‘Was your wife skilled with weapons?’ she asked.
‘No. And before you ask, it would have made no difference had she been the finest archer in the land. Nineteen killers would have overpowered her and the result would have been the same.’
‘Did you go after them, Grey Man?’ she asked softly.
‘Yes. It took many years, and in that time some of them committed other foul deeds. Others married, settled down and raised families of their own. But I found them all. Every one.’
It was suddenly quiet in the room, the air heavy. Keeva watched the Grey Man. His gaze seemed far away, and upon his face was a look of infinite sadness. In that moment she understood this grim and gloomy dwelling place, set alongside the gleaming white marble of his palace. The Grey Man had no home, for the home of his heart had been destroyed a long time ago. She glanced around at the targets of straw and the array of weapons upon the walls. When she looked back she met his gaze. ‘I do not wish to learn this craft,’ she said. ‘I am sorry if that disappoints you.’
‘People long ago ceased to disappoint me, Keeva Tali-ana,’ he told her, with a rueful smile. ‘But let me ask you this: how did you feel when you killed the raider captain?’
‘I do not want to talk about it.’
‘I understand.’
‘Do you? You have been a killer so long I wonder if you do.’ She reddened as she realized what she had said. ‘I’m sorry if that sounds disrespectful, Grey Man. I do not mean it to be. You saved my life and I will be for ever in your debt. But what I mean is that I do not want to experience again the feelings I had when I killed Camran. What I did was needless. He was dying anyway. All I did was to inflict a little more agony. If I had the time again I would merely have walked away from him. What hurts and angers me is that, in those few heartbeats, I allowed myself to be dragged down in the filth of his evil. I became him. You understand?’
He smiled sadly. ‘I understood that long before you were born, Keeva, and I respect what you say. Now you had better return to your duties.’
Yu Yu Liang was not a happy man. A little distance away the arguments were still raging among the dozen survivors and Yu Yu struggled to hear what they were saying. His understanding of the round-eye tongue was merely fair, and he found that many of the words and phrases sailed by him before his ears could catch them and his mind translate them. He was concentrating hard, for he knew it was only a matter of time before someone pointed an accusing finger at him.
Sitting on the rock, his stolen sword in his lap, the former ditch-digger did his best to look silently ferocious – like the warrior he pretended to be. Yu Yu had only been with the group for three days. In that time he had heard many fine promises from the now dead leader, Rukar, about life on the road, and the riches to be made from passing merchants. Instead Rukar had been cut down by the Rajnee and Yu Yu had moved faster than ever in his twenty-three years to escape the swinging swords of the charging horsemen.
Truth to tell, he felt a little stab of pride that it had been a Chiatze who had cowed them – a true Rajnee. Not a fraud with a stolen blade. Yu Yu shivered. Six years of training before a Rajnee could own a blood-tempered blade, and a further five years of philosophical study before he was allowed to fight. But only the very, very best were allowed to wear the grey robes and black sash sported by the man who killed Rukar. As soon as Yu Yu had seen him he had carefully eased himself to the back of the second group and was primed to flee the moment the horsemen charged.
The reality was that Rukar had been a dead man from the moment the Rajnee approached him.