Masters of Deception

by J C Kang

  Cassius snorted. The Divine Accountant would have to find a way to balance out Bovyan respect for warriors with their disrespect for women.

  Sameer snarled. “Your own man admitted to kidnapping Sohini and selling her to a brothel.”

  “He must be one who works for the Mafia families. By contract, we swear on the Last Testament of Geros to not discuss our employers’ private business. However, I can tell you that none of us working for the Signores kidnapped her, and we certainly didn’t sell her into slavery.”

  Cassius looked from Sameer to Captain Robas to De Lucca. The Last Testament was a canonical holy text for the Bovyans. Certainly, they wouldn’t take an oath on it lightly. Perhaps it was worth expending energy to Divine this Sohini’s actual location, if only to protect his reputation in the event she turned up. Or to keep the Paladins from finding her, because then there would be no turning them on the Mafia.

  He said, “If you are going to confront Don Acerbi, do not go into the lion’s den. Go back to your masters at the Seafarer. Rest. I will Divine an auspicious time and a strategic location, and send word by the morning. The three of you have a better chance of surviving.”

  Sameer shook his head. “No. Now.”

  Cassius studied the fledgling Paladin. Even exhausted as he was, he was chomping at the bit to go after his friend—definitely more than friend, given his determination. There was an untold story here, one which a little Divining might unveil. Perhaps that personal history could be a way to manipulate him, as long as this Sohini didn’t turn up soon. “Sir Sameer, Divining is not always so simple. I will have your answer tomorrow.”

  Sameer’s posture slumped. “I can’t bear the thought of her in danger. And so close. There has to be something I can do.”

  Behind them, Patrizio cleared his throat. “Master Cassius, a messenger has come for Signore De Lucca.”

  Despite the late hour, it came as no shock: the shower of shooting stars which had followed the one yesterday suggested surprise messengers. Cassius looked to De Lucca, then back at Patrizio, and nodded. “Let him in.”

  A heavy-set man stumbled into the reception hall and bowed. “Master De Lucca, we have an emergency. Someone snuck into your office. We have it surrounded and are waiting for your command.”

  Sameer’s fists tightened. They’d cornered the half-elf, meaning he’d never learn any of the information she’d uncovered.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Brehane’s eyes shifted from Signore De Lucca to the impatient Paladin, Sameer. Every instinct screamed that Sameer was just grasping at straws, like a man fretting over the possibility that his beloved was engaged in a tryst with someone younger and more handsome.

  Then again, something about De Lucca felt off, beyond the exquisite, elf-like angles of his features. Perhaps it was the way the Resonance wrapped around him instead of joining with him. Or maybe his answers were just too glib. Still, if what he said was true, it meant that this Sohini was not where Cassius had said. That, in turn, meant his Divining was unreliable.

  Her hand strayed to the jewel at her neck as she studied Cassius. No, she’d felt the Resonance when he’d Divined her past with unerring accuracy. One thing was certain: in a city where the governing authority struggled against criminal elements, those skilled in magic were disappearing. Lured here by the pyramid’s power, perhaps they were working as mercenaries for one side or the other. After all, De Lucca had offered her a job, and had employed Sohini before.

  “How did you do it?” Makeda shook Brehane out of her thoughts.

  “Do what?”

  “The webbing. It sounded like Transmuting, but there were other elements.”

  Brehane smirked. Each clan held such a rigid view of magic, they’d never think to combine Transmutation, Aeromancy, and Hydromancy into a single spell.

  Makeda’s lip curled. “Assama, you’d better—”

  “Sir Paladin.” De Lucca patted Sameer on the shoulder again. “I sent an ultimatum to the Acerbi family, demanding Sohini’s release. I have no doubt the interloper in my office is one of their spies.”

  Sameer’s expression tightened. “Allow me to go with you, then.”

  Sweat beaded on his abnormally pale brow, and his knees wobbled. His hands trembled. If Paladin skills were anything like sorcery, Sameer had clearly expended too much of his energy. He was willing to walk into certain death for his woman. It was like the epic ballads of sorceresses sacrificing themselves to save their man. The Paladin’s dedication stood in stark contrast to his ancestors’ backstabbing and lying. And since he was too foolish to be devious, maybe she’d judged him too harshly.

  “Young Paladin,” Cassius said, “if you accompany Signore De Lucca tonight, allow his men to deal with any threats. I fear you are too exhausted to fight anyone.”

  He was so considerate, caring more for Sameer’s well-being than the young Paladin himself. Brehane fought hard to suppress a smile.

  Sameer’s face contorted into an expression that suggested constipation. “I will do what I must to find Sohini.”

  “I promise I will have answers for you by tomorrow. Don’t throw your life away. As I just said, I will Divine her location tonight.”

  Brehane’s pulse picked up several beats. Here was another chance to experience how Divining influenced the Resonance, and also prove that her faith in Cassius wasn’t misplaced.

  De Lucca patted Sameer on the back. “If you wait for word from Signore Cassius on an auspicious time to confront the Acerbi, I will send my Bovyans with you. However, I am going now. You must decide if you will accompany me, Sir Paladin.” He pointed out of the mansion, where horses waited.

  Chapter 12:

  Opportunity In Disaster

  It wasn’t the first, and probably wouldn’t be the last time Jie was trapped like a rat. Returning De Lucca’s desk to the disorder in which she’d found it, she went to the windows and eased the heavy red curtains open. Unlike the wood shutters back home, these were made of actual glass. Outside in the alley, six Bovyans were pointing and chatting amongst themselves. The glass muffled the sounds too much for even her elf ears to make out the words.

  The clack of boots on marble in the hall echoed louder as they approached the door. Maybe whoever it was knew the combination, maybe they didn’t. She turned and reevaluated the window. It looked to slide open vertically, but then there were the bars, and then a half-dozen brutes. Hiding behind the curtain wasn’t an appealing option. If the Bovyans flashed a light from the alley, they’d see her like the prostitutes dancing in the windows of De Lucca’s brothel; and from the inside, it would be the first place she’d look if searching for a hidden spy.

  The footsteps stopped outside the door. She zipped over to the fireplace and looked up. The space above the wind shelf might be just large enough for her to contort herself into, though the flue narrowed not far above it. There was little hope of getting much higher, let alone reaching the second floor. It would potentially be a long, uncomfortable wait.

  Then again, it was better than the alternative, and she’d wedged herself into a space half this size in training drills at the temple, and waited there for a day.

  Gears swished as someone fiddled with the door lock. Pulse racing, she squeezed up into the flue. Scrunching her knees against her chest and ducking her head, she fit in the space with just her arms dangling over the wind shelf. Never before had she been more thankful for a flat chest.

  “Dwarf lock.” The voice sounded like it came from a large person who’d just swallowed a bunch of rocks. “Do you know the combination?”

  “De Lucca must have changed it. We sent word to him, but he’s an hour away.” The second man also sounded large.

  “Not if he rides a horse,” said the gravelly voice.

  “He doesn’t look like he’d be able to ride. Even then, it’ll still be half an hour. I’ll check the other rooms. You go find that Nightblade, he might be able to figure this lock out.”

  A Nightblade. Jie sucked on her
lower lip. It sounded ominous. An assassin, maybe.

  She uncontorted herself and slunk down. If De Lucca was the only one who knew the combination, she might have up to another half hour before they breeched the door.

  The horn in the wall magnified the clacking of boots against marble. The footsteps, which tromped off in the distance. One set went up the steps, while the other pair went halfway down the hall and opened a door.

  Perhaps this was a chance to get out. She ran to the office door and listened. When the footsteps turned into a side room off the hall, she flipped the lock lever. It clicked, much too loudly. She pushed the door open, wedged herself into the crack, and looked down the corridor.

  The door into the closest of the three side rooms was open, a light shining out. Up ahead, the front door to the building stood ajar.

  She dashed toward it. Escape! Unless—

  The light in the side room grew brighter, and a shadow appeared on the wall. A large Bovyan stepped out, a light bauble lamp in his hand.

  Jie skidded to a stop just before she careened into his massive side. She pressed her back to the wall. With Mockingbird’s Deception, she mimicked the gravelly voice from before, and used a Ghost Echo to throw her voice in the direction of the stairs. “Up here!”

  The soldier turned to the entrance and steps. Jie slipped past him and into the room he’d just left. The light turned down the hall, accompanying long, striding footsteps. Thank the Heavens he hadn’t seen her. Even though she couldn’t fault him for being tricked by Black Lotus techniques, she would nickname him Clueless. Once Clueless went up the steps, it would be a quick sprint out the front.

  “Master Phobos, thank you for coming,” a new, very deep voice carried from the front door.

  “You won’t thank me after I report your team’s incompetence. You will make Signore De Lucca lose confidence in us.”

  A fist thumped on a chest. “Forgive us, Master Phobos.”

  “Never mind.” Phobos snorted. “You say the intruder is a half-elf?”

  Still trapped! Not only that, they somehow knew she was one of the handful of half-elves in the world. Had the soldier not emerged from the door at that time, she would’ve run right into these newcomers.

  “So we were told.” The same deep voice reached the entrance. He’d be nicknamed Deep Throat. “We’ve searched the building, save for Signore De Lucca’s office. It has a combination lock.”

  “If she’s in there, there’s no way out.” The last voice implied this Phobos was a large man, albeit smaller than the others. In fact, it sounded like the leader who’d tried to ambush the Paladins with the Mafia goons, before disappearing into thin air. If it were indeed him, he was freelancing for both the Signores and the crime families. Or maybe De Lucca was colluding with the Mafia.

  However, the pimp’s financial records suggested otherwise, which left a third option: the Bovyans had their own agenda. Either way, she was likely a step closer to the clan traitor.

  “Stand guard by De Lucca’s office door,” Master Phobos whispered, apparently unaware that elf ears were much more acute than a human’s. “I will climb to the rooftop and search from the second floor down.”

  Jie sucked on her lower lip. If this Phobos could climb to the roof, he was likely the one who’d left the marks in the stones and mortar, and the hand prints inside the chimney. Given the timing, he was probably also the Nightblade the first two Bovyans had referenced. Now there was a name to the assassins trained in Black Lotus Clan ways. Mix Bovyan fighting skills with Black Fist guile, and these Nightblades would be formidable.

  Of course, the clan would never find out if she didn’t escape. She eased the door shut, plunging the room into darkness that her elf vision couldn’t penetrate. She withdrew her light bauble and scanned the surroundings.

  Though lined with shelves like the record room, these volumes looked more like actual leather-bound books than ledgers. Two plush leather chairs flanked a table and faced a hearth on the far wall. Whether for guests or for De Lucca himself, the library looked like a retreat.

  Given this room’s placement beneath the records room, the flue was probably the one that had branched off of the chimney she’d come in through. She crept over and looked up. Like the fireplace in De Lucca’s office, this one also had a small space above the wind shelf, perhaps large enough for her to squeeze into. Still, if this Nightblade Phobos was competent, he’d assume a half-elf girl could fit into it. For now, it was a last resort.

  Up above, the sound of hands and feet working their way down the chimney echoed through the flue.

  There was still a little time, perhaps enough to learn about De Lucca from what he read. She inched over to the closest shelf and held the bauble up to the books. Titles like The Lips of Winter, The Lash and the Locket, and The Widow’s Gentleman were emblazoned on the spines. Such strange books for a glorified pimp to read.

  She pulled Lips of Winter out and opened the page. The uniform, blocky letters indicated a press with movable type had been used to print this book. The content was nothing short of raunchy, graphically depicting acts that might make even Prince Aryn blush. Further examination of a few more pages revealed no patterns for a coded language, so the book was undoubtedly just what it appeared to be: erotic literature. Mass-produced, no less. Jie quickly stuffed it back into its place on the shelf.

  Moving around the shelves, she took cursory glances at the titles. Warfare and military strategy, historical accounts, economics, botany, and animal husbandry were among the many genres included. Whatever else could be said about De Lucca, he either had a wide breadth of knowledge or wanted his guests to believe he did.

  Still, knowing of De Lucca’s vanity didn’t solve her current conundrum. There was no way out, and it was only a matter of time before the Bovyans came through with another sweep. Even now, the footsteps outside the door grew louder.

  She made another quick scan of the room…then froze. Given where the near wall of De Lucca’s office ended, the far wall here should’ve been another three feet back. Which meant there was likely a secret room, or maybe a stairwell heading into a basement. She pulled out thick books and tapped along the back of the shelves, each time eliciting a dull thud. On the third try, a hollow thump echoed. Given the proximity of the footsteps, her pursuers were not far from the door. Maybe they’d even hear it. Here was a secret door, but there were no clues how to open it, nor time to figure it out.

  The footsteps were now outside the door. In five loping bounds, she made it back to the fireplace, wiggled past the wind shelf, and pocketed her light.

  The door opened. Light shone in, casting shadows into the floor of the hearth.

  “She’s not in there. I just checked five minutes ago,” Clueless said.

  “I was watching the hall the whole time and didn’t see anyone go in,” said Deep Throat.

  “Did you check the fireplace?” Nightblade Phobos asked.

  Jie’s heart leaped into her throat. Cornered, stuck in a fireplace. Given the precarious position, it was impossible to throw her voice anywhere but down.

  Or up.

  She angled her head up the flue. Again, she imitated Gravel Mouth’s voice, currently unaccounted for, and threw it up the shaft. “Up here! In the record room.”

  It echoed through the chimney. Whether it tricked the men or just gave away her position, she’d find out in seconds.

  The light flashed out. Footsteps hurried back out. One set. Two sets. Three.

  Who knew, if the Nightblade was trained in Black Fist ways, maybe he’d thrown the sound of his footsteps just like she’d done her voice. She listened. No other sounds, but talented members of her clan could hold their breaths for four to five minutes.

  She couldn’t wait that long. They’d find Gravel Mouth in a minute or so. She poked her head down and did a quick scan. The main door remained open, and the little light that filtered in didn’t reveal anyone there. Of course, Nightblade Phobos might still have his invisibility bauble,
but there was no way to know. She dropped down and crept back to the secret door.

  Running her hand along the frame, she found no buttons, levers, or latches that would disengage the door. What else could there be? A switch somewhere else in the room? Too inconvenient.

  “I didn’t call you,” Gravel Mouth’s voice said from somewhere on the second floor, definitely not the record room. “I thought that was one of you, calling me.”

  “The fireplace,” Nightblade Phobos said from the steps.

  Jie studied the books. While most had pristine spines, one had several smudges on it. She pulled it, eliciting a click behind the shelves.

  The entire bookshelf whispered open. She had to jump back.

  She ducked into the opening and looked along the back for any kind of lever or button to close the door. The footsteps grew louder. She found a switch directly opposite of the book she’d pulled, but before she could flip it, the door swung shut of its own accord. Pocketing her light bauble, just in case it shone through any part of the door’s outline, she froze in place and held her breath.

  “Check the fireplace,” Nightblade Phobos said from the other side.

  Footsteps clickety-clacked across the wood floors to the hearth.

  “Nothing,” Deep Throat said.

  “Are you sure anyone was here at all?” Clueless asked.

  “Of course. Someone imitated Preibus’ voice,” Nightblade Phobos said, irritation in his voice. “Keep searching. When Signore De Lucca comes, he might be able to tell if someone disturbed his things.”

  The voices and footsteps left again. By now, they must’ve been back and forth to this room so many times that they were bored.

  Jie peered around. The indistinct greenish-grey hues meant her elf vision had kicked in, and that this secret room must not be too deep inside the building. The space was wide enough for her to stand against one side and extend her hand to the opposite wall, its length long enough for three half-elf girls to lay head-to-toe. Several sets of clothes hung at the far end, above a chest of drawers.