he left her, quick to exit her chamber, he was uncertain of what he saw. As she sat on the window bench, looking out, her face turned away from him, a shudder ran through her body as if she were sobbing silently.
Looking at the box in his hands she had given him as a birthday present, he did not need to ask what the word she had used meant. He knew what he'd become. The same day, he was ordered to assassinate a baron believed to be plotting against Darmouth. The command came from his father.
That night, Leesil scaled the walls of Baron Progae's fortress, slipped past a dozen guards, and climbed down from the tower into the target's bedroom window. He drove a stiletto into the base of the sleeping man's skull, just as his father had shown him, and then slipped out again. No one found the body until nearly noon the next day. What servant would willingly disturb the late sleep of a nobleman?
Progae's lands were confiscated. His wife and daughters were driven into the street. Leesil sought out information about the family later. One daughter was taken in as the fourth mistress of a loyal baron. The wife and two youngest daughters starved to death as everyone feared assisting them. Leesil never asked about the families of his victims again. He simply slipped through windows, picked what were often considered unpickable locks, carried out his orders, and never looked back.
At twenty-four, he still looked as young as a human in his late teens. One night Lord Darmouth summoned him personally. Leesil loathed being in his lord's presence, but he never even considered refusing.
"I don't want you to kill this time but gather information," Darmouth told him through a thick, black beard. "One of my ministers has given me cause to doubt his true interests. He trains young scribes as a hobby. Your father tells me you speak and write several of our dialects?"
"Yes, my lord," Leesil answered, despising the brutal hands and unwashed face of the creature who owned his entire family.
"Good. You will live as his student and report to me on his activities, his comments, his daily habits, and so forth."
Leesil bowed and left.
He was allowed to bring Chap to his new residence, which was a comfort since the dog represented his only link to a life beyond his duties. But the first meeting with Minister Josiah was almost unsettling to him after years of plots, schemes, and silent deaths. A small, white-haired man with violet, laughing eyes, Josiah grasped Leesil's hand in open warmth and friendship. Rather than armor or clothing designed for stealth, the man wore cream-colored robes.
"Come, come, my boy. Lord Darmouth tells me you're a promising student. We'll find you some supper and a warm bed."
Leesil hesitated. He'd never met anyone like Josiah. The merry minister mistook his pause.
"Not to worry. Your dog is welcome, too. A handsome creature and a bit unusual, as I don't think I've ever seen his kind before. Where did you get him?"
Chap's back now reached a grown man's thigh. His long, silver-blue fur, pale, near-blue eyes, and narrow muzzle often drew compliments from those who saw him. The dog trotted straight up to the old minister and sat, with a switching tail, waiting to be petted. It was the first time Leesil had ever seen Chap do such a thing with anyone but himself and his mother.
Leesil wasn't sure how to answer and tried quickly to figure out what purpose the question served, what agenda might be hidden behind it.
"My mother," he finally answered.
Josiah looked up from scratching Chap gently on the head.
"Your mother? Why, I would have thought him to be a father's gift, but no matter"—he laughed softly and smiled— "a mother's gift is even better."
With that, the old minister ushered both Leesil and his dog into the house and into his life.
Josiah's loyalties became clear in the days and weeks that followed. He had no intention of creating insurrection, but he had turned his large country estate into a haven for those displaced by Darmouth's continuing civil wars and intrigues. Barracks and small cottages had been built to house refugees. Leesil spent part of his days in lessons with Josiah, and the other part helping to feed or care for the poor. He found the latter acts somewhat futile, since these tragic people would still be poor tomorrow. The poor were poor. The rich were rich. The intelligent and resourceful survived.