Masters of Deception

by J C Kang

  Makeda lifted her chin towards Cassius, now striding toward them. “Cassius said these women rule the city, yet it’s those men talking about armies and Mafia.”

  Brehane snorted. If she were to ever hire a shermuta, she couldn’t imagine talking at all, let alone about soldiers. Makeda was probably playing some trick again.

  Then, Cassius arrived at their side.

  “You warthog!” Brehane flared her fingers and wiggled them, ready to summon a cold fire again.

  He stepped back, eyes wide. “Lady Brehane, I, we…”

  With her other hand, she pointed at the mark he’d left on her neck with his lips. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Makeda stared at it, eyes narrowing to slits.

  His gaze shifted from the bruise to Makeda and back again. “My lady, in the Estomar, such marks are tokens of affection.”

  “Affection?” Makeda gasped. “You didn’t…”

  Brehane’s forehead scrunched together. Such strange customs, but indeed, looking around, several of the women had similar marks left by these shermuta. Makeda, on the other hand, had none. A smile pulled at Brehane’s lips. “Yes,” she said in the Aksumi language, “he has already given himself to me.” No need to tell her she had yet to receive his seed and Biomance it into energy.

  The steward, Patrizio, intercepted Cassius just before he reached them. “Signore, we need your presence in the kitchens.”

  Cassius shuffled on his feet, his eyes shifted from the far doorway, to the gathering, to them. “I would be a poor host if I had you follow me to the kitchens, but perhaps you shouldn’t mingle with this lot without me.”

  Brehane looked back at the unappealing shermuta and the ladies. Even if a trip to the kitchens didn’t get them any closer to Melas, and even though a woman didn’t belong in a kitchen, it was far more appealing than having to fend off a bunch of homely men looking to earn a coin or two. “I will join you.”

  “Me, too,” Makeda said. As though the ugly assama ever had interest in a man’s job.

  He led them around the side of the house to a stone building. Smoke trailed out of a hole at the top.

  “None of the other signores will come near a kitchen.” He pulled open the door, letting out a cacophony of chopping and sizzling noises, as well as the mouthwatering scents of unique spices.

  The inside bustled with activity. Men and women chopped vegetables, carved slices of meat off some roasted carcass, and ran about with bowls of ingredients. One fellow stirred something in a pot next to a hearth at one end. Two male chefs worked around a square brick table with a metal top, scooping, mixing, and turning food.

  “Food is life.” Cassius’ eyes sparkled with childlike delight. “Taking a necessity and transforming it into pure pleasure is magic in and of itself.”

  So bizarre to think in such a way; yet, watching him go around to each of the stations, tasting and adding spices, mixing and cutting, it was amazing to see a man with such passion for something. Every motion combined elegance and purpose. His expression lit up in a way that they hadn’t when they’d made love.

  Heat flared hot inside of her. Brehane would find a way to get him into bed again, and would do whatever it took to bring out the same passion.

  He beckoned them over and held up a ladle containing some sort of soup. “My own recipe. I like to experiment with bringing different flavors together. Taste it.”

  Such a labor of love must certainly be delicious. And so like her own fusing of magical schools. In a way, they were kindred spirits. Brehane leaned in and blew away the steam. The single sip erupted in her mouth, caressing her tongue with a unique blend of spicy, savory, salty, and sweet. Her eyes widened and she met his gaze. “Amazing.”

  Cassius’ smile warmed her even more than the soup, and in different places. Oh yes, he would be hers again.

  Clucking her tongue, Makeda bent over, mouth open to the spoon.

  With her fingers manipulating the Resonance behind her back, and mouthing words of magic that didn’t normally go together, Brehane experimented with combining Hydromancy and Transmutation. If it succeeded, it would turn the soup to cat urine. Energy fled her limbs, but she forced herself to stand straight.

  Makeda took a gulp. Her eyes widened, then she spat the soup out.

  The entire kitchen staff paused in their work to stare.

  Makeda’s eyes raked from them, to Cassius, and finally Brehane. She fanned air into her mouth. “Hot, hot, hot!”

  The delayed reaction was too obvious. Brehane stifled a laugh.

  Makeda glared. “Assama! You heated the metal with Pyromancy, didn’t you?”

  So she was still trying to save face. Brehane crossed her arms. “Of course not. I’m just a plain Biomancer, and you’re the incredible Pyromancer, remember? You didn’t blow it first, did you? Admit it, your mouth can’t handle hot.” Or cat urine.

  Makeda’s face twisted into a telltale sign that she was about to cast a spell. Her fingers formed shapes that manipulated the Resonance.

  Weak from the merging of magic schools, Brehane tensed up.

  Then, Makeda’s eyes shifted to Cassius’ gawk. She lowered her hand, scowl melting into a forced smile.

  Brehane’s shoulders relaxed as a counter-spell died on her lips.

  If Cassius’ chuckle was any more nervous, he might be mistaken for a virgin about to be deflowered. He motioned to the kitchen staff. “Start serving in ten minutes. My ladies, let’s not keep my guests waiting.”

  Brehane eyed Makeda. She was behaving, if only to make a good impression on Cassius.

  As they approached the banquet hall, a commotion grew louder. At the entrance, Patrizio was arguing with a bronze-skinned man: the Ayuri Paladin who’d been at Cassius’ megalith earlier that day. And where they showed up, trouble usually followed. He looked like he might punch the steward.

  Chapter 10:

  Pitter Patter of Little Feet

  Jie peered around the corner at the two-story marble row house in the market district. Another small bribe, borrowed from Sameer’s purse, had convinced one of Signore De Lucca’s working girls to divulge the location of his office. The oval crest of the golden lion on a purple field above the door confirmed this was the right spot.

  No lights shone in the windows. When she’d sent Sameer to confront De Lucca at the Diviner’s villa, it was to keep De Lucca and his henchman distracted. That would leave plenty of time to rifle through the glorified pimp’s records and find evidence of the Teleri spies she was tracking. And if there happened to be any clues to this Sohini’s disappearance, it would ingratiate her to the Paladins.

  Now, Jie just had to get past the decorative bars of the wrought-iron gate, and then the two Bovyan guards by the door. The first part would be easy, but the second… A distraction might draw one off, but certainly not the other, and in a fair fight she didn’t stand a chance against a single Bovyan, let alone two.

  She scanned the building again for any other insertion points. The second-floor windows on the front weren’t barred, but first she’d have to get past the gate and soldiers without being seen. Up higher…that was it. Three chimneys jutted from the sloped tile roof. From here, they looked big enough for her to fit through, and no smoke wafted out of them, confirming that nobody was burning fires in this warm weather.

  Creeping to the back alley, she examined the outer walls. The same decorative iron bars as those on the front gate covered the rear windows. The distance between them was much too narrow for even her slim build.

  Unlike the marble in the front, the rear appeared to be a façade of flat stones, cemented to concrete. Her cat claws were back with her stealth suit on the ship—there was no telling what Prince Aryn would think if the crew discovered where she’d hid them—and all the tailor shops along the way displayed clothes which would be even more bulky and noticeable, even if they had anything that fit her. Meaning she’d have to make do with the pink dress, which both stood out in the moonlight and limited her moveme
nt. With luck, there was enough space for half-elf fingers in between the mortar, all the way to the top.

  Perhaps this wasn’t worth the trouble. Sameer’s lady friend wasn’t her problem, after all.

  Then again, clan traitors training Bovyans were her problem, and De Lucca seemed to be at the center of the city’s Bovyan infestation. Was he their unwitting tool, or the mastermind? A little snooping might reveal the answer.

  She looked up the wall again. With a deep breath, she hiked up the dress and knotted it between her legs. She stuffed the slippers into her sash. Taking a dozen steps back, she took a running jump to the closest window and caught the bars. They provided an easy means of traversing the first dozen feet.

  At the top of the window, she continued her ascent by finding the spaces between the stones with her small fingers and toes. It was surprisingly easy, the mortar having worn away over time.

  Just before she reached the second floor windows, two people turned into the alley. She froze. Hopefully, it was dark enough that the pink wouldn’t show, or at least the interlopers wouldn’t bother to look up. They stumbled closer, taking their time.

  “Is your eye all right?” one asked, voice slurred.

  “Damn Bovyans.” The other spat, a click against the wall suggesting a tooth had come out with the spittle.

  The other laughed. “Don’t taunt them next time.”

  “Bastards need to leave this town. I bet you a draka they’re an advanced force, scouting us out.”

  Jie would make that same bet, but she wasn’t about to share her opinion right now.

  “Nah, their empire is too far away. Rumor has it this is the only city-state they’re in.”

  “I can’t believe the Signores not only let them come, but are actually employing them. Morons.”

  “The crime families hired them first.”

  “Well, they sure can fight, and the crime families are losing ground.” The first stopped just beneath her and faced the wall. He lowered his pants and started to piss. The other sidled up and joined him.

  Heavens, they just had to choose this building. Sweat gathered on her brow. Her fingers ached. And what was this? With her face close to the wall, the scratch marks near the border between two stones stood out.

  Black Fist cat-claw marks.

  Someone with a similar skillset had followed this path before. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Definitely closer to the clan traitor.

  When the men were done leaving their offering on the wall and continued down the alley, she resumed her climb. She’d be sure not to come down along the same spot and land in their puddle. At the top, the gentle pitch of the roof was easy to negotiate, though several of the ceramic tiles hung loose. The rows of rooftops followed straight lines, much like the capital’s cityscape back home.

  She made her way to the closest chimney and moved the flue cap. It was more than wide enough for her, though she’d end up filthy and track ash through the place.

  Light bauble held between her teeth, she spider-climbed down the flue, finding sizeable handprints in the ash coating. Whoever had left the marks was likely larger than the average human, but smaller than a Bovyan. How long ago he’d passed was impossible to tell, but where she could, she placed her hands and feet in his so as not to leave a trail of her own.

  She continued down, pausing at the wind shelf where a branch of the flue continued further down. It was much too narrow, even for her small size.

  She’d have to settle with the second floor. Closing her mouth around the bauble, she shimmied past the wind shelf and landed in the hearth. She peered out into the large, windowless room.

  Her elf vision picked out indistinct shapes, none moving. No sounds came from anywhere within earshot. She tongue-pushed the bauble back between her teeth and looked. Several quills and inkwells rested on a long table in the middle of the room. Eight chairs surrounded it. Shelves occupied every inch of wall space, save for above the door and hearth. Hundreds upon hundreds of books lined the shelves.

  Where to start? Slipping her shoes back on, she tiptoed across the hardwood floors to a random shelf. The spines of the books were marked with some kind of code in the local alphabet. She wiped her hands on her dress, perhaps making them even dirtier given all the ash clinging to the fabric. She pulled a book out and opened it.

  It was a ledger. Expenditures and income, meticulously organized in a blocky handwriting which suggested a stodgy person, with a meticulous attention to detail, and perhaps constipation.

  Flipping through the pages, Jie unsurprisingly found no overt payments to Black Lotus Clan traitors, but quickly learned how to run a prostitution ring. Clearly, two years ago, Elisa from the Diamond House was De Lucca’s most popular prostitute, though he stiffed her on payday. A significant amount of money went to a Don Acerbi for protection of the houses. A Mafia racket, perhaps. Or maybe even an expense mislabeled to hide the payment's true purpose.

  A creaking, muffled by the heavy door and the floors, came from below. The first floor main entrance, in all likelihood, since there had been no sounds or scents to indicate anyone else was inside. Whoever was coming in now sure had late business. Jie froze and listened.

  When the footsteps shuffled around downstairs, deeper into the building, she put the book away and selected the one to the left.

  Surprisingly, unlike the first ledger, the dates went back in time instead of forward. Right; the Easterners wrote left to right, so their brains must work that way as well. Instead of prostitutes, this looked to document insurance and banking endeavors. Apparently, De Lucca had his fingers in many pies, his tracks covered by shell companies. If only a certain clueless spy were here, he could make sense of it all.

  A few especially large income entries were written in a more haphazard hand, in runes that resembled neither the local alphabet nor the pictograms of her homeland, or even the loops and whorls of Ayuri script used in Sameer’s country. It looked like no language Jie had ever seen.

  She chose another book, several shelves to the right, labelled with a mix of the local language and the same runes as the first. As suspected, it detailed more recent transactions. The protection money payments to the Mafia had ceased, replaced by salaries to Bovyan mercenaries. Perhaps this related to what the pair in the alley had mentioned.

  Footsteps approached, the sound suggesting a heavy person coming up the stairwell. A line of light and shifting shadows appeared under the door’s threshold, and the thumping feet came closer.

  Sliding the book back, she dashed on tip-toes back to the hearth.

  A key fiddled in the door.

  Kicking her shoes off and catching them, Jie climbed back into the chimney, settled on the windshelf, and shoved the light bauble into her mouth. Now it tasted like ash, and it took all her discipline not to gag.

  The door swooshed open and feet trod to a bookshelf. Whoever it was withdrew a book and brought it to the table. A quill swished over the paper.

  Ash tickled Jie’s nose. A sneeze threatened to betray her position. She bit her lip.

  Sand scattered on paper. Breaths puffed on pages. The book thumped shut, and the visitor swept it up and returned it to the shelf. The door opened and shut, and the lock clicked.

  Jie dropped down and landed lightly on her feet. She blew several breaths out through her nose, clearing the irritant. Satisfied she wouldn’t sneeze, she spat out her light and tried to track the footsteps in her memory. Her eyes locked on a book which jutted out a little more than before. A new code marked the spine.

  Inside, the staggering transactions all related to Bovyans, and the construction of barracks and training facilities. There were mentions of contracts for girls, bought from several of the brothels she’d passed earlier in the night. Isabella, the trainee the prostitutes from the Buxom Lass had mentioned, had been purchased several weeks back. Perhaps she’d been bought specifically to entertain the Teleri. Poor girl.

  After skimming several pages, there was no hint of d
ealings with suspicious clan traitors, nor mention of Sameer’s friend, Sohini. Perhaps she was listed among the other prostitute records, but empires would rise and fall in the time it took to search all the documents.

  Ear to the door, she listened. Whoever had entered the room before was either very quiet, or had left. She withdrew her lockpicks from the pouch strapped to her inner thigh. With a few expert twists, the lock yielded. Stashing her light bauble, she eased the door open and stepped out. To the right, the hallway continued toward two doors at the front of the building. To the left, toward the back of the building, was another door, as well as a flight of steps heading down.

  One foot in front of the other, she tested the floorboards for creaks. Unlike the castles back home, whose floors chirped like nightingales to discourage spying, these were silent.

  A quick survey of the three rooms turned up more evidence of construction. The purchaser’s office included lists of building materials, brothel supplies, and surprisingly, foodstuffs and gooseweed imported from Ayuri lands. The tidy accountant’s office had the same metal device with numbers and dials that the Intimidator’s quartermaster used. The scent lingering here belonged to the person who’d visited the records room.

  It was time to find De Lucca’s personal office. If he met with other merchants and dignitaries, it would undoubtedly be on the first floor. She headed to the stairs and paused at the top. Peering through the darkness, she looked down the steps, which led to the front door.

  The office remained silent. She took each step slowly, testing for sound. At the bottom, marble floors stretched the breadth of the building. A scribe’s desk faced the entrance, as well as several chairs. Several paintings graced the walls, though it was hard to discern the images in the green-and-grey hues of her elf vision.

  She turned down the hallway, passing three doors to the left and the stairwell to the right as she headed straight to the pair of ornate doors at the back. The ostentatiousness of the elaborate designs suggested it belonged to someone who wanted people to know how important he was.