She continued reading.
My organization is always keen to enlist people of exceptional ability, and I believe you are one such person. I am pleased to offer you employment in a junior position, terms and conditions to be decided later. Of course, there will be a probation period, but I believe you’ll survive, and our relationship will bear fruit in the forms of both wealth and power.
A bloody recruitment letter? A job offer?
To accept this offer, please go to the Emperor’s Mast tavern, located in…well, you’ll find it. Ask the proprietor for a glass of twenty-year-old Pepperbush Red, and tell her you’d like to see her naked. The ducats inside the envelope you can keep as your signing bonus.
Yours faithfully,
Slake.
Was this a joke? Pepperbush Red didn’t last beyond five years, as the alchemicals added to the wine accelerated its decline. And at more than ten gold ducats a bottle, she wasn’t likely to order it at some dubious tavern. This unconvincing attempt at skullduggery and secrecy smacked of a trap to her. With the resources Slake obviously had, and his intelligence, he could make contacting him much simpler. No, this was a setup. But did she dare spring the trap?
“Can you please dispose of this letter?” Felice asked Columele.
“Of course, Miss Shyrise. By the way, I’d wear some gloves if I were you. It’ll help prevent your wounds from getting infected, and the marks will be less noticeable. And the gold ducats?”
She looked up to see the alchemist rinsing the coins in a solution and picking them out with a thin pair of copper tongs. He washed them in a dish containing another clear liquid before placing them on a cloth to dry.
Felice had a feeling that over the next few days she’d need all the loyalty and protection she could afford.
“Take one for yourself. I almost forgot…” She handed over the folded paper with the white powder sample from the warehouse inside. “I need this analyzed. Squall and Whisper, you can have the other coins. Get some rest; then I want you back at work when the sun comes up. I have another day at the Dominion tournament tomorrow, but after that I’ll meet you back at my office.”
~ ~ ~
Felice’s wounds itched, though the ointment the physiker provided went somewhat to reducing her discomfort. It meant she couldn’t concentrate properly and was irritable. This made her play edgy and inconsistent, but also more aggressive. She trounced her opponent in short order, trampling all over his carefully orchestrated moves. The man was well known in Dominion circles, a low-ranking member of the Emperor’s household who obviously wanted to improve his lot by performing well in the tournament. But it wasn’t to be. He left watery-eyed, consoled by a number of foppishly dressed nobles who flashed looks of ire Felice’s way. She ignored them, tugging at the calfskin gloves she’d bought to cover the acid burns on her hands and keep them protected.
Felice was about to leave to get some air when Stryden accosted her again. He had to have completed his match as well. They would find themselves across from each other on the same board soon.
“You are an evil woman, Morgaine,” he said, almost coquettishly. “Did you pull the wings off flies when you were a little girl? No matter. Everyone has things that should stay in the past. We should look to the future, don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” Felice replied absentmindedly. She really wasn’t in the mood for this idiot’s conversation. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve—”
“What happened to you? I don’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t help notice you scratching throughout your game. A lovers’ spat?”
She gave him a sharp look. Stryden wasn’t a fool, to play Dominion with the skill he did. She wished he wouldn’t affect the personality of one. It did him no justice, and there was no reason for it, with the crushing victories he’d had. Everyone could see he wasn’t a fool. Indeed, he was likely to place in the tournament or even win first prize and be presented to the Emperor himself. Felice paused, then casually looked at Stryden. His eyes remained focused on hers, and there was a false grin fixed upon his face. He had the charm and bearing of a stuffed crocodile.
“No lovers’ argument,” she said slowly. Was he attempting to find out if she was single? “The result of being outplayed. Whoever wounded me, well, I bow to his superior intellect.” She spoke almost without thinking, giving her time to ponder the ideas materializing in her mind. When the Dominion tournament was over, the winner would be on the dais, with the Emperor and his entourage. There, they’d have the honor of meeting him and accepting their prize purse. After that, they’d be the toast of the city for the night. A great many important people would be assembled in one place…
“You’d bow to someone who injured you? My dear Morgaine, that sounds somewhat…unusual.”
“If a few scars are the result of a valuable lesson and lead to the beginning of a fruitful relationship, then they’re a small cost.” She’d gut Slake if she ever saw him, but for now she needed time to think, and it looked like Stryden wouldn’t let her disengage from their conversation easily. Bloody ancestors, she had too much work to do. If her hunch was correct, there would be an acid attack on the Emperor himself. An assassination attempt.
“I have to go,” Felice said abruptly. “My wounds are paining me. I’m sure you understand.”
She would have a message sent to Avigdor, as her next match would start soon. That was her best option. He could join her here, and they’d have to make do the best they could. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few tasks I need to take care of.”
“No doubt I’ll see you again soon. During our game, if not before. I’m looking forward to it. And to seeing the Emperor. If I may be so bold, though?”
What now? “Go on.”
Stryden tugged his collar. “I was wondering if you’d like to dine with me? One evening soon, after the tournament.”
Ancestors, he is interested in me! “I’m quite busy these days,” Felice said. “But perhaps I could make some time.”
“Excellent!” said Stryden with a relieved look. He handed something to Felice. “My card. So you know how to contact me.”
Felice took it and thanked him, sliding the card into her pocket. She started slightly when she brushed against the glass vial of poison. She was getting tired and careless, but luckily she had the gloves on in case any powder ended up on the outside of the vial. “I will,” she said. “Soon.” She smiled and nodded then moved away.
Commandeering a piece of paper and a pen from the official scorers, she dashed off a letter to Avigdor. There were messengers waiting around, so she bribed one with a ducat and sent him on his way.
That done, she checked the classifications and found that of the hundreds of entrants, most had been whittled away. Felice was in the top eight. That meant she would be in the final game if she won her next two matches.
Then she saw that if she did manage to make it to the final game, her opponent would be Stryden. If he won his next two matches, which she had no doubt he would. His odds of winning the entire tournament had shortened to less than two to one, with hers at sixteen to one. She was expected to lose to him.
~ ~ ~
The tedium of the wait for Felice’s next match was only interrupted by the appearance of Avigdor. He was chewing something as he entered the tournament hall, pausing to brush crumbs from his mouth. He looked around, saw Felice, and waved.
“I heard you won again,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Word travels fast. The tournament is closely watched by those in power. They’re always looking for new blood. When you win a few more games, the nobles will want to make you one of theirs.”
“Don’t count on it,” Felice replied. “They have me at long odds to win my match with Stryden. You remember him? The man I told you to look into…”
Avigdor nodded, and a smile crept across his face. “You thought I’d forgotten. Have you no faith? I’ve dug into his affairs, and there isn’t much to tell. Apparently, he manages a number of trading companies and a ma
nufactory that makes roof tiles. I have a contact putting together a list of his holdings and business deals as we speak. It should only take a day or two.”
“Good work. Squall and Whisper?”
“They’ve gone to find Hedgehog, like you asked.”
It being the middle of the day, the street children would likely be holed up until the sun set. Except for the beggars. The two mercenaries might be successful, but it was more likely they’d come back empty-handed.
“Miss Morgaine?”
Felice turned to the attendant who’d spoken. “Yes?”
“Your next match will begin shortly. If you’d come with me.”
She nodded and turned back to Avigdor. “You made sure they knew to meet you back here?”
He nodded.
“Good. Then can you find me something to eat? I’m starved. And put some ducats on me to win the next match, but when I’m up against Stryden, you should put our coin on him.”
“Really, Felice, wager against my own employer? What would people say?”
“When you won, they’d say you were a genius. That, or I’d thrown the match.”
She left Avigdor to his own devices and followed the attendant to her next match.
~ ~ ~
Eager to end the game quickly, Felice used her spare moves early. Normally, it was a risky maneuver, as if you didn’t finish off your adversary or push them sufficiently off balance to guarantee victory, you were at a distinct disadvantage. Her opponent had locked in a conservative first seven moves, which played into her hands. She corralled his forces into a corner of the top tier, with a few other pieces running for their lives around the bottom two. He should have conceded twenty moves ago, but he steadfastly refused to give up and was doing his reputation a disservice by making her chase around and mop up his stray pieces.
In the end, though, the outcome was inevitable. Felice subtly maneuvered him into a rash action, and the defensive walls he’d put up crumbled. He resigned.
She shook the man’s hand. His eyes remained fixed on the mess of the Dominion board. “Better luck next year,” she said, and cringed inwardly as she sounded like a bastard.
He barely glanced at her before striding off in a huff.
“Well,” Avigdor said from behind her, “he didn’t expect the whirlwind.”
“He was a plodder. He had plenty of games memorized, but lacked imagination. He had no true understanding of Dominion.” Despite her anxious state, a thrill coursed through her. She was in the semifinals, which itself ensured a hefty purse of prize money would be hers. But one more victory and she’d be playing in the final.
Avigdor rolled his eyes. “I get it. Dominion is life and all that. The music of the game. A beautiful—”
“Please stop. Did Squall and Whisper manage to locate Hedgehog?”
“They did. I sent them back out to check something.”
Felice raised her eyebrows and gave Avigdor a withering look.
“All right. I get that you’re irritable,” continued Avigdor. “Hedgehog said the shipment wasn’t moved in the wagons. They had a tunnel dug to the sewers and specialized boats made to transport the acid. Flat bottomed, much like you when you were—”
“I exercise now,” Felice said. “And you could do to lose a few pounds. But Hedgehog?” She cursed under her breath. “I told him to stay away. If they followed too close, they might have been seen. I don’t want another injury on my conscience.”
“Be that as it may, we now know they used the sewers, and the information could prove crucial.”
“Did the children follow them?” Felice said.
Avigdor nodded. “Can you guess where they ended up?”
Felice thought she could. The only place the Emperor and the officers of the court would gather out in the open, and soon.
“Here,” she said, eliciting a hiss of astonishment from Avigdor. “Or hereabout.”
“How did you…” He shook his head ruefully. “What should we do now?”
“The Emperor is in danger, obviously. So we have to tell Constance all we know. I doubt his sorcerous defenses could be breached; they’ve lasted centuries, after all. But there’s always a chance. Let’s go, then. We must find Constance. She has people watching us?”
“Yes. I’ve spotted a few.”
“Good. Anyone will do.”
~ ~ ~
They accosted a long-haired, disheveled woman with a low-cut bodice and an almost transparent skirt. The false prostitute, or scam artist, or whatever she was supposed to be passing herself off as, was quick to crumble when Felice and Avigdor waylaid her. She took them to a fruit seller outside, who must have been her superior. This new woman had tanned skin and shrewd eyes and, from the way her hand remained under the top of her stall, a knife of some sort hidden within easy reach.
Felice didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to see Constance. Now. The Emperor’s life may depend on it.”
The fruit seller squinted at them, then nodded. “Go back to your office and wait,” she said. “I can’t promise anything, but she might visit tonight.”
“She will if she values the Emperor,” Felice said. “Make sure you tell her I said that.”
Avigdor and Felice made their way back to the office, hardly exchanging words as they walked along bustling streets.
She’d stumbled onto something far more sinister than she’d anticipated, and far more dangerous than she could handle. Felice had done her part. Now, it all depended on Constance.
“Find Squall and Whisper,” Felice said. “I need to check the tournament hall early tomorrow. Breaking in tonight could prove problematic, what with the guards they have stationed so the unfinished matches aren’t tampered with.”
After going over a few scenarios, Avigdor left, and Felice was alone. She collapsed into her chair and stretched across her desk to grab the jar of ointment for her wounds. She dabbed some of the contents on her acid burn marks and settled back to wait.
An hour before midnight, there was a knock on the door. Crossbow-wielding soldiers barged in, with Constance in their wake.
“Oh dear,” the First Adjudicator said. “You look peeved. Is this all too hard for you?”
“Very funny,” Felice said, not moving from her sprawled position on her chair. “But I’m guessing you know exactly what happened. After all, Squall and Whisper are in your pay.” She didn’t know for certain, but the small details were adding up…
Constance’s eyes narrowed. “A most excellent deduction. But it was rather obvious once you knew I’d been watching you for some time.”
“You can’t trust anyone these days. I can’t say they haven’t proven useful, though. Can I hang onto them for a little longer?”
“Perhaps,” Constance said. “Now, what’s this about the Emperor’s life being in danger?”
Felice debated saying something flippant or asking for a chest full of gold ducats in exchange for her information, but these people took the Emperor’s welfare seriously. She’d probably find herself under the ministrations of a torturer so fast her head would spin.
Swiftly, she outlined what she’d learned, and summed up her reasoning behind an assassination attempt on the Emperor while the winner of the Dominion tournament was presented to him.
“Flimsy,” Constance said.
“Maybe,” agreed Felice. It’s not that implausible, she thought. Surely Constance would want to cover every angle. Why wasn’t she more interested? “It’s not certain. But it’s not a big intuitive leap to surmise all that acid would do untold damage to whoever found themselves in the middle of it. Would it be able to penetrate the Emperor’s sorcerous defenses?”
“It’s possible, though unlikely. The fumes alone would be enough to incapacitate someone unshielded. And if the acid was mixed with another alchemical, which resulted in a vigorous reaction…” Constance looked thoughtful for a few moments. “One of the trinkets stolen from the warlocks might be able to disrupt sorcery.”
&nbs
p; “Might? Or is able to?” It was all very vague… Was Constance hoping the Emperor would be assassinated? Was Constance herself behind it? The thought sent a shiver of dread through Felice. It bore considering. Was she being groomed as the scapegoat? Squall and Whisper had dispatched the assailants outside of the tanner’s without any trouble. Was the whole situation a setup?
“Is, then. Though it would have to be close. Within touching distance.” Constance’s eyes narrowed, and she cleared her throat. “If you tell anyone what I just told you, you won’t live long enough to regret it. It’s possible the trinket is in play as well.”
More than possible, Felice thought. Constance bore watching carefully as well, she decided. These were dangerous waters Felice swam in, and there was no shortage of sharks.
“You must win your match tomorrow morning,” Constance continued. “Which ensures you’re on the dais to play the final game. You have to make sure you’re on the dais with the Emperor. Come to think of it, since only the winner is presented to the Emperor, then you need to make sure you win. We could use someone of your ability looking out for anything untoward the whole time.”
And she would be in the perfect place to take the fall…if that was what Constance’s plan entailed. “That could be a problem. Even if I make the grand final, I don’t think I’ll win. There’s a fellow named Stryden who’s been playing better than I have.”
“I’m confident you’ll find a way,” Constance said. “An enterprising woman like you should have no trouble. Do whatever you have to; just make sure you win. And don’t look at me like that. Swallow your pride or your morals or whatever it is that’s put the look of indignation on your face. This is more important than a game. The Emperor is the Empire. Without him, civilization could very well descend into chaos.”
Felice thought that was a bit melodramatic, but she held her tongue. “I’ll do my best,” she said through clenched teeth.
~ ~ ~
“Felice!” Avigdor panted as he came bursting in. “Felice! Hedgehog is dead.”
What remaining strength Felice had fled from her legs, and she staggered across the room to him. “What happened?” she demanded weakly. Constance had only left a short time ago, and now this.
At the Sign of the Crow and Moon: A Sorcery Ascendant Prequel Novella Page 6
