Ironhand (Taurin's Chosen Book 2)

doing?”
His gaze flicks to the chamber at the end of the corridor, the place where Kato sleeps a troubled sleep, cradling his new hand.
“An assassin, brother?” I say. “Is this what you’ve become?”
His mouth thins, his eyes grow flat. “Why do you call me that?” His every muscle is ready to spring.
If I were not a cloak, he’d be a very dangerous man.
“What else shall I call you, then?” A memory floats to the top of my mind. I snatch at it. “Daral, perhaps. Fingers, maybe? Or Sweetcakes.” A smile comes unbidden to my lips.
“How do you—? No, you cannot be…”
“I do look a little different these days,” I say softly. My voice hardens. “But inside I’m still the same. What of you, then, Daral?”
His teeth snap together, but he says nothing.
I circle him, my cloak a misty blur, sending out tendrils. They touch his face and hands, but he doesn’t flinch.
“I smell old blood on you,” I whisper. “Stale urine and human waste and fear. I see that you smile and say one thing in the sunlight, lurk and say another with your knife in the shadows.
“What are you doing with your knife tonight, Daral?” Breathed into his ear.
I feel his trembling. But his voice is even and his face blank. “I looked for you when you were taken. I followed the trail as long as I could. But there were powerful people taking pains to make sure that the disappearances stayed hidden. Our leaders, selling our own people to Highwind.”
“And so you became a blade?”
“For you!” he cries out. “For your sake. I joined the College. I took an oath to the Brothers of Night. They trained me, used me judiciously. They let me follow the rumors and the whispers, and finally I heard a name. One name.”
I incline my head.
He clenches his teeth. “Sera Vorsok.
“She was behind it all! The kidnapping of eilendi women, the Highwind spies sneaking around our libraries, the merchants asking all sorts of questions about the arcana! Look what she did to you!” He reaches out to touch me. I spin the ends of my cloak into black ropes and catch his wrists, hold him away from me.
“And then the summons came,” I prompt.
“And then the summons came,” he agrees. “From that witch, Sera Vorsok.” He turns his head, spits on the floor. “Flaunting her Highwind army, while her allies sneak around the many-banded lands and steal our arcana. As though she had the right to bargain for us.”
“But she’s dead,” I say.
“Yes. The College sent me, to assess how dangerous she was and make an end of her if I thought she needed it.”
“Judging from your hate, you had already made up your mind.”
He flinches. “She did this to you, and you condemn me for it?”
“You sought vengeance, not justice. Did the College know what drove you?”
“Of course they did. I—” He pauses, frowning.
No fool, my brother, I think, and pause, wondering where that came from. Memories struggle up as if from the very depths of the Nine Hells, in shadowy scenes and brief flashes. Are they mine or another’s? How can I be sure, I who spin apart so easily, who have mingled my substance with so many others?
Can I trust them?
“The College knew how you’d judge Sera, and they knew that they could use you as scapegoat. They would get what they wanted, and they could deny the responsibility for it. You might hang for your crime, if Sera’s family found out.”
“So what of it?” He shrugs off realization. “She needed to die.”
“She already did. Yet you still skulk around Kaal Baran with your knife.”
“He’s her husband, isn’t he? The failed Champion, the Hope Destroyer.” A grimace twists Daral’s lips.
“He had no idea what she was. She deceived him by manufacturing her own death. She hurt him as bitterly as she did any of us. He had no part in her schemes, and he saved us all at the Gates.”
“So he says. And you. Why should I believe you? You look nothing like my sister. So what if you know a childhood nickname or two?” He thrusts his chin out, belligerent.
“You fell out of the prickle tree when you were eight and broke your arm. We kept a stinging snake as pet for three months before our uncle found out and killed it. You used to dream of running away to sea, even though you’d never seen it. You just wanted to go to a place of water and wind, instead of dryness and dust. You never told anyone else that.” I take a breath. “Only me.”
I see his face caught between hope and disbelief, see it waver to the side of hope. “Is it really you, my sister?”
“So my memories tell me.” How can I know for sure? How can I explain to him the chaos of my thoughts?
“And you think I should spare him?” He gestures towards the room where Kato lies sleeping.
“Your decision is your own.” I step away. “But if you make the attempt, I will kill you myself.” I drive my hand towards his heart. He flinches, but my fingernails, sharp and pointed, are at his chest, pricking skin.
I say, soft and sad. “Look at us now, brother. Once we were children who dreamed of better lives, you of the sea, me of the song. Now Highwind has made killers of us both.”
We hold each other’s gazes for a long heartbeat, the heartbeat of the serpent that lies sleeping at the bottom of the world.
I remember now that we had never needed many words between us.
And then I withdraw with a snap, and leap back up for the ceiling. I hang, upside down, and settle myself for the nighttime vigil.
I watch as he leaves.
I kneel next to a night walker and splash my face with a precious handful of water. Then I heave the cover back on the newly-dug well. My iron hand gleams dully in the morning light. It’s an exact mirror match