Read Online The Way Of Shadows by Brent Weeks - Free Book Online Page B

appreciate it if one of you would watch her door this night in case she requires anything. We will all dine in the usual room in the morning.”
    Solon loved it. Logan had just confined his mother to her chambers and put a guard on the door to keep her there until morning, all without giving her an avenue for complaint. This boy will be formidable.
    Will be? He already is. And I’ve just chained myself to him. It wasn’t a comfortable thought. He hadn’t even decided to stay. Actually, half an hour ago, he’d decided not to decide for a few weeks. Now he was Logan’s.
    Did you know this would happen, Dorian? Dorian didn’t believe in coincidences. But Solon had never had his friend’s faith. Now, faith or no faith, he was committed. It made his neck feel tight, like wearing a slave collar two sizes too small.
    The rest of an excellent meal passed in silence. Solon begged his lord’s leave and went looking for the nearest inn that served Sethi wine.
    10
    Her face was destroyed. Azoth had once seen a man kicked square in the face by a horse. He’d died wheezing on broken teeth and blood. Doll Girl’s face was worse.
    Azoth looked away, but Durzo grabbed a handful of his hair and turned him back. “Look, damn you, look. This is what you’ve done, boy. This is what hesitation costs. When I say kill, you kill. Not tomorrow, not five days later. You kill that second. No hesitation. No doubts. No second thoughts. Obedience. Do you understand the word? I know better than you do. You know nothing. You are nothing. This is what you are. You are weakness. You are filth. You are the blood bubbling out of that little girl’s nose.”
    Sobs burst from Azoth’s throat. He thrashed and tried to turn away, but Durzo’s grip was steel. “No! Look! This is what you’ve done. This is your fault! Your failure! Your deader did this. A deader shouldn’t do anything. A deader is dead. Not five days from now—a deader is dead as soon as you take the contract. Do you understand?”
    Azoth threw up, and still Durzo held his hair, turning him so his vomit didn’t splatter on Doll Girl. When he was done, Durzo turned him around and let go. But Azoth turned away, not even wiping the puke from his lips. He looked at Doll Girl. She couldn’t last long. Every breath was labored. Blood welled, dribbled, dripped, slid onto the sheets, onto the floor.
    He stared until her face disappeared, until he was only seeing red angles and curves where once that doll-pretty face had been. The red angles went white-hot and branded his memory, searing him. He held perfectly still so the scars on his mind would give a perfect image of what he’d done, would perfectly match the lacerations on her face.
    Durzo didn’t say a word. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Azoth didn’t matter. All that mattered was the bloody little girl lying on bloody sheets. He felt something inside collapsing, something squeezing the breath out of his body. Part of him was glad; part of him cheered as he felt himself being crushed, compacted into insignificance, into oblivion. This was what he deserved.
    But then it stopped. He blinked and noticed there were no tears in his eyes. He wouldn’t be crushed. Something in him refused to be crushed. He turned to Durzo.
    “If you save her, I’m yours. Forever.”
    “You don’t understand, boy. You’ve already failed. Besides, she’s dying. There’s nothing you can do. She’s worthless now. A girl on the street is worth exactly what she can get for whoring. Saving her life is no kindness. She won’t thank you for it.”
    “I’ll find you when he’s dead,” Azoth said.
    “You’ve already failed.”
    “You gave me a week. It’s only been five days.”
    Durzo shook his head. “By the Night Angels. So be it. But if you come without proof, I’ll end you.”
    Azoth didn’t answer. He was already walking away.
    She wasn’t dying fast, but she was certainly dying. Durzo couldn’t help but have a certain detached