Realms of Valor - James Lowder [45]
she tapped him on the shoulder. Startled, he whirled toward her, dropping the knife in his surprise. A flick of Arilyn's booted foot sent the weapon flying into the underbrush. Shock claimed the boy's face for only an instant, then his young features firmed into a grim mask. “Do you have a name?” Arilyn asked in a calm tone. Her question took the boy by surprise. “Hasheth,” he answered, before he could think the better of it. He glared at her with a mixture of youthful bravado and fierce pride. It would seem, Arilyn noted wryly, that I've snared a small hawk. 'That blade has to come out,“ she said. Even in the faint moonlight, she could see Hasheth blanch. A sympathetic smile curved her lips. ”It's not as bad as you'd think. A hidden device on the handle releases the barbs, and they fold up as the knife withdraws. There is no more pain than any other shallow wound would cause.“ She paused and raised one eyebrow. ”They do teach you to withstand pain at the School of Stealth?“ ”Of course,“ he responded indignantly. So she was right about the boy, Arilyn mused. He was a student assassin. She stood and took a step forward. ”You'll have to turn around,“ she suggested. The boy drew back from her. ”No man turns his back on an enemy,“ Hasheth proclaimed. ”Really.“ Arilyn folded her arms. ”In that case you'd better prepare to walk back to the School of Stealth. You'll never sit on a horse with a knife in your-“ ”Enough!“ The lad silenced her with an imperious gesture. Pride and pain fought for dominance of his dark face. Finally he turned, averting his eyes. ”Quickly,“ he muttered from between gritted teeth. ”I have not all night to waste.“ ”Have a few other assassinations lined up, do you?“ Danilo asked cheerfully as he strode into the clearing. ”Didn't I tell you to wait?“ Arilyn asked. ”Sorry,“ Danilo responded without a touch of repentance. ”I would have died of curiosity. Let's have a look at your would-be assassin, shall we?“ The nobleman drew a bit of flint from the bag that hung at his waist and muttered an arcane phrase. His spell was rewarded with a flash of light, and a small campfire appeared in the clearing's center. ”I say, that must have stung,“ Danilo said as he eyed the boy's messy wound. Hasheth's black eyes swept over the nobleman's silken attire and expression of prissy dismay. The lad sniffed and he turned aside, dismissing Danilo as one unworthy of notice or comment. ”The knife?“ Hasheth reminded Arilyn. The half-elf selected a slender pick from the small tool pouch at her belt. She slid it into a hidden opening on the knife's elaborate handle. When her keen ears heard the tiny click, she pulled the blade free. The boy's only response was a quick intake of breath. Danilo made an exaggerated show of sympathy, then took a vial from his leather bag and handed it to the boy. ”A healing potion,“ the nobleman explained in response to Hasheth's suspicious glare. ”I have no use for your barbarian sorcery," the would-be assassin said with contempt.
“Ordinarily I'd consider that a mark in your favor,” Arilyn told the boy. She eyed him sternly and ordered him to drink up. After one final suspicious glance at Danilo, the young assassin complied. The bleeding slowed, and color began to return to his face. Arilyn folded her arms across her chest. “You've been following me since Imnescar. Why?” “I do not know what you're talking about,” he said flatly. She drew the assassin's blade from her boot and held it out. “Maybe you'd like to explain why you killed that thug at the tavern.” “You speak nonsense,” Hasheth said with scorn. “That is the knife I threw at you just now.” “No, it isn't,” Danilo said, producing an identical knife from the bag at his waist. “I picked up your knife before I strolled over.