Assassin's Charge: An Echoes of Imara Novel

by Claire Frank

  “Thank you, Mistress,” he said. “We have done our best to ensure you would be pleased when you returned. Again, I must apologize for the other servants. I know their presence wasn’t needed with you away, but I couldn’t bear to let them go.”

  Rhis waved a hand. “I don’t care that you kept the servants. You can keep them on as long as you’d like.”

  “Whatever pleases you, Mistress.”

  Sebba kept his hands in his lap and his back straight. His lips pressed together. Rhis could almost feel his apprehension.

  “You can relax,” she said. “You have always done your job remarkably well. In fact, you might be the most loyal person I’ve ever known. Suddenly, I realize how much it pains me to say this to you.”

  “Very well, I will pack my things and be on my way.”

  “No,” Rhis said with a gentle laugh. “Sebba, I’m not dismissing you.”

  “You’re not?”

  She shook her head. “I’m leaving Altia. I should be gone already, but I’ve been thinking about this for some time, and there’s one final thing I need to do before I go.”

  “Leaving?” he said, his voice heavy with concern. “Mistress, are you all right?”

  “You don’t need to worry yourself over me. But I can’t stay.” She reached beneath her shirt and drew out a tightly-rolled scroll and held it out to Sebba. As he took it, his eyebrows drew down.

  “What is this?”

  “The deed to the villa. This passes ownership on to you.”

  Sebba’s mouth dropped. “Mistress, I couldn’t possibly.” He held the scroll out to her. “I’m nothing but a servant. I don’t understand.”

  Rhis pressed gently against the end of the scroll, moving it back toward him. “It’s done. The villa is yours now.”

  Sebba gaped at the scroll in his hand and he gave a quick shake of his head. “But … why?”

  “There’s something else I need to show you,” Rhis said, and stood.

  Sebba followed as she passed through the rest of the dining room, to the curtain that separated her bedchamber. Everything was as she had left it, without a speck of dust to be seen. She walked over to her washing table and moved it across the floor while Sebba stood watching behind her. Beneath the table, she pulled the rug back, revealing a square seam in the floor.

  “What is….” Sebba’s voice trailed off.

  A lock was embedded in the floorboard, its surface flush. It was custom-made and had cost Rhis a great deal when she’d had it installed. She’d paid generously for the locksmith’s discretion as well as his workmanship. She plucked a small key from the drawer of her washing table and fitted it into the lock. With a click, the lock disengaged, and a metal ring came loose. Rhis pulled on the ring to lift the trapdoor, revealing a hollow space below the floor.

  “A lamp,” she said. Sebba’s brow furrowed, but he took a small lamp from her desk and lit the wick.

  Rhis sat on the edge and dangled her feet inside, then dropped to the ground. The space had been dug out of the ground below her bedchamber and lined with uneven slabs of stone.

  “Come down,” she said as Sebba peeked into the chamber. He handed her the lamp and sat on the edge as she had, then lowered himself down. He almost had to stoop beneath the low ceiling, and he looked around the small room with his mouth half open.

  “Has this always been here?” he asked.

  “I had it made not long after I purchased the villa,” Rhis said. “Before I hired you.”

  He shook his head. “I had no idea.”

  “That was the point.”

  A stack of wooden crates stood along one wall, their rough surfaces devoid of any lettering or ornamentation. Rhis handed the lamp to Sebba and took the lid off one of the top containers.

  Sebba gasped as gold glittered in the circle of lamplight.

  “They’re all full,” Rhis said. She drew her fingers through the coins, all stamped with the face of the Emperor on one side. “This comes with the villa.”

  He took a few steps back and the lamplight retreated from the coins, leaving the crates in shadow. “I don’t … I can’t.”

  “Of course you can,” Rhis said. She plucked a handful of coins from the crate and put them in a small purse. “I’ll take a little for my journey, but the rest is yours.”

  “But … why?”

  Rhis rested her hand on the edge of the crate. She’d saved for years, putting away large amounts of gold whenever she was paid for a contract. Blood money. She could take it, bring enough with her to set her up for life. But looking at the coins, she knew she had to give it up. The spectre of the Reaper’s Bride hung heavily over her, and it was time she left it behind.

  “You have always been good to me, whether or not I deserved it. This will allow you to maintain the villa, and any servants you’d like to keep on. Hire more, if you’d like. You can afford it.”

  Sebba stared at the crates, his mouth open.

  “Be careful not to spend too much initially,” Rhis said. “You don’t want to attract the wrong sort of attention. And don’t pretend I’m still the owner. You’re the master here now.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “It’s best that you don’t know.”

  Sebba’s eyes flicked to her face. “Are you in some sort of trouble? Mistress, please, if I can be of assistance—”

  “Sebba,” Rhis said, her voice firm. “I’m no longer your mistress. You can live out your days here in peace, and never have to concern yourself with anything. You deserve at least that much. If anyone asks, simply tell them I’m dead, and the villa is your inheritance.”

  His face fell. “Dead?”

  “I need to disappear. There are things you don’t know about me, and I’d rather you never know. I’ve done what I can to erase any trace of my existence, and no one should ever bother you about me. But if they do, you can tell them what you knew of me, and that I died and left the villa to you. You have the document to prove it. This is the best I can do for you.”

  “Mistress, I don’t know what to say.”

  Rhis smiled. Sebba’s soft eyes were wet with tears and Rhis had to swallow hard before she could speak. “Thank you, Sebba. Live well.”

  THIRTY-SIX: THE AMBER ISLES

  A warm wind blew Rhis’s hair back from her face as she stepped off the ship onto the dock. A bustling little harbor town stretched out from the water, bordered by a riot of thick forest behind it. The beaches were covered in sand and small pebbles, all of them a soft amber color; Rhis could see where the place got its name. It was beautiful.

  It had taken over a month to make the long trek from Altia to the Amber Isles. It was far enough outside the Empire that few people had heard of it, and those who had weren’t keen on divulging the location to visitors. She finally found a captain who was willing, and although it had cost her most of the coin she had left, she was happy to pay it. She’d slept in the hold with the cargo, and eaten hard tack and leathery smoked fish for weeks, but she had finally arrived.

  After leaving her villa, she’d taken the documents she had saved from Cormant’s storage room and gone to a scribery with a roost full of messenger birds. The weight had cost her extra, but she’d rolled up the contracts along with a note, and sent them off to Brother Jeshor of the Gray Cloaks. As much as she would have loved to see his face when he opened her message, she had to be content with imagining. The contracts contained enough solid proof that the Emperor was skirting around the authority of the Gray Cloaks to send a true believer like Jeshor into a frenzy. So much for the indisputable trust and loyalty between the Emperor and his faithful servants. She’d also penned a message to Archivist Hector, telling him of what they had discovered in Senlas. She didn’t think he’d be pleased to hear the news, but perhaps learning the answer to a century-old mystery would provide the old man some happiness.

  She walked up the dock, grateful to leave the putrid ship behind. As they had come into the harbor, Rhis had stood on deck, her eyes scanning th
e ships lining the docks. Most were small vessels; it wasn’t a very big harbor. But one stood out, flooding her with a swell of emotion. The Wanton Maiden.

  She’d had no way of knowing whether Rickson would still be in the Isles, or if he would have gone back to the Empire to continue his trade. The Isles were out of range of messenger birds, so she couldn’t send a message ahead of her. Her biggest fear had been arriving and finding no trace of Rickson, or Asher. Catching sight of the ship, she’d almost giggled like a little girl.

  She hurried down to the far dock, ducking in and out of the bustle of people, her pack bouncing on her back. She made her way to the side of the Maiden and called up.

  “Captain?”

  She waited a long moment, but no one answered. “Is the captain of the Wanton Maiden aboard?”

  A face looked out over the side rail. Ewan. A wide grin spread over his face as recognition dawned on him. “Rhis?”

  She smiled back. “Is Rickson here?”

  “Sure is. Climb aboard.”

  He rolled down the rope ladder and she climbed up onto the deck. The solid wood of the Maiden felt comfortable beneath her feet, and the fresh sea air had never smelled so good. As she followed Ewan toward the captain’s cabin, the crew members nodded to her and she smiled at them in return.

  Ewan rapped on the door to Rickson’s cabin and a muffled response came through. With a crooked grin, Ewan opened the door and waved Rhis in.

  The familiarity of the cabin washed over Rhis, and made her breath catch in her throat. Rickson turned and his mouth dropped. He was dressed in a crisp new jacket with a flat collar and shining buttons on the wide cuffs. His lips turned up in a smile and he took a few steps forward, then stopped a short distance in front of her.

  “I figured they’d kill you,” he said.

  “I’m not that easy to kill.”

  Rickson shook his head as he looked her up and down. “What happened?”

  “I took care of business,” she said. “Athon and I reached an understanding.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No, we found a way to work together,” she said. “But I took care of the rest. No more contracts. No more assassins. I can’t guarantee the Gray Cloaks will be friendly, and they know the Maiden, so that could still be a problem. Still, I did what I could.”

  Rickson took the last few steps to her and wrapped her in his arms. She collapsed against him, drinking in his scent as she threaded her arms around his waist.

  “I honestly didn’t think I was ever going to see you again,” he said.

  “I know. I’m sorry I had to leave like that.”

  “We almost followed you,” Rickson said, pulling back to look at her. “But I knew you wanted me to get Asher to safety. The kid was furious with me for weeks for not going after you. I still don’t think he’s really forgiven me.”

  “Where is he?”

  “If you didn’t see him, he must be below deck.” Rickson brushed a hand down her face and smiled. “Let’s find him.”

  They left the cabin and made their way down to one of the cargo holds. Asher turned around a corner and nearly ran into Rickson.

  “Slow down there, kid,” Rickson said.

  Asher opened his mouth, but his eyes fell on Rhis and his words were lost as he gaped.

  “Rhis?”

  Rickson stepped aside and Rhis stood in front of him. “Hey, Ash.”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  She shook her head. “I told you’d I’d come back.”

  He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her. Tears flooded her eyes and she held him, feeling him tremble. She rested her cheek on top of his head while he squeezed her, closing her eyes until the swell of emotion passed.

  They walked back on deck and Rhis wandered over to the rail where they could see the glittering amber sand and the shining turquoise water.

  Rhis put her hands on the side of the ship and glanced at Rickson. “I have to tell you something. I still can’t pay you.”

  Rickson laughed. “I think I’ll be willing to forgive you.”

  “I used the last of my coin to get here,” she said. “I didn’t even know if I’d find you. I have to be honest, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I have no money, and my former profession is … no longer open to me.”

  Rickson put an arm around her shoulders. “The money won’t be a problem. You’ll get your fair share of the haul, after all.”

  “What haul? Athon has the warming stone. Not to mention the bounty on me, and payment for the contract on Asher.” She glanced at the boy. “As far as anyone in the Empire knows, you’re dead, by the way.”

  “That’s not the haul I mean,” Rickson said.

  Rhis glanced up at him and he grinned.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  He reached into an interior pocket and pulled out a stone. It was a lighter color than Asher’s had been, but it was smooth and flat, with the same symbol carved into the surface.

  “Where did you get that?” Rhis asked, snatching the stone from his hands.

  “You mean, where did I get them,” Rickson said.

  “Them? How many do you have?”

  “Oh, a half dozen,” he said and his laugh was almost a giggle.

  “Where did you find these?”

  “Senlas.” He shot her a wink. “When we were searching around, I found a stack of them. I was waiting for the right moment to surprise you, but people kept chasing us….” He trailed off, waving his hand. “I already sold one. It’s been a bit risky, but worth it. The Maiden and I have gained a bit of a reputation, but with the work were doing while we’re in port here, she’ll be like a new ship. With Ewan as captain, things should smooth out eventually.”

  “Ewan as captain?” Rhis asked. “You aren’t giving up your swashbuckling life at sea, are you?”

  Rickson laughed. “Gods, no. I told you those stones were worth a fortune. I’m building myself a new ship.” He tugged at the hem of his jacket and adjusted his shirt collar. “I’ll have a proper fleet.”

  Rhis shook her head and took a deep breath of the salty air. “You are something else, Captain Rickson.”

  “It’s Admiral Rickson, now,” he said with a smile. His dimples showed beneath the stubble on his jaw, then his face turned thoughtful.

  “She’ll need a name, you know,” Rickson said. “My new ship.”

  “What will you call her?” Rhis asked.

  A sly grin crept over Rickson’s face. “I was thinking, the Reaper’s Bride.”

  ~~~~

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  TO WHATEVER END CHAPTER 1: A JOURNEY

  Cecily closed her eyes, her breath fogging in the cool predawn air, and opened her Awareness. She felt it reach out from her core as it spread across the forest floor, picking out every pine needle, branch and stone. In seconds, she had a mental map of the surrounding terrain. She could see the forest debris between the trees and the rise and fall of the land better than if it had been full daylight. The clearing was flat, but she could feel the slope to her left where the hill descended toward her home. He was coming, and she would be ready.

  Although he was adept at hiding his movements, she felt his careful footsteps before she could hear them. She marveled at how softly he could step, despite his size. He could take her unaware if she wasn’t expecting him. She also knew that his strength made people underestimate his stealth. She would not make that mistake.

  As she focused on the feeling of his feet on the forest floor, Cecily almost forgot she was standing in the clearing, in plain sight. With a sharp intake of breath, she sprinted, keeping her Awareness spread out as she ran. Immediately, he gave chase. He was faster than she was, but she could see where she was going in a way he could not. His speed defied the darknes
s, and as he gained ground, she wondered how he could see well enough to move so fast.

  As the ground plunged downhill, she turned sharply and almost lost her footing. Dirt cascaded around her feet, and she pushed her heels into the ground to keep from falling as she stumbled down the hillside. He would be within sight of her now, but she did not feel him follow her down the slope. The vibrations of his footfalls veered to the right. Once she reached the bottom of the hill, she’d have a direct route home and he would be left behind. What was his game?

  He ran farther away and disappeared from her mental sight. The branches rustled in the breeze as Cecily slowed, scattering a few pine needles at her feet. She couldn’t risk the effort to push her Awareness out further to follow him. She’d have to slow down and keep an eye on her edges, waiting for him to get close.

  The image of the terrain sharpened in her mind while she crept forward, feeling the tingle of anticipation run up her spine. She scanned the forest and darted forward, choosing her steps carefully. Her tall leather boots hardly made a sound, even amongst the twigs and pine needles. Where is he? She picked up her pace and before long, she could see smoke curling from a chimney. Home. She was almost there, and still no sign of her pursuer.

  His huge form burst into the quiet clearing, stunning her with his speed. Dropping her Awareness, she ran, sprinting down the gentle slope toward her home. The terrain was open, but she knew she couldn’t make it. No longer trying to hide, he ran toward her at full speed. Her breath came in gasps and her legs burned but she pushed harder, determined to make it to her house.

  The sound of his footfalls rose and his hand brushed her back. She threw herself forward and tucked into a roll to evade his grasp. Turning and Wielding as she skidded across the ground, she used her Reach to grab his feet and make him stumble. He lost his footing as she scrambled to her feet. She Reached again, Pulling his legs so he crashed to the ground and landed hard on his back.

  She turned and ran, pushing her legs as hard as she could. She was almost there, but his feet pounded behind her. He clutched the back of her shirt, pulled her to a stop and flung her to the ground. His strong grip held fast and he caught her leg with his other hand before she could kick it away. He pulled her across the ground as she struggled and turned her onto her back, pinning her under his weight.