The Blinding Knife by Brent Weeks Read Free Book Online Page A

course, it was surrounded by reefs that would destroy any ship with a greater displacement than a canoe or a skimmer, and even those could only make it in at high tide.
    As they came in closer, skimming a mere hand’s breadth over the coral, Karris saw an enormous pier jutting from the undeveloped shore. A pier that gleamed like gold—a pier of solid yellow luxin. She was about to comment to Gavin about it—Had he created this? Was this where he’d been going in the last few days?—when she saw something else.
    There were a couple of hundred armed men and women standing on the beach in an unruly mob.
    “Gavin, those people look angry.”
    Amused, Gavin lifted his eyebrows momentarily. “Not as angry as they’re going to be.” And then, heedless, he beached the skimmer directly in front of the mob.

Chapter 9
     
    “Commander, could I talk with you for a moment?” Kip asked.
    After Gavin and Karris left, Commander Ironfist and the Blackguards had taken over the fastest galleass in the fleet and, taking Kip, had headed for the Chromeria.
    Everyone had been busy all the time for the first few days, with the Blackguards following the sailors’ lead and trying to learn their craft. Commander Ironfist didn’t want his Guards to sit idle, and given the chance to master some new skill, they dove right in. The sailors grumbled at first, but were eventually won over by how quickly the Blackguards learned.
    For those who weren’t on duty, Ironfist supervised shifts of sparringand calisthenics on the galleass’s small castle. Kip was allowed to watch, but mostly he tried to keep out of the way. It had taken him days to figure out when the commander would have a few empty minutes for Kip to bother him.
    The commander looked at Kip. Nodded. Walked back into the cabin the captain was sharing with him for his work.
    Kip had mustered his courage, but now he found it leaking away as they came into the small room and sat at a little table. “Sir, I… During the battle at Garriston, I—Well, some of it doesn’t seem real, like I’m remembering things that couldn’t really have happened, do you know what I—But that’s not what I…” Kip was being stupid, inarticulate. He flexed with his bandaged hand. It hurt. “I killed the king—satrap—whatever. When I did it, Master Danavis—I mean, General Danavis—shouted at me, saying I’d fouled everything. I didn’t mean to disobey, it just didn’t—I don’t know, maybe I did mean to disobey.” The words wouldn’t come out right. He felt like he was veering all over the place. He’d killed people, and part of him had liked it. Like he was smashing in the faces of those who wouldn’t take him seriously. Except that he had literally smashed faces in, and when he thought about it, he felt wretched. But that was too hard to say. “I still don’t know what I messed up, and what it cost. Can you tell me?”
    Commander Ironfist drew a deep breath. Seemed to reconsider. “Hand,” he said.
    Kip presented his right hand, not sure what the imposing commander wanted.
    Commander Ironfist looked at him flatly.
    “Oh!” Kip presented his left hand. The commander unwrapped the bandage. He said, “I was fourteen years old when I killed my first man. My mother was the
deya
of Aghbalu—a regional governor—and she was angling to depose Paria’s satrapah and become satrapah herself, though I didn’t know that then. I was walking past her chambers one day, and I heard her cry out. I had first drafted perhaps two weeks before. I went in, and I saw the assassin. Small man, features of the despised Gatu tribe, teeth stained from chewing
khat
, and poison on the wavy blade of his
kris
. I remember thinking that only if I drafted could I stop him in time. But the drafting didn’t just happen as it had two weeks before. He stabbed my mother, and while I stood there, not believing what I’d seen, he jumped out the window he’dclimbed in and tried to escape over the roofs. I