Assassin Adept

by Brian Keller

  Cooper had to ask, “Redundancies, sir?” Mardon was nodding, “Yes, it means that we have depth within our ranks. If one falls, another rises in his place.” Cooper was careful to keep any tone of irritation from his voice, “I know the meaning, sir. I asked because I was curious how your society provided for it.” The merchant smiled, “Ah. Well, I suppose none of that is a secret; yet we hardly make it common knowledge. You already understand that I am First Merchant. There are many Firsts within the Wharf City. Each of the major professions has a hierarchy, and some of those extend into the Waterfront. We have a First Merchant, First Sword, Fishers, Healers, Boatwrights, Menders, and so on.”

  As Cooper leaned forward, soaking in details, Mardon paused, “Are you sure you’re interested in all this?” Cooper nodded his head vigorously, “I am, sir. Truly.” The merchant took a breath and continued, “There are Seconds, Thirds, even Sevenths in a class, as long as there are persons willing to vie for those titles. It’s even possible for someone to hold more than one title. For instance, the Second Merchant might be the Third Sword and the Fifth Fisher. The titles are valid for a year, coinciding with the Landsider’s Harvest Festival. Most titles depend on tallying up each candidate’s ledgers, the First Merchant is the person who has increased their worth the most in the last year. This is the trickiest title to award, considering a merchant’s worth involves more than counting coins. There are also certain intangibles to consider, such as whether a merchant has given back to the community in a gainful way, and to what extent. Conversely, in the case of the Swords, determining titles couldn’t be simpler. Any Wharfsider may challenge a current titleholder. The victor is the first to score three cuts on his opponent, unless either one dies or concedes. It is rare for any challenge to result in death. It’s even less common for anyone to concede.

  The Firsts of each profession make up what we call our Council of Firsts.” Cooper had to wonder, “How does everyone manage to keep up with who has what titles? It seems like everyone knows, but with them potentially changing every year…?” Mardon’s laugh sounded like it came from his belly, “That, my young friend, is just one way we identify who is and who isn’t a Wharfsider. If you know who everyone is, then you’re on your way to being a Wharfsider!” Cooper accepted that he might never become a Wharfsider, but he’d certainly be satisfied with being welcomed, or at least tolerated, by this tight-knit community. Additionally, Cooper now understood Mardon’s motives for using him for this task. The fact that the other boats might stop blocking their path was surely a benefit, but defusing a potentially volatile situation before troops might be introduced to settle matters… it would be difficult to place a value on that, but it certainly would contribute towards Mardon maintaining his status as First for another year.

  When the call came from below deck that dinner was ready, Mardon stood and flung a bell cord rapidly from side to side causing Cooper to cup his hands over his ears. After five long seconds of the clangor, Mardon let the cord dangle as he looked over the surrounding ships. The occupants of eight or nine nearby boats were making their way in their direction. Cooper turned to look up at the man, “Sir?” The First smiled, “We’re Wharfsiders. We’re all family.” Then he added, with a wink, “Plus, a few meals here and there helps guarantee that at least a few would ready themselves in my defense should someone decide to come and attack the First Merchant.”

  During the course of the meal, Cooper did his best to learn which people were members of Mardon’s actual family, and who were his guests. It became apparent immediately that the reason for gathering them all was, in a circuitous fashion, to introduce Kinsman. He wasn’t actually introduced at all, but the First Merchant hinted around at having found a potential solution for the friction with the Landsider fishermen. He stopped short of pointing at him, but only just. It was made apparent to all that Kinsman was there to help solve a problem, and he was there because the First had arranged it. Once again any hopes for, or attempts at, anonymity were dashed to bits.

  Several adults seated around the table expressed their interest in seeing the Landsider fishermen stop blocking the waterways but they conversed in subdued tones. Obviously no one felt comfortable speaking in front of an outsider. For the most part, the kids just stared at him in wide-eyed curiosity. Once the meal was finished and the plates had been cleared from the table, the First welcomed the “menfolk” to join him on the deck. Cooper thought this might be an opportune time to thank his host and slip away. As he approached Mardon, the man winked at him and leaned in close, “Now the discussions can really begin.” Cooper realized then that he might not have been the reason for the subdued tones, perhaps the men didn’t discuss business around the wives and children. Or maybe it was simply bad manners to “talk shop” around the dinner table? He had no doubts that there were many customs that he might never understand. He decided that he would keep to the periphery as much as he could, and simply listen and learn.

  Most of the conversation revolved around the fact that the next Harvest Festival was only a couple months away. During that time the titles would be re-evaluated and already the men here were discussing who were the most likely to be the Firsts for the upcoming year. No one expected there to be dramatic changes but there was the possibility for a few of the Swords to change positions.

  Cooper noticed that between topics of conversation there were very brief, but slightly uncomfortable pauses. It soon became obvious that the men were simply engaging in “safe” small talk, but Cooper had been listening closely trying to put names to titles and learning the names of at least some of the hopefuls for the upcoming year. Several of the men had started glancing in his direction with increasing frequency. He had no idea what might be expected of him, so he remained silent. One of the men must’ve felt like he’d figured out a way to open up the topic that everyone seemed to be avoiding. That man turned to face Mardon, “So this young fella is gonna take care of our Landsider fisherman, for the benefit of all of us. You come outta that lookin’ pretty good, too… that about right?” The First merchant smiled, “We all benefit. Even me, that’s true. Don’t forget, I have a few small fishing boats myself. Certainly not as significant as yours”, with that he pointed at the man that had spoken, “or yours”, he gestured to another man, “but if I have devised the means to solve this problem, how can I not try?” At that moment everyone turned to look at Kinsman. He remained silent. One of the men plucked up the courage to ask, “Can you do it? Can you make the fishermen stop harassing us?” Kinsman shrugged, “I can have a quiet word with the merchant who employs those men. I believe he can be convinced to have his men to cast their nets elsewhere in the bay.” The man looked stunned, “A quiet word, eh? You think that’ll do it?” He looked from Kinsman to the First, then back and forth again. He scratched his head and looked uncertain, “All right then… I hope yer right.” The First spoke in reply, “It is far better than fighting openly in the bay. That would only bring the Watch and the Navy boats to enforce the Prince’s Rule of Law. It could even pave the way for the Prince to re-annex the waters that we claim territorial rights over. The Prince tolerates us, and allows us a degree of leeway because, despite the omission of mooring fees we still enrich his coffers, and we provide an additional layer of security along the bay at the eastern end of the Palisade Wall. But never doubt for a moment that we could just as easily stumble and find ourselves either forced in – or forced away. As it stands, from almost every perspective, we need Paleros. Paleros does not need us. We survive by continuing to show value. The moment we present more headache than benefit…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Everyone knew how it ended.

  Kinsman decided that besides being the First merchant, Mardon was a rather skilled orator. He wondered how much of what he’d just said was truth, and how much was spoken simply because it somehow served his purposes. Most of it seemed plausible, but how much security could the Wharfsiders really provide at the northeastern edge of the bay?

  Kinsman
interrupted the silence, addressing Mardon, “Sir, I thank you for your hospitality and conversation, but now I have matters that require my attention. Both yours and my own.” The First stood and gave him a humble nod, “Until tomorrow then?” Kinsman replied with a noncommittal gesture, “Most likely.” Kinsman then turned to the man who had spoken earlier, “I’ll ask that you and yours exercise some patience. It should be easier now, knowing at least that someone is looking after your interests.” The man gave Kinsman a nod, “When might we expect this mira- these results?” Kinsman gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “Not tomorrow, but perhaps the next day. It depends on what happens tomorrow night. Certainly within three days.” The man nodded his acceptance and turned away. As Kinsman waved to Mardon and turned to leave, he could hear the other man muttering, “Not old enough to grow whiskers and he’s gonna solve our problems for us?” Another man replied, telling the man, “The First arranged it, didn’t you get that part?” The dubious fisherman replied, “I got it, but he’s not the one who’s gonna go and “have a quiet word”, is he? The Guild has some scary folks, don’t they?” The conversation continued, but after that, the men were too far away to be understood.

  Even with all that was happening, Cooper still had classes. Miss Camilla’s Basic Anatomy class was wrapping up and she’d started reviewing earlier topics in preparation for the test. Master Worthan’s class had resumed the Analysis and Sabotage regimen but now the emphasis had shifted. The focus was now less on the Analysis aspects and more on Sabotage. It seemed like a fairly natural progression. Having already identified vulnerabilities during Analysis, Sabotage was simply acting on the conclusions. In that context, if the Analysis was solid, Sabotage was the easy part.

  That afternoon, Kinsman walked through a plaza in the Trade Quarter and observed a man secured in the stocks. This, by itself, was not an uncommon thing but the fact that the man was unceasingly attempting to shake himself free. The man seemed to be completely oblivious to the injuries he was giving himself. His vocalizations varied between guttural moaning and pitiful shrieks, but regardless of tone it was apparent that the man was both confused and frustrated. The sign hanging from the man’s neck read, “Apex”.

  Kinsman continued to the Wharf City. His comings and goings had become commonplace enough that most Wharfsiders around the fringes now recognized him and would toss him a line. It amused several of the denizens to see that the young Landsider had some skills on a rope and could swing himself aboard.

  When he reached the First’s ship, he called out a greeting as he boarded. Mardon climbed up to join him on the deck. As he extended a hand in greeting he said, “I didn’t want to press yesterday evening, but did I understand you to say that if we’ve resolved your sellsword concerns tonight, then you’re already prepared to handle my task tomorrow night?” Kinsman nodded, “That’s what I implied, sir. I didn’t want to promise more than I might deliver but depending on whether, and how quickly, we might resolve my Guild task tonight, I might still manage your task on my way home before dawn.” The First’s eyes grew wide as he laughed, “Ho! You are a bold one, aren’t you? Well then, I certainly hope for a quick and satisfactory resolution tonight. Let us hope that luck favors us! I will direct the men accompanying you on your task to bring the boat around and tie off alongside. Then we will drink and discuss many things while we wait.” Kinsman shook his head, “No disrespect intended, sir. But I’ll remain clear-headed. I have no interest or experience with drinking. I’ll request that the men going with me remain clear-headed as well.” The First laughed out loud at this, “Well, one of the men going with you answers to “Bosun”. I’m not sure he can function at all when sober. Yet, once a few drops pass his lips he can row for days on end without seeming to tire. The other one, Silas, only a few years older than you, I’d wager; he’ll likely be only too glad to follow your advice. The last time I saw him drink… well, I didn’t see him for two days afterward!” He roared with laughter at the memory.

  When the two men arrived, paddling the boat, Kinsman observed why Silas was selected for the task. He might only be a few years older, but if he wasn’t finished growing he might become as big as Master Loril. Once they’d tied off and boarded the Firsts ship, they all greeted one another. Bosun’s hands felt like leather, causing Kinsman to wonder just how much time the man spent without an oar, paddle, or rope in his hands. “I’m Bosun”, the man stated, “Ye don’t hafta give yer name. We know why yer here, that’s good enough fer us.” When Bosun removed his wide-brimmed, floppy hat to wipe his forehead, Kinsman could see that the older man shaved his head bald, but it didn’t appear that he needed to spend much effort in shaving. He raised his eyes to the sky and pulled his face tight, revealing several missing teeth, and stated, “We shouldn’t have to wait more’n a coupla hours, yeh?” Kinsman nodded, “Let’s hope so, sir.” Bosun snorted and jerked a thumb at him while directing his speech at Mardon, “Getta load’a this one! Callin’ me “sir”!” He turned back to face Kinsman, “There ain’t no call for formality here, lad.” The older man paused, as if reconsidering what he’d just said, “‘Lessa course that’s just yer way… in which case, I don’ mean nuthin’ by it.” Kinsman could sense the authenticity of the man, “Sir, it is my way. And you’ll need to work much harder than that to offend me.” Bosun chuckled and directed his words to the other two men, “I think I might just decide to like this one.”

  Silas stepped forward to grip Kinsman’s hand. His grip was strong and firm, but not overly so. Here was a man who knew his strength. As they released their hands Silas spoke, “I’m Silas…” He glanced down at Kinsman’s hand, which had just left his grasp, “and you’re no stranger to the rope or hammer.” He gave Kinsman a deeply assessing look as he stepped back. Kinsman replied, “Benefits of a practical education, I suppose.” Silas nodded in reply and Mardon interjected, “Now that introductions are complete,” he directed his attention to Kinsman, “suppose you tell us how you picture this venture unfolding?” Kinsman slipped the bundle from his back and unwrapped it, revealing the bow and arrows. Bosun let out a low whistle, “That’s some weapon there.” Kinsman slung the quiver and plucked the bowstring, then asked, “How steady can you keep that boat while you’re paddling?” Silas replied first, “As steady as the water allows, depending on how much speed you’re asking for.” Bosun spoke quickly, “S’pose you tell us what ye want, and we’ll tell ye if we c’n do it.” Kinsman nodded, “That’s fair. First off, we don’t even know what it is these men are doing. We don’t know who they are, or who they’re working for. I’m here because these men match a certain description, and they’re acting suspiciously. If they were just dumping fish guts, they wouldn’t need sellswords to row out at night to do it.” The men were nodding and the First replied, “Exactly. They must be dumping something they’d rather keep secret.” Kinsman continued, “We agree. However, that doesn’t mean we’re automatically interested. I’m here because we all assume that they’re dumping bodies. Human bodies. And if that’s true, then we’re interested; especially if those bodies are slaves that are being brought in.” The men exchanged knowing glances. Kinsman had voiced the suspicion that was on everyone’s mind. He continued to speak, “I’m not all that interested in the slaves themselves. I’m interested in the slavers, and their buyer, or buyers. These sellswords are just one step in uncovering who they might be. I’d prefer to simply follow them to discover more about them, but if we could recover at least something that they’d dumped, that would go a long way in determining whether or not this matter actually requires our attention.” Bosun observed, “Bodies don’t usually drop too fast, unless they’re weighed down.” Silas agreed, “I’ll bring a line and a grapple.” Kinsman nodded, “Do you think we can do that all at once? Recover something they’ve dumped, and follow them?” Bosun scratched his chin, “’Pends on how fast we c’n hook into whatever they dumped. Can’t make no promises but if we catch somethin’ on the first pass, then yeah, I’d say our c
hances are good. These guys ain’t Wharfsiders. They paddle like they’re almost slappin’ the water.” Kinsman flexed the bowstring unconsciously, “Good. If we learn that these men are dumping bodies, as we suspect, then I just need you to get me close enough and steady enough to use this. I want at least one of them alive.” Silas raised an eyebrow, “And how close is that?” Kinsman considered, “With conditions as they are, fifty meters should do. The men I suspect are fond of crossbows. I’d rather keep our distance and trust my ability to send arrows fast and accurate, rather than get too close and give them any advantage.” Bosun’s expression darkened, “Crossbows, you say?” He looked sideways at Mardon, “P’raps we might need to re-negotiate, First?” The First shrugged, “They are plenty of others that are willing to paddle a boat. I just thought to give you a chance at some extra coin. I will not re-negotiate a deal that has already been accepted. If you’re having second thoughts, you can back out…?” Bosun shook his head, “No. I’ll keep my bargain. But I’ll not forget this.” Kinsman looked between the men then spoke, “I only want willing participants on this venture. The First is brokering this deal on my behalf in exchange for a service I will later provide. I feel I have a say in this.” Bosun shook his head, “Nah, lad. I’m willin’. I’ll just be more careful in my future dealin’s with this connivin’ schemer.” Mardon seemed to take some exception to this statement, “Now see here, Bosun. I withheld no information. You knew well-and-good that the men in the boat are sellswords. Crossbows are commonplace in their profession. Just because Kinsman made you more aware of it, doesn’t change anything.” Bosun growled, “I s’pose you’ll be want’n me ta take back what I said ‘bout ye?” Mardon laughed, “Not at all. I’d say your description of me is apt! I only resented the implication that I’d cheated you somehow.” Despite the tension in the air, the men shared a chuckle; but Kinsman wondered whether that was truly the end of it. Silas had remained silent throughout the exchange.