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

desk with a sound like a musket shot. Kip almost jumped out of his skin. He looked at the green luxin switch in the magister’s hand. She’d slammed it across his desk, missing his fingertips by a thumb’s width.
    “
Master
Guile,” she said.
    She let the words sit in the air, announcing to anyone in the class who hadn’t known who he was that he was indeed a Guile, and she knew it.
    Next she proves she doesn’t care.
    “Do you think you’re better than the rest of the class, Master Guile?”
    The temptation was strong, but Kip had his orders. He was to do well in his classes. Getting kicked out of them would not help him achieve that. “No, Magister,” he said. He thought he even made it sound sincere.
    She wasn’t an imposing figure, neither tall nor wide, but she loomed over Kip’s seat. He leaned as far away as his seat allowed. “Do we understand each other, young man?” she asked.
    It was an odd way to put it, since she hadn’t made any explicit threat, but she didn’t have to. “Yes, Magister,” Kip said.
    “Discipulae, I’m
sure
you’ve noticed your new classmate.” The way she said it made it unclear whether or not she was referring to Kip being fat. There were a few nervous titters. “His name is Kit Guile and—”
    “Kip,” Kip interjected. “Not a woody tub for toys, a tubby wooden boy.” He knew it was a mistake as soon as the words were halfway out of his mouth.
    “Ah. Thank you. I’d forgotten that gutter Tyrean has its own definitions for words. Put out your hand, Kip.”
    He extended his hand, not quite guessing why he needed to do so until she cracked the green switch across his knuckles.
    It yanked his breath away.
    “Don’t ever interrupt a magister, Kip. Even if you are a Guile.”
    He looked down at his knuckles, fully expecting them to be bloody. They weren’t. She knew exactly how hard she could hit with that thing. At least she’d hit the knuckles of his right hand. His raw left hand would have been far worse.
    Magister Kadah turned and walked back toward the front of the room, muttering, “Kip. Ridiculous name. But then what can one expect an illiterate slattern to name her bastard?”
    It was a trap. Kip knew it was a trap. It yawned open right in front of his feet. She hates you and she has a plan, Kip. Just keep your mouth shut, Kip.
    He raised his hand. It was the best compromise his brain could negotiate with his mouth.
    She didn’t call on him. He kept his left hand up. Wrapped in white bandages, it was impossible to miss. It might have looked like a flag of surrender, if it weren’t so patently a rebellion.
    “As you all should remember from yesterday’s lecture, drafting is the process of turning light into a physical substance, luxin.” She saw that Kip’s hand was still up, and her mouth tightened momentarily, but she ignored him. “Each color of light can be transformed into a different color of luxin, each of which has its own smell, weight, solidity, strength.”
    Orholam’s beard, this? They were this far back? What a waste of—
    “Kip, are we wasting your time?” she asked sharply. “Are we boring you?”
    Trap, Kip. Don’t do it, Kip.
    “No, my eyes glaze over like this all the time. Comes from having a mother who was always smoking haze.”
    Her eyebrows shot up.
    “I have this condition,” Kip said. Stop it, Kip. Stop. “See, I’m not just fat, I’m also slow—you know, mentally—so when I get fixated on one thing, I’m not able to go on to the next subject until all my questions are answered. Maybe I’m not advanced enough for this class. Maybe I should be moved elsewhere.”
    “I do see,” she said. He knew she wasn’t going to let him go to another class. He didn’t even know if there was another class. “Well, Master Guile, this
is
a novice class, and we pride ourselves on not leaving behind even the slowest cattle in the herd, and obviously, you really want to say something, don’t you?”
    “Yes, Magister.” He