“And I’ll ask again, sir, what is it you want exactly?”
The lieutenants looked at each other. They seemed to have a whole conversation with a glance before turning back to Kieran.
“We’re hoping you can find out exactly what she’s planning,” Al answered, gauging Kieran’s reaction while maintaining his glare. Kieran leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. His gaze slid from Al to Zee and back again. “She’s been going out at night a lot on her own, and no one knows where she goes.”
“You’ve always bragged about being able to follow her,” Zee added.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Kieran replied, shrugging his shoulders in a noncommittal way. These two had taught Kieran much of what he knew about lying. That they were the ones approaching him made Kieran suspicious. Nevertheless, Kieran would tail Tegan and try and get to the bottom of what was going on.
What would I do for the Guild?
Kieran had been shadowing Tegan for the past three hours, that question echoing through his mind ad nauseam until the words lost all meaning. The night was warm, silent, still. The moon glowed, showing half its face, and the stars shone in a sky empty of clouds. It provided plenty of light by which to see, but also made it easy for Kieran to be seen.
He timed his passage to match Tegan’s pace down the thoroughfare as he darted from shadow to shadow while her eyes and ears were focused elsewhere. Kieran couldn’t explain it, but he never had any trouble tailing Tegan, even when she didn’t want to be found. As Kieran followed her now, though, unease roiled in his gut.
This doesn’t feel right.
Kieran was hoping he’d learn . . . what exactly? On one hand, Al and Zee claimed they suspected her of meeting with a person, or people, without the knowledge of the other leaders of the Guild. On the other, Kieran wouldn’t trust either of them even if he knew they were telling the truth. Could this be some sort of frame job? Would an attempt be made on Tegan’s life?
Am I getting set-up to take the fall for her murder?
This whole night was a waste. Tegan hadn’t met with anyone, and was only wandering about the city as she did most evenings. He’d give it another hour tonight, tail Tegan again tomorrow, and then go back to Al and Zee to hand them a big old goose egg.
Kieran followed the Guild Master into one of the shabbier districts far from the capitol, where there were fewer city patrols. The buildings here were run down, sagging against one another, with an equal number of windows missing or broken as there were whole.
Tegan stopped between a boarded up building that had the look of a warehouse, and a seedy-yet-crowded tea house. She stepped into the alleyway between the two buildings, and Kieran could barely make out her form in the shadows. No torches lined the alley, and the walls of the warehouse and tea house joined together one story up, creating a tunnel instead of an open walkway between thoroughfares.
Kieran was shifting from one darkened doorway to another when Tegan disappeared. One moment she had been standing there, and in the next she was gone. She’d been standing right next to an empty sconce attached to the tea house wall.
A door I can’t see? Concealed passage?
She’d only been out of Kieran’s sight for two seconds. Kieran studied his surroundings, barely settling for more than a second on any one window or stretch of street. There were no signs of movement from the tea house or the thoroughfare. Kieran darted down the alleyway and pulled on the sconce.
It tilted forward with a soft click, and a gap in the wall slid open, barely wide enough for Kieran to squeeze through. Almost immediately after he entered, it closed with another soft click. A faint light from torches illuminated a tiny stairwell that curved upwards, its destination lost in the gloom. Long shadows darted and danced along the narrow walls.
Kieran scraped his head on the ceiling as he climbed the warped, wooden stairs as quickly as he dared, hoping none of them creaked and announced his presence. He placed each foot carefully, bringing it down one agonizing fraction at a time, feeling out each step with his feet as much as his ears.
He reached the top without a sound and came upon a closed door, wooden and as unremarkable as the door to any common dwelling. No glow of light shone from under it. He reached into the small bag on his belt, wherein laid the tools of the trade for a thief and killer-in-training: lock picking tools, devices that made light and noise, and various powders used to disorient or incapacitate a target.
He probed the door for traps, nearly pricking a finger on a needle hiding in the keyhole. Taking care of that took seconds. Holding his breath, Kieran turned the knob a quarter rotation at a time.
The door swung in on frictionless hinges. Immediately he was bombarded with sound. Continual, muffled chatter floated up from the room below.
I must be above the tea house.
The torches from the stairwell cast enough light in the room to see. Layers of dust coated every surface. A few remaining boxes of split and rotting wood lay scattered about the room. Their contents, if any, had long ago been pilfered.
There were clear outlines of footprints in the dust on the floor, their size matching Tegan’s. He ghosted across the room, following the footprints to a door on the far side. Clouds of dust billowed up under Kieran’s soft footfalls. He fought the urge to sneeze as he performed a thorough search of this new door.
Unless he missed his mark, this door led to the warehouse adjacent to the tea house. Before he opened this door, Kieran paused.
There has to be some sort of trap waiting beyond this door, doesn’t there?
Aside from the probably-poisoned needle in the keyhole of the previous door, this had all been too easy. Who was the trap for? Was anyone else following Tegan? Could the trap be for Tegan? Did Tegan know Kieran was following her?
Why set me up?
Aside from being well-liked by Tegan, at least at first, he was treated the same as everyone else. He did his job. Did it very well in fact, and got rewarded fairly for his performance. Was Tegan luring him into something? Did she, of all people, feel threatened by him?
Did some of the others, members higher up in the Guild like Al and Zee, feel threatened? Kieran would argue that he had been watched more closely, punished more harshly, and in general had higher expectations placed upon him than the others.
In spite of what he had to endure in training, Kieran trusted Tegan, and few others. No one else, if Kieran was being honest with himself. His emotions regarding his mentor clashed and swirled as he stood there in front of that door.
What would he find on the other side? A confrontation with the only person he admired in the world? He hoped not. He hoped that if Tegan was meeting with someone, it was for the Guild’s advancement, and not hers alone. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he discovered Tegan was breaking the tenet she had drilled into everyone’s head from day one.
He loved Tegan yet also resented her with a passion for the way he was treated during the second phase of the Winnowing. Kieran knew despite Tegan’s harsh treatment, or maybe because of it, he wouldn’t be who he was today. Kieran wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Kieran’s hand hovered over the doorknob. He took three slow, steadying breaths and confirmed he had all three knives: one tucked into his boot, a smaller one hidden up his left sleeve, tucked into a special sheathe, and the third at his belt, which he grabbed. With his other hand, he turned the knob and opened the door.
It swung open, and a soft murmur of voices reached his ears. As he suspected, he was peering into a room of the abandoned warehouse adjacent to the tea house. The room was vast. Kieran couldn’t tell where the voices were coming from.
The ceiling stretched ten feet into the air and was held up by four rows of wooden columns. Each row consisted of ten pillars. The faint flicker of a small flame could be spied closer to the other end of the room, which was open to the city, a railing the only barrier between the room and a painful drop to the ground below.
Kieran dashed on nimble feet t
o the closest patch of darkness. He tried to look about, but the sheer number of pillars obstructed his view as much as it helped to hide him.
This is an almost vulgar number of pillars.
Following the source of the voices echoing around the oddly constructed room, Kieran wound his way around the pillars. He couldn’t be positive, but it seemed as though the voices were coming from near the soft glow of firelight. Creeping closer, Kieran was finally able to catch portions of a conversation.
“If I do this, no one can know I am involved,” Kieran heard Tegan’s voice say. “Not even whispers. If there is even a whiff of a rumor, our next visit will not be at all pleasant.”
“Yes, yes,” a man grumbled. “No one will know. I know better than to cross you. I am aware this is not exactly within your normal purview, but it will make you a terribly wealthy woman.” The man paused. Kieran knew that not-sound. It was the pregnant silence before a life-altering decision was made.
“Then we are agreed,” Tegan said. Did she sound regretful?
And who was that man? Kieran was sure he’d never heard that voice before, but something about it sounded familiar. Had the stranger visited the compound? Had Kieran passed him in the street some random day and relieved him of his coin purse in the process? Kieran strained to listen, to try and place the voice.
His heartbeat hammered away in his ears. His stomach churned with unease, and he wiped a sweating palm across his thigh. He tried to slow his breathing in an attempt to listen to more of the conversation. He probably heard enough to take to Al and Zee, but he wanted to be sure.
“Do you think you will be able to start again?” the man asked.
“I have had to before,” Tegan replied with a shrug in her voice. “I will bring along some of the younger children who will not know better.”
“You have rather overstretched your boundaries this time, Tegan,” the man gloated after another moment’s silence. “I have done what I can. I dare say it is going to be unpleasant for the rest of your Guild.”
“Yes, yes,” she snapped back. “Make sure you give me enough time before those despicable thugs move in.”
Kieran’s hands trembled with rage. His cheeks flushed. He felt a snarl forming on his face. How could she? How dare she! He forced down the urge to storm the two of them, knife out and ready to murder.
He would identify the man and deal with him later if he escaped. Tegan would die first. Kieran needed to act fast. The few people who tried to wrest leadership from her had all been put down in a brutal and very final fashion. Kieran snuck as close as he dared.
Move, now!
He charged around the corner, knife at the ready. Kieran skidded to a halt, brow furrowed. A torch attached to one of the columns guttered fitfully. Warm wind whistled through the room. Kieran looked around, searching for any signs of movement.
Nothing.
No Tegan.
No man.
Trap.
A murky shape pounced from just beyond the torch. Kieran caught a glimpse of Tegan’s frosty emerald eyes and short, slicked back blonde hair as a foot connected with his temple. He hit the ground hard and winced as he rolled onto his once-broken arm. His vision swam and his mind pleaded with him to run, to hide. Anything but confront this monolith of martial prowess.
He rolled away from his attacker as another kick grazed his side. It was uncomfortable but had little actual force behind it. His one hand still held tightly to his dagger as the other one dipped into the pouch on his belt. He sensed a flicker of movement between darkness and moonlight and tossed the powder into the air where he thought she would attack from.
He was rewarded with a surprised intake of air, followed by a cry of pain as the stinging powder worked its way into Tegan’s eyes. Kieran dodged backwards as she lashed out blindly with a knife. He tried to move in with his own blade, but she had enough presence of mind to turn the wild slice into warding swipes with her dagger, keeping Kieran at bay. With a final, frustrated grunt, Tegan’s hand dropped from her face.
She stood before him, eyes red and watering. Her grin was easy, confident, unnerving.
“Why, Tegan?” Kieran snarled. “After all the training, after drilling into me and everyone else that every choice made is for the good of the Guild, how could you betray me?”
“You?” Tegan asked as she arched an eyebrow.
“I . . . we . . . you know what I meant!” Kieran yelled as he stammered and stuttered.
“What I am doing will insure the Guild lives on,” Tegan shrugged.
“You filthy, disgusting hypocrite!” Kieran roared. Though furious, he had the presence of mind to not just close the distance and engage. That fight would have been over in three seconds with Kieran bleeding out on the ground.
“Careful,” Tegan warned, her eyes narrowing. “Show any more disrespect, and this will be a lot more painful for you, my Little Dark One.” She flourished her knife with practiced ease. Even with her eyes irritated and burning, this woman was a force of nature.
“Enough with the stupid nickname,” Kieran derided. “You’re leaving me—us—in the lurch, while you live out the remainder of your days in luxury. No one member benefits, not even its leaders. You said it yourself when I woke up in that bed: members have died for less. You deserve to die. Here. Now.”
“You can certainly try.” Tegan’s eyebrows perked up as though she’d found her entertainment for the evening.
“One more thing before I kill you,” Kieran spat. “Your answer will decide if I kill you quickly or slowly.”
Tegan scoffed, but motioned for him to continue.
“Who was the man you were talking to?”
“What man?”
“No mind games, Tegan,” Kieran growled, “I heard you talking with someone before I came in. That man promised you a lot of money in return for your cooperation.”
Tegan smiled.
“Fine.” Kieran returned the smile with a feral one of his own as he adjusted the grip on his knife, holding it firmly in front of his body, arm bent and knife pointed towards Tegan. “The hard way then.”
Kieran stalked forward on the balls of his feet. His eyes weren’t on Tegan’s eyes so much as her body. A dip of a shoulder or twist of her hips would be a better warning than where her eyes were looking.
Tegan feinted forward. Kieran slashed his knife through the air at almost the same moment. Luck was with him as Tegan darted back with a grimace. His heart raced. He got lucky. His slash was wild, uncontrolled. Had Tegan actually attacked after the feint, he’d be dead. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Neither would she.
Now it was Kieran’s turn. He lunged forward with his knife, careful not to overreach. Tegan dodged back as her blade arched up in a defensive swipe. They circled, feinting and reacting for what felt like hours, neither ready to fully commit to an attack.
Kieran closed the distance between them and jabbed out. Tegan deflected the attack, while her free fist connected once, twice, three times with his face. His vision exploded with stars, but he kicked out, connecting with her knee as he had when he was younger. Only now there was more training and weight behind the attack. Tegan’s knee gave out and she fell forward. Kieran leaned in to stab her when she lashed out with a horizontal swipe.
Kieran dodged backwards, but grimaced as Tegan’s knife sliced through his tunic and drew a shallow, crimson line across his stomach. Tegan was up and charging almost before Kieran recovered.
They clashed, withdrew, and clashed again, sending small showers of sparks cascading around their dancing forms. They wove in and out of the columns, the collisions of their knives an echoing clamor. The space was large enough that it felt as though Kieran was back in that training room, Tegan punishing him for insulting those who chose to remain thieves.
They traded slashes and blows, bruises accumulating on both of them, though Kieran still hadn’t drawn blood. He saw an opening and kicked Tegan’s knee again. Her leg gave way and she toppled to the floor. Kiera
n rushed in, sensing an advantage. Tegan reached out with one hand as she rose, grabbed him by his tunic and hurled him to the side.
Kieran stumbled, but kept his balance. Sensing an incoming attack, he swiped blindly with his knife. He was rewarded by a spurt of blood as he carved a line down Tegan’s cheek and across her upraised forearm.
They backed away from one another, once again circling. Kieran panted. His energy was ebbing. Tegan wiped a drop of sweat from her brow with a thumb. She seemed barely winded by the struggle. The easy smile was on her face again, like that of a jaguar toying with its prey. A rivulet of blood ran down her right cheek to splatter onto the collar of her tunic.
“It has been a while since anyone has drawn my blood,” she said, pressing a palm to her injured cheek and pulling it away to examine the blood.
“You’ll be losing a lot more before I’m done with you, traitor,” Kieran growled back. It was the response of a lion, brazen and uncaring of its own safety when the kill was so close.
Despite his bravado, this wasn’t going well. He got lucky cutting Tegan. As they circled, Kieran noticed that Tegan was favoring the knee he’d kicked twice. This fight had proved he was almost as quick as her
If he could close fast and get her to put weight on that leg, he may get an opening to end this before his body slowed too much. He already noticed a slight lag in his movements from the cuts he’d received.
He dashed in, probing to get an idea just how much weight Tegan was willing to put on that leg. She retreated, but it was hampered by a limp. She was still fast, though. His plan of attack would require more than a little luck. He hoped her knee was as injured as it seemed.
Kieran closed the distance, unleashing a flurry of attacks. She flowed around the slashes, and, through the corner of his eye, Kieran caught the grimace of pain on Tegan’s face as she came out of her dodge. The moment of distraction allowed him to quickly pivot his knife’s trajectory. He drew a deep gash down the back of her knife hand. Tegan gasped and dropped her knife.
The First Stain Page 13
