Book 2 Dead Man's Hand: The Knights of the Golden Dragon

by Troy Reaves

  Boremac stared at Jun for a moment, not quite willing to give up his hand just yet. He knew better than to trust the man. “Why assume it was me? Any ranger is quite capable of dealing with threats within his own forest.”

  “Perhaps that is true, and I know that this particular one can navigate that forest blind drunk. He is known for it, in fact. Had word not been sent via messenger from the lord of those lands when the ranger arrived there wounded, we here may not have known at all. Look Boremac, or Frosstel, or Dead Man, whichever you prefer, there is no end to the means with which I gather information. Knowledge is power, and that is no truer than in my line of work. That particular duty at this time is to insure the right person is given the right contract. New faces seeking fortune enter Verson all the time. For every three that enter the city, at least one is killed or maimed their first time out. That is why I never take on first timers. I handle some of the most delicate contracts in the city and I will not soil my reputation with the blood of inexperienced hunters.”

  “Boremac serves between us,” replied Boremac. “I would know how you know about the Gang nick, but I doubt seriously you would give me a straight answer.” Boremac paused to look around the mess that served as Jun’s office. “Pray tell me you have something to drink here. I have the feeling we will be talking a bit more.”

  “Forgive me, Boremac.” Jun rose from his chair and opened one of the nearby cabinets, drawing out two wooden mugs. He filled them using a tapped barrel nearby and returned to the table. Boremac noted Jun did not seem to notice the candles as he handed over Boremac’s mug, passing within a hair’s breadth of several. “I think you will find it refreshing without being overwhelming. It would not do for you to see the guild master without full use of your faculties. His cunning matches my own, and despite him seeking you with good intent, one must always assume he has an alternate agenda. He did not attain his current position, or expand the power of the guild as he has, by giving even a hint of his plans before they come into play. I wish I had seen him when he was still working.” Jun shook his head displaying open disappointment. “Age and success have taken their toll, but do not underestimate him for it. He controls Verson and all the mercenaries in it do what he allows. No more, no less. I have to wonder what his intentions are concerning you, Boremac, once you are revealed to him. Let us assume his intentions are at least good, if not honorable.” Jun raised his mug across the table, again narrowly missing the candles and setting the whole mess ablaze. “Alchendia’s grace!”

  Boremac met Jun’s mug with his own, managing to slosh only the slightest amount of his drink onto the myriad papers as they toasted. “Alchendia’s luck! Tell me why the guild master has interest in me and pray do not leave out any detail.”

  “It should seem obvious, but then you are either a bit denser than you appeared in our past encounter or you just want to check my information against your own assumptions.” Jun paused, taking a sip from his own mug, as if wanting a moment to phrase his answers directly before continuing. “You have created quite a stir. First, Rinoba places a sizeable bounty on your head for some evil you visited upon him, or so he said, and then after the abysmal failure of one of the best mercenary teams hunting you, he claims the contract was placed by a challenger to his new position in order to oust him. Rinoba has become the second to the closest advisor to the King of thieves in Travelflor with his success during the Choosing. It is my understanding that your name has been stricken from the ranks of Alchendia’s Path. It would seem, for all intents, that I am your only ally at this time. Others will no doubt come to befriend you with the hope of advancing their own agendas, not unlike the guild master here. Your handling of the mercenaries that were pursuing you has made you as many enemies as they have friends, however we both know that friends are often ones undoing. Trust is hard earned in the shadows and, at least where enemies are concerned, you know there will be hazards. While I am thinking of it, Fauna has been to Verson lately. She did not bother to stop in with me for a chat, sadly. Her sister was not present and she met with the guild master not much before your bounty was issued. Odd, don’t you think? She carried the mark of Alchendia. That was interesting. More interesting is that such a skilled individual is serving as a messenger for Alchendia’s Path. It does appear that something is in the works, perhaps a change in leadership there. All these happenings so soon after the Choosing are worth investigating. Alchendia’s Path is far too closed with its inner workings, and Rinoba is far too unreliable to be allowed to take his father’s place, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Boremac nodded. “I would hate to be the one between him and the throne. We should probably be glad he is too cunning for his own good. He forgets that his plans, as well thought out as they may be, may go wrong. I submit myself as evidence of that fact. Still I am puzzled why he did not just not kill me when he had the chance. It would have been easy.”

  Jun smiled in a way that again troubled Boremac. “You have demonstrated ability well beyond his assumptions. Do not underestimate his knowledge gathering capabilities. Alchendia’s Path is more than the strongest guild in the lands, it is also the most influential. Their spies are everywhere. Some are openly placed diplomats, like Rinoba has chosen to become, while others are the merest shadows at the guild masters’ shoulders. Others keep ties with assassin guilds as well. Those individuals are open in their dealings, gathering what information they can, just as often trading their own information for it, to avoid any unnecessary issues.” Jun giggled with an undercurrent that made Boremac think of insane fairies. “The assassin guilds are not known for patience where encroachers are concerned. The mere difficulties one must face to hire such people is only a hint of how much influence they actually hold. It is easier to seek audience with a lord as a common street urchin than it is to have someone professionally removed. Few even exist independently any longer. Some of the larger bounty hunters occasionally make an attempt at refining their craft and establishing themselves in the much more lucrative pursuit of death for hire. It rarely works out well. Alchendia’s Path has a twin among the assassin guilds and they are much less tolerant than the thieves’ guild.”

  Boremac frowned. “The Black Hand, master assassins that are no more than rumor and threats to all but their victims. You work with them? I assume they require intermediaries like yourself for the contracts they do accept.”

  Jun held Boremac’s eyes but his gaze was unreadable as he replied. “The Black Hand’s business is their own, something you would do well to remember. Rumors and threats to all but their victims, as you said. I deal with many groups. The ones I deal with rely on my confidentiality. It has made me very useful to many people.”

  The change that came over Jun’s face was so immediate that Boremac would have sworn he was looking at someone other than the man who had just spoken. Jun’s usual soft cheerful countenance replaced the deadly serious one with no transition. “Boremac, do you know what the most important tool is that is shared by rogues, mercenaries and assassins alike? I will give you a hint, you do not carry it on your person, meaning of course you do not generally stab anyone with it. Discard your first thought. It is not that obvious.”

  “That would mean cunning is out, I suppose.” Boremac smiled as he continued. “I would say charm but that would eliminate about half the people included in the group you are asking me to consider. I would have to say control. Control of oneself and the situation at all times which would, of course, include awareness.”

  Jun giggled with a special undercurrent that Boremac could not identify but it made him shiver none the less hearing it. “Excellent thoughts! I see my estimation of you was not misplaced. We will accomplish great things together! Unfortunately you are completely wrong.” Boremac was once more amazed that such soft features could assemble themselves into such an evil looking grin. “Patience, Boremac. That is the most important tool any in our trades need. Assassins, rogues, and mercenary hunters must know everything they can about their intended targe
ts. Mediators, like myself, must know as much as they can about, well, everyone. We just never know what might provide vital information for any number of reasons. I will not bore you with the details of the types of information I gather but I will say this; No one of any importance in these vast lands has been missed. Endless books, half blank, encrypted to the point of nonsense, exist concerning them all. ‘Why?’ that look on your slack face asks without a word. I say because, Boremac, you just never know what might come in handy.”

  “Enough of all of this chatter, I think. Boremac, it is time to go and meet the person who will soon become your greatest ally, and a constant burr in your butt. Remember two things when dealing with him; never make your payments late and always say as little as possible in his presence. Both are equally important.”

  ***

  Jun and Boremac arrived at the local guild house shortly thereafter. Boremac was impressed before they even entered the establishment. The face of the building was stone, well-crafted large bricks fashioned after the style of a small keep. It was just a bit larger than the two major inns in Verson and it commanded attention. The two towers on the corners of the large iron door probably had the largest impact. There were long banners hanging from each of them. The banners clearly represented two leaders’ houses, but Boremac could not imagine which two or why they were hanging there.

  Jun addressed the quizzical look on his face as if he had anticipated it and prepared the answer. “He claims birthright to two houses, bastard son born of an illicit union between the lord of one and lady of another, which was hidden with one of the lady’s maidens until he was old enough to make his way. His father and mother refused to claim him because they already had heirs in place for ascension to the thrones of their respective houses. His mother was a widow, but none the less forbidden to remarry after her husband’s death. The wording in the dowry was quite precise, according to Machivien, the man you are about to meet. It is a great story and only that, created of whole cloth by his mother. The kind lady was wooed by a gambling rake who made more pocketing women’s family heirlooms than he ever made at the tables.”

  Boremac shook his head in disbelief before speaking. “Jun, how is it that you know all of this? I imagine the guild leader guards this secret most carefully.”

  Jun smiled in that way that made Boremac’s blood run cold before replying. “Boremac, I was not always a mediator. I was quite an accomplished bounty hunter in my day, quite possibly the best. I killed his father, put his head in a sack, and brought it to him. He was pleased but somewhat troubled that I had seen through his carefully cultivated façade. He wanted to know how I managed it but I refused him. He settled for a blood bond between us. I would protect his secret and he would allow me to pick the best contracts. He is a sly one though, because he insists upon getting a little more from me than from the other mediators.”

  Jun paused, his features softening before he continued. “He is still a good friend though, and a good ally, and we have both profited well together. I thank Alchendia for sensitive ears. I learned all I needed in order to do what I did by listening and being patient. I am mildly concerned, Boremac, that you will have to hone both those skills. Come on then and meet the man that will either make you or break you as a hunter of men. Do not make the mistake of thinking he is what he appears to be. I swear, sometimes I think Machivien can read minds. One thing is a certainty, he can always discern intentions, especially when someone prepares to move against him.”

  When the pair went inside Boremac was surprised no guards welcomed them at the door. The door man was a simple man, well dressed and polite, but certainly not wary. It could have been Jun’s presence that had made their entry so easy but, after living in the thieves’ guild in Travelflor, Boremac found it odd there was no one inspecting visitors. They went straight down a wide hallway that had a few intersecting halls on either side at varying intervals. The person responsible for decorating the entry had been subtly graceful, placing fine paintings and small sculptures in alcoves that were well lighted by the small oil lamps placed for that purpose. The hall was neat but subdued, with clean lines of polished wood and no artificial carvings, which highlighted the natural textures of the wood panels. The floor was carpeted with a thick, black dyed material that softened the footfalls. It was as if whoever was responsible for the designs had not wanted the art or the owner disturbed by guests. Boremac found it all very curious, and his anticipation at meeting Machivien grew with each step even as he added up what he could get for the artwork in the hall with a fence. ‘Yes,’ he thought to himself, ‘in and out with the right bunch and they could all disappear, retiring wealthy in some land far away. He must enjoy feeding wolves raw meat by hand.’ Boremac chuckled softly at the thought. Jun chose not to comment.

  Boremac entered the main receiving room as Jun opened the door, half expecting to see a throne room like the one of the long dead king he had visited not long ago. The first thing that drew his attention was the large number of candles randomly scattered around the room. The candle holders were various sizes and shapes, obviously created by many different craftsmen. A man who could only be described as fat sat crossed legged on a large thick cushion. Numerous decorated cushions formed a rough semi-circle at the front of the man. Boremac found it strange that the walls were bare and the only real décor was a small sculpture of Alchendia, standing erect in the classic pose with her hands held out slightly at her hips, a short dagger in one and a card in the other. Boremac could not make out the detail work on the card but he was sure that the shallow tracings on it were the face of Death. The game of chance was won or lost by that card, making it the only obvious choice.

  The man, undoubtedly Machivien, waved Jun and Boremac into the room and motioned for them to take a seat before speaking. “So, this is the amazing thief who managed to elude capture, and probably death, by the best man-hunting team I have seen in quite some time. I thought you would be taller. I understand you killed all of them with daggers and the aid of an old ranger. Please feel free to correct me when I mistake the details of the encounter. The killing blows were all precise with no waste of energy. Only the strike against the one that was going to kill the ranger was spontaneous. You acted instinctively and had some bit of luck, no doubt. Alchendia favors you or you amuse her greatly, still a bit early to tell. Let me see the blades please.”

  Boremac did not have to ask which blades he meant. He took care unsheathing them, not wanting to damage the cushion where he sat, and moved to pass them over. Machivien began to rise to take the daggers but Jun saved him the trouble, taking them from Boremac and handing them over before Machivien could uncross his legs. The guild leader flopped back into his position, crossing his legs and wiggling into his seat. Once more Boremac was stunned at how fast Jun could move. Boremac spoke as Machivien examined the blades in the flickering candlelight. “May I look more closely at your miniature tribute while you inspect the weapons I carry?”

  Machivien was squinting closely at the hilt of one of the precious daggers, not bothering to look at Boremac as he answered. “I would expect no less from one that she graces so often. Please do.”

  Boremac did not recognize the material the statue had been formed from, but it was definitely a singular piece. He thought horn might have been used but discarded the idea. The depth of detail meant it had to be either a man-made substance or maybe branch from an ancient White Ash tree. There were almost no lines in the almost pure white surface. The card she held was as he expected, Death carved almost as intricately as the face of the card in Jun’s deck. The dagger in her other hand was a type Boremac had not seen before now. It had a wicked blade, each side curving to the point with a narrow channel carved down the middle of either side of it. Boremac could not see the grip in the statue’s hand but the pommel was easily visible and left no doubt who wielded the blade. It was a clenched fist, the rumored pommel of all Black Hand daggers. No smith would create such a pommel for anyone in the land. Some weapon smiths
said this was out of respect. Boremac felt fear was a greater motivator than they cared to admit. He addressed Machivien after admiring the piece. “The statuette is remarkable. May I ask who did the work for you?”

  “I did.” Machivien still did not look up from the dagger as he spoke, though a broad smile did break across his face as Boremac drew a breath in surprise. “I am a man of many talents, Boremac. I have always been smart enough to know there is always someone smarter or craftier than myself. I make a point of seeking out these individuals. I wonder what you will teach me.” He looked up to bring his eyes in line with Boremac’s own. The candlelight flickering in them disguised any emotions that may have been revealed. Boremac was left to discern the truth of the man’s words by his tone and expression. He felt himself at a loss with only these indicators, both of which he himself could readily alter at will. Jun’s words back at his office came to him almost of their own accord and he did as instructed, listening intently. “I have always adored fine art and wanted to be able to create pieces. Portraits and landscapes, paintings in general really, are beyond my skills, but despite that I was able to create the Dead Man deck Jun shared with you. It would be difficult to say which took more focus, the statuette or the identical decks Jun and I possess, but forgive me. I have strayed far from the reason you are here.”

  Boremac shook his head at the man’s words and replied. “No need to apologize, master. I have been curious about the deck since I met Jun, and I am glad to meet the one responsible for it. Each card defies description with the level of detail, much like the statuette. Especially the rendering of the two faces of Alchendia. Beautiful. I imagine your time is precious though and we should move on to business.”