Damian FINUCANE's Arc

Chapter 28 of 57

The plaza was quiet now. The fallen killers lay where they dropped. Damian's master stood on the temple steps with the letter in her hand. She had read the name at the bottom, and Damian saw she knew it. But she folded the page and slid it into her sleeve without a word. "You know who this is," Damian said. "Tell me." "Come inside," she answered. "Not here." She led him through the tall stone doors into the swordhall. Gray light fell from the high round window. Students stood along the walls, but she waved them out. When the last one left, she faced Damian under the arches. "I have heard that name before," she said. "Long ago. Before your father was born." She touched the letter through her sleeve. "But I will not give it to you yet." Damian's jaw tightened. "That name sent men to kill you today. It ordered my father's death. It is mine to hunt." "Rage almost cost you every match we fought," she said. "You have killed three men now. A mastermind. A masked swordsman. Each time you chose to keep your head or lose it." She stepped closer. "This name is worse than all of them. If I give it to you angry, you will ride out and die." "Then test me," Damian said. "You have tested me before." She studied him a long moment. Then she drew her sword. "Ten exchanges," she said. "No anger. If your hand shakes, I keep the name." Damian set his feet. He lifted the gemmed blade. She came at him hard, faster than the old drills. He met her first cut and turned it. She spoke as she struck, the way she always had. "Your father begged before he died," she said. "Did they tell you that?" The words hit him. His arm wanted to swing wild. He breathed and cleared his mind. He let the lie pass through him and struck clean, controlled. Steel rang under the arches. Five exchanges. Seven. His breath stayed even. On the tenth, he turned her blade aside and stopped his own a finger from her shoulder. He lowered the sword. His hand was steady. The master stepped back. She looked at his still hand, then at his face. Slowly she drew the letter from her sleeve and pressed it into his palm. "His name is written there," she said. "Twenty years ago he was my teacher's rival. He built the network that sent the masked man. He does not fight with a blade. He buys men to do it." Her voice dropped. "He is in the distant city. And now he knows this temple by name." Damian looked down at the letter he now owned in full. "Then I ride to the city," he said. "We ride," she answered. "This time I come with you. He was mine to hunt before he was ever yours." The hunt had a name now, and a place, and two swords aimed at it.