The most difficult part would be gaining entrance to the room without him hearing her do it. The door before her was the only way in. She slid it open just enough for her body to slip sideways through the opening. Reaching behind her back, she soundlessly unsheathed her sword.
She took two measured steps forward and then stopped. Lifting the blade over her head with both hands she crept forward again, stopping less than a meter from the unsuspecting man's back. Intent upon taking his head from his shoulders with a single strike, Satine brought the sword down and around with all her strength.
The moment her blade began cutting through the air, the man leaped to his feet, faced her, and raised his hands. As the razor-sharp blade whistled around, he clamped his open palms down upon either flat side of it, halting it in midstroke. Helpless to retrieve the sword from his iron grip, Satine looked into the eyes of the man who had just bested her.
Then, smiling to herself behind her mask, she released her hold upon her sword. Just as she had been taught, she let her arms fall to either side. Her opponent smiled.
Suddenly, he tossed the weapon into the air. It turned over twice, its silver blade flashing. He caught it one-handed by the hilt. Turning it around, he handed it to her. After giving him a short, respectful bow, she took it. The man returned her bow.
"Hello, my child," he said simply. The timbre of his voice was old, calm, and reassuring. "It is good to see you again."
After sheathing her sword, Satine unwound the black scarf from around her face. "And you, master," she answered back. "I am glad to see that your skill at blade-catching has not diminished."
The old man embraced her warmly. "And had I not reacted in time, would you have halted your blow?" he asked.
"Of course," she answered. "But we both know that has never been necessary."
Smiling, the old man beckoned for her to sit with him. Satine lowered herself to the green mat.
She recognized the familiar blue and white tea service sitting before her. As the old man came to sit opposite her he offered her some, and she accepted. She took a long draft of the rich, black tea, then looked back into the wise eyes of the man she so loved and respected.
For many years Aeolus had been both her teacher and her surrogate father. Then had come that fateful day when she had finally decided to leave her post here at his school, and strike out on her own. It had been a hard decision, and she knew that the choice of her current occupation brought the old man heartache and worry. But he also knew why she had done it. In some ways, even he could not completely disagree with the dangerous path she had chosen.
The bald head that he shaved every morning glinted in the light, and his penetrating eyes regarded her calmly. The neatly trimmed gray beard was just as she remembered, and the still-muscular body that belied his eighty Seasons of New Life remained coiled and ever ready beneath the folds of his martial garments. Satine took another sip of the tea, then put down her cup.
"You heard me in the hall, didn't you?" she asked. "When I rendered Morgan unconscious."
"Truth be known, I first sensed your presence when you pried open the skylight," Aeolus answered. "After all, who could take morning tea properly with all of that infernal racket? You made more noise than a thunderbeast! I taught you better than that!" Then he looked concerned. "I assume Morgan will suffer no lasting effects?"
"No," she answered. "Although I doubt he will be pleased when he wakes up. What will you tell him?"
Aeolus smiled. "Only that upon my orders he was being tested by another student, one who shall remain nameless. Besides, his shame at having been bested will probably overcome any curiosity he might have about who it might have been. Serves him right! He should never have been caught off guard like that. Still, I suggest that you use the front door next time. It makes things so much easier."
She smiled again. "True," she answered. "But not nearly so interesting."
Aeolus' mood became more somber. He put down his cup. "You have not visited here for more than a year," he said. "Then you suddenly appear in your combat garb, and clandestinely enter my school through the rooftop. It is apparent that you want your visit to be kept secret. Why are you here? And why do you seem so burdened?"
She took a deep breath. "I have come to tell you some things," she began. "And I need to ask for your help."
Aeolus shifted his weight and stared at her. Realizing he was not going to respond, Satine chose her next words carefully.
"After the successful completion of the sanctions I have recently accepted, I will be retiring from this life," she announced.
Looking into Aeolus' eyes, she expected to see joy at her news. She was well acquainted with how much he disapproved of her profession. Instead, she was surprised to see a look of increased concern cross her master's face.
"I would prefer that you retire now," he said quietly. "This very day, in fact. My opinion on this issue had not changed. But you also know that as long as I draw breath, you will always have a home here."
"Thank you," she responded. "But this last mission is far more dangerous than any I have ever accepted. The sum I demanded reflects that. With this money I can finally retire, and spend the rest of my life pursuing my other goal."
Aeolus' face darkened. "This personal vendetta of yours will never bring your father back," he said to her. "Even if you find the man who killed him. I loved Jacob as though he was my own son. You know that. He was not only my finest instructor, but also my best friend. But he's been gone ten years. You must let it go, if you are to have any semblance of a normal life. I would have thought that your years here at the Serpent and the Sword would have taught you that."
Satine looked down at the floor. "Apparently I was never destined for a normal life," she answered. "Surely you, above all people, can see that. I simply cannot rest until I find Father's killer-even if you have somehow made your personal peace with it."
Memories of her childhood flooded her mind. Her mother had died giving birth to her, but her father had worked tirelessly to make up for the loss.
Jacob had been Aeolus' head instructor at the martial school known as the Discipline of the Serpent and the Sword. The serpent represented the various skills of hand-to-hand combat, and the sword stood for the arts of armed combat. Satine was a master of both. As a widower, Jacob had been forced to bring his young daughter to the school with him every day. The school had quickly become her second home.
When Satine was twelve, Aeolus asked her and Jacob to move in with him full-time-a common practice in Eutracian martial arts circles. At that point, Satine began her formal training. It had even been discussed that one day her father would inherit the school from the childless Aeolus, and Satine would then become her father's head instructor. Sadly, none of that had come to pass.
In a fit of jealous rage, one of the lesser students who had been passed over for the title of head instructor killed her father in his own bed. At the time it was rumored that the murderer had been under the influence of a mind-altering drug designed to enhance one's enlightenment. He had then run away, using his considerable skills to become one with the night. Satine had given chase, but to no avail.
Satine had been twenty-five years old at the time, and her father's murder had forged within her an intense need both to find his assailant and to make the man suffer mightily before she finally killed him.