precise judgement. For some it takes a lifetime to acquire. For others it can be learnt in a matter of moments.'
'But I missed the chest. Twice.'
'Try again,' he said, gathering up the fallen blade.
She spun - and sent it hurtling into the target.
'Straight through the heart,' he said. 'Trust me. With training you can be among the best.'
'I do not know that I want to be skilled with weapons,' she told him. 'I loathe men of war, their posturing, their arrogance and their endless cruelties.'
Removing the knives from the target the Grey Man took them to the bench and began to clean them with a soft cloth. Placing them in sheaths of black leather he turned again to Keeva. 'I was once a farmer. I lived with a woman I adored. We had three children, a boy of seven and two babes. One day, when I was out hunting, a group of men came to my farm. Nineteen men. Mercenaries seeking employment between wars.' He fell silent for a moment. 'I rarely speak of this, Keeva, but today it is strong in my mind.' He took a deep breath. 'The men tied my Tanya to a bed then - after a little time - killed her. They also killed my children. Then they left.
'When I rode out that morning I recall the sound of laughter in the air. My wife and my son were playing a chasing game in the meadow, my babes were asleep in their cots. When I returned all was silence, and there was blood upon the walls. So I, too, loathe the men of war and their cruelty.'
His face was terribly calm, and there was no sign of the emotional struggle Keeva guessed was raging below the surface. 'And that is when you became a hunter of men,' she said.
The Grey Man ignored the question. 'My point is that there will always be vile men, just as there will always be men of kindness and compassion. It should have no bearing on whether you choose to develop your talents. This world is a troubled, savage place. It would, however, be even more ghastly if only evil men took the time to master weapons.'
'Was your wife skilled with weapons?' she asked.
'No. And before you ask, it would have made no difference had she been the finest archer in the land. Nineteen killers would have overpowered her and the result would have been the same.'
'Did you go after them, Grey Man?' she asked softly.
'Yes. It took many years, and in that time some of them committed other foul deeds. Others married, settled down and raised families of their own. But I found them all. Every one.'
It was suddenly quiet in the room, the air heavy. Keeva watched the Grey Man. His gaze seemed far away, and upon his face was a look of infinite sadness. In that moment she understood this grim and gloomy dwelling place, set alongside the gleaming white marble of his palace. The Grey Man had no home, for the home of his heart had been destroyed a long time ago. She glanced around at the targets of straw and the array of weapons upon the walls. When she looked back she met his gaze. 'I do not wish to learn this craft,' she said. 'I am sorry if that disappoints you.'
'People long ago ceased to disappoint me, Keeva Tali-ana,' he told her, with a rueful smile. 'But let me ask you this: how did you feel when you killed the raider captain?'
'I do not want to talk about it.'
'I understand.'
'Do you? You have been a killer so long I wonder if you do.' She reddened as she realized what she had said. 'I'm sorry if that sounds disrespectful, Grey Man. I do not mean it to be. You saved my life and I will be for ever in your debt. But what I mean is that I do not want to experience again the feelings I had when I killed Camran. What I did was needless. He was dying anyway. All I did was to inflict a little more agony. If I had the time again I would merely have walked away from him. What hurts and angers me is that, in those few heartbeats, I allowed myself to be dragged down in the filth of his evil. I became him. You understand?'
He smiled sadly. 'I understood that long before you were born, Keeva, and I respect what you say. Now
Lisa Mantchev, A.L. Purol