Inquisitor Abena didn’t have a weapon, but she had a plan. That was all Abena ever needed.
“Give me the key,” she said as she cornered the stable hand.
“I can’t, my master, he’ll kill me.” The boy cowered under Abena’s shadow.
She cocked her head to the side, her curls bouncing on her shoulder. “Are you not afraidImight kill you, Duster?”
The boy’s eyes fluttered. That was fear all right. He took another step backward, right where Abena needed him.
Thunk!
The stone swung out from the rafters in the ceiling, activated by the boy’s weight. It knocked him unconscious. Blue blood blossomed where the stone had hit him.
Abena bent down to retrieve her trap. She’d used the bloodwerk runes Gi and Ba to drive the stone and supplementary runes to pressure-trigger it.
“They don’t call me the best Inquisitor in the empire for nothing.” She smiled and pulled the key out of the boy’s pocket.
—“The Kori Bird and the Key” from the tales of Inquisitor Abena, featured in The People’s Gazette
Anoor had never tested that rune trap before. She read about the concept from the tales of Inquisitor Abena. The woman was a genius.
The girl lay sprawled on the floor, red blood dotting her long black braids. The glass paperweight her father had gotten her for her fourth nameday had worked perfectly to knock her out.
She dressed like the Dusters Anoor saw from a distance, in a dirty gray tunic and blue woven pantaloons, tied at the waist with string—practical, unkempt clothing made from cheap material with faded patterns. The outfit must have been part of her undercover mission, as the small wound on her skull confirmed her Ember blood. And she would have had to be an Ember to get through the blood scour at the entrance to the Keep. Despite the baggy and unflattering clothing, Anoor could still detect the muscle beneath.
“Now where have you come from?” Anoor circled the body. “If you’re not an assassin sent to kill me, then maybe…” She clapped, her hazel eyes shining. “You’re a thief trying to steal my jewels.”
“Anoor? What’s going on? Did you fall out of bed again?” Gorn knocked on her bedroom door with even, persistent taps.
“I’m fine, go back to bed.” The knocks didn’t stop, so Anoor shuffled to the door and opened it a crack.
“What is going on?”
“Nothing, I tripped over my undergarments.”
“Did you hurt yourself? I can get the bandages.”
“No, I’m fine, just a heavy fall.”
“Okay, I’ll wake you at tenth strike for classes tomorrow.” Gorn turned away.
“Oh, one thing.” Anoor held her elbow in her other hand. “Please, could I get some more blood?”
“I drew some earlier for you. Why do you need more now?”
Anoor waited with her hand held out.
Gorn’s disapproval was palpable, but she eventually withdrew her stylus. Her inkwell was plain copper, green and rusted in areas that made Anoor wince. The stylus inserted into the gap above her vein. The blood ran through the groove in the center and pooled in the tip where Anoor held a small vial.
“Thank you, Gorn, good night.”
Anoor closed the door in Gorn’s face and turned to face the intruder, the warm vial of blood clutched between her hands.
There was just a smear of red blood where the assassin had once been. Anoor rushed to the window to look for the body. She must have fallen out.
“Hello, there.” The girl snuck up behind Anoor and held her neck in an elbow vise. “Don’t scream.” Her breath reeked.
Anoor tried to gurgle at her.