The corpse looked almost identical to the old man, right down to the liver spots on the arms. Bending, the old man grabbed the body and carried it to the bed, laying it flat and pulling the sheets up around its neck. Pulling the rag from the dead man’s mouth he ran back to the wardrobe and took out a brown leather bag. From it, he unfolded a smart doublet and hose and got dressed. He took a punch-dagger and attached its sheath to the back of his belt. Then he looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror.
The family would be coming back soon. He needed to be quick.
Closing his eyes, he rolled his head back and spread his arms out wide. The changing began. Short strands of dark-brown hair sprouted from his wrinkly head. His thin arms and hands gained more flesh and muscle. Bones cracked and popped in their sockets and his spine straightened until he was no longer crouched and stooping but erect. The cartilage in his nose snapped and shrank and his sunken, bloodshot eyes cleared.
The liver spots that covered his arms faded before disappearing, and the long white beard vanished. Teeth popped through his gums.
In under a minute, the transformation was complete. Every feature had changed; his height, weight and appearance all altered to such an extent that he now looked nothing like the man he had been impersonating.
‘Not bad. Not bad at all,’ he muttered as he turned on the spot, inspecting himself.
Taking a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles from his leather bag, he balanced them on his nose and closed the bag. He sat on the edge of the bed, putting two fingers against the throat of the corpse and concentrating.
‘I’m afraid you’ve got a severe case of death setting in, King Galatarn,’ Trisidulous said as he playfully slapped the corpse’s cheek.
He left the room, stepping out into the corridor. Closing the door quietly, he got ready to make his escape.
‘Who goes there?’ a voice called.
A wave of panic washed over Trisidulous, and he turned to see the king’s four sons striding down the corridor.
‘Who are you?’ one demanded.
‘My Princes,’ he said, bowing. ‘Nappor Malingrund, apothecary and healer, at your service. When I heard that the king was unwell, I simply had to come. I could not have lived with myself if I had not done my civic duty and come to see if there was anything I could do for His Excellency. Terrible that His Majesty be struck down with such a debilitating ailment. Such a gracious and courteous ruler.’
The four men stared at him.
‘But of course, I have totally forgotten myself. My condolences at this sorrowful time to the king’s family and his loyal subjects on his passing. I can only hope that his successor will have a long and prosperous reign, and I am sure that, in any case, he will.’ He bowed again. ‘Well, enough of my rabbiting on, I am sure you all want to be alone in this most difficult and testing of occasions, and so I will take my leave, and give you a chance to mourn your father,’ he said rapidly.
‘What?’
‘What what?’ Trisidulous asked.
‘What did you just say?’ another of the brothers asked.
‘Why my dear man, I conveyed a lot of information to you, not least of which I can barely—’ he started to say, faster than before.
‘What did you say about mourning his passing?’ the eldest brother asked loudly, moving forward in a threatening manner.
Trisidulous retreated, backing up against the door.
‘Ah yes, about that. Erm, awfully sorry, Your Excellency. I checked in on your father and he just slipped away, right there in front of me. I did all I could for him but in the end the only way I could help him was to ease his passing, I’m afraid. Please accept my deepest sympathies and let me be the first to say what an honour it was to be in his presence, even if it was for just a few minutes.’
The oldest brother opened the door of the king’s bedroom and shoved Trisidulous into the room. All four of the sons rushed to the bedside.
Loud footsteps could be heard in the corridor and the king’s three daughters ran in, followed by the queen. They gasped upon seeing the king lying dead.
News of the king’s passing spread and soon the room was full of family members, howling and wailing at the loss of their father, husband, brother or uncle. Guards and palace officials gathered in the corridor. Trisidulous, still in the guise of an apothecary, slunk around in the background, comforting grieving relatives and reassuring them that the king had felt no pain in his final moments.
‘What happened?’ asked the queen, an elegant woman with plaited white hair and a stern demeanour.
‘Well, I came in and the king just passed away right in front of me,’ Trisidulous said, in much slower tones than he had spoken earlier.
‘And that is it? He just died in front of you without saying a word?’ the eldest son asked.
‘More or less.’
‘More or less?’ the queen snapped.
‘Well, he did mutter something about the ports and trade routes being opened to the Merchants’ Guild. I did not really know what he meant by that. Does it mean anything to you?’ he asked, striving to make his face as blank as possible.
Trisidulous stood and watched as the argument he had anticipated broke out. Some of the relatives vehemently upheld their view that the ban on the Merchants’ Guild be continued while others protested that it was the king’s dying wish that they be allowed to trade again within the realm, and that this should be upheld.
Taking his chance, Trisidulous edged his way to the back of the room and slipped out of the door. Walking past the royal guards and palace staff in the corridors without being challenged, such was the general sense of upheaval caused by the king’s passing, he made his way to the outer courtyard where the iron gates were opened upon his approach. Nodding politely to the guards he strode through the gates and walked calmly down the street.
The early morning winter sun was dispersing the mist that hung over the city of Mournfall. Adjusting his spectacles, Trisidulous took in a lungful of the air and continued on his way. After a while he stepped into a shallow doorway and waited. A stray dog trotted past him. He gazed at its shadow and then glanced at where his own should have been.
If someone notices that I don’t have a shadow then I’m done for, he thought. I told them to be here at sunrise. Why don’t they ever listen?
Pushing himself against the door Trisidulous chewed his lip, livid at being kept waiting. Just then, he heard the clicking of wheels on cobblestones, and made out a horse-drawn coach at the far end of the street.
About bloody time, you imbeciles, he thought, and got ready to break cover.
The coach drove past him, stopping at the junction further down the street.
Trisidulous shook his head. Are those morons deliberately trying to get me killed?
Readying himself mentally, he stepped out into the open and walked briskly towards it.
A few more steps and you’re there.
He looked behind him to see if he was being followed and walked headlong into a man who had just come round a corner – a man who looked identical to him, including the clothes he was wearing. It was the apothecary that he had been impersonating.
Trisidulous punched the man in the face knocking him to the ground. The startled healer lay on the pavement, blood flowing from his nose. Trisidulous pounced on him, taking the dagger from his belt and plunging it into the man’s chest.
The healer gazed up at him, aghast, eyes and mouth wide open. Trisidulous pulled the blade from the man’s chest and stabbed his victim in the throat. Again and again he punctured the healer’s body.
‘Stop. We’re leaving,’ a voice shouted from the coach.
Screams rang out from those who had witnessed the attack as Trisidulous ran to the carriage and leapt inside. The door slammed shut behind him and the curtains were drawn. The driver took his whip to the horses, and the coach
sped off down the street as people rushed to the dying healer.
The room was cold and the only light came from the candle on the table. Its flame danced, threatening to go out before flaring back up again. Trisidulous stared at it. With his hood pulled up and his snout concealed by a scarf, only his eyes were exposed to its flame. His red irises glowed in the dim light, giving him a demonic appearance. He watched the flame sway and wane, trying to anticipate its movements.
The flame flickered rapidly for a second before returning to normal; the door down the hall had opened causing a draught. Someone was coming.
Trisidulous sat back in his chair, just in range of the candle’s light, listening carefully. He heard footsteps and saw a shadow beneath the door. There was a knock then the door opened and a man dressed in embroidered silk robes with a knapsack slung over his shoulder entered the room. He brushed snow from his shoulders as he approached the table. Standing beside the chair, he waited for a signal. Trisidulous motioned for the man to sit with a gracious wave of his leather-gloved hand.
‘Kotoba, you’re on time. Wonders will never cease,’ Trisidulous said.
His voice had changed back to its natural rasp.
Adjusting his robes, Kotoba pulled a chair from under the table and sat down. The room was silent save for the low, wheezing noise made by Trisidulous when he breathed.
‘The Merchants’ Guild has been invited to begin trading again within the borders of Landledusk, with full use of the realm’s ports. You have done a fine job, Glarr. We owe you a large debt of gratitude,’ Kotoba said.
‘You owe me a large amount of money,’ Trisidulous snarled.
‘But of course,’ Kotoba said, smiling.
He reached into his knapsack and produced a bag. The metallic clink of coins was audible as he pushed it across the table. Trisidulous opened the bag and began counting the coins.
‘It is all there,’ the merchant said.
‘It had better be,’ Trisidulous hissed.
‘I heard there was a problem on the way out,’ Kotoba said.
‘The problem was with your lackeys; if they’d have been where they were supposed to be, at the right time then I wouldn’t have had to kill anyone,’ Trisidulous snapped, the scarf covering his snout contorting.
‘So I was told. I can assure you that it will not happen again,’ Kotoba promised. ‘But if you are interested, I may have another job for you.’
Trisidulous put down the bag and pulled its cord tight to close it.
‘What is it?’
The merchant got to his feet. Opening the door, he turned towards the corridor and made a hand signal. Trisidulous rested his hand on his punch-dagger. The sound of footsteps filled the corridor and then a small, sharp-featured man entered the room.
‘Remember what I told you about his temper,’ Kotoba muttered to the newcomer.
The man turned to Kotoba.
‘Is this the guy?’
Kotoba nodded, closing the door.
‘Rual, this is Trisidulous Glarr. Glarr, meet Rual Brewn, a business associate of mine.’
Rual nodded.
Trisidulous’s red, piercing eyes scrutinised the newcomer. He was trying to determine if Rual was carrying any weapons. Rual shifted, trying to avoid eye contact.
Trisidulous was over-cautious in the extreme. You did not survive without a shadow in this world by being foolhardy. Every job he ever carried out began with him asking himself ‘How do I escape?’ It was the part of the job that got most of his attention and to which he devoted most of his planning.
‘What do you want from me?’ Trisidulous hissed.
‘I would like to hire you to do a job, if I can,’ Rual started. ‘I have been asked to get an item from a castle and I need—’
Trisidulous raised his hand to signal that he had heard enough. ‘Before you speak any further, there are some things you should know about me.’
‘What?’
‘I’m expensive. Very expensive. And if I take the job, then I’m the one in charge. If this is a set-up or a trap and I escape, I’m going to kill you and the man who referred you,’ Trisidulous said, his eyes on Kotoba.
Kotoba and Rual looked at each other.
‘Of course. I would expect nothing less,’ Rual said.
‘So, what do you need me to do?’ Trisidulous asked.
‘I need you to take on the guise of a lord.’
‘Why?’
‘To get me into a castle.’
‘Why?’
‘So I can steal an item.’
‘What kind of item?’
‘What does it matter what kind of item it is?’
‘Because when I knock on the castle door and tell them that I’m looking for something, I’ll need more information than “it’s a fucking item”,’ Trisidulous snarled.
‘You will not have to look for anything, I just need you to get me and my men in,’ Rual explained.
‘What men? How the hell do you expect me to get you and your men in? Put you in my pockets? Forget it,’ he snapped, getting up from the table and grabbing the bag of coins.
‘Wait, Glarr, hear him out, please,’ Kotoba begged.
A low growl came from beneath the scarf.
‘Lord Sengart has recently returned to his family’s castle, southwest of Holtsdain,’ Rual began. ‘We have it on good authority that he has already moved his treasure into it, so the place should be laden with artefacts and antiquities. In four weeks’ time he is due to attend his nephew’s wedding in the city of Kaldenheim, leaving the place ripe for the picking.’
‘Ripe for the picking?’ Trisidulous hissed. ‘And I suppose the garrison of guards stationed at the castle won’t mind the emptying of Lord Sengart’s treasure room?’
‘We will not be clearing out Lord Sengart’s treasure room; we will be taking one thing only.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘That is all I can tell you about the job, I am afraid,’ Rual said.
Trisidulous leaned forward.
‘Unless you tell me exactly what we’re going into this castle for, you’re doing this job alone.’
‘Rual is not at liberty to discuss what it is he is looking for inside the castle, Glarr. He is only the middle-man,’ Kotoba said in a calm voice.
‘I want to know what we’re going into this place for, how much it’s worth and who wants it,’ Trisidulous said, glaring at Rual. ‘Start talking.’
Rual looked at Kotoba.
‘Tell him everything you know about the item,’ Kotoba said.
‘Everything?’
‘If you want him to get you into the castle, then yes.’
‘I’m waiting.’ Trisidulous fixed his gaze on the small man.
‘It is a magical sphere, about the size of a man’s fist, and it is called the Obsidian of Lûhn,’ Rual revealed.
‘What does it do?’
‘Not all of its powers are known, but it is said to have the power of reincarnation.’
‘How does it work?’
‘I do not know the full story; like Kotoba said, I am just the middle-man, but I have heard stories that the wielder of the obsidian can transfer their soul into another person’s body, as long as that person is unconscious,’ Rual explained.
‘What happens to the person who’s unconscious?’
Rual pursed his lips and blew air out through his mouth. ‘The unconscious person’s soul gets destroyed, I think.’
‘You think?’ Trisidulous said cynically. ‘Who are you getting this for?’
‘Honestly? I have no idea,’ Rual stated bluntly. ‘I am probably getting it for a man who knows a man, whose brother works for a rich nobleman. You know how these things work.’
Trisidulous sat back and folded his arms. The story seemed plausible enough. And it would not h
ave been the first time he’d done a job without knowing the ultimate benefactor. Yet something about this particular job did not sit well with Trisidulous.
‘You mentioned something about a wedding. What do you know about it?’
‘In just over a month, Lord Sengart will be leaving for a wedding in Kaldenheim. Our informant tells us that for regal events such as this, he travels in his state coach with one guard beside the driver, up front, and four knights as his bodyguards; two in front of the coach and two behind.’
‘And what exactly do you propose to do?’ Trisidulous asked.
‘Ambush them as they travel through a wooded area, about half a day’s travel along the route. Kill the guards and the knights. We have men ready to impersonate his entourage; we just need someone to act as Lord Sengart.’
‘Then?’ Trisidulous asked, suspecting that he already knew the answer.
‘Then we turn the coach around, drive back to the castle, tell them Lord Sengart has forgotten something, get the obsidian and leave,’ Rual declared.
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that.’
‘And you know where this thing is kept?’
‘We have a map of the interior, it will be somewhere in his treasure room.’
Trisidulous drummed his fingers on the table. As plans went, it was one of the better ones. But something still did not feel right. He just did not know what it was.
‘What all do you need from me?’ he asked.
‘Apart from impersonating Sengart, I am also told you are a man who knows how to get things,’ Rual said. ‘Time will be of the essence in this job. We will not have all day to stand around fighting knights or guards, so I will need twelve doses of the fastest-acting poison you can get: two for each guard.’
‘Twelve doses of fast-acting poison?’ Trisidulous repeated, raising an eyebrow.
‘And I will need enchanted crossbow bolts to deliver the poison; they will need to be able to get through a knight’s armour. We are going to need the uniforms clean, you see, so attacking them with swords will be pointless,’ Rual said.
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