The Way of Shadows - By Brent Weeks Page 0,215

was the only way he could save you. You had to kill him to succeed him. The ka’kari couldn’t complete the bond until its former master died.”

They sat there in silence, Kylar thinking of how Durzo’s death cast his life in a completely different light. It was disconcerting to think how wrong he’d been about his master, thinking him so hateful—actually believing Durzo was capable of mutilating Doll Girl—but Kylar liked the picture that was emerging. Durzo Blint, the legend, had been Acaelus Thorne, the hero. Kylar wondered how many other heroes’ names his master had worn. He felt a stabbing pain, an emptiness in his stomach, a surge toward tears that he suppressed. “I’m going to miss him,” he said, his throat tight.

Momma K’s eyes mirrored his. “Me too. But it’s going to be all right. I don’t know why, but I really believe that.”

Kylar nodded. “So you decided to live,” he said, blinking tears away. He didn’t want to break down in front of Momma K.

“And so did you.” She arched an eyebrow at him, somehow holding both grief and happiness and amusement in her eyes all at once. “She loves you, Kylar. Whether she realizes it or not. She dragged you out of the castle by herself. She refused to leave you. Jarl’s men found her. It was only when they got you here that Uly saw your wounds were healing.”

“She’s furious with me,” Kylar said.

“Furious the way a woman in love gets. I know.”

“Have you told Uly who her mother is?” Kylar asked.

“No, and I never will. I won’t raise her into this.”

“She needs a family.”

“I was hoping you and Elene would be interested in the job.”

Night came to the east shore of the Plith River in a smothering cloud. The city had been burning all day and the night winds wafted the smell over the entire city. Fires reflected in the Plith, and low-hanging clouds held the ashy air like a pillow against the face of the city.

A wagon clattered down a street, its driver hunched, face muffled against the malodorous air. He overtook a crippled woman with a bent back and a foot turned sideways.

“Want up?” his scratchy voice asked.

The woman turned expectantly. Her face too was muffled, but her eyes were young, though both eyes had been blackened.

Her Khalidoran driver was supposed to be dark-haired and fat. This man was white-haired, lean as a rail, stooped and almost lost in his clothes. She shook her head and turned away.

“Please, Elene?” Kylar asked with his own voice.

She flinched. “I should be scared of you, shouldn’t I?”

“I’d never hurt you,” he said.

Eyebrows above the eyes he’d blackened lifted incredulously.

“Well, not really hurt you.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking around. There was no one else out on the streets.

“I’d like to take you away from here,” Kylar said, brushing back his bleached hair and smiling through his makeup. “You and Uly both. We can go anywhere. I’m going to pick her up next.”

“Why me, Kylar?”

He was dumbfounded. “It’s always been you. I l—”

“Don’t you say you love me,” she said. “How could you love this?” She jerked the scarf down and pointed at her scars. “How could you love a freak?”

He shook his head. “I don’t love your scars, Elene. I hate them—”

“And you’ll never see past that.”

“I’m not finished,” he said. “Elene, I’ve watched over you since we were children. For a long time, you’re right, I couldn’t see past your scars. I’m not going to give you some crap that they’re beautiful. Your scars are ugly, but you aren’t, Elene. The woman I see when I look at you is amazing. She’s smart, she’s got a quick tongue, and she’s got such a heart that it makes me believe that people can be good despite all I’ve seen to the contrary for my whole life.”

His words were sinking into her, he could tell. Oh, Momma K, tell me I learned something about words from you. Tell me I learned something despite myself.

Elene’s hands waved like little birds. “How can you say that? You don’t know me!”

“Aren’t you still Doll Girl?”

Her hands came down, the little birds fluttering to rest. “Yes,” she said. “But I don’t think you’re still Azoth.”

“No,” he admitted. “I’m not. I don’t know who I am. Right now, I only know I’m not my master and I won’t live like he did.”

Hope seemed to leach out of her. “Kylar,” she said, and he saw that the name was a deliberate

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