by DJ Morand
No, Bastion thought. Not the Keep, the Lost Post.
He raised his fist to his forehead and swore on his blood that the Bridgeguard would never fall, “Never. Never so long as my blood lives in the Riftland. I swear this by my blood. By the blood of the fallen. RAH!”
Assassin’s Price
Alnarland: Year 1330 AO
30 Zarfer: Zaral - 8th Hour of Feralda
Hangman’s Inn and Tavern: Outside
The weather was chill and the first snows of winter had begun to fall. The cobblestoned streets provided little in the way of maneuverability for the drunks exiting the Hangman’s Inn and Tavern. Luckily for Delfin Cain, he was neither drunk nor moving. He leaned against the wall of the tavern, safely hidden in the shadows of the alley. From his vantage point he could see the street. It was dimly lit by the lanterns hanging from the metal rods driven into the ground beside the cobblestone. The wind was mild, but enough to shift the lanterns slightly causing the candle-light within the flicker. He watched the door of the tavern. His contracted mark would be leaving the tavern soon. Delfin was a careful man -- a planner. He’d observed his mark’s habits and daily routine. That night he had followed him from the docks where he met with his sailors’ whore to the Hangman’s Inn and Tavern.
The Inn itself was not a savory place one would expect to see gentlemanly types, but Delfin suspected that the mark was not much of a gentleman. He rarely dealt with men who could be called proper. It was a hazard of his profession. Delfin checked the sky. Normally, he would tell the time of night, by the position of the moons and stars, but the cloud cover prevented any such gazing that night. So he had patiently counted the seconds, as they stretched into minutes, and subsequently into hours. By his estimation it was near to sunrise. Killing a man in the middle of a tavern wasn’t an option, so he waited. The last calls would be coming soon, forcing patrons out of the tavern and into their rooms or out the front door. Delfin hoped that the mark hadn’t decided to change his plan and get a room for the night.
As soon as he had the thought, a man stumbled out of the front of the Hangman’s Inn and Tavern. Delfin could almost smell the grain alcohol on him.
Perfect, Delfin thought.
He moved forward, lurching to one side and began singing loudly.
Oh my lass gave me an ale
So I drank stepping on cat’s tail
The mark picked up the song merrily. He sang it boisterously and raised an arm as if there was an imaginary mug in his hand. The man held his arm in the air as he realized he was singing alone. Delfin had moved into the shadows again, stepping behind the man and ducking into the alley. The drunk mark turned in confusion, looking around behind him.
“Oi,” he said. “Who goes there?” When he said who it came out like ooo, and the rest of his words sort of tumbled out incoherently.
Delfin whispered from the alley. “Over here,” he said.
The mark turned quickly and peered down the alley. “Tomas?” he asked.
“Down here,” Delfin whispered again.
The man let out a short belly laugh and stumbled towards Delfin. “Tomas, what’re you doing in the dark there?” he asked with merriment in his tone as a broad grin passed over his face. “Come on out of there boy.”
Delfin recognized the man’s tone and his stomach lurched. He was a killer, but this man was something worse. He would have no displeasure in slaughtering this pig. As the mark drew nearer, he continued to speak in a hushed playful tone. He continued to call for the boy Tomas. Delfin moved swiftly and silently, moving around to block the man’s exit from the alley. He drew the fan knife from his belt. The blade appeared normal, but it supported six blades that could be fanned out and thrown. Presently he held it in its standard configuration with the blades folded into one.
He stepped up behind the man and put a gloved hand over the man’s nose and mouth. The drunk struggled and tried to pull away, but Delfin had a grip like a bear on the man. With his armed hand, he stabbed the man in his kidneys several quick times. The blade pierced thick flesh and Delfin could feel the warm blood soaking into his glove. He stabbed him several more times as savagely as he could manage. The body went limp in his arms and he dragged it to the side, leaning it against the wall.
Ever aware of his surroundings, Delfin spun and flung the fan blade to his right side. The blade whirled, spraying a fine mist of blood as he did so. The weapon spun out, revealing all six of the blades, each as long as the dagger itself. Behind Delfin’s right, stood a figure garbed in the same black leathers that the assassin wore. He reached out and plucked the fan blade from its flight and folded the weapon again.
“Delfin Cain,” the figure said. It was a female’s voice. “I have a job for you. One that is more befitting your station than drunkards.”
Delfin sniffed derisively. “What are you offering?” he asked.
“Five hundred crowns,” the woman said.
He made a sound that came out as a choked whistle, then said, “That’s a small fortune. What is the job?”
“Not here,” she said. “Too many eyes.”
“There is nowhere in the city without eyes,” Delfin said, a touch of pride entering his tone. “The Brotherhood is everywhere.””
“Aye,” she replied. “They are, but not where I wish to meet.” She tossed a coin to Delfin.
The coin flipped end over end, catching the light. Delfin saw that it was platinum colored. He had never seen one; as lucrative as his contracts usually were, they rarely paid more than a hundred crowns. In Alnarland, that was nothing to scoff at. However, a platinum coin was worth a thousand crowns. He caught the coin before it hit the ground. The woman was gone. Delfin growled. He placed the coin in his pocket and remembered that the woman had his dagger. He growled again, a low guttural sound of anger. He left the body in the alley.
The authorities will find him in the morning, he thought. I hope this alleviates your pain Tomas.
He left the alley the same as he had entered it. Lurching to the side and drunkingly singing.
Oh my lass gave me an ale
So I drank stepping on cat’s tail
In the morning, I’ll need my pail
Oh my lass gave me an ale
None took notice of his passing. A man singing and stumbling down the street was not uncommon near the Hangman’s Inn and Tavern. Just as Delfin had planned, he slipped away; his contract was finished.
* * *
Alnarland: Year 1330 AO
31 Zarfer: Eral - 3rd Hour of Eralda
Delfin’s Home
Delfin woke from a fitful sleep. He rarely had an easy time of sleeping. The night prior made no exception. His small apartment was in the better part of the city. It was not lavish, but it was comfortable and clean. The wooden cot was not terribly uncomfortable, but Delfin did not believe it was the cause of his sleeplessness. He did not think that the mark haunted him either, he had killed plenty of bad people over the years. The bad ones did not haunt him. The good ones though, sometimes the good ones haunted him. Delfin knew that his dreams eluded him because of the encounter with the woman in the alley. Not only because she took his fan-knife, but because she had so efficiently plucked it from its flight and then disappeared. That reminded him of the platinum coin. He could buy materials to make a thousand fan-knives with that coin.
Delfin fished the coin from his pants pocket. He held it up and realized it was not an Alnarlandian coin. First, its width was a fraction larger than the coins in his part of the world. Second, it did not have the image of a dragon on its face. Instead the coin bore a mark of a sword and two skulls. He did not recognize the mark, which likely meant it was from either north of the rift, or from far in the south. He knew too it was not a Northlunder coin, the savage warriors of the north rarely visited south of the rift. The narrow sea between Alnarland and Northlund was so violent it was too treacherous for even the most fearsome sailors to cross. Although, the Northlunders did, on occasion brave the wild seas to harry t
he people of the coast. The Alnarlandian government always dealt with them swiftly. It was not a Northlunder coin.
“Where are you from?” he asked the coin. He hadn’t expected any kind of answer, but the skulls’’ eyes lit up. He nearly flung the coin away from him. “By Kokila’s womb!” he cursed.
He winced as he said it. The mother of the gods was not invoked lightly and if any of the Nagatashi heard his words they might execute him on the spot. Delfin muffled another curse under his breath. Normally, he was more composed than this. The assassin, set the coin down on a wooden shelf and stepped back from it. Despite his distance, he could hear a voice in his head.
Come to me, it was the woman’s voice. By the river’s edge, a building with a serpent’’s head for a marker.
Delfin wasn’t sure what to think about that, but he nodded. The coin seemed to notice his acquiescence and the eyes in the skulls winked out again.
“Fucking magic,” he said aloud.
Still, he was curious. What task would this woman have for him that she could not perform with the magic that powered the coin? He decided he would wait until just before nightfall and go to see her. If her task was something he felt he could accomplish, he would take the job. The Pasha, the leader of the Brotherhood, had always taught them to take any job offered, so long as they could complete it in anonymity. The woman knew his name, but that did not mean the target would. Delfin considered his thoughts. He was already contemplating taking the job without even hearing what it would be.
“Five hundred crowns is a great deal of money,” he said. “Perhaps I can persuade her to more.”
* * *
Alnarland: Year 1330 AO
31 Zarfer: Eral - 9th Hour of Eralda
Serpent Marked Building
Delfin brought the coin with him. After discovering the magic laid upon it, he did not want to leave it in his apartment. He thought that he might also need it to gain entry. The river’s edge was not truly a river as much as it was a dried riverbed. Many of the buildings there had once been used to send logs to Alnarland from the southern forests. Delfin had once wondered how the river flowed north when most rivers tended south. His first master had explained it to him.
“The river splits, just west of Obanholme,” he said. “Part of it cuts south to the elf lands, the other part cuts north and flows to the sea.””
He remembered the words clearly, because he had been taught to hate the elves. He did not hold any hate for them now. It was silly to hate an entire race when you were hired to kill your own on a regular basis. His first master had also been an asshole that Delfin wished he could forget. He revered the Pasha, because the man had bought him from his first master and then ordered Delfin to kill the man. That had been his first kill. He did not have any nightmares afterward.
Delfin walked alongside the riverbed, towards the only building nearby. It was an old logging mill. A broken and rotted wheel that used to be run by the river’s flowing water, lay sideways in the riverbed. The wood was rotted and made a home for rodents and insects. Most of it had wasted away, but some of it still held its form. The building too was dilapidated. He almost moved past it, until he saw a simple scrawling above the main entry. It looked like a serpent, although it could have simply been the letter S. Tentatively, Delfin stepped forward. His pocket seemed to surge forward as the coin pulled at the leather. With an effort he removed the coin from his pocket and released it. It flew towards the scrawled S and clung to it for a moment. Then, the coin fell. He stooped to pick it up and the door opened.
There is too much magic at work here, he thought.
Despite his reservations, Delfin stepped inside. The doors closed behind him, shutting out the light. A brief moment of apprehension flooded into him, setting his senses on edge. He reached for his fan-knife and felt the empty space on his belt. He remembered that the woman had taken it from him. Delfin crouched and prepared for an attack.
“That will not be necessary,” the woman’s voice said.
“I’ll decide when being prepared is no longer necessary,” Delfin said. “Do you have a candlelight? Or a lantern?”
The room illuminated suddenly. Delfin could not see the source of the light. It was more as if the darkness had simply gone away. He looked around and found he was surrounded by snakes. That gave him a brief moment of panic until he realized that they were statues and statuettes, rather than living creatures. Their likeness to living snakes was disturbing though. He trained his eyes on the location where he had heard the woman’’s voice. She stood upon a balcony that stretched out from the wall. The balcony itself was fashioned into the shape of a serpent’s head and its jaw opened, the lower half providing the support for the balcony.
“We’re not in the mill,” Delfin said, surmising that some bit of magic had brought him somewhere else. “Where am I?”
“You are observant,” the woman said, her voice sensual and yet distant.
Delfin realized she was attempting to put him at ease. “I am not here to play games temptress,” he said. “Where am I?”
“Impatient too,” she said her mouth moving into a pout. Delfin had to admit she was very attractive and the smokiness of her voice was distracting.
“More magic,” Delfin said. It was a statement versus a question. “I am not here to play games.””
She frowned again, but nodded her head. “You are what we seek,” she said. “The test was necessary.” She emphasized the word.
“I will want my knife back,” Delfin said, changing the subject. If they wanted to play games, he could play games. “If it is damaged, you will be adding it to my compensation.”
“So you have already taken the job?”
“Tell me the details and we will discuss it.” Delfin didn’t like dancing around the subject, but his employer seemed to enjoy the chase.
“The Pasha,” she said.
“What of him?” Delfin asked, a note of suspicion entering his tone.
“We want you to kill him,” she said.
“Who is we?” Delfin asked.
“The Sisters of the Order,” she replied.
“Never heard of them,” Delfin said.
She smiled. “Your ignorance is not unexpected,” she said. “I am called Alea.””
“Now that we’ve been introduced,” Delfin said. “I’ll be going.”
“You will not take the offer?”
“Without the Pasha the Brotherhood will fall apart, I would not have that. Not for your sisters, or anyone else. Good day.” Delfin turned and found the door blocked by an extremely large and well-muscled man. “What is this?”
“Hear me out, Delfin Cain,” Alea said. She looked to the man blocking Delfin’s way. “Atasat, stand down.”
“Yeah Atasat, stand down,” Delfin said.
The man growled at Delfin, but obeyed his mistress.
“I would not have you be a dog such as he,” Alea said. “The Atasat are a means to an end.”
Delfin didn’t want to think about what ends the brute might be an end to, but he had a few guesses. Delfin turned back around, being careful to keep a close eye on the Atasat. He knew some of the old language, and that name sparked something in his thoughts. He pushed it aside, deciding his attention would be better focused on Alea and her offer.
“Very well, Alea Sister of the Order,” he said. “What do you have to say? I am growing weary of the game.”
“Indeed,” she said inclining her head. “Atasat, leave us.”
The man growled at Delfin again, but obeyed his mistress. The brute of a man walked away and vanished. He didn’t simply disappear, but he walked into the wall and then he was gone. That sparked something else in Delfin’s thoughts. He had overestimated the woman’s power. He knew that if his instincts were correct, they were still in the mill, but she had cast some sort of illusion over the interior, making the area they were in appear smaller and more ornate.
“Now that it is just the two of us,” Alea said. Delfin nea
rly jumped out of his skin as the woman was standing right beside him. “What do you want? More than anything?”
“I have all that I need,” Delfin said.
“But what do you want?” Alea said moving her body closer to his. Her voice had become breathy and close.
“I’ve no interest in your ... wares,” he said.
Alea’s eyes flashed bright and hot for a split second and Delfin knew he had gotten to her. He had broken her facade for a brief moment. She composed herself quickly and stepped back. He couldn’t deny her beauty and her allure. However, in his experience a woman that offered herself in such a manner wasn’t after the same thing as the man in the same situation. His words had been as much a warning to himself as they had been an insult to her. He smiled then.
“You asked for me,” Delfin said. “You chose me specifically because I am close with the Pasha, or so you think.”
Alea considered his words, then she said, “You are very observant. You are correct.”
“I will do this,” Delfin said, then added, “on one condition. I am to take his place, your order will support that.”
“What makes you think we have such a vested interest that we would continue to involve ourselves?” Alea asked.
“Your involvement would only be warranted if the Brotherhood was a threat, or if you stood to gain, in either case me as Pasha ensures your anonymity and my cooperation. That is my counter offer,” he said.
“Very well,” Alea said. “The time frame is particular.”
Delfin raised an eyebrow. “How particular?” he asked.
“Tomorrow night,” Alea replied.
“No.” Delfin turned to leave.
“We will assist you,” Alea said.
Delfin stopped. “How?” he asked.
“We will aid you magically,” Alea said. “There is little we cannot accomplish.”
“Why use an assassin in the first place?”
“Because, we are not a part of your lands, but we have an interest here. An assassin would not draw the attention of the local guard,” she said. Taking a breath she continued. “If we were to employ our full magical power, such as would be needed to slay the Pasha in his home, we would surely alert other powers to our moving here. We cannot have that.”
