condemn faith in Karak. But now she was just one of many dangerous killers crawling the night, with little purpose, little meaning. Alyssa was her ward. The doings of thieves and murderers meant nothing to her.
Well, almost nothing. There was the Watcher…
“What brings you out this night?” asked Haern, as if her thoughts had summoned him into existence. Zusa turned. She crouched atop a spire of a mansion belonging to some minor lord who’d long since moved out of Veldaren to safer lands. Haern stood behind her, leaning against the chimney with a subdued smile on his face. He’d pulled back his hood, revealing his handsome face.
“Sometimes even mansions aren’t big enough,” she said.
Haern chuckled.
“I stayed in one for a few years, and was never allowed to leave except when at my father’s side. I explored every inch of it a hundred times, and I daresay they can seem quite small when they’re your whole world.”
He joined her side, and together they overlooked the city. The night was deep, and in the starlight the city seemed calm, empty, but that was not what Zusa sensed. There was a tightness in the air, and glancing at Haern, she saw she was not alone in feeling it. Perhaps it wasn’t just Melody that bothered her…
“Something the matter?” she asked him.
“Just Victor,” he said, not looking at her. “Still torn on what to think, and how much to trust him.”
“Victor?” she asked. He glanced her way, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.
“Where have you been today?” he asked.
“Busy.”
He shrugged.
“Look into it, then. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pays your mansion a visit tomorrow. A change is underway, and from the way he talks, I don’t think it is just the lowborn thieves he aims to scatter. Alyssa would do well to make friends with him.”
“I’ll remember.”
They fell silent again. As he stared, she looked him over. Ever since their time together in Angelport, he’d been a far more subdued person. Even now, as they relaxed underneath the moonlight, it looked like he carried a terrible weight on his shoulders. Zusa shook her head. He’d seen what might happen to Veldaren if he failed like in Angelport. The terror, the responsibility, it fueled him, yet drained him, as well. She wondered how long until he cracked, and could take no more.
Then again, she’d seen his strength. For good or ill, giving up didn’t ever seem to be an option with him. Slowly, carefully, as if reaching toward a frightened animal, she put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. She wanted to be reassuring, but she knew so little of him, and even less of his deeper troubles.
“You are strong,” she said. “None can defeat you, so do not be afraid.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Haern said, but despite the frustration in his voice, he did not pull away from her touch. “I may kill thousands, but I will still die. What happens then, Zusa? What will I have accomplished? There will be no peace when I am buried, only a celebration of fire, theft, and murder.”
Zusa swallowed.
“Tears will be shed.”
“Not for me.”
“You are wrong.”
He stood, but his head remained low, his back hunched. His cloaks curled over him like gray wings.
“What if you’re right, and it is pointless?” Zusa said, feeling her temper flaring. “Why continue?”
Haern chuckled.
“Because I’m not dead yet. Have a safe night, Zusa.”
“You too, Watcher.”
Pulling his hood over his head hid his face in shadow, but she could still see his mouth, and the way it curled into a half-smile at the mention of the Watcher.
“Haern,” he said. “To you, let me always be Haern. The Watcher should have no friends.”
At this she laughed, then blew him a kiss as he vanished into the night. Staring where he’d been, she thought on his words.
“Victor,” she whispered. “Who is Victor?”
Haern had told her to look into it, so she would, but not yet. With his absence, her mind drifted once more to the mansion, and Melody waiting there. Must she burden Alyssa with even more worries? Whoever this Victor was, Zusa hoped that he would indeed be friend instead of foe. Their life was turned upside down enough as it was.
She took once more to running across the rooftops, the exertion welcome to her muscles. She was getting older, felt it in her bones. It had been nine years since she’d stumbled upon a frightened, endangered Alyssa. Zusa had been young then, but not anymore. It seemed everyone she knew was getting older. How long until even the Watcher was nothing but bent back and wrinkled hands? At the image, she laughed. As if Haern would ever age. He probably wouldn’t let it happen, too stubborn for even time to defeat him.
Old instincts guided her along, up walls, through windows, and across dark alleys many feared to tread when the sun went down. She was unaware of where she went, her thoughts elsewhere, but when she crept to the top of a roof and stared out across the street before her, she shivered. Sinking into old patterns, she’d come to the Temple of Karak, hidden deep in Veldaren’s wealthy district. A thousand memories assaulted her, most of them painful. The beatings. The trials. The methodical breaking of everything that made her a woman, coupled with the hiding of her body and face with cloth and wrappings. The priests had branded her a Faceless, an outcast meant only to serve in penance.
But not all the memories were terrible. She fondly recalled her fellow sisters, Eliora and Nava, and their camaraderie in face of such persecution. And of course, Daverik’s touch, the taste of his lips, before they’d been discovered, and punished…
A chill spread through her chest, and she shoved such memories away. Looking to the temple, she muttered a curse, a hope that the earth would swallow up the obsidian pillars and lion statues, leaving nothing but a scar where the temple had been. And it was then that she saw the movement, just a shadow among shadows. The sight of it nearly stopped her heart.
“No,” she whispered.
Drawing her daggers, she leapt from the roof and gave chase. It had been heading north, a black shape with a cloak. But it was no thief she’d seen. Oh no, something far worse than that. Her legs pumped, and she was but a blur on the streets. When she lost sight of her prey, she leapt atop a nearby home and catapulted herself into the air. Calling upon the innate powers she’d developed over her years of training, she sailed forward, her arms outward, her daggers pointed down like the talons of a hawk. As she slowly fell, she once more spotted her prey. Twisting her arms together, Zusa spun, and she plummeted at a vicious speed.
When she landed, it was upon a large two-story set of homes, the roof long and flat. Before her, at the edge of the roof, was her nightmare. She wore black and dark purple wrappings, tightly woven around her body. A white cloth covered her face, masking her features. A grey cloak trailed behind her.
Another Faceless.
“Who are you?” Zusa asked as the other woman turned around, her own daggers drawn.
“You?” the Faceless Woman said, her voice revealing her surprise. “Zusa, yes? The betrayer, the murderer of the faithful. They’ve told us of you, warned us of your blasphemy.”
“They?” asked Zusa, her whole body tensing. “I was the last of the Faceless. What cruel joke are you?”
“My name is Ezra,” the woman said, adopting a similar crouch as Zusa. Her body was thinner, and shorter. By her voice and the hint of features she could see through the cloth mask, Zusa guessed her to be young, and very beautiful. “And I am the first of the new. The order has been remade, and it is my honor to deliver you to Karak so we might wash away your sins with blood.”
“My sins?” Zusa asked, grinning. “Which ones?”
“You show your face,” said Ezra. “You are a disgrace. A weakling. My faith will bring you low!”
Ezra’s lithe body uncoiled, leaping out like a viper, her daggers twin fangs. Zusa fell back, surprised by the speed. Twisting to one side, she avoided a stab, then batted away the other. Planting her feet, she ducked low and cut. Ezra blocked with both her daggers, then tried to kick. A foolish move. Zusa spun again, her feet dancing. When she leapt forward, Ezra was out of position, the snap-kick having put her balance at risk. Her daggers flashed in, and found flesh. Ezra screamed, but instead of countering, she tried to retreat.
