The Nameless Assassins

Awkward Conversations

"Glass, I'm afraid I have orders not to let you in until further notice."

As soon as I passed through the gates of the Red Sash Sword Academy, Mylera's foot soldiers dashed inside to report, and it was their second-in-command, Xayah, who greeted me at the door. Although she sounded slightly apologetic (we usually got along quite well), her gaze was firm, and in the cold wind, her sleeves rippled over daggers strapped to her forearms.

She also very solidly occupied the center of the top step, the way Irimina's butler Rutherford did when he declined entry to tradesmen and beggars.

Stopping at the foot of the stairs, I propped one boot on the bottom step, shifted my weight onto my left leg so my sword hilt flashed – a reminder that I was almost as good a fencer as she – and affected a relaxed pose. "Orders from Mylera?" I drawled, playing for time.

"Of course," Xayah replied calmly, knowing perfectly well that I knew perfectly well that no Red Sash lieutenant would ban me on her own initiative. Like all her Ankhayat leviathan-hunter-captain kin, Mylera brooked no dissent from her underlings, even as she accepted that the greater part of wisdom was humility. (That bizarre mix of military imperiousness and scholarly restraint made Ankhayat the hardest House for any young Anixis to impersonate properly.)

Without speaking, Xayah stared steadily at me and waited for me to remove myself. Well, if she planned to play butler, then it was time to remind her that I was high Iruvian nobility – which her family had served as stewards and legal counsel for generations. (In fact, one of her great-uncles terrorized the Anixis estate, silently and efficiently executing the Patriarch's will.)

With a haughty lift of my chin, I declared in upper-class Hadrathi, "Please inform Mylera Klev that if she wishes to ban me from the premises, she needs to release me from our contract first. I am legally obligated to teach this class."

Generations of servitude had left their mark. With a sigh, Xayah replied reflexively, "Please wait here. I'll see what she says."

"Thank you."

In her absence, I advanced onto the top step and leaned casually against one of the marble columns. Normally, I would have felt guilty about pulling rank – after wrangling that first meeting with Mylera two years ago, I'd dropped the aristocratic accent in favor of street Hadrathi – but right now I was desperate. I could not make amends to someone who refused to see me.

Mylera's familiar footsteps heralded her arrival after roughly the length of time it took for Xayah to hurry upstairs and report, and then for both of them to proceed downstairs at Mylera's normal walking speed.

An Anixis would have kept me waiting.

An Ankhayat disdained mental games.

This particular Ankhayat leaned against the doorjamb, folded her arms across her chest, and skewered me with a long, hard look. "I thought I told you to get out." Her voice was hostile and harbored no hesitation to remove me from her front step, personally and by force if necessary. All around the courtyard, her people stood to attention, hands on hilts and sashes.

But while Mylera might have been an Ankhayat, I was an Anixis.

Taking one quick step forward (a few Red Sashes started in alarm, then subsided at her signal), I lifted a hand to my heart, bowed my head – and plunged into the deep obeisance that members of one House made to the Patriarch of another.

Gasps rose around the courtyard as I held the pose, waiting for her to speak first.

"I have no interest in being involved in any Anixis plots, Glass," came her icy voice.