“Oh, thank the gods,” Fredlin said. “You’re still alive!”
“What do you want?” Elias asked.
“That payout you were offering,” Fredlin said, looking around. He quickly made his way into the living room. “Just hand me that chest and I’ll be off.”
“Does the Guild know you’re here?” Elias asked, following after the man. Krissaw chuckled and followed along as well, the ambassador appeared to be quite amused by the situation.
“Hell no! I don’t work for them anymore,” Fredlin replied. “Look, they’re actively pursuing after me, due to a whole…disagreement. I need to get out of this city as fast as possible. And since you offered me that huge chunk of gold to leave, I figured I’d stop by to collect on my way out.”
“Damn it,” Elias moaned. “I do not want to repeat this again. If you have run afoul of the Guild, then I want nothing to do with you.”
“What? Aren’t you enemies?” Fredlin asked. He walked over to a table full of decanters and began to pour himself a drink.
“Put that down!” Elias shouted. “And get out of here!”
“Sure,” Fredlin said, ignoring the suggestion to stop. He poured a rather tall shot and took a swig. “Oh, that is good stuff. Anyway, seeing how my being here is of the utmost trouble, I’ll happily leave as soon as I get that money we talked about.”
“I don’t have it here,” Elias said. He dug into his pockets and produced a small emerald. “Here, this should be more than enough. Get out!”
Fredlin crossed his arms and shook his head. “No sir! You promised me quite a bit of money and without it, I can’t bribe the numerous amounts of assassins after me to go away. I’m not leaving until I get my payout.”
Elias glanced at Krissaw. “A little help here?”
“Allow me,” Krissaw said. He slithered forward and opened his hood wide, standing at nearly seven feet high in length. “Mr. Fredlin you are not welcome here. Now you may leave with dignity, or I can kill you and eat your meat!”
“Hah, your colors indicate you’re from a noble house!” Fredlin said. “I doubt you’ve ever even taken a punch before.”
Krissaw paused at that. “You know my colors?”
“I studied in the Serpentine Lands while waiting for a certain bounty on my head to go away,” Fredlin replied. “Was an interesting summer. Besides, don’t you value keeping promises? This jackass made a deal with me and now is trying to renege.”
Krissaw turned to face Elias. “One must honor their obligations.”
“Don’t you start!” Elias replied, wagging a finger at the creature. “Look, if you want that chest, you’ll have to go get it. I can give you the keys to my private safe. Take as much as you can carry.”
“Where’s the safe?” Fredlin asked.
“At the Gnomish Bank, in the Mermaid District,” Elias replied. He dug into his pocket and produced a silver key. “They don’t ask questions to keyholders. Just take whatever you want and never come back.”
“Yeah, right,” Fredlin said. “That key is probably just a house key or something. And besides, I can’t just stroll into the Mermaid District – “
At that exact moment, the door to the headquarters swung open and both Elias and Fredlin lept in surprise. Captain Markov and a few of his men entered the premise.
“Oh, Markov!” Elias shouted. “Thank goodness you’re here! Quickly, get this man out of here!” He pointed to Fredlin, who had readied a bottle of alcohol to use as a weapon.
Markov glanced at Elias and then at Fredlin. “Interesting. Mr. Fredlin, why are you here?”
“Just trying to get paid, sir,” Fredlin replied. “For a bargain made.”
“I see,” Markov said. “Mr. Fredlin, does the guild know you’re here?”
“No,” Fredlin said, “I’m trying to escape them before they cut off all my fingers and leave me to die in an alley.”
Markov grinned at that. “Perfect. You’re just the man I needed to talk to. Come along, we’ve got some things to discuss.”
Fredlin sighed as a few of Markov’s men walked forward to grab him by the arm. “Man, you could have just paid me,” he said to Elias. “Would that have been so hard?”
“You could have taken the emerald,” Elias replied. “Would that have been so hard?”
“You got me there,” Fredlin said as he complied with the soldiers, leaving the building. Markov looked at Elias.
“I’ve got more business to discuss with you, but later. I need to solve this problem first.”
Elias nodded. “Please, if possible, don’t hurt the guy. He didn’t make any threats or anything.”
“Don’t worry, he has something I need,” Markov said. “And I’ll make sure that he’s perfectly safe.”
Chapter 36:
Fredlin sat in the tavern, loudly bragging about how he was going to die horrifically. Well, actually he was just shouting about how he managed to escape the Thieves Guild without a problem. He drank and bragged to anyone and everyone, ensuring that all inside the Steady Pike Tavern knew that he was a dead man walking.
In disguise were several guards, dressed in casual clothes, concealing their weapons and armor. As per Captain Markov’s instructions, Fredlin was to sit around making jokes and laughing about the Guild until someone arrived to kill him. At that point, Markov’s men would intervene and make it look as if it were nothing more than a tavern brawl. Why was the captain so obsessed with finding a member of the Thieves Guild? Fredlin could only guess that it was some sort of revenge.
As Fredlin drank, he kept a keen eye on the door. If he played his cards right, he’d be able to lure whoever was coming for him out in the open and then escape when the rest of Markov’s men were busy grabbing the assailant. Then he’d leave town for good. After, of course, he paid a quick visit to Elias. He was going to get that chest of gold, even if it killed him. Besides, the collective wrath of the Thieves Guild would no doubt turn towards the city watch after this ambush.
The door to the tavern swung open, and a young, unassuming man entered. He was wearing the clothes of a merchant, a silk tabard with blue and white checkers across it. He smiled rather widely and greeted everyone whom he passed. Fredlin kept his eye on the man. He was inconspicuous enough to be an assassin, Fredlin reasoned.
The merchant sat next to Fredlin at the bar counter and raised his hand to the bartender. “An ale, my good man,” he said. He glanced at Fredlin. “And one for my friend here.”
Fredlin grimaced at that. The man was leaning against the counter, without a care in the world.
“Say, friend,” the man whispered, leaning over to Fredlin. “I’m a sporting fellow. You get to finish your drink and head out through the back. If you can make it to the Fountain District, I won’t bring you in for torturing, I’ll just kill you.”
Fredlin wanted to say something clever back, but his skittishness got the best of him. He leapt off the barstool and shouted “It’s him! Get him! Get him!” Not his proudest or smoothest moment, but his cowardly braying managed to get the assassin to move into action. The man drew a knife and lunged towards Fredlin, but Markov’s men were on him in an instant. The bartender, really a guard in disguise, leaned over the counter and pulled the assailant into a headlock. The other four in the room were on top of him in a flash, wrestling him to the floor and beating him with small clubs.
“Take it easy!” Lieutenant Grecin shouted to the rest of the tavern. The men and women were all watching with curiosity. A few of the men had drawn their swords. But they all stopped once they saw the badge of Grecin. “This is business of the city watch. You are all to leave this premise immediately and speak nothing of what you saw, under penalty of charges of treason.”
The room was quick clear out, leaving the Grecin and the rest of the men alone. Fredlin stood over the now restrained assassin, who had given up in his struggle.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” the assassin calmly said, “but whatever Fredlin here has offered you, I can promis
e that it won’t be worth nearly what I’m willing to pay for you to release me.”
“And what would that be?” Captain Markov asked as he came out from the kitchen.
The assassin turned to look at the Captain. His expression changed from mild amusement to agitation. “Captain? Sir, you should know better than to mess with Guild affairs.”
Fredlin took a few steps towards the door, but one of the guards who wasn’t holding the assassin stepped in Fredlin’s way.
“Take it easy, you can go when we’re done here,” the guard said, putting a hand on Fredlin’s shoulder.
“I had to try,” Fredlin replied. He turned back to watch the scene. Markov was towering over the assassin.
“So, what then? You here to get revenge?” the assassin asked. “Because I can tell you, this is one of the most asinine ways to go about it.”
“Your medallion,” Markov said, stretching his hand out. “Please.”
“And if I refuse?”
“We can just take it off your corpse,” Markov said. “But I would much rather not kill you.”
“How civil,” the assassin chuckled. He raised a hand and slowly began to dig through his coat. Eventually he produced a small piece of metal, a round coin with an emblem of a snake, eating its own tail. “Is this what you’d like?”
“Yes,” Markov said. The assassin was quick to place it in his mouth and swallow the small coin before any of the men could stop him.
“Then have fun cutting me open to get it,” the man said. “The worst you can do is kill me, but the Guild? Well, they do a hell of a lot worse to traitors.”
Markov crossed his arms. “Have it your way.” He turned sharply to look at Fredlin. “Let’s take a walk. Grecin? You know what to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Grecin said as he drew out a knife.
Fredlin was quick to turn his back as the assassin began to scream in agony, trying to fight back. Markov grabbed Fredlin by the arm and led him outside of the tavern. Nearly fifteen men of the watch were gathered together, standing guard of the tavern.
“So…can I go?” Fredlin asked. “I did my job.”
“You’re free to leave,” Markov said. “But I don’t believe it to be the best idea.”
Fredlin noticed a shadowy figure standing atop of the buildings in the distance. It could have been just a gargoyle, or someone watching him. He didn’t know.
“You may be right,” Fredlin replied. “But I should at least try.”
“Or you can consider working for us,” Markov said. He dug into his satchel and produced a small crystal. “This should turn you invisible.”
“What? Invisibility!” Fredlin said, grabbing the Cimirite and holding it up. “My gods! This is my ticket out of here!”
“Indeed. So, you could leave this city, safe and sound, or you can listen to my offer,” Markov said.
Fredlin should have taken the crystal, turned invisible and ran as fast as he could to get out of the city. But then again, he rarely did what he should. “I’m listening,” he said, putting the crystal in his coat pocket.
“The Thieves Guild isn’t long for this world,” Markov continued. “That’s going to put you in an advantageous position in this city. With your ability to make potions, you’d benefit greatly by sticking around.”
Fredlin laughed. “I was under the impression that this guild was just about everywhere.”
“Don’t concern yourself with the details,” Markov replied. “Now you have a choice, you can work for us and make a fortune, or you can leave Glimmer. I don’t really care which one, but Elias wanted me to make this offer. He said that you’ll have more than double what was in that chest if you stay.”
“Who does he think I am, some greedy bastard who’d risk his life just to make some coin?”
“That’s exactly who he thinks you are,” Markov said.
“Well, he’s right. I’m in. Just put me somewhere safe until all this thieves guild nonsense is over,” Fredlin replied.
Chapter 37
Erice gently placed her hand on her scimitar. The weapon at her side, the Cimirite adorned across her gauntlets and the armor strapped to her body should have reassured her. But instead, she felt nothing but anxiety. Not about the fight, of course. If Cimir would turn violent, she would relish the chance for battle against a skilled sorcerer. Rather, she was anxious about the experience of having the magic torn from her body. There would be no fight there. Just a simple moment of pure agony, with a small chance of her survival.
He was working in the ritual chamber, preparing to cast the spell of obliteration. Hundreds would die, hundreds that did not deserve such a cruel and strange death. At the very least, the thieves should know what was happening.
The door opened of its own accord as she approached. Cimir was kneeling on the ground, chanting to himself, scribbling runes on his bare arms with blue ink. No doubt preparing for the extreme physical toll of the spell.
“I thought you would flee,” Cimir said. “If our last conversation was any indicator of your feelings.”
Erice entered the chamber and looked down at the man. “I’ve come to tell you that I am leaving. Face to face.”
“A snap of my fingers and you’re dead,” he mumbled. “Not a wise choice to provoke me.”
“Please,” Erice said. “Don’t try to intimidate me.”
“Says the woman wearing her full gear to a social call,” he replied. He ceased from his painting and stood to face her. “If you mean to kill me, by all means, feel free to try.”
Erice shook her head at that. “I’m not here to fight. Nor to plea with you. I’m here to return what is rightfully yours.”
Cimir smiled faintly at that. “I have no intention of taking your power back.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“But I am. We call sorcery the Great Gift for a reason. You’ve proven your mettle to me. Wherever your journey takes you, no matter how far from here, enjoy your power. Eventually it will grow to be yours, at that I would ask for you to return and gift me my energies back. But by then you’ll be stronger than ever.”
There was little that could be done to suppress the surprise on her face. This had not been the expectation at all. The best case scenario involved him being understanding of her but still taking the gift away. “Why? Why give this to me?”
Cimir smiled at her. “Because I reward my friends and I count you as such. Our philosophies are quite different, but that is no reason that we should not remain friends.”
“Any man who would kill so many without remorse or hesitation, without thinking of the ramifications is no friend of mine,” she retorted.
“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,” Cimir replied. He turned his back to her and dropped back down on his knees, resuming the painting of symbols on his arms.
For a moment, Erice could feel the temptation to stab him in the back. But, did she really care about murderers and assassins so much to the point of shedding blood? “You won’t see me again,” she said, turning around and walking through the exit.
“I doubt that,” Cimir said. “But I wish you the best in your journey. Good luck.”
She stopped right before walking away for good. A question still remained, a single question that haunted her since the day she met Cimir. “Before I go, I need to know something.”
“Of course.”
“Why do you do any of this? The Cimirite production? The violence? The creation of a criminal enterprise?” she asked.
Cimir looked back at her and smiled faintly. “At first it was because others wanted me to do it, so they could get richer. They were my friends, so I obliged. Then, I realized that for the first time in my life, I had real power. In a kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”
“So, you want to rule? Is that what this is all about?”
“I would not be fit as a ruler,” Cimir said. “No. I just like being the one who’s ultimately in charge. Because when you can change reality on a whim, when yo
u can string a spell together that will obliterate an entire organization, people know you’re in charge. Even if you don’t want to lord the power over them, they know. And when they know, they respect you.”
“Only because they fear you,” Erice replied.
“We only respect those we fear,” Cimir whispered. “Predators and prey, Erice. You’re one or the other. But fortunately, unlike the animals, we intelligent beings have a choice. We can choose who we want to be.”
“We are more than animals,” Erice said.
“One would hope. But in the end, it always comes down to the strong trying to devour the weak. You should know that by now.”
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