Vayle pointed her chin at the lethargic caravan in the distance. “Speaking of coin, how much did you take from the Edenvaile vault?”
“Four times what I was promised,” I said, grinning. “After all, we did a lot more than just discover who assassinated Vileoux Verdan.”
“He’s to die tomorrow,” she said. “Along with the others, even Mydia, who seems to have had little part in this.”
“Tomorrow,” I said, rubbing some warmth back into my frozen hands, “I’ll be fifty miles away from here. Will my commander be joining me?”
Vayle rubbed her tired eyes. “I do not mean to cause inconvenience, but I am in dire need of a month away from everything I’ve ever known.” Her chapped lips remained parted slightly. She drummed her hand along the leather of her thigh, eliciting a consternating tune. “Ah,” she said, pushing a deep breath out. She shook her head and flashed me a frustrated grin.
“It’s fine. I don’t need to know everything, Vayle.”
“You deserve to,” she said. “I, er—” Her hands revolved around one another, trying to churn the words out. “You know I’ve never accepted a job unless it resulted in justice. An assassination must be in good faith. I thought this war would end in the greatest capture of justice I’d ever experienced. And… it did, in a way. But, Astul, I…”
I reached out and held her hand. “It’s all the dead, isn’t it?”
Her eyes were closed. “The snow hasn’t covered them yet. And the cold, it… I thought it would—”
“Cover the rot?” I suggested.
Her teeth sawed across her lip. “I can still smell them.”
“I know,” I said quietly, closing her fingers inside my palm.
“I just, well — I feel very strange.”
“Am I going to lose you?” I asked.
She swallowed and looked up, eyes reddened and moist. “Let me go away for a while. I’ll return. I promise.”
After the lengthy silence, Vayle regathered herself. “And you? Where will you go?”
“I made a promise to Tylik that we’d rectify the small problem with the guard who burned his toes off.”
“What problem is that?”
“That he still has his toes.”
“You may want to get there quickly. Braddock, Dercy and Patrick are organizing a large force to sail for Lith soon. Well, in the general direction of where they believe Lith lies.”
“First I’m paying a visit to my brother’s grave.”
“I didn’t think you believed in talking to the dead.”
“It’s my brother, and on the off chance the dead have ears, I suppose a, er… well, a brief hello wouldn’t be out of order.”
Vayle embraced me tightly, patting my back. “Stay safe. I’ll see you back at the Hole soon enough, I promise.”
As my commander fled back toward Edenvaile, I felt cold and empty. Funny thing that, since I had enough gold to buy a kingdom, had earned myself a reputation as the death knell of the conjurers, and hell, I’d accomplished everything I set out to do: preserved my freedom and the Rots’ way of life. Thing is, this grand chase had ended. Throughout it, my nearest companion was Death. And now? Now I was safe and secure. The adventure and the peril had fled from my life, and I… well, I missed them.
And that was why I made plans to go visit my brother. Not to say hello to the dead, as I’d told Vayle I would. No, morbid curiosity drove me. Or perhaps less curiosity and more hope. A hope that I could recapture the adventure and the peril. A hope that maybe there was something greater and more dangerous out there than the conjurers. A hope that whatever words I would say at my brother’s grave wouldn’t fall on the ears of the dead.
My eyes fell to the hilt of my sword, still smeared with a small chunk of gelatinous blood from Rivon’s belly. I spat on my finger and wiped it off, till the blade ran clean with black ebon.
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The Miscreant, Book 2 of an Assassin’s Blade trilogy, is available for pre-order now: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01BSWODII
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About the Author
Justin DePaoli used to call Pittsburgh home, but he now lives in Kentucky with his fiancee, stilt-legged German shepherd, two cats, and a company of fish.
When he’s not writing, he enjoys playing guitar (quite poorly), running, playing video games, and spending time with his fiancee and menagerie of pets.
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The Misbegotten (An Assassin's Blade Book 1) Page 35
