“Obviously.”
They continued along the street, and Gavin watched for movement, anything that would raise his alarms. After having visited Erica’s home, there was the possibility that they would come across something if it had been watched, but so far, there was nothing.
He waited, and he continued staring at Gaspar. “You still haven’t told me if you’ve taken many apprentices.”
“Not recently.”
“What about Imogen?”
“You sure you want to talk about her?”
Gavin smiled, but Gaspar didn’t follow suit. “Eventually, we’re going to have to have a conversation about her.”
“You can have that conversation. Not me.” Gaspar grunted. “If you got to know Imogen the way I have, you’d understand what I have to fear.”
“She has some talent,” Gavin said.
“Which is more than I can say about you.”
“What about the rest of your apprentices?”
Gaspar didn’t say anything.
“What happened to them? Did they end up in jail?”
Gaspar studied him. “You really ask the wrong types of questions, don’t you?”
“That’s never really been my specialty,” Gavin admitted. “Usually, I get a target, I go after them, and I remove them. That’s sort of how my job works.”
“Your job is terrible,” Gaspar said.
“I didn’t say it was any good. I just said I’m good at it.”
“Have you ever given thought to doing something else?”
“All the time. That’s why I’m in Yoran.” Gavin sighed. But maybe not for much longer. It might actually be time for him to leave. Find the boy, then he could get on with things. Wrenlow would understand. “You know what happens when you get good at something?”
“I know,” Gaspar said.
“You find you don’t have much choice. You do what you can do, and you don’t complain about it. How can you, when it’s the only thing you know?”
“Just because you’re good at killing doesn’t mean you can’t do anything else.”
Gavin shrugged. “I’m saying that it’s what I was trained to do. And there are people who need to die.”
“I can’t disagree with that.”
“Which is why I do it. You’ve seen that I’m selective in the jobs I take.”
“Selective, but you’re still taking that kind of job.” Gaspar looked over to him. “What if you decided to be something other than what you were trained to be?”
Gavin didn’t have an answer to it, and Gaspar didn’t push.
The Dragon was near, and Gavin moved more quickly as they headed toward it. The street around the Dragon was empty, the storefronts barely marked. Gavin’s gaze drifted along them. He recognized the small signs, picking up on those for the seamstress, the lantern maker, the butcher, and the scribe. Gavin rarely spent much time in any of them. He had visited each, mostly to scout the dangers around the Dragon.
“I keep doing what I do because I have to,” Gavin whispered.
“What makes you think you have to? Is it your training? Your mentor? Because if it’s either of those, then you have a choice.”
“Like you do?”
Gaspar glanced over at him as they slowed in front of the Dragon. “I made my choice.”
“We all have choices. I’m telling you mine.”
Gavin reached the door to the tavern and paused for a moment before pulling it open. It was time for him to get to work, see if he could figure out anything more, and create a plan to get into the Captain’s building. Hopefully Wrenlow and Desarra would come through with the knowledge they’d need to get inside. If not, Gavin wasn’t sure that he could even take the job. Jessica—and Gaspar, for that matter—wanted him to take the job, but without the necessary information, he wasn’t willing to put those he was working with in danger.
Gaspar looked over at him as they stepped in the tavern, and the question in his eyes lingered. Gavin had his own questions for him, but he suspected that Gaspar would have no interest in answering them. Even more reason for him to ask.
Instead, he turned to Jessica, who was working her way through the tavern, which was much busier than it had been in quite some time. Gavin forced a smile.
“You aren’t going to talk about what you saw,” Gaspar said to him.
“If you say so.”
“I do. And you aren’t.”
Gaspar peeled off, heading toward a table where Imogen sat, leaving Gavin at the entrance. She leaned forward, her dark hair hanging in front of her face, while she sharpened her sword by running a stone across the edge of the blade. As he had seen before, there was a pattern to her work, different than he used when sharpening blades, almost as if she knew something he didn’t about the sword. Having seen her work, and knowing just how deadly she could be, he wondered if maybe that were the case. He still wanted to know more about her though. He walked over to the table.
“Well?” Imogen asked.
Her sudden comment took him aback. Imogen rarely spoke. “Well what?”
“Did you find out anything that might be useful in finding this boy?”
Gavin smiled. “Hopefully. We’ll know soon enough.”
She looked over to Gaspar. “Something’s wrong.”
“Yeah, he’s probably going to be touchy for a while. We had to visit his ex-wife.”
Her eyes narrowed a moment then she stood, sheathing her sword, and headed over to Gaspar. Another chance to get to know Imogen wasted.
Chapter Six
Gavin stood in the small room he occupied at the Roasted Dragon, working with the El’aras dagger and practicing different fighting styles. He flowed from movement to movement, using one form, then another, each of them demonstrating various techniques that helped him stay fluid. He used the training style that Tristan had taught him all those years ago. It was one that forced him to work through each of the training techniques. With each one, he could develop his confidence, and it took very little time for him to gain the necessary skill so that he could fight anyone. Despite not using any enchantments, Gavin had never encountered anyone who posed much of a challenge to him. Even those with enchantments—and even sorcerers—had never been that
