The Emperors Knife - By Mazarkis Williams Page 0,129

able to pick out every crack, every pebble on the stair, every grain in the ash-cloud that billowed under Govnan’s approaching feet. He saw everything, and it caused him no pain. He stepped out into the light.

The high mage came around the last curve and peered down just as heavy boots sounded in the corridor. Eyul motioned to him and mouthed “Carriers.” Govnan had burned the tower; he was powerful. Together they could overwhelm the patterned men. But the old man crept back up the stairs and out of sight. Strange.

Five Carriers entered and spread out from the base of the stairs to the wall. Though they still wore the clean blue uniforms of the royal guard with burnished pins of rank on their collars, the marks had taken their sense of decorum. Three had discarded their hats; on two they sat askew, the feathers dragging like those of dead birds. The pattern drew parallel lines across their cheeks and noses and marked their chins with triangles of deep blue.

Their faces looked identical now, but they had once been their own men. One, Eyul recalled, had been a joker who spent his free nights playing dice; another had been in love with a kitchen girl, always finding an excuse to stop by the ovens when he should be on patrol. The one in the middle had been a Beyon loyalist. Eyul had told him about the emperor’s meeting place in Mirra’s garden—but he did not have time to ponder the implications of that right now, because all five had drawn their long hachirahs and were moving forwards. Eyul kept light on his feet, watching their movements, waiting for his opening. The Knife felt warm in his hand.

“Hello,” he said, “I bring peace.”

They did not react, other than to step towards him again, their eyes blank and unfocused, their weapons ready. An assassin must be fast and clean. Above all, fast. He ducked beneath the swinging of two swords, slit the first from hip to shoulder, and cut the second Carrier’s hamstring. Economy of motion, an absence of fear. These are the first pillars of the Grey Path. He rolled away, ignoring the pain as a blade scraped against his chest, and used his feet to knock the fifth one down. Now the Carriers were between him and Govnan.

One of the Carriers spoke, his voice flat. “Where is the high mage, assassin?”

Eyul smiled. “How would I know?” If Govnan had no defence against the Carriers, then he would protect him: he would do it for Amalya, for Beyon, for the empire. He would do it because that was his purpose. Blood seeped from his wound and over his ribs, soaking his shirt. The wound the horsewoman had given him stung like a hot needle.

Four moved forward as one. The last was dragging his leg behind him, and Eyul made a dervish spin to the far right, slitting that Carrier’s throat before he could swing his heavy blade. Be fast, keep close. Knife-work is intimate. The fifth was getting up from the floor; barely pausing, Eyul kicked him again, sending him sprawling on his stomach, and dived backwards, out of range of a hachirah. He was dancing to a tune no one else could hear. This was a game he played well. No dead princes, no mage-girl, just Eyul and a sharp edge with death behind it.

They were better fighters now than they had been as guards, but it didn’t matter. Move fast; their boots and heavy blades make them slow.Before the Carrier could raise his sword to swing again Eyul had launched himself forwards and to the left, landing on the prone man’s back and hearing the snap of bone. He ignored his own pain—getting old; pain is for later. He leaped clear and turned to face the Carriers again. Two were left on their feet.

The one on Eyul’s right charged him, hachirah held high. The other, lame, pulled himself forward with some effort. Foolish. Perhaps the person guiding them had grown impatient. Eyul rolled below the slice the first made through the air and got to his feet so close that he could smell the Carrier’s stale breath. His head struck the man’s chin as he rose to his feet. Teeth snapped together, and part of the Carrier’s tongue fell clear. Knife scraped bone as Eyul stabbed him in the heart.

The last Carrier wrapped an arm around Eyul’s neck, lost his balance and pulled them both to the floor. Eyul