleefah’s foretelling and asked their opinion on whether to proceed or return home. Neither of them hesitated and said we should continue. We would just have to be careful.

  To see us off, they brought out Oddfrid on a stretcher. He looked better than he had but was still pale and very weak. I thanked him for what he had done and promised to reward him when we returned. He seemed surprised at my heartfelt thanks.

  Kaleefah, and the ever-present Haahleefah, stood with us. “Be careful,” said the elder. “I will open a portal near the gates of the empire. But near is a relative term. I haven’t been there in... well, longer than I care to talk about. So I will have to open the gate somewhere I’m fairly confident will still be there. If memory serves me right, you will still have a two-hour walk to get there.”

  I smiled. “That will certainly be closer than we are now.”

  Off to the side, Spraggel was talking with the lady I had seen accompanying him during our stay. He took her hand and kissed it, saying something in her language. She threw her arms around him and hugged him so tight I thought I heard his joints crack.

  Fumiko and Cabrina stood to one side along with Zofie. All of us were dressed in our travel clothes and had been provided refreshed provisions by our hosts.

  I bowed to her. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help. If there is ever anything we can do for you, please let us know.”