Next to Xilarion’s office was the counting room, from which a shaft led directly down to the underground vault. On the other side was a small library of rare and precious documents, its shelves packed with ancient scrolls and leather-bound books. Both stood open, but the clerks inside watched me warily, and heavy doors stood ready to secure them at the end of the day.
Another servant walked past, this time carrying a tray of tea. I was starting to wonder if Xilarion had heard me, and if I should knock again, when a voice finally came from within.
“Enter.”
I opened the door and walked in. The room was small and simple, not the grand space I had expected for the most powerful man in the guild—by some measures, the most powerful man I had ever met. The walls were smooth white-washed plaster, the floor bare boards. A low desk held a set of writing brushes, a pot of ink, and a few sheets of paper. Cushions sat around the desk and there was a locked chest at one end. On one wall, a single shelf held half a dozen books. Opposite it, a katana in a red leather scabbard hung from a brass hook, the room’s only decoration.
Master Xilarion stood at the window, his back to me, hands clasped behind him. His hair was tied back, and its black matched his robes except for the white streaks running from the temples. The morning light formed a halo around him and added to his air of deep, patient power.
“Close the door,” he ordered.
I did as instructed and then, stood to attention, hands by my sides. Though Xilarion was silent, I understood the ways of powerful men well enough not to speak until invited. My work had carried me into the lairs of crime lords, politicians, and chief executives. None of them liked to feel anything other than total control, and none held positions all that different from the lord of a feudal guild. On some level, all held the lives of others in their hands, just as Xilarion held my life in his now.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. After the battles in the Ember Cavern, this shouldn’t worry me. But then, I had wielded the power to affect the outcome. Here, it was outside my hands.
“I ordered you to come immediately,” Xilarion said. “Was that clear?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Then, why didn’t you?”
I hesitated. I had taken a few minutes to stash my bag and weapons, making sure the Sundered Heart was safely hidden from prying eyes and grasping fingers. Surely, he couldn’t know that out of all the time it had taken me to get to him, I had spent a few minutes on a detour inside the guild? This was just a bluff, and I should answer it with my own.
But what if it wasn’t? Xilarion had taken a chance on me and overruled the protests of many of his own guild members to let me join. It would look bad if I responded to that by lying to him, especially a pointless lie on which I could easily be caught out.
“I’m sorry, Master,” I said. “I went to put something away first. Next time, I will come directly.”
“You assume that there will be a next time,” Xilarion said. “Unless you take care, that may prove false.”
I bowed my head and prepared for the worst.
“I am sorry, Master,” I said. “If you’re expelling me for breaking the rules, I’ll accept that without complaint. I knew the consequences when I missed last night’s lesson.”
Xilarion turned at last to face me. His expression was carefully neutral and didn’t give away the faintest sign of his emotions or his intent. This was not going to be the sort of furious bawling out I would have received from some previous superiors. For all the fiery passion of his guild and his element, the Guild Master of the Radiant Dragon was in total control.
“It is not me you should worry about,” he said. “At least, not judging by the state of your robes.”
I looked down. If I had wanted to hide my activities, then I should have changed before I came here. My robes were blackened with soot, the trousers scorched and torn. My arms, left exposed by the short sleeves of the tunic I wore beneath my clan robes, were reddened by fire and scratched by claws. I'd been solely focused on hiding Nydarth’s sword, so I'd forgotten the clearest evidence of my disobedience.
“Ah, this,” I said. “I can explain.”
“If you try to tell me that you have just been practicing forms all night, I will be very disappointed.”
I met his gaze. Dark, piercing eyes looked back into mine. I felt as though he was staring straight into my heart.
There was a knock at the door. A moment later, a servant entered carrying a tray of tea. She set it down on the desk, bowed to Xilarion, backed out of the room, and closed the door behind her.
“Sit.” Xilarion gestured to one of the cushions beside the desk.
He sat on the opposite side, poured tea into two small drinking bowls, and placed one in front of me. Steam rose invitingly from the cup and reminded me of just how tired and thirsty I was.
I hesitated, confused by the unexpected move to informality.
“It’s not a trap,” Xilarion said. “If it helps, think of it as a command from your guild master.”
I settled onto one of the well-worn but comfortable cushions. After hours on my feet, it came as a relief just to rest, and I let out an involuntary sigh. A second sigh followed the first sip of tea.
“I know that you went into the Ember Cavern again,” Xilarion said. “Even if gossip wasn’t flying around the guild, I would have known. I am the guardian of the cavern and of all my initiates. Little happens here without my notice.”
“I had good reason to go.” I decided that
