The Assassin’s Blade #.01

She rode toward Xandria, opting to find a ship there instead of braving the northern trek across the Singing Sands to Yurpa—the port she’d originally sailed into. Without a guide, she didn’t really have much of a choice. She took her time, often walking instead of riding Kasida, who seemed as sad as she was to leave the Silent Assassins and their luxurious stables.
The next day, she was a few miles into her late afternoon trek when she heard the thump, thump, thump. It grew louder, the movements now edged with clashing and clattering and deep voices. She hopped onto Kasida’s back and crested a dune.
In the distance, at least two hundred men were marching—straight into the desert. Some bore red and black banners. Lord Berick’s men. They marched in a long column, with mounted soldiers galloping along the flanks. Though she had never seen Berick, a quick examination of the host showed no signs of a lord being present. He must have stayed behind.
But there was nothing out here. Nothing except for …
Celaena’s mouth went dry. Nothing except for the assassins’ fortress.
A mounted soldier paused his riding, his black mare’s coat gleaming with sweat. He stared toward her. With her white clothes concealing all of her but her eyes, he had no way of identifying her, no way of telling what she was.
Even from the distance, she could see the bow and quiver of arrows he bore. How good was his aim?
She didn’t dare to move. The last thing she needed was the attention of all those soldiers on her. They all possessed broadswords, daggers, shields, and arrows. This definitely wasn’t going to be a friendly visit, not with this many men.
Was that why the Master had sent her away? Had he somehow known this would happen and didn’t want her caught up in it?
Celaena nodded to the soldier and continued riding toward Xandria. If the Master didn’t want anything to do with her, then she certainly didn’t need to warn them. Especially since he probably knew. And he had a fortress full of assassins. Two hundred soldiers were nothing compared to seventy or so of the sessiz suikast.
The assassins could handle themselves. They didn’t need her. They’d made that clear enough.
Still, the muffled thump of Kasida’s steps away from the fortress became more and more difficult to bear.