Hettie bit the end of the thread after finishing the tie. “Done.”
“Thank you.”
Her hand grazed along his shoulder as she stepped in front of him. Her touch sent tingles throughout his body. She sat down on the small cot across from him. In the lamplight, he could see more of the red color coming out in her hair. He had noticed it before and asked. With a small shrug, she said she had stopped dying it after leaving the Romani. The dye would fade in time and her true coloring would emerge. He liked the hint of it in the lamplight.
“What is it?” she said, looking at him with concern.
“Nothing.” She had caught him staring again. He cursed himself silently.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you think we should trust this Cruithne?”
Paedrin leaned forward. Their noses almost touched. “As opposed to jumping overboard and swimming the rest of the way to Shatalin?”
“There is something about him that concerns me.”
“I can think of about five concerns myself. He looks like a brutish Cruithne but he’s as smart as a Vaettir. He knows about Tyrus and his plans. He outmaneuvered the two of us. He…”
She put her hand on his arm, silencing him. “How does he know about Kishion being trained at Shatalin?”
The door creaked open and Baylen pressed through sideways. Hettie withdrew her hand from his arm. Paedrin tugged on his tunic jacket and wound the belt around his waist. There was a pinch of pain in his shoulder, but it had stopped bleeding earlier.
“We will be at the monastery before nightfall,” Baylen said. “What do you seek there?”
Hettie frowned.
Paedrin cocked his head. “You mentioned above deck that the Kishion train at Shatalin.”
“And you want to know how I know that.” He sighed with impatience.
Hettie folded her arms.
“Remember who my employers were. I was hired by the Paracelsus to protect them, not to count people entering the gates. If any are suspicious, I do not let them pass. Tyrus’s nephew came recently. So did you,” He nodded at Hettie. “And so did a Kishion. He is known as the Quiet Kishion, a very dangerous man. I knew that someday I may be called on to protect my masters from him. With that possibility, I began to study what I could of him, including where he was trained. All Kishion come from Kenatos originally, but they leave the city for special training. Not many know this. Few even bother asking, but I made it a point to ask and then listen. If you want to know something, you eventually find a way to discover it. I learned from a man who knows the Archivists that the Kishion are trained along the coast. They said there was an old Bhikhu temple there called Shatalin. It is built on a cliff along the sea, south of Lydi. The only way to get there is by ship and climbing up very steep steps carved into the rock. The coast is known for recurring fog, so the monastery is shrouded most of the time.”
Baylen rubbed his meaty hands together. “It gets worse. The one who trains them is blind. Those who are trained are blindfolded, forced to learn combat without sight. They say that looking at the blind master’s eyes will turn you into stone. So again, I ask you: Why are you going there?”
Paedrin swallowed. “Rumors or truth?” he asked the Cruithne.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Paedrin glanced at Hettie and saw the fresh concern in her eyes. Her expression was veiled, but he could see the worry. She stroked her hand through her hair, gazing at him, lips pursed.
Standing, Paedrin faced the Cruithne. “The Arch-Rike already knows what I am after. He knows because I once wore a Kishion ring and he heard Tyrus give me instructions.”
Baylen’s eyebrows lifted, but his expression was bland. “Those rings don’t come off without killing the wearer.”
“I speak the truth. I seek a blade—a sword. It is called the Sword of Winds. It is a weapon of power that will be used in the Scourgelands. Master Shivu also charged me to restore the Shatalin temple. The master there is known as Cruw Reon. I will defeat him.”
There was a long silence as Baylen studied him, his expression continued to be bland, no hint of surprise. “Have you ever faced a Kishion before?”
“Twice. I failed both times.”
“You lived. That is better than most. What makes you think you can defeat the blind master?”
Paedrin folded his arms. “Because I am not blind and I will have the sword when I face him. I trust you, Baylen. I may be a foolish Vaettir. Or maybe you have proven yourself as thoroughly as you can. You are welcome to join us. A question for you now: Have you ever faced a Kishion?”
“Thank you.”
Her hand grazed along his shoulder as she stepped in front of him. Her touch sent tingles throughout his body. She sat down on the small cot across from him. In the lamplight, he could see more of the red color coming out in her hair. He had noticed it before and asked. With a small shrug, she said she had stopped dying it after leaving the Romani. The dye would fade in time and her true coloring would emerge. He liked the hint of it in the lamplight.
“What is it?” she said, looking at him with concern.
“Nothing.” She had caught him staring again. He cursed himself silently.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you think we should trust this Cruithne?”
Paedrin leaned forward. Their noses almost touched. “As opposed to jumping overboard and swimming the rest of the way to Shatalin?”
“There is something about him that concerns me.”
“I can think of about five concerns myself. He looks like a brutish Cruithne but he’s as smart as a Vaettir. He knows about Tyrus and his plans. He outmaneuvered the two of us. He…”
She put her hand on his arm, silencing him. “How does he know about Kishion being trained at Shatalin?”
The door creaked open and Baylen pressed through sideways. Hettie withdrew her hand from his arm. Paedrin tugged on his tunic jacket and wound the belt around his waist. There was a pinch of pain in his shoulder, but it had stopped bleeding earlier.
“We will be at the monastery before nightfall,” Baylen said. “What do you seek there?”
Hettie frowned.
Paedrin cocked his head. “You mentioned above deck that the Kishion train at Shatalin.”
“And you want to know how I know that.” He sighed with impatience.
Hettie folded her arms.
“Remember who my employers were. I was hired by the Paracelsus to protect them, not to count people entering the gates. If any are suspicious, I do not let them pass. Tyrus’s nephew came recently. So did you,” He nodded at Hettie. “And so did a Kishion. He is known as the Quiet Kishion, a very dangerous man. I knew that someday I may be called on to protect my masters from him. With that possibility, I began to study what I could of him, including where he was trained. All Kishion come from Kenatos originally, but they leave the city for special training. Not many know this. Few even bother asking, but I made it a point to ask and then listen. If you want to know something, you eventually find a way to discover it. I learned from a man who knows the Archivists that the Kishion are trained along the coast. They said there was an old Bhikhu temple there called Shatalin. It is built on a cliff along the sea, south of Lydi. The only way to get there is by ship and climbing up very steep steps carved into the rock. The coast is known for recurring fog, so the monastery is shrouded most of the time.”
Baylen rubbed his meaty hands together. “It gets worse. The one who trains them is blind. Those who are trained are blindfolded, forced to learn combat without sight. They say that looking at the blind master’s eyes will turn you into stone. So again, I ask you: Why are you going there?”
Paedrin swallowed. “Rumors or truth?” he asked the Cruithne.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Paedrin glanced at Hettie and saw the fresh concern in her eyes. Her expression was veiled, but he could see the worry. She stroked her hand through her hair, gazing at him, lips pursed.
Standing, Paedrin faced the Cruithne. “The Arch-Rike already knows what I am after. He knows because I once wore a Kishion ring and he heard Tyrus give me instructions.”
Baylen’s eyebrows lifted, but his expression was bland. “Those rings don’t come off without killing the wearer.”
“I speak the truth. I seek a blade—a sword. It is called the Sword of Winds. It is a weapon of power that will be used in the Scourgelands. Master Shivu also charged me to restore the Shatalin temple. The master there is known as Cruw Reon. I will defeat him.”
There was a long silence as Baylen studied him, his expression continued to be bland, no hint of surprise. “Have you ever faced a Kishion before?”
“Twice. I failed both times.”
“You lived. That is better than most. What makes you think you can defeat the blind master?”
Paedrin folded his arms. “Because I am not blind and I will have the sword when I face him. I trust you, Baylen. I may be a foolish Vaettir. Or maybe you have proven yourself as thoroughly as you can. You are welcome to join us. A question for you now: Have you ever faced a Kishion?”
