his face. His brightest students from over the years must now be some of the most notorious murderers in the world. And he was an assassin himself. He couldn't change that. He would, however, change his prey. He would excise the cancers he had helped unleash upon the world.
"Do you always brood while you shave?"
Having inexplicably let down his guard, Jaska flinched when he heard the priestess's voice. "I'm not at one with myself."
She spoke a command and the nearby sunstone flared to full strength, revealing the smooth lines of her face and her deep-set eyes. "Do you wish to talk about it?"
"My burden is great, priestess."
"I am here to share your burden, that is one of the things priestesses do after all. But please, call me Zyrella."
Tentatively, Jaska spoke to her about the confusion of his emotions. He wasn't accustomed to sharing his thoughts with others. "The reality of what I've done, of who I have been . . ." He shook his head. "I have trained many assassins over the years. I thought them sincere students. I still picture them that way. I cannot see their evil for what it was."
Jaska finished shaving. "How did I do?"
"Well enough, considering."
"My head needs shaving as well, but I don't have the strength. My hands are beginning to shake and it's difficult to move my left arm."
"I can do it for you, if you wish."
"I guess I can allow that."
"You sound unsure."
"It's just that I'm used to taking care of myself."
"You didn't have servants like the other high ranking palymfar . . . or a companion?"
"I refused servants, but I did live with a beautiful woman, perfect and alluring, intelligent and playful. I loved her deeply, but now . . . I don't know."
Zyrella felt a stab of jealousy. "Who is she?"
"Mardha. Salahn's daughter."
"Oh." I should have known, she thought.
"Evil surrounds her in my nightmares, but I don't really know her in waking. You know of her don't you? I can see it in your face. She is nothing like I described is she?"
"I'm sorry, Jaska. Mardha is a bloodletter and demon-binder. Salahn's most devoted servant."
"It's just as well," he said, though it wasn't. He felt betrayed down to the deepest part of his being. The love he had felt for Mardha, and for his mentor, all of it was false and he had nothing except the pity of a priestess and the need of her goddess.
While he stared off lost in his misery, Zyrella started a tiny fire and heated some water. "You should stretch, Jaska, but don't strain yourself."
He began the simplest stretching routine, the one first taught to orphans recruited by the palymfar. His movements were limited but he did his best. Eventually he paused, brooding about the young orphans who always adored him.
"Still thinking of your students?"
"Yes. I can't bear having taught them how best to commit evil upon others."
With a hand on his back, she guided him to the pool. "Kneel."
Zyrella rinsed his head with the hot water then smoothed a few drops of oil across his scalp.
Jaska's body tensed, his eyes narrowed. "I molded them into what they are, and now I must see them destroyed. Each and every one." His voice sounded so cold and relentless. Chills ran down Zyrella's back. "I'll do whatever I must to restore the palymfar to what they once were, to what they should be. I won't rest until then. You were right, Zyrella, I can't give up. I have too much work to do, too much to atone for."
Zyrella cringed at what she had unleashed, even though it was what they needed. He would have been better off had they let him die. But he had been born for this work. This was the destiny Salahn had feared. She only hoped Jaska's turning hadn't come too late.
As Jaska returned to his pallet, Ohzikar crept away from the cave entrance where he had been listening in hiding. He didn't understand Zyrella's attraction to the man, and he wasn't sure what he should do about it.
~~~
Jaska spent three days walking and stretching, eating as much as he could, and building up his
"Do you always brood while you shave?"
Having inexplicably let down his guard, Jaska flinched when he heard the priestess's voice. "I'm not at one with myself."
She spoke a command and the nearby sunstone flared to full strength, revealing the smooth lines of her face and her deep-set eyes. "Do you wish to talk about it?"
"My burden is great, priestess."
"I am here to share your burden, that is one of the things priestesses do after all. But please, call me Zyrella."
Tentatively, Jaska spoke to her about the confusion of his emotions. He wasn't accustomed to sharing his thoughts with others. "The reality of what I've done, of who I have been . . ." He shook his head. "I have trained many assassins over the years. I thought them sincere students. I still picture them that way. I cannot see their evil for what it was."
Jaska finished shaving. "How did I do?"
"Well enough, considering."
"My head needs shaving as well, but I don't have the strength. My hands are beginning to shake and it's difficult to move my left arm."
"I can do it for you, if you wish."
"I guess I can allow that."
"You sound unsure."
"It's just that I'm used to taking care of myself."
"You didn't have servants like the other high ranking palymfar . . . or a companion?"
"I refused servants, but I did live with a beautiful woman, perfect and alluring, intelligent and playful. I loved her deeply, but now . . . I don't know."
Zyrella felt a stab of jealousy. "Who is she?"
"Mardha. Salahn's daughter."
"Oh." I should have known, she thought.
"Evil surrounds her in my nightmares, but I don't really know her in waking. You know of her don't you? I can see it in your face. She is nothing like I described is she?"
"I'm sorry, Jaska. Mardha is a bloodletter and demon-binder. Salahn's most devoted servant."
"It's just as well," he said, though it wasn't. He felt betrayed down to the deepest part of his being. The love he had felt for Mardha, and for his mentor, all of it was false and he had nothing except the pity of a priestess and the need of her goddess.
While he stared off lost in his misery, Zyrella started a tiny fire and heated some water. "You should stretch, Jaska, but don't strain yourself."
He began the simplest stretching routine, the one first taught to orphans recruited by the palymfar. His movements were limited but he did his best. Eventually he paused, brooding about the young orphans who always adored him.
"Still thinking of your students?"
"Yes. I can't bear having taught them how best to commit evil upon others."
With a hand on his back, she guided him to the pool. "Kneel."
Zyrella rinsed his head with the hot water then smoothed a few drops of oil across his scalp.
Jaska's body tensed, his eyes narrowed. "I molded them into what they are, and now I must see them destroyed. Each and every one." His voice sounded so cold and relentless. Chills ran down Zyrella's back. "I'll do whatever I must to restore the palymfar to what they once were, to what they should be. I won't rest until then. You were right, Zyrella, I can't give up. I have too much work to do, too much to atone for."
Zyrella cringed at what she had unleashed, even though it was what they needed. He would have been better off had they let him die. But he had been born for this work. This was the destiny Salahn had feared. She only hoped Jaska's turning hadn't come too late.
As Jaska returned to his pallet, Ohzikar crept away from the cave entrance where he had been listening in hiding. He didn't understand Zyrella's attraction to the man, and he wasn't sure what he should do about it.
~~~
Jaska spent three days walking and stretching, eating as much as he could, and building up his
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