Damian FINUCANE's Arc

Chapter 32 of 57

The road east took three days. Damian, Rolo, and his master left the city behind and did not speak much. The iron token sat heavy in his coat. He had killed the last man on his list. His father was avenged. But when the temple's Gothic arches rose over the trees, Damian slowed. He did not know if it was still his home. Rolo caught his hesitation. She hopped onto a low wall and walked its length, careless as ever. "You look like a man going to his own funeral," she said. "We won." Damian did not answer. Inside those walls he had trained for one purpose. That purpose was done. He had no next fight. He did not know what a man was, once his revenge ended. He stopped at the plaza where four assassins had waited weeks ago. His master watched him. "You are afraid," she said. Not a question. "I don't know why I'm here," Damian said. "The killing is over. I built myself into a blade. A blade has no use when the war ends." He leaned on the polished cane he had carried since the fortress, the one with the hidden edge inside. "Maybe I don't belong here now." His master took the cane from his hand. She twisted the false-bottom section open and slid out the thin blade. "A cane and a sword," she said. "One tool, two uses. You looked at it and saw only the blade." She fit the cane back together and handed it over. "You were never only a weapon, Damian. You were a student who chose control over rage, again and again. That does not end." Damian took the cane. He thought of the runed sword under his cloak, the one gift she had given him for learning to keep his mind clear. She had not given it to a weapon. She had given it to a person she trusted. "The men who took the dead man's coin still live," he said. "They know my face now. They will come here." "Yes," his master said. "They will." She turned toward the great doors. "So the temple needs teachers, not just fighters. It needs someone who has walked the whole road and come back. That is what you are now." Damian looked at the doors. Students moved in the yard beyond, drilling footwork, the same drills he had once hated. He understood them differently now. He was not the boy who had come here for vengeance. That boy was gone. The man who returned had a new place to fill. He walked to the doors and pushed them open. The stone hall was cool and quiet. "I'll stay," he said. "I'll teach. And when the marked men come, we'll be ready." His master nodded once. Rolo dropped from the wall and grinned. The temple was his home again, but on new terms. The hunt for vengeance was finished. The fight to protect it had just begun.