thunderstruck. For a moment he could not so much as speak. Fortunately he did not have to, for Adara did instead. “Who are you?” she said. “What do you want?”
For a moment, Mako did not answer. Then he moved, making Ebon flinch—but he only took a step back, so that he did not impale himself on Adara’s dagger when he gave a deep bow.
“I beg your every pardon, my lady, for this intrusion. To disturb you was my last wish. I only sought my master, Ebon, of the family Drayden. He is the boy standing there just behind you.”
Ebon gawked. Adara glanced back at him. He nodded, and slowly she withdrew her dagger. Mako, seeing the motion, straightened from his bow—and then he fixed Ebon with a hard stare.
“Come with me, little goldshitter. There is work to be done.”
seven
MAKO [2]
After bidding Adara a hasty farewell, and promising to return as soon as he could, Ebon followed Mako into the streets. The moment they had turned a corner, he seized the bodyguard’s arm to pull him around. Mako gave the hand on his elbow a hard look, but Ebon did not care.
“How did you know I was there? I have not even seen you since we fought with Isra. Where have you been?”
“You have never been curious about my whereabouts before,” said Mako. “I thought it was because you did not wish to know. Nor have you ever asked how I knew where you were. It is a sort of assumed truth between us, is it not?”
Ebon’s nostrils flared, and his hand curled to a fist at his side. But what could he do? Striking Mako would do no good—even if the bodyguard did not strike back, which seemed doubtful.
In truth, he was terrified that Mako knew where Adara lived. But then, as he thought of it, it seemed likely that Mako had had that knowledge for some time. In fact, it would not have surprised Ebon if Mako had known the dwelling of every denizen on the Seat, and their families across the nine kingdoms besides. That was, after all, part of his duty. Not only as a Drayden bodyguard and messenger, but also as their assassin.
Something of Ebon’s thoughts must have shown in his face, for Mako laughed at him. “You may unclench yourself, little Ebon. Your lover is in no danger from me.”
“Oh? And what about from Shay?”
Mako’s mouth soured in an instant. “From what we have learned of your father, I certainly will not be reporting anything to him—about Adara, or anything else.”
Rather than bringing comfort, the words further darkened Ebon’s mood—except instead of anger, he felt a cold fear. He saw Matami’s gaping eye socket, heard his uncle’s screams.
And then he remembered their fight against Isra, when the girl struck with her magic. But Mako stood untouched and leapt forwards with his dagger. Her magic had been powerless against him, and Ebon still did not know why.
“You are very silent, Ebon,” said Mako. “Come. Speak. What do you wish to tell me?”
“I …” Ebon swallowed hard. Something, some urgent voice in the back of his mind, told him not to speak of what he had seen during the fight. “You mentioned my father. It brought an unpleasant memory to the fore.”
“Does Matami still plague your thoughts? If everyone were so naive as you, there would be no more war in Underrealm.”
“Never mind that now,” said Ebon. “I must tell you something about Isra. Last night, in the Academy—”
“She appeared,” said Mako. “I know it, boy. That is why I have come to see you in the first place. Did you think I sought to converse for my pleasure? I do not think either of us have enjoyed ourselves so far.”
Ebon looked around. He did not recognize the streets they passed through. A twinge of nerves struck him. “Where are we going, exactly? You cannot know where she is already.”
Mako snorted. “Of course not. You are more craven than that old instructor of yours, Ebon, and it suits you ill. I wish we were going to see her now, so that I could end the little girl once and for
For a moment, Mako did not answer. Then he moved, making Ebon flinch—but he only took a step back, so that he did not impale himself on Adara’s dagger when he gave a deep bow.
“I beg your every pardon, my lady, for this intrusion. To disturb you was my last wish. I only sought my master, Ebon, of the family Drayden. He is the boy standing there just behind you.”
Ebon gawked. Adara glanced back at him. He nodded, and slowly she withdrew her dagger. Mako, seeing the motion, straightened from his bow—and then he fixed Ebon with a hard stare.
“Come with me, little goldshitter. There is work to be done.”
seven
MAKO [2]
After bidding Adara a hasty farewell, and promising to return as soon as he could, Ebon followed Mako into the streets. The moment they had turned a corner, he seized the bodyguard’s arm to pull him around. Mako gave the hand on his elbow a hard look, but Ebon did not care.
“How did you know I was there? I have not even seen you since we fought with Isra. Where have you been?”
“You have never been curious about my whereabouts before,” said Mako. “I thought it was because you did not wish to know. Nor have you ever asked how I knew where you were. It is a sort of assumed truth between us, is it not?”
Ebon’s nostrils flared, and his hand curled to a fist at his side. But what could he do? Striking Mako would do no good—even if the bodyguard did not strike back, which seemed doubtful.
In truth, he was terrified that Mako knew where Adara lived. But then, as he thought of it, it seemed likely that Mako had had that knowledge for some time. In fact, it would not have surprised Ebon if Mako had known the dwelling of every denizen on the Seat, and their families across the nine kingdoms besides. That was, after all, part of his duty. Not only as a Drayden bodyguard and messenger, but also as their assassin.
Something of Ebon’s thoughts must have shown in his face, for Mako laughed at him. “You may unclench yourself, little Ebon. Your lover is in no danger from me.”
“Oh? And what about from Shay?”
Mako’s mouth soured in an instant. “From what we have learned of your father, I certainly will not be reporting anything to him—about Adara, or anything else.”
Rather than bringing comfort, the words further darkened Ebon’s mood—except instead of anger, he felt a cold fear. He saw Matami’s gaping eye socket, heard his uncle’s screams.
And then he remembered their fight against Isra, when the girl struck with her magic. But Mako stood untouched and leapt forwards with his dagger. Her magic had been powerless against him, and Ebon still did not know why.
“You are very silent, Ebon,” said Mako. “Come. Speak. What do you wish to tell me?”
“I …” Ebon swallowed hard. Something, some urgent voice in the back of his mind, told him not to speak of what he had seen during the fight. “You mentioned my father. It brought an unpleasant memory to the fore.”
“Does Matami still plague your thoughts? If everyone were so naive as you, there would be no more war in Underrealm.”
“Never mind that now,” said Ebon. “I must tell you something about Isra. Last night, in the Academy—”
“She appeared,” said Mako. “I know it, boy. That is why I have come to see you in the first place. Did you think I sought to converse for my pleasure? I do not think either of us have enjoyed ourselves so far.”
Ebon looked around. He did not recognize the streets they passed through. A twinge of nerves struck him. “Where are we going, exactly? You cannot know where she is already.”
Mako snorted. “Of course not. You are more craven than that old instructor of yours, Ebon, and it suits you ill. I wish we were going to see her now, so that I could end the little girl once and for
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