Death Sworn by Leah Cypess Page B

she turned back to the doorway, and collided with a bare, muscular chest.
    She shrieked and raised her hands. Large hands gripped her upper arms, hard enough to hurt, holding her motionless. She looked up into Irun’s rugged face.
    “Teacher,” he said, his tone a mockery of respect. “What are you doing here? And without your guardian, too. Not very wise.”
    She didn’t bother to struggle, vividly recalling how he had leaped obstacles with a stone slab on his back. She didn’t bother to reply, since she had nothing to say. She met Irun’s hard almond-shaped eyes and did not move.
    His thick eyebrows lifted. Then he let her go, though he didn’t move from the doorway. Ileni used every bit of willpower she possessed and did not step back. The marks of his fingers were painful on her arms.
    “Good,” she said, hoping her haughty tone would disguise her fear. “I’m glad you’re here. You can lead me back to my room.”
    Irun laughed. “I don’t think so. This is a good opportunity for the two of us to talk.”
    Ileni tried to look past him, to see if anyone else was coming. The entrance to the cavern was empty. It was just her and Irun in a room full of glistening knives.
    With an effort, she hung onto her haughtiness, though she doubted it would fool him. “Talk about what?”
    Irun’s smirk made her attempt seem infantile. “Two weeks before you arrived, Teacher , I returned from a successful mission. Do you know who I killed?”
    She didn’t trust her voice, or her expression. She shook her head.
    “The high sorcerer at the emperor’s court.”
    She blinked, shocked despite herself. Irun shifted position and nodded. “Nobody truly believed it could be done. Certainly not that I could do it and survive. But Absalm’s lessons . . . they came in very handy.”
    “Did you kill Absalm, too?” Her voice shook, which she hated, but Irun obviously liked. His eyes glittered.
    “No. Nor Cadrel. And I won’t kill you, either, if you cooperate.”
    “With what?”
    “Next time I kill a sorcerer, I don’t want to just take his life. I want to take his power.”
    Ileni choked. Irun waited, with exaggerated patience, for her to regain her composure. Then he added, “I want you to tell me how to do it.”
    “I don’t know how!”
    “That’s . . . unfortunate.” His disbelief was palpable. “Because it means you serve no purpose here.”
    He moved with swift, brutal efficiency. All at once she was flat on her stomach on the stone floor, her wrist screaming in pain, her face crushed into the black stone.
    “Perhaps your successor will be more amenable,” Irun said, stepping back.
    Her mouth filled with pieces of grit. She pulled up her power, but it was so little, so weak.
    This would make three Renegai killed in these caves. She wondered who the Elders would send next.
    “None of the Renegai know how!” She pushed herself up from the ground, craning her neck back to look up at him. “Taking magic from others is evil. Only the imperial sorcerers practice that sort of perversion.”
    “Perversion? My, what strong language.”
    “Hunting down those with power, breeding them as slaves, keeping them in cages, and harvesting them for their magic? That’s how the Empire gathers its power. We don’t—we would never—” She had to stop talking then, because she had run out of air and couldn’t seem to draw in another breath.
    Irun laughed, a harsh triumphant sound. “I don’t believe you. When one of your sorcerers dies—of old age, of course —you let his power die with him? You don’t transfer it to another sorcerer, or into a lodestone?”
    “ No.” She had to croak the word out, but she was past caring. “We let our people die in peace.”
    “You waste their deaths, you mean. And none of you are tempted, is that it? None of you ever think about what you could do with your power multiplied by two, or three, or four. . . .”
    Ileni rolled over and sat up. “No.”
    “You’re lying.”