by Alex Lang
Tasi brimmed with excitement, and in contrast Jahna was quiet and solemn, more so than usual. Her mood had soured and stayed such ever since she’d found out that he’d been wounded by a wraith. Kyris had needed Tasi to tend to and dress his back, and this time she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, hide it from Jahna. He and his twin had argued, the usual claim of recklessness levied against him. And though this latest injury was the worst he’d ever received from the wraiths, the closest he had ever come to them, it was over. The pain and suffering then and now, well worth the prize. He hadn’t told Jahna about the broken spear relic; he'd meant to, but when they’d gotten into it, it had slipped his mind. He had a weapon against the wraiths now, but perhaps Jahna wouldn’t think that a good thing.
Kyris had feared Jahna would refuse to attend the dinner. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go, either, but the way Tasi’s face had lit up at the mention of it and of Caldir gifting them the clothing, it seemed the least he could do was pay a short visit.
Now, with the three of them so finely attired within a carriage suited for a highborn, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of Tasi’s excitement infecting him.
Tonight was one for celebration. All three tasks had been completed. Sandamar had provided the list of Ormossan elders that could possibly help Jahna, though she knew nothing of that. He could do nothing more until Kathmor’s location was determined, which Caldir ensured was forthcoming. Why not enjoy what had been hard-earned?
They came to a stop, and Kyris emerged onto a narrow, darkened alley, barely wide enough for the door to swing fully open. Light shone from the opposite side of the carriage, casting shadows. He tensed, eyes darting, searching for signs of trouble. This couldn’t be the right place. He was about to question the driver when someone called out.
“Kyris!” Adar rounded the carriage. “There you are. This way, this way. Entrance is over here.” Adar’s easy tone and welcoming smile put him at ease. By his flushed cheeks, it seemed the man had started the celebration already.
Kyris helped Jahna down from the carriage.
“Where is this dinner being held?” she asked, no doubt detecting the stink of rubbish that filled the alley.
“I was told a fine eating house.” He led her to the other side where Adar was aiding Tasi down with a grin plastered across his face. Kyris frowned. He would have to keep an eye on him tonight.
Light shone from an opened door, and the sound of a crowd drifted forth. Adar led them inside, then up a narrow flight of stairs. “Watch your steps, ladies.”
At the top, they walked through a short hallway, then entered a spacious lounge, with leather seats and long velvet benches. Two arched windows of stained glass took up most of the far wall.
Kyris was surprised by the number of people present. He had expected Grunul, for this was as much a celebration of his return as it was for their recent successes, and of course, Ellse and her band of ruffians, but Marlek and Kohan were also in attendance, along with lots of unknown faces.
Kyris adjusted his new coat, feeling ill at ease all of a sudden. He realized this party would be a first for him, as well.
“Ah, our guest of honor has arrived, along with his captivating escorts,” Caldir said from across the room.
Kyris’s cheeks heated as all heads turned to them.
“How come he’s the guest of honor and I have to play the valet?” Adar complained, though his voice was light with jest. “We got relics, too.”
“Of course, Adar. You, too, are my guest of honor. You all are. I would like to raise a toast for the extraordinary work everyone has accomplished in recent days,” Caldir called, raising his glass up. Everyone did the same, and Adar was quick to supply a drink to each of the new arrivals.
“To a job well done.” Caldir tipped his glass back.
Kyris took a sip of wine, surveying the room as he did so. Specifically, those individuals he did not know. Were these other members of the Graves syndicate?
“Kyris!” Marlek boomed as he approached. “By the gods. I’m surprised you’re still alive, truth be told. Who might these lovely ladies be?”
“Let me introduce my sisters, Jahna and Tasi.”
“Sisters? Of course. That explains a lot. Ah, this one got all the looks in the family, eh?” Marlek said looking at Tasi. He paused as he glanced at Jahna, seemingly at a loss.
Jahna tilted her head at the big man and said nothing, and Kyris imagined a cruel smile underneath her veil.
Tasi came to Marlek’s rescue. “A pleasure, Mister Marlek. We’ve heard so much about you.”
“Oh, is that right?”
Taking the opportunity, Kyris slipped away from the group, heading for Caldir who stood across the room near the stained glass windows, conversing with Ellse.
Kohan intercepted him. “Kyris, my boy. I didn’t get a chance to properly thank you a few nights back. A toast to your health.”
“Hey, old one, you’re looking much better.” And he was. His skin was no longer ashen and pale. Gone were the sunken cheeks and sickly gauntness. It was a dramatic change in a just a few days. Perhaps Sandamar had a hand in the transformation. “You don’t look a day over eighty now.”
Kohan squinted his eyes in mock anger, but then broke into a wide smile. “I feel much better. It’s wondrous what a couple of days in the glory of the sun, the real one, and some fresh air will do for a man. Well, as fresh as can be had in your stinking city. No offense.”
“None taken, as it isn’t my city. Why are you still here? I would have thought you long gone by now.”
“Well, yes. That was my original intent, but this Caldir… Quite the intriguing fellow. We’ve had such fascinating discussions over shared interests.”
Kyris nodded, curious what Caldir and Kohan had in common, but not so much as to pull him from his course. “If you will pardon me, I should speak with our host.”
“Of course, of course. Off with ya.”
Kyris walked past Sandamar and Adar, deep in a conversation of their own. Sandamar gave him a quick, curt nod. It wasn’t outright hostile. So that’s progress, he thought.
“Caldir. Ellse,” Kyris said, stepping forward. Ellse was wearing a flowy-sleeved burgundy silk tunic that cinched around her waist with a golden sash, its wide neckline open to her shoulders. His eyes may have lingered a bit too long on her bare skin before raising to meet hers. “I heard you had your own adventure with the artificers.”
“You could call it that,” Ellse said with a smile.
“I’d like to hear all about it.”
“Oh, you won’t have a choice in the matter.” She glanced between him and Caldir, then said, “Come find me later and we’ll swap… stories.” She walked off, giving him a backwards glance and her signature smirk.
Kyris cleared his throat and looked back to Caldir, who had been watching him the whole time.
Before he could speak up, Caldir said, “I have the information you requested.”
He couldn’t believe it. He had searched, bribed, and resorted to other methods of persuasion, but none of it had yielded any useful results. Now, in less than a week, Caldir had accomplished the task. He wanted to ask how but instead, said, “Is… is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Kyris flooded with relief.
Caldir reached into his coat and withdrew an envelope, then handed it to him.
“Contained therein is the location of Kathmor of House Ganryre, along with a map.”
“Ganryre,” Kyris said, the name leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “You are certain it is him?”
“Given the information you provided, yes. I daresay it could be no other.”
Kyris opened the envelope and read the content with a crazed urgency, as though the man might disappear if he didn’t act now. “Beaconsfield? I’ve never heard of it before.”
“Nor had I. I am told it is a small village, a day’s ride north of the city. It is not on any of the maps. You know, this information was not easy to come by. Someo
ne is hiding something out there. If you happen to discover what that is on your visit, please do share.”
A small bell rang as double doors were opened, revealing a room occupied by a long dining table. Displayed upon it was a bounty of food prepared in all manner of style- roasted fowl, fried fish and brightly colored vegetables, simmering meat stews and baskets of freshly baked flatbread, accented with bowls of spiced nuts and marinated fruit.
“Ah, it looks like dinner is ready to be served,” Caldir said to the room. “If everyone could please take a seat?” To Kyris, he placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a tight smile.
Everyone made their way into the dining room except for him. His mind whirled. Should he tell Jahna and Tasi? Should he leave now? Could he get a carriage to take him that far?
Through a lighter and clearer pane of the window, Kyris could see down into the main dining hall and make out the blurry shapes of the other patrons, a large portion of which appeared to be highborn, dressed in their customary attire, announcing their houses and lineage. What would they think if they knew that just above them were lowborn, criminals, and far worse, eating and drinking the same food?
Kyris turned to those gathered taking their seats around the long table, conversing and laughing, his sisters among them. He felt a pang of envy in his chest, as though he was only allowed to observe the merriment and not participate. There was no place for him, a voice said in his mind. The note in his coat pocket burned like a brand, spurring him to action, but he’d waited eight years. Certainly he could manage a few hours longer before setting out.
At Ellse and Tasi’s expectant looks, he resolved to try. He walked over, taking the seat at the table that had been left for him.
Kyris ate his fill, drank his fill, and with enough of the latter, talked his fill to all those around him.
He met the other members of Ellse’s little band, Mosa—the fourth masked combatant he had knocked unconscious during the interview—and Izab. Along with the brothers Tallence and Rollim, they shared tales of their recent exploits. He heard of how they, with Ellse and Adar, had broken into an artificer storage facility, acquiring even more relics than he had. He joked with Marlek on how business must be suffering greatly without him, and he listened to Kohan, learning that the old man was from the Verdant Expanse, an endless forest in the Frontier lands.
He and Tasi shared stories of growing up in Yond, and even Jahna joined in, injecting things here and there, usually a correction or clarification of some small detail he may have gotten wrong.
Kyris was seated at the far end of the table opposite Caldir and Grunul, and though he did not speak with them during dinner, he hadn’t missed the way the two men looked at one another, nor had he missed Caldir placing a hand over Grunul’s. The Marlander was no simple associate, that much was clear.
The fellowship of those gathered was unmistakable and not how he’d imagined such an organization could or would be.
The party was not a formal thing, so after the dinner people moved about, some back into the lounge, others staying at the dinner table to pick at the remnants of the meal as they conversed.
Later, Kyris found himself sitting with Ellse on a bench, trying his best to pry out some details of her past and doing a poor job of it. He was curious as to the nature of her relationship with Caldir. She’d told him of their meeting in a far off land he had never heard of, but even then, he sensed her holding things back. The woman was more secretive than even he.
His sisters approached.
“Kyris,” Tasi said. “Sorry to interrupt, but it is getting rather late.”
“Oh, of course.” He started to rise, but Tasi waved him off.
“No, you stay.” She looked to Ellse, then back to him with a sly smile. “The carriage will take us back, and Marlek has agreed to accompany us.”
Kyris stood. “Are you two certain I shouldn’t see you back?” It was his responsibility to make sure his sisters got home safely. And the location of their residence was supposed to be hidden, but… did it matter anymore? Did he still not trust Caldir?
“We will be fine, brother,” Jahna offered. “Enjoy yourself. We will not wait up.”
He gave his sisters each a quick embrace.
Jahna whispered to him, “We’ve already bid our farewells to our host and thanked him for his hospitality. Don’t forget to do the same… whenever, if ever, you decide to leave.”
The words were chiding, but he could hear the smile in her voice.
His sisters said their goodbyes to Ellse, then Tasi led Jahna away, turning back to give Kyris a wink over her shoulder.
Kyris cleared his throat, hoping Ellse hadn’t noticed. “Now, where were we?”
“You were telling me how you once tumbled into a cistern.” Her amber eyes caught the light and seemed to twinkle with mischief.
“Ah, right. You see…”
The rest of the night at the eating house passed in a blur of drinks and general revelry.
Some guests had left, like Sandamar and a few others Kyris hadn’t met. Those who remained, Caldir and Grunul, Ellse and her band, headed back to the tailor shop to continue the celebration. There was drunken talk of a rematch in the arena.
Kyris hadn’t realized that they were in the Halcyon district and only a few blocks away from Caldir’s shop.
The streets were mostly empty given the hour. The rain had stopped, and the chill of the night air felt invigorating, sobering Kyris a bit. This night was the most he had ever drank, and a part of him questioned the wisdom of such, given his task tomorrow.
Amazingly, he had been successful in forgetting about Kathmor for a short while, but now, the thought pierced through the happy haze of drink and companionship like a dagger. What was he doing?
He should be resting to set out first thing in the morning. He needed to check his gear and purchase a few more knives, perhaps, not romping around like some drunken sailor.
Tomorrow would be the culmination of eight years of effort, the fulfillment of the vow he’d made; instead, he was here. Why?
Kyris snorted. The answer was obvious and walking just up ahead, laughing at a shared joke with Adar.
Kyris had never laid with a woman. Had life been different, were he not cursed of this blood, had Kathmor never darkened their doorstep that day, he would no doubt still be living in Gailen and, given his age, probably wedded with a neighbor girl, with one child born and another on the way.
This was not to say he hadn’t caught anyone’s eye before, but he had never pursued, never made any overtures. What would be the point? There was no future to be had, not until his work was done. And even then, he would not risk fathering a child, passing on the cursed blood.
Back in Yond, he’d been tempted many times to visit the pleasure houses frequented by the other pit fighters of Baaz’s academy. The men even told of a concoction that the women drank to prevent a man’s seed from taking hold, but still he did not go.
The same temptation presented itself here in Vigil, for it seemed such establishments were never in short supply in any town or city. But Kyris never gave in. It would have been the height of hypocrisy if he indulged. He saved every coin made, asked that his sisters made due with less, all for the greater goal. So, he steeled himself against his lust, and with time it seemed proper for him to abstain until his vow of vengeance was fulfilled.
And now, how easy that resolve was almost broken by a dazzling smile and brilliant eyes and the curves of…
Kyris pulled his eyes away from the burgundy silk. He needed to leave. He had celebrated enough. In truth, it was more than he deserved. What did he have to commemorate with his true task unfulfilled?
Kyris tried to think of what to say, of how to excuse himself, while a part of him, the lustful hungry part, shouted that he was a fool, that he should stay and see where things led—convinced it would be Ellse’s bedchamber. His carnal self tempted him with imageries of Ellse’s bare form, urging him to find out if such imaginings were
accurate.
Engrossed in reining back his desires and thoughts, Kyris was surprised to find that they had arrived at the tailor shop.
Mosa produced a key and stepped forward to the door of the storefront, and Kyris flinched as something whizzed by his head. Someone gasped as Mosa dropped to his knees, clutching the black shaft of an arrow that protruded from his neck.
Kyris ducked and had his lone dagger out in a flash, glancing up and down the street.
“Oh, I do hope he wasn’t anyone important,” someone said from above.
Kyris spotted the source of the voice and of the attack. On the building across from the shop, silhouetted against the white glow of the night sky, a figure stood on the peak of the rooftop.
He should have looked up immediately, he realized, given the angle of the arrow. His mind was slow from the night’s revelry.
“Be so kind as to wait until the others arrive, yes?” the archer, a man, called down. He had a short bow in hand but made no move to notch another arrow.
Further down the street from the direction they had come, a group armed with halberds appeared around the corner.
“Halt!” the man in the lead shouted, holding a staff high. Light spilled from the cylinder attached atop the shaft, illuminating the serious faces of the armed and armored guardsmen of the artificers in their blue and gray uniforms.
Another squad of armsmen emerged from the alleyway further down the opposite end of the street. This group was led by a woman flanked by two monstrous dogs, hairless and black, their heads at the height of her shoulder. These animals were no regular hounds, which meant the woman was most likely a leasher.
