Dragon Assassin 2: Shadow Hunter

by Arthur Slade

  Thord shrugged, and I wondered if he’d been frustrated by dealing with her attitude for the last few weeks. “The library is this way.” He pointed down the street.

  “We’re going to the market first,” Megan replied. “Carmen needs a charm to hide that ugly eye of hers.”

  “It’s not ugly!” I said, putting my hand up to my patch.

  “I mean that wonderful, strange magical eye that attracts attention wherever you go.” She gave me a grin as she spoke it.

  “That’s better,” I said. “Charms can be dispelled, though. One warding cast on a doorway and the charm will vanish.”

  “Only the richest can afford a warding on their windows and doors,” Megan said. “And we won’t be going where the richest frolic. So the charm should hold. You have a few coins?”

  I nodded and we walked briskly down the cobblestone street. Megan kept in the lead, and her whole demeanor suggested she wanted to get everything over with as quickly as possible. The street was so clean I assumed they hired night sweepers. After a few minutes of hard walking we came upon the market.

  Even this area had a sense of order to it. The tents were in straight lines. Wagons filled with vegetables and herbs and a variety of wares had been carefully stationed beside each tent. Smoke wafted up from a few hundred cooking pots. It wouldn't have been shocking if even the smoke rose straight in the air in perfect columns.

  I glanced around, taking in the sights. The smells made my stomach grumble, and I thought about finding a food wagon but Megan said, “Here’s one.” Without another word she pushed me into a tent decorated with a circled eye.

  I was suddenly out of the bright sun and in a darkened smoky space, standing before an ancient crone with tan skin. She sat in a wooden wicker chair. “Both of you are welcome,” the woman said. I turned and saw that neither of my companions had followed me. Perhaps she was seeing double.

  Or even more than double. Because as my vision adjusted, I noticed she had seven eyes. All of them were staring at me. I blinked and blinked again. No, I realized, the extra eyes had been tattooed on her cheeks, forehead and chin. Her real eyes glittered as if she were holding back a laugh.

  “What brings you here, daughter?” Her voice was soft.

  “I need a charm for this.” I removed my patch. She didn’t react at all, only beheld my dragon eye. She was quiet for several moments.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. There was a tone of awe to her words. “It’s the most beautiful eye I’ve ever, ever seen.”

  “That’s kind of you to say.” I had only seen it in a looking glass on two occasions, and both times I got a chill. The eye began to hurt and my vision flashed for a moment, then I covered it with my hand and the pain went away. “I need a charm to disguise it. People will stare at it and in turn stare at me.”

  “Yes. Yes. A charm,” she agreed. “That is exactly what you need: a powerful charm to hide such powerful magic.”

  “It’s not magic,” I said.

  “You know nothing,” she answered. She made a motion and spoke a word in another language, then a befuddled look crossed her face. She gestured with her hand again, holding two fingers up, and spoke another word. She followed this by frowning, which made her face seem even more wrinkled. She closed her two real eyes, but the other five stared at me.

  The hag reached into her shawl, came out with something sharp and, before I could move, stuck it in my arm.

  “Ouch!” I said.

  A large pin was quivering in my forearm.

  “Needed and necessary,” she said. She waited until drops of blood formed. She swiped one on her finger and placed it in a small metal bowl. The second drop she tasted.

  “Its blood is in you,” she said. “It’s part of you.” I wasn’t certain what she meant, though I was beginning to suspect she knew this was a dragon’s eye. “It’s a burden for you, too,” she added.

  “It’s not a burden. I need to cover it up and get on my way.”

  "You do, daughter." She mixed the other drop of blood with a powder, and when she was finished she traced a circle around my eye. She spoke a magical-sounding word: “Oranu.” And then she smiled and held up a mirror.

  Both my eyes looked exactly the same. I hadn’t seen my eyes like that since I was thirteen. “It worked,” I said. “It really worked.”

  “Of course.” She chuckled. “I am not a fraud, daughter. I am the thing that is real.”

  “Yes. Yes, you are. Will I need the ashes and blood every time I renew the charm?” I asked.

  “Just speak this word: Oranu. It will bring the charm back and send the charm away.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you.” I reached into my pouch but she put up a withered hand.

  “No. You have paid enough,” she said.

  “But I should pay you. It’s proper!”

  She shook her head, and her bristly long hair moved on her shoulders like twigs. Her neck was sinewy. “No. The gift was seeing your eye. Now go, daughter. Go.”

  Confused, but thankful, I stepped out of the tent and into the light.

  Megan and Thord both examined me. “She did a wonderful job,” Thord said. I liked the look on his face.

  “For once I agree with Thord,” Megan said. She smacked my shoulder hard enough to make me stagger, then looked me in the eye again. “And it doesn’t come loose.”

  “It’s a charm. It shouldn’t!” I said, rubbing my shoulder.

  “I was just testing.” She then smacked Thord on the back, and he winced. “Now lead us to the library, bookworm.”

  13

  Hidden in Maps

  The Library of Avenus was an impressively large building with massive columns on either side of the doorway. A green garden thick with vines and walnut and olive trees surrounded the structure. Men and women were sitting on stone tables outside, drinking coffee or tea in steel mugs and reading bound books. Children were poring over scrolls with illustrations. Someone had created books for children!

  Libraries were sacred to the Avenians. The citizens were said to be obsessively in love with stories and wrote down every tale they heard from all corners of Ellos, including the Akkad Empire. They stored them in this library.

  “I could die here,” I said.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Megan gruffed. “It’s just a big building for books. It’s not like we’ll find any good weapons inside. Now if it was a weaponry museum, you really could die there.”

  I wasn’t certain whether she was attempting to be funny, so I gave a half chuckle.

  “I don’t know if Maestru Beatrix is here every day,” Thord said as he led us through the open wooden doors.

  The inside of the building was twice as impressive as the outside. The tall domed ceiling was made of transparent stone that let in light and brightened the rows and rows of books. Avenians in ragged togas and others in finery browsed through the selections or sat at reading tables. There were even more children inside. Three women and two men in gray robes sat behind a long round wooden desk in the library's center—the librarians.

  “I really could die here,” I said.

  “This is why you had no friends in school,” Megan said, though she smiled to let me know she was teasing. “Crazy statements like that scare sensible people away.”

  “But think of how all of our books at the Red Assassin School were locked away from the world,” I said. “And here anyone can read them. Anyone can learn.”

  “I’m not certain you’d want everyone to know how to mix poisonous potions,” Thord said. “Might put us out of business.”

  “Then again, it’s not like we’re in business anymore,” Megan said. “Where’s Maestru Beatrix?”

  Thord glanced around. His hair was longer and a little unkempt, but that somehow complimented his face. He had a perfect nose.

  I stopped staring at his nose.

  “Well, last time I was in the maps section looking for islands to escape to and she just appeared. Let's try there.” We
followed him over to a section where the shelves were wider and the books much larger. I opened one giant book to discover it was jammed with full-color maps of the Akkad Empire. They were hand drawn and beautiful and represented hours and hours of labor for an artist. It still amazed me that anyone could pick any of these books up and flip through the pages. I found maps of the Akkad Desert, of the western mountain regions and stopped at a street map of Akkadium itself, the capital. Just knowing Corwin was in that impressive city, standing beside the emperor Sargon at the center of power for the Empire, made me shiver with anger.

  And fear.

  Because what were three assassins to the power of an empire? No more than pesky fleas. Vast resources were being used to hunt us down.

  Maybe Megan was right about fleeing.

  “The color comes from the pigment of the Beck cherries,” a voice said beside me.

  A familiar voice.

  “Maestru Beatrix,” I whispered and turned with a grin on my face. The grin faded when I saw that a man stood beside me. He had short dark hair and was clad in an Avenian-style gray toga.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought you were someone else.”

  “I am that someone else,” he said; his voice continued to be familiar and feminine. “Look closer.”

  The face was rough, with a bulbous warty nose. There were no telltale signs I was staring at a mask. The eyes were green and twinkling with humor.

  “Is… is that you?” I asked. “Maestru Beatrix?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I took ages to create this face and to perfect my man talk.” Then she said, in a male voice, “These are the finest and most detailed maps in all of Ellos. I believe every outhouse in every country has been marked. That kind of detail can save your life and your bowels.”

  My eyes widened, and I barked out a laugh, then cut it short, not wanting to attract attention. “I—I’m so happy to see you. To know you’re alive!”

  She grinned and her mask moved with the smile. “You are alive and you have two eyes,” she said. “There must be an incredible story there.”

  “Yes, there is,” I replied. “And you—you have a story, too.”

  “Oh, I have thousands,” she said. Then, as she saw Megan and Thord step closer, she pointed. “You want to read the Grindenium Cycles,” she said, using her male voice again. “Such good taste for such young minds. Follow me.”

  She led us through the stacks to a side room with what looked to be a special collection of books along the walls. Next to that was a pile of older, smaller books with a sign that read: THESE BOOKS ARE A GIFT FOR YOU. TAKE ONE. Did that mean I could just walk out with a book?

  Maestru Beatrix closed the heavy oak door.

  “All three of you, alive,” she said. “I am so very thankful.” She hugged me first, her short arms tight around me. It made me realize that she was a head shorter than me. She gave off a pleasant scent of sandalwood. She then squeezed Thord in a similar hug, and he made her look even smaller. And finally she wrapped her arms around Megan, who returned the hug, albeit stiffly. “The three of you are such a wonderful sight to see. Please have a seat.”

  We sat at the rectangular wooden table in sturdy wooden chairs. There were several piles of loose stalk paper in front of us for note-taking. This was some sort of study room.

  It was still odd to see Maestru Beatrix with a male face, and I marveled at the detail and how alive the mask looked.

  “You keep staring at me, Carmen,” she said. Then she stuck a finger in the air. “Oh, this!” She peeled off a mask of such thin material it was almost impossible to see. Her face—her real face—was a comfort. I had grown up visiting the library, and she was the closest I’d had to having a mother figure in my life. I relaxed as though part of me hadn’t believed it was her until I saw her real face.

  “That’s a marvelous mask,” Thord said. “What’s it made of?”

  “My own special mixture. It feels like a second skin and sweat goes through it. The best part is you can eat with the mask on. I have to wear it almost all the time, so it needed to be flawless.”

  “What’s in the mixture?” I asked.

  She gave me a great big grin. Her smiles always magically made me smile, too. “You are consistently inquisitive, Carmen, but we librarians have our secrets. Someday, if you’re good, I may teach you.”

  “It’s so wonderful to see your face again,” I said.

  “And to see all of yours.” She stared at each of us in turn, and the look of warmth and caring she gave us was almost overwhelming. “The fates have been kind. Do tell me how you escaped.”

  We told our tales. She nodded, looking thoughtful and not interrupting with questions. She’d always been gifted at listening. And as I spoke, I felt this sense of protection, as if a warm blanket were being lowered over me. She would know exactly what path we should take.

  “I learned a bit of Thord and Megan’s story,” Maestru Beatrix said. “Thord was kind enough to relate portions to me. But you three have survived the greatest blow our guild has ever been dealt, and you should be proud of that.” She tapped the table. “And you should flee as fast and as far as your feet will carry you.”

  “Flee?” I said. “But they killed so many of us. Our fortress was sacked. And they—they burned your books.”

  “Books can be replaced,” she said solemnly. “Knowledge can be rediscovered. But the dead cannot return to life.” She shook her head. “Three young assassins can’t face the might of the Akkad Empire. The wizards tried and failed partly due to our pursuit of them. I am lucky that the librarians of Avenus will hide me, but they can’t hide you. And no amount of money will keep you safe.”

  “Just before he died, Maestru Alesius made me promise to find Banderius and ask for aid,” I said.

  “Truly?” Her face was hard to read. “That braggart did not spend much time in my library. He believed he already knew everything.”

  “But would he aid us?” I asked. “To set things right. To perhaps somehow restore the guild?”

  “Restoring the guild is a hundred-year project. Let it go. What you need is to survive, first and foremost. And I am puzzled by Alesius’s suggestion. Why Banderius? I admit I am biased against that man. He burned a library book.”

  “He did?” I nearly spat, I was so shocked.

  “What’s so bad about that?” Megan asked. I shot her a glare, but she was smiling. Oh, another attempt at a joke!

  “Yes. He burnt it. Though he was thirteen at the time, so I should forgive him. One day I might.”

  “Then why would Maestru Alesius suggest him?” Thord asked.

  “Alesius rarely gave up on any of his students,” she said, looking directly at me. He hadn’t ever given up on me, despite the fact I was blind in one eye. I wondered if he'd had to fight hard to keep me in the school. “Banderius is a strong supporter of the guild, and despite his bravado he’s saved more than one assassin from the gallows. He also is likely the only assassin who could out-think your brother.” She let out her breath slowly, as though not certain how to say the next words. “Perhaps he is your best chance at survival.”

  “As long as we stick together we have a better chance,” Thord said. And he put his hand on my shoulder as he said this. His palm was warm and my skin began to tingle there. But then I saw he had his hand on Megan’s shoulder, too. She gave him a frown and he removed both hands.

  “Every country in Ellos would be afraid to anger the Empire by harboring you,” Maestru Beatrix said. “Killing an assassin is a way to get on good terms with Emperor Sargon.”

  “We’ll do our best to associate only with people who hate the Empire, then,” Megan said.

  “Our problem is finding Banderius,” I said. “These are the scrolls I stole from Gregum.” I showed her the list of assassins that included the crossed-out names.

  She read it and tears filled her eyes, though none ran down her cheeks. “Ah, one is too many. Several of these were students I taught. The emperor is
finding us so very quickly.”

  “Well, he does have my brother’s help,” I said. “But I think this scroll might hint as to where Banderius is hiding. We can’t read it because it’s in Oldtongue.”

  I handed her the scroll. She opened it and read the old words with what looked like ease. Then she started at the top again.

  “What does it say?” I asked when she seemed to be reading it a third time.

  “It’s a recipe,” she said. “A very peculiar recipe. Here are the ingredients: Eye of Hokum Flower, Skull of Bardur Fox, Berry of Black Lotus Vine. It's not clear what it makes—a potion, a poison or a hearty soup. And at the bottom are the words: the messenger has one arm. The blade will come.” She frowned. “It’s nonsensical. I’ve solved every riddle of the Stone Lions, but this is a puzzle I can’t fathom. It looks like a random list.”

  “Perhaps if we get the ingredients, we somehow will find Banderius,” I said. “It could be...” I faltered. “I’m not sure how.”

  “Do you think Gregum understood what it meant?” Megan asked.

  “Never,” Maestru Beatrix said. “He was horrible with languages. But Corwin was gifted at languages, and perhaps he could have read it with the help of the emperor’s translators. But even if they could translate it—it makes no sense.”

  Thord cleared his throat. “It makes perfect sense,” he said. We turned our gazes to him. “It’s not a recipe—it's a map. And I know exactly where Banderius is.”

  14

  Even Further than Deira

  “Don’t just stand there gloating.” Megan gave him a shove that nearly knocked him off his chair. “Tell us.”

  He playfully rubbed his shoulder. “I’m very familiar with each of those ingredients. And they only come from one place: my homeland of Woden. The Hokum flower, the Bardur fox, the berry of the Black Lotus vine. They are all from the fields around the city of Gudheim.”

  “You come from Woden?” Megan asked. “I thought there were only sheepherders up there.”