Page 78 of The Edge of Dawn

He could hardly believe they’d allowed him into that place.

It wasn’t too long ago that he’d infiltrated their secure compound on Earth and attempted to kill one of their very own.

Tarak could have so easily made an example of him.

He could have brutally tortured him and displayed his corpse for all to see.

Before the Empire had fallen, that’s what happened to assassins who were caught. A Silent One caught in a Mindbond was of no use to anyone except to serve as a deterrent. Most Silent Ones—at the command of their Mistress—would kill themselves upon capture. Those unlucky enough to be restrained before they could act would face the most brutal treatment from their enemies.

Silent Ones were often sent to kill other Kordolians in positions of power. If they failed and were caught, the targets would exact the most brutal revenge, for revenge was a Kordolian specialty.

And everyone despised the Silent Ones.

That’s why he was so surprised by Tarak’s treatment of him. Death-switch or not, he’d never had this much freedom before.

Freedom to spar.

Freedom to choose his own weapons.

Freedom to roam the Fleet Station at will and even enter a human’s quarters. The Qualum doors to Jade’s quarters had permitted him entry, and he suspected that wasn’t by accident.

What was the general playing at? And Ashrael, for that matter?

He growled softly as he slipped a narrow belt around his waist. Attached to it were a pair of sleek sheaths that secured his twin daggers. “This is sufficient,” he told Tarkun, who was watching him carefully.

The weapons master gave nothing away, not even an aura, and from that alone, Dragek knew he was extremely dangerous.

“I would offer you guns or swords, but I suspect you don’t require any of that,” Tarkun said in a deceptively light tone.

“Those things are useless for my method of fighting.” An assassin relied on stealth, on the ability to get as close to the target as possible without being detected.

“Very well.” Tarkun nodded in the direction of the skinsuit and mask, which hung in a receptacle in the armor section. “That’s yours as well. I wish you good hunting, katach.”

Dragek flashed his fangs in a humorless smile. “I don’t need your positive wishes, kilivar.” He used the High Kordolian word—blade-polisher. It could be an insult or a compliment, depending on the inflection. From his time spent dealing with the masters of The Program, he’d learned a few words in the Old Tongue. Enough to say a phrase here and there and know when it might have a double meaning. “My success has never been dependent on luck. I stand here before you in spite of a cursed fate.”

Tarkun returned his smile with a cold, enigmatic curve of his lips. “Even in the most desolate of circumstances, fate can suddenly turn in one’s favor. Are you sure it isn’t luck that sent you to us?”

“Who am I to presume the will of the Universe?” Dragek growled, growing irritated. This Tarkun had never seen his face before, and yet he seemed to know everything about him.

There was something unsettling about him, too. The way the light particles reflected off his irises was different. They absorbed too much light. Almost as much as a Silent One’s sightless eyes.

And he was as cold and impenetrable as the dark waters beneath the endless ice sheets of the Vaal.

“The Universe brought you to us, but it’s you who will decide your fate through the choices you make.” Tarkun clasped his hands together and inclined his head. Dressed in a long kashkan and with his long hair fashioned in traditional Aikun braids, he gave off a serious and imperious aura. “So far, so good, as the humans would say. You’ve had a taste of what could be yours if you continue to choose wisely.”

Dragek walked over to the skinsuit and carefully removed it from its hook. He folded it up and took the death-mask and the supple boots.

That was all he needed.

“What I choose to do is my business,” he replied coolly as he passed the weapons master and headed for the exit.

Tarkun offered him a curt nod. “Go and rest, Dragek. Take nourishment. You’ll be leaving soon, so go and restore yourself.”

Dragek’s lips twisted wryly. If only they knew how little rest he needed. And he was feeling particularly energized right now.

As soon as he was out of the weapons store, Dragek released his hold on the curious voice that had infiltrated his mind.

Not that he’d really been holding her in any way, but he’d asked her to be quiet as he dealt with Tarkun because he hadn’t wanted the weapons master to get the impression that he was distracted by the sweet passenger in his mind.

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