He picked at the dried blood under his fingernails and wondered if it had come from the woman or the man. Probably both, but mostly the man. He was glad he’
d killed them and helped the women. It was the first time in his life he’d felt like he’d done something good.
Memories of killing Mother came back. The yellow eyes that somehow looked inside his head. She didn’t deserve to die. He felt more guilty each time he thought about it. In some ways, he wished he’d never found her cave, but then, how would he have learnt his name? She shouldn’t have died for it, though. Silas shouldn’t have lied to me.
The door behind him squealed open. Mara turned and recognised the Shadow Master’s walk. He’s dry. How come he didn’t let me get changed? Mara made a show of shivering as the Master sat down to face him on the bench in front. A second Shadow, also dry, stood in the corner.
The Master brushed away some dust from his dry clothes. “You are cold?”
Bastard. “Yes.”
“You are in no position to be abrupt with me, young man.”
I hate you and your stupid words. Mara looked at the floor, clenching his jaw.
“I will begin with your dispatch of the woman, an unexpected addition, and you adapted well. Albeit fortunate in the way she was presented to you. An easy but effective execution. I commend you.”
Mara looked up. He wanted to pull the Master’s mask off – to see what was under it. I want the Beast to come and teach you a lesson.
“Your subsequent performance, however, was abysmal. How do you believe your target would have reacted if he saw you looking through the door at him?”
Mara looked back to the floor.
“Well? Answer me.”
“I don’t know,” Mara said, in a much ruder tone than he knew he should have.
Mara lay on his back, staring at the light grey lines that ran between the stones in the ceiling. The bottoms of his legs were up on the bench he’d been sat on. How did I get here? He lifted his head. The Shadow Master sat in the same position. Did I fall asleep? He twisted his legs off the bench and rose to sit back in front of the Master. The Shadow in the corner tipped its head to the side slightly.
The Master cleared his throat. “So?”
Mara’s head throbbed. “He would have come for me.”
“Perhaps. Are you aware of the man’s history in combat?”
“No.”
“Then how were you to know if he would best you or not?”
Mara looked at the floor again. The throb had become a sharp pain in his forehead. “I didn’t.”
“Correct. Your instructions to remain hidden were clear. Your training in the art of Shadows has been thorough. Instead, you chose to slaughter the man like a common thug, risking the chance of counter-attack. This was not an exercise in combat proficiency. Such measures are to be a last resort, as has been explained to you on multiple occasions.”
Mara didn’t look up. “He was horrible to those women.”
“His actions were none of your concern. Your task was specific. As for the women, explain to me your instructions concerning the treatment of witnesses.”
“No witnesses.”
“Correct. Then please explain why you entered the cabin.”
Mara looked up, proud to have saved the women. “They were chained up. They couldn’t have their babies in that place.”
The Master stood and shouted, “No witnesses!”
Mara lay on the floor again, mouth hung open. The Master’s shoulders rose and fell like he breathed heavily, fists clenched. Did he hit me? Mara rubbed a hand across his face and rose. His legs felt weak, and he stumbled to the side, dizzy.
“Sit down.”