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Mara sat on the bench behind, leaving the bench in front as a gap between them.
“You test my patience, Mara. Return to your position.” The Master pointed to where Mara had been sat before.
Mara did so. He wanted to puke.
The Master sat. “Let us forget about the location of your task. If you were to carry out a similar performance elsewhere, what reaction would you expect from the creation of noise?”
The pressure in Mara’s head felt like someone stood on top of it. His mouth filled with spit. He heaved.
The Master held a hand toward the floor. “Please, be my guest.”
Mara puked hot liquid onto the floor, then coughed hard. He heaved a few more times, struggling to breathe as he did, but nothing came. His throat burned, and his mouth tasted sour.
“Are you finished?”
Mara coughed. “Yes,” he whispered.
“Then tell me, what becomes of screams?”
“Someone would hear them.”
“Correct. Are you so confident in your combat abilities that you would see success against six guards with swords? You are to kill in silence. As you proved possible. The man had no idea the woman had been slain.” The Master paused for some time before continuing. “Witnesses are to be eliminated. You will find continued success if you are not revealed as an assassin. Women such as those in the cabin may well have found their salvation from elsewhere. Thanks to your intervention, they, and their unborn children, are dead.”
“Dead?” Mara hung his head forward, the sharp pain in his head making him close his eyes.
“You are not to succumb to your emotions.” The Master stood. “You are to clean up your vomit, then be escorted to your room.”
The Master barged past the Shadow in the corner as he left.
Later, Mara lay in the darkness on his bed. He was glad he hadn’t had to go back into the room with Balin. It’s better being alone. No one can blame me for anything. The pain in his head still niggled at him, and his forehead hurt to touch. The door opened, and a Shadow entered, holding a candle.
It knelt and held out a wooden cup. “Drink,” it whispered.
Mara sat up, downed the water, and handed the cup back. The Shadow didn’t leave. What does it want? Just go away. He squinted as the Shadow held the candle close to his face.
“What are you?” the Shadow whispered.
Mara moved his head away from the candle. The same thing Joseph asked. Was this one there too when Eliot killed himself? “I don’t know what you mean.”
“The brothers talk of you, taking strikes in anger from our Master.” It looked to the door before it continued. “They say you are demonic.”
Mara pulled away as the Shadow moved the candle toward his face again.
The Shadow grabbed Mara’s arm. “Let me see them.”
“Get off me,” Mara shouted.
“Quiet now.” The Shadow took Mara by the neck.
Mara couldn’t breathe. He dug his nails into the Shadow’s gloved fingers as the candle flame burned his cheek. The Slow came. He tried to kick, but the Shadow’s weight was too much.
Then came the glimmer of metal. It moved in front of the Shadow’s neck while a hand passed over its mask. The head tilted back as the knife sliced. Dark, hot blood sprayed into Mara’s eyes. The Shadow’s grip on his neck released. He gasped but only sucked in blood. Then the mask cracked him in the face. He choked as he pushed at the Shadow, trying to scream but only gargled. I don’t want to die. Help me, Silas. Help me, Beast.
The Shadow’s body rolled sideways, and Mara was pulled off the bed. He dropped to his hands and knees and coughed out salty blood, finally able to breathe, then fell sideways as time became normal. He rubbed the blood from his eyes. Black legs stood next to him, not the Beast’s. He looked up to see the Shadow tuck away the blade as another entered the room. It saved me.
“Take him to the courtyard,” one of the Shadows said. “I’ll fetch the Master.”
Mara sat against the wall in the courtyard. The Shadow’s dried blood felt tight on his skin. What do they think I am? Am I a demon? Is that why it gets slow, why I see the Beast? He didn’t know what or why anything was happening to him or why he deserved it. Is it because I killed Mother?
