Arilyn slipped silently into the small clearing. Moving directly behind the boy, 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. By the way, have you any idea how close you came to skewering my horse?"
Arilyn took the knife from the mage and studied the blades. Both were carved with the School of Stealth's mark, but the weapons differed subtly in weight and balance. She flipped the knives over. The one that had killed the tavern fighter was scored with dozens of small carvings, while Hasheth's was smooth and unblemished. If the unmarked knife told a true story, the young assassin had not killed before.
The half-elf looked up at Danilo. "There are two assassins," she said quietly.
"Oh, marvelous," the nobleman replied wryly. "I'm traveling with the most popular woman in Tethyr."
She ignored him and turned to Hasheth. "Where's your partner?"
"I have none," he said. "If you met another assassin this night, what of it? Assassins are common enough around taverns."
"But knives like this are not," Arilyn persisted. "Someone from the School of Stealth wanted to keep me alive back at the tavern. Why?"
'That I cannot tell you, but I owe him a debt," Hasheth said bluntly. "If you had died at the hands of that drunken oaf, I would have been cheated of my sand-hue sash."
Arilyn and Danilo exchanged a puzzled look. "You're talking nonsense," the half-elf observed derisively, hoping to draw more information from the boy.
Hasheth's eyes flashed as he took Arilyn's bait. "Ignorant barbarian! I don't know how northern assassins assess merit, but here each level of skill is marked by a different color sash. To advance, one must stalk and slay an assassin of the next level. His rank then becomes yours. You were my assignment, of course."
Only Danilo saw the stricken look that flashed briefly into Arilyn's eyes. The half-elf had long ago earned the reputation of an assassin, a reputation that had proved as dangerous as it was undeserved. Arilyn had worked long and hard to rise above her dark past, only to be confronted with it time and time again.
"No offense, Hasheth," Danilo drawled, "but did it ever occur to you that you might have skipped over a few levels here?"
'That is absurd," Hasheth said haughtily. "The school's masters would not dare mock me in that manner."
"They wouldn't dare, eh?" A reflective look crossed Arilyn's face. "Where do you hail from, Hasheth?"
"My home is in Zazesspur, if that is what you mean."
"But you have the look of a Calishite," she noted. "Perhaps your mother was from Calimport?"
"Is this a state dinner, that we make polite conversation?" Hasheth asked sharply. "I am your prisoner. Kill me if you will, but don't trouble me with your woman's chatter."
"Charming kid," Danilo murmured. "Nice of him to suggest such an attractive option. Can we take him up on it?"
Arilyn shook her head. "Hasheth will ride with us to Zazesspur." It was hard to miss the relief in the boy's black eyes. "Sorry, Hasheth, but you'll have to find some other way to earn your sash."
"A wise man knows when the battle is lost," the boy agreed.
Danilo regarded their captive warily, noting the sly twist to his lips and the smooth insincerity of his tone. His gaze shifted back to Arilyn. Her lovely face was inscrutable, but she was obviously up to something. Since Danilo had no idea what her plan might be, he had little choice but to play along. He did not have to be happy about it, though.
"Marvelous," he muttered, just loud enough for Arilyn's elven ears to pick up. "We've adopted a pet adder."
"If you are determined to reach Zazesspur," Hasheth said to Arilyn, "it would be wise to keep riding. The Forest of Tethir soon gives way to the Starspire Mountains. The road itself follows a pass between these mountains, a wasteland as hot and barren as any desert. In the heat of day your northern skin would peel like that of a molting snake," he said with relish.
"Charming kid," Danilo repeated.