Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [55]
"No, why here-why follow me?" corrected Walker. "I know nothing of your couriers."
"You do know something," she said. "Something that will help in my invest-"
"I know nothing of your couriers," repeated Walker.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" asked Arya. Walker turned the knife he held to her throat. "Well, I suppose I'll have to take your word-"
"Indeed," said Walker.
Then he took the blade away from her throat, though he made no move to release her. He did not even realize he was still holding her until she tilted her head, examining his face.
"It was you, wasn't it?" she said excitedly, as though making a discovery. "You saved me. You're not as old as I thought-you can't have seen many more winters than me. Why do you wear your collar so high? What are you hiding?"
Not answering any of her questions, Walker released her and stepped away, toward his fallen sword. She stood there for a heartbeat, massaging her stung wrist. Then, as though remembering something, she clutched the trailing edge of his cloak and stayed him.
"You're going after one of Greyt's friends, Bilgren," Arya said, holding him back.
Walker shrugged, as if to concede the possibility.
Arya continued. "Turn back. Knowing my… knowing him, it's probably a trap."
Walker smiled. "It matters not," he said. He turned. "If you knew how I am committed, you would not stop me." He pulled his cloak out of her grasp and stalked away.
* * * * *
"Wait!" Arya shouted, not knowing why. She had almost let him fade away into the shadows, but something within wouldn't let her.
He turned, showing no emotion at all in his face, but she could tell he was confused.
The rush of words burst out of her faster than her mind could hold it back. "I wanted to thank you for saving me the other night."
Walker's expression did not change, but Arya could feel something shift. That had startled him. He stood still for a moment, gazing at her, and she felt none of his bitter, icy resolve burning at her. Instead, he seemed almost a simple man gazing at her through the darkness.
"You are welcome," Walker said quietly. He turned, bent low to retrieve the weapon, then headed back toward the street. Then he paused and looked back.
"What is it?" Arya asked, knitting her brows in confusion.
"I apologize for frightening you," said Walker. "You were in no danger." His voice was soft, almost gentle.
It is the curse of quick words-when one shouldn't respond, they come, and when one needs to speak, they are mysteriously absent. When Arya could not form a reply, Walker bowed his head and turned to go.
Arya blinked. What a quandary this man seemed: a creature of darkness, with vengeance burning in his eyes, and yet he had saved her. Arya felt the same conflicting duality as she looked upon him. On the one hand, his cold stare frightened her, and the rage she had seen in his eyes sent chills down her spine. But on the other, he intrigued her, taking her beyond her initial curiosity. And something told her that he hid much behind those blue eyes, beneath that black cloak…
That thought made her blush, but she hadn't meant it that way. Too much time around Derst, perhaps.
Now, Arya realized with a start, Walker was going back into the shadows, but slowly. There was more he wanted to say, she could sense, but he did not have the words. Something about the way he carried himself and the way he moved set her heart to racing.
"Stop!" said Arya without meaning to. She realized she'd stopped him a third time.
Walker turned back, and his eyes appraised her. "You possess courage," he said.
It sounded almost mocking, and Arya puffed out her chest. "Why do you say that?"
Walker may have smiled behind his high collar. "You do not fear me."
"Should I?"
Walker's gaze was her only answer.
Arya felt her defiant spirit flaring, and a retort came to mind. Her mouth was moving first, though, before she even considered what was to come out.
"Evil holds no terror for me," said Arya, baiting him.
"Then you should feel terror indeed, for I hold no evil