CHAPTER THIRTY
THE ASSASSIN
I sensed them long before I saw them.
It was the settling, my mother had called it, the balance of thought and intent pushing its way into new places, finding a place to settle, displacing the air. It made your fingertips tingle, your hair rise on your neck, it reached into your heart and added a beat, and if you were practiced, it spoke to you. The settling was strongest when those thoughts and intents were foreign, out of place, or urgent, and there was no one more out of place or urgent in Terravin than Griz, Malich, Eben, and Finch.
I skimmed the heads of the crowd, and Griz’s head easily loomed above the others. He wore his cap pulled low to shadow his face. His scars were a sure way to make small children shriek and grown men pale. When I was certain he’d seen me too, I wove my way through the crowd and slipped down a quiet lane, knowing they’d follow.
When we were a safe distance away, I spun around. “Are you nicked in the head? What are you doing here?”
“How long does it take to part a girl from her noggin?” Finch growled.
“You’re early. And there’ve been complications.”
“Curse it!” Griz said. “Pop her head tonight, and let’s go.”
“I’ll do it!” Eben said.
I shot Eben a menacing glare and looked back at Griz. “I’m still getting information. It might be useful to the Komizar.”
Griz squinted and raised a suspicious scarred brow. “What kind of information?”
“Give me one more week. The job will be done, and we’ll meet when and where I told you. Don’t show your faces here again.”
“A week,” Finch moaned.
Malich looked around dramatically. “Must be quite agreeable sleeping in a bed, eating hot food out of a real pot, and enjoying who knows what other pleasures. I might like to share in some of—”
“One week,” I repeated. “But I can always tell the Komizar you were impatient and I had to forgo information that would benefit Venda.”
Malich glared. “I think it’s more than information you’re getting.”
“What of it?” I taunted.
Malich had never made a secret of his contempt for me. The feeling was mutual. He was jealous of my favored status with the Komizar and of my quarters in the fortress tower instead of the council wing, where he lived. I disliked his overly zealous methods. But he was capable in his duties. Deadly, shrewd, and loyal. He had covered my back more than once—for Venda’s sake, if not mine.
Griz stomped away without any more words to me, cuffing Eben on the back of the head as he left. “Let’s go.”
Finch grumbled. He was the only one among us who had a wife at home. He had reason to begrudge any further waiting. We had all been gone for the better part of a year. Malich rubbed the finely trimmed hair on his jaw, scrutinizing me before he turned and followed the others.
One week.
I had pulled it out of thin air. One week would make no difference. There was no information. No reason to delay. In seven days, I would slit Lia’s throat because Venda meant more to me than she did. Because the Komizar had saved me when no one else would. I couldn’t leave this job undone. She was one of them, and one day she would return to them.
But for now, I had seven more days.