Read Online The Blinding Knife by Brent Weeks - Free Book Online

leaned over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his wind. He flinched, bit back a curse, and took his weight off his left hand.
    “Concealed weapons are most useful if you can draw them on short notice,” Samite said.
    Kip stood up abruptly. Of course. Leaning forward had pressed the outline of the dagger against his clothes, and because of their work, of all people, Blackguards would be the best at noticing concealed weapons.
    Excellent, Kip. Outstanding. You couldn’t even hide the dagger for one hour.
    Still, she said nothing further.
    Kip looked after the departing Blackguards. Ironfist was gone, too. “Uh, what am
I
supposed to do?” he asked Samite.
    “I’ll take you to your new quarters, and then to your lectures.”
    Kip’s stomach dropped. A class full of people who all knew each other and would stare at him when he came in. He’d be dropped into the middle of some subject he knew nothing about, and he’d look stupid. He swallowed.
    I’ve seen a sea demon, faced color wights, been in battle, and killed… and I’m nervous about being the new boy. Kip grimaced, but it still didn’t make him feel any better.
    He followed Samite up into the central tower, up one of the counterweighted lifts. “You get the layout before?” she asked.
    “The commander took me straight to the Threshing. Not really.”
    “We don’t have time today, sadly. I like watching the fresh meat gawk.” She grinned, but it was friendly. “In short, each tower houses its own color of drafters and most of the training facilities for them,though everyone shares some barracks, some offices, some storerooms, some libraries. At the base of each tower there are more specialized functions: under the blue tower are the smelters and glass furnaces, under the green are gardens and menageries, under the red is the mirth hall and conservatories, under the yellow is the infirmary and discipline areas, under sub-red are the kitchens and the stockyards, under the Prism’s Tower is the great hall. Got it?”
    He hoped she was joking. He smiled uncertainly as they stepped out into an empty level, not far up. She walked him down the hall and opened an oak door to a barracks. “Find an empty bed,” she said.
    There was no one inside, empty pallets stretching from wall to wall. At the foot of each one was a chest for personal items.
    “Please tell me there isn’t some kind of pecking order for who gets what bed,” Kip said.
    “There isn’t some kind of pecking order for who gets what bed,” she said in a monotone.
    “You’re lying?” he asked.
    “Correct.”
    “What’s the worst bed in the room?”
    “In the back. Farthest from the door.”
    Kip began walking to the last bed when he realized something. He stopped. “I don’t really have any stuff.” He only had a cloak, the ornate knife box, and the knife.
    Samite cleared her throat.
    “What?”
    “You’re not going to class armed.”
    Oh hell.
    “We’ll also be taking you to the tailors to get you Chromeria garb.”
    What was he supposed to do? Leave a priceless dagger in a barracks? Samite only knew that he had a knife. They’d just left a war zone, so that was no surprise. But if he showed it to her, she’d surely report it. He had to make it uninteresting even to her.
    “I’m going to, um, have to take off my shirt to get my knife off. Can, uh, you turn your back?” Kip asked.
    She turned her back, without even making any cracks or grinning.
    Kip moved quickly to his pallet and stripped off his shirt and untied the dagger. He pulled the shirt back on and folded his cloak clumsily. He opened the chest. Inside was a thin, folded blanket. Kip set the cloak and the dagger box into his chest, and put the chest at the foot of the bed.
    “Done yet?” Samite asked.
    “Um, no! Just a minute.”
    Kip looked over the beds. There were maybe sixty pallets in the room. The unoccupied beds—those nearest Kip—were unmade and had the chest underneath them. The occupied