produced one from a pocket. “Why?”
She snatched it from his fingers. “Because I don’t particularly feel like rattling the windows when he straightens this thing!” She stuffed the kerchief into her mouth and nodded to the healer. She was satisfied that she hadn’t underestimated how painful the procedure would be, nor the need for the kerchief to keep her screams from escaping.
Chapter IX
A sea of yellow stars flickered before Lad, as if the night sky had fallen in liquid form to fill the broad valley in a glittering pool of brilliance. It was a wonder he never could have imagined. Two swaths of blackness converged in the midst of that valley of lights, two rivers merging into one, dividing the twinkling sea into thirds. A great black wall encircled the vast sea of lighted streets and buildings; the lanterns of men walking upon that wall bobbed along in the darkness. More light bloomed outside the walls, as if the bubbling pot of humanity had overflowed and spilled out in sparkling patches of yellow. At the center of the brightest portion of the city, tall spires adorned a hillock where the two rivers joined. Mighty walls surrounded that high, palatial estate on all sides, and torches flickered from the battlements. Other tall buildings could be seen in the lower portions of the city, and huge square towers stood at each point where the rivers entered and exited, their grim countenances glaring jealously down on the dark water. He stood there for a time absorbing the sight, and his mind slowly expanded to encompass what those many lights really meant.
“So many people...”
The thought escaped his lips without his knowing. His destiny lay before him like an oyster open on the half-shell, but it lay among twenty thousand of its kin, and he knew not how to tell one from another. A needle in a haystack would have been child’s play by comparison, for when one finally finds the needle, it is at least recognizable from a bit of straw. Here lay twenty thousand people, any one of whom could hold his destiny in the palm of their hand, and he would not know them if he saw them.
The task that he had thought so straightforward had just become immensely more difficult, and, for the first time in his young life, Lad felt daunted by something. It would take years to find his destiny in this mass of humanity!
“Years...”
But Lad had mastered many tasks that had required years of study and practice; his whole life had been a single task to perfect his art, adding the skills of many masters into one perfect weapon: the perfect killer. Years, indeed, a lifetime he had spent at this, and if it took another lifetime to find the source—the impetus of all his work, all his mastery—he would spend that lifetime searching.
And he would succeed. Lad would find his destiny among the people of Twailin, or he would die in the attempt. It was all he could do. It was what he was made to do.
A soft night breeze ruffled his hair, stirring him from his quiet musing. He stood immobile in the center of the road for a time, his gaze slowly rising up to the glittering canopy of the stars overhead, then falling back down to the carpet of lights that beckoned him into their midst. His thoughts finally coalesced into one clear idea.
“How?”
This was, of course, the next logical question, his next decision. Unlike any other decision he had made, this was not a simple yes or no, right or left, hide or stand question. This task was complex, and he had no master or instructor to guide him. He was alone and would have to rely on himself and what he knew of what he was, and what he was looking for.
The former was simple, he was a weapon, trained to kill in any environment without being detected, caught or killed. Who might want such a weapon? He had no idea. Warriors used weapons, he knew, but rarely did warriors use others to do their
She snatched it from his fingers. “Because I don’t particularly feel like rattling the windows when he straightens this thing!” She stuffed the kerchief into her mouth and nodded to the healer. She was satisfied that she hadn’t underestimated how painful the procedure would be, nor the need for the kerchief to keep her screams from escaping.
Chapter IX
A sea of yellow stars flickered before Lad, as if the night sky had fallen in liquid form to fill the broad valley in a glittering pool of brilliance. It was a wonder he never could have imagined. Two swaths of blackness converged in the midst of that valley of lights, two rivers merging into one, dividing the twinkling sea into thirds. A great black wall encircled the vast sea of lighted streets and buildings; the lanterns of men walking upon that wall bobbed along in the darkness. More light bloomed outside the walls, as if the bubbling pot of humanity had overflowed and spilled out in sparkling patches of yellow. At the center of the brightest portion of the city, tall spires adorned a hillock where the two rivers joined. Mighty walls surrounded that high, palatial estate on all sides, and torches flickered from the battlements. Other tall buildings could be seen in the lower portions of the city, and huge square towers stood at each point where the rivers entered and exited, their grim countenances glaring jealously down on the dark water. He stood there for a time absorbing the sight, and his mind slowly expanded to encompass what those many lights really meant.
“So many people...”
The thought escaped his lips without his knowing. His destiny lay before him like an oyster open on the half-shell, but it lay among twenty thousand of its kin, and he knew not how to tell one from another. A needle in a haystack would have been child’s play by comparison, for when one finally finds the needle, it is at least recognizable from a bit of straw. Here lay twenty thousand people, any one of whom could hold his destiny in the palm of their hand, and he would not know them if he saw them.
The task that he had thought so straightforward had just become immensely more difficult, and, for the first time in his young life, Lad felt daunted by something. It would take years to find his destiny in this mass of humanity!
“Years...”
But Lad had mastered many tasks that had required years of study and practice; his whole life had been a single task to perfect his art, adding the skills of many masters into one perfect weapon: the perfect killer. Years, indeed, a lifetime he had spent at this, and if it took another lifetime to find the source—the impetus of all his work, all his mastery—he would spend that lifetime searching.
And he would succeed. Lad would find his destiny among the people of Twailin, or he would die in the attempt. It was all he could do. It was what he was made to do.
A soft night breeze ruffled his hair, stirring him from his quiet musing. He stood immobile in the center of the road for a time, his gaze slowly rising up to the glittering canopy of the stars overhead, then falling back down to the carpet of lights that beckoned him into their midst. His thoughts finally coalesced into one clear idea.
“How?”
This was, of course, the next logical question, his next decision. Unlike any other decision he had made, this was not a simple yes or no, right or left, hide or stand question. This task was complex, and he had no master or instructor to guide him. He was alone and would have to rely on himself and what he knew of what he was, and what he was looking for.
The former was simple, he was a weapon, trained to kill in any environment without being detected, caught or killed. Who might want such a weapon? He had no idea. Warriors used weapons, he knew, but rarely did warriors use others to do their
Similar Books
