by Brian Keller
The horses still seemed to protest, but they were able to pull the lighter wagons without assistance. Cooper and the rest walked behind, just in case. Rukle and his rag tag band of Dreg’s kids followed along.
At the next House those prisoners that could, helped move the others. Once everyone was inside, Cooper gave some quick instructions to Loryn, Gaff and Balat, “Start a fire and get everyone undressed, dry, and into warm clothes. Everyone eats, at least a little hot broth, even if they’d rather sleep, feed them. We’ll be back as soon as we’ve disposed of the horses and wagons.” He turned to Loryn, “Rukle will drop off the Dreg’s kids then come back here. As soon as everyone has settled in, you two go and collect Spen and get back to camp. Guard shifts start as soon as you get back. We’ll be dividing our time between here and the camp for the next few days at least.” Loryn took a deep breath and let it out slow, “By morning, City Watch will have word about what we’ve done.” Cooper smiled, “They’ll know someone has released prisoners from the quarry. If we’ve done this right, they won’t know who, or where they are now. That’s why we need to keep these people tucked away for a few days, at least. This is far from resolved, and it’ll get more difficult before it gets easier.” Loryn tightened her jaw and pulled her shoulders back slightly, then gave him a firm nod, “I suppose if it was easy, then it wouldn’t be up to Assassins to do it, right?” Cooper chuckled as he turned to leave, “Something like that, I suppose.”
They took the horses and wagons to one of the larger drover businesses near the Trade Quarter boardwalk, then Cooper deliberately woke the owner. After an exchange of only a few words, some coin changed hands and the animals and wagons were left behind as they returned to Miller’s Flats.
As they walked from the stable, Birt asked, “Not that I mind the coin, but why bother selling them at all? Why didn’t we just leave them and slip away?” Cooper smiled, “Human nature. The horses and wagons weren’t stolen, but they just as well had been. If we’d just given them away, the owner would’ve been tempted to boast about his windfall. But with some coin invested, he’ll not boast to anyone about the horses and wagons he’d purchased for less than half value from some kids in the small hours of the morning. As it stands now, he’ll not want to bring attention to it any more than we do.” Birt shook his head, smiling, “Now why didn’t I think of that?” Dailen edged Cooper away from the others and leaned in to speak quietly, “I saw how you rushed the workman's house in the quarry. Talent or not, I've only seen someone move that fast one other time... and that was you as well; in Mister Skran's training room, when you were asked to demonstrate against the dummy.” Cooper tried to assure him, “Everyone's Talent is a little different. You know that.” Dailen shook his head as he replied, “Yeah, but in Mister Skran's class, you hadn't Manifested yet.” The way Dailen was looking at him, Cooper knew he had to say something. He answered, “I've always been fast. If you're expecting some kind of explanation, I don't know what to tell you.” Dailen's tight-lipped expression displayed his dissatisfaction, but he didn't press further. They walked the rest of the way back in silence.
They returned to the House where the Guild prisoners were recovering and entered quietly. Rukle and Loryn were waiting for him. They rose quickly and stepped to meet him. Loryn whispered, “Most of them have just now gone to sleep. A few of them barely stayed awake long enough to eat. Several of them will need a healer, someone better than us, that’s for certain.” Her face bore an expression of concern as she looked around the great room. She brightened as she added, “Oh! Mister Ysel was insistent that he speak with you… but once he’d filled his belly, sleep overtook him.” Cooper didn’t even consider waking the man, “Let him sleep. We can only imagine the dread and hopelessness these people have lived through these last months.” He turned to face Loryn and Rukle, “And there’s still much more that we’ll be asking from them. Mister Ysel especially.” He took a few steps into the room and scanned the occupants. He turned and spoke over his shoulder to the two of them, “Recognize anyone else? Any other instructors or Masters?” Rukle replied, pointing “One of those ladies worked in the kitchen.” Rukle then pointed at one of the men who was laying, curled up, on his side, “He was one of the porters. One of those ‘almost invisible’ Guild workers; a student who became a laborer after failing at his classwork.” Cooper looked more closely at the man, but didn’t recognize him. The man’s breath seemed to catch in his throat from time to time and when it did pass more easily, there was a noted wheeze. The muscles in the man’s face would often twitch, as if to reflect the pain he felt throughout the day. It appeared that his body was too fatigued for those twitches to be transferred to his limbs. “He doesn’t look good. It looks like the guards beat down anyone who looked like they were physically strong, or might have the will to resist.” Loryn agreed, “He’s one that might not last the night. If he wakes he has a chance, I suppose.”
Balat had propped himself up near the fireplace. He shifted to sit upright, his arm cradled in the sling Cooper had fashioned. He used a poker to flatten the coals, then tossed a few small logs onto the glowing bed, “I’ll keep the fire hot. The construction teams have done a good job on the roof. I haven’t noticed any water dripping through anywhere.” Cooper jingled the coin he’d received from selling the horses and wagons, then handed it to Balat, “For more food or wood. Whatever is needed.” He turned to Rukle, “Have a couple of Dreg’s boys drop by a few times each day. They can run errands and fetch supplies.” Rukle nodded, “What about the clothes for them? And the food?” Cooper turned to Birt who handed him an emerald half the size of his thumbnail. Cooper handed it to Rukle, “I don’t have to tell you that the ‘clothes for everyone’ should simply be sandals and a better class of rags, rather than a doublet, breeches and boots, right?” Rukle grinned as he accepted the gem, “No feathered tricorne hats with matching calfskin gloves? How shall I manage their disappointment?” Cooper faked a tone of great seriousness, “I’ll trust you to muddle through as best you can.” His voice reverted to normal as he continued, “And I’ll expect that whatever errands they’re sent out on, they’ll skim a little off the top. That’s fine, as long as they satisfy the task they were sent to complete. Make that clear to them.” Rukle nodded and replied, “And I haven’t forgotten our interests in that mysterious house in the Dregs, and I know you haven’t either. They’re keeping eyes on it at all hours until I tell them otherwise.” Cooper nodded, “Tell them to keep at it. Maybe another week, but probably not two. It depends on how things shake out, considering tonight’s events.” Rukle and Loryn left to collect Spen on their way back to the Ruins. Cooper stepped closer to the fire to warm himself, then knelt beside Balat and pulled the sling back to expose his injured arm. Balat mused, “The quarry break went smooth. Any chance that the next-” Cooper silenced him with a glare, “Discipline. Self-Discipline. That’s one of the hardest lessons for me, too. But it’s essential for an Assassin.” He glanced around the room, “Everyone here is Guild, but not everyone will be involved in what’s to come. Only discuss plans when you can be certain of the audience.” Balat nodded, it looked like he wanted to reply, but kept his thoughts to himself. Cooper inspected the boy’s arm, feeling gently to see if either of the bones had been broken completely. The spot where he’d absorbed the kick had swollen rapidly and was already turning a few colorful, angry shades of red and purple. Balat took the conversation onto a different, personal track, “Any thoughts of a healer?” Cooper pulled the sling back into position, pinched the ends of a couple of Balat’s fingers and watched how quickly the color returned, then sat on the side of the hearth so as to not block the heat of the fire, “I thought to visit an apothecary in a couple hours and pick up some supplies. Perhaps leave word that there are patients that require more than conventional treatments. A Talented healer is needed for a few of our people here. Approaching the University directly might be dangerous… without knowing where their allegiances may lie.” Balat shifted to a more comfort
able position as he considered Cooper’s words, “You think the University played a role in the raid of the Guild house?” Cooper shrugged, “Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. My thoughts are that you don’t allow an organization that powerful into your home until you know they pose no threat to you. I’m hoping that I’ll find a freelance healer through an apothecary, there are several midwives that are better-than-average healers.” He stood and moved away from the fire and asked, “You’ll be able to tend the fire for a couple of hours?” Balat glanced down at his arm, “The throbbing will keep me awake.” Cooper nodded, “Your hand is warm, your pulse is strong and color returned to your fingertips almost immediately after I pinched them. That means that blood is still flowing normally. No major blood vessels have been cut or blocked. It might help for you to prop your arm up higher, as long as that doesn’t make your hand get cold or pale.” Balat’s eyes grew bigger, “You sound like a healer.” Cooper shook his head, “I learned all about how the body functions in order to damage it. It stands to reason that some of that knowledge can be applied to healing. I have no skills as a healer.” As Cooper stepped away to roll up in a blanket, he wondered if that were actually true. The aspects of how he might apply his Gift were largely untested. As he dropped off to sleep, he’d decided it would remain untested for the foreseeable future. The certainty that Channeling would result in undesired attention far outweighed the uncertainty of what might be learned.
*****
It was before dawn when Iona was awakened by a pounding on her door. She draped her robe over her shoulders and pulled the door open. Yoren was already dressed and waiting, “I’ve sent a messenger ahead. We’ll stop at the University gate on the way out to meet the mages. The University professor was adamant that we include them in any future searches and I am only too willing to accept their help. I hope this causes you no distress…?” Iona emerged from a brief daydream to reply, “As long as they remember to keep their Talents in check. Their power in such close proximity tends to obscure the traces that I’m trying to detect.” She had been thinking about how subdued and quietly brooding the Spymaster had become in recent months. His involvement in the Guild raid had been minimal, as had been any credit. The Lord General had frequently commented that the combined might of the Army and the City Watch had been the pivotal deciding factors in the utter destruction of the Guild. While Arkady might not have political aspirations of his own, he certainly used this point to humiliate the Spymaster on several occasions. Iona knew enough of Yoren’s desires to realize that he wasn’t satisfied with being merely the Royal Spymaster. He coveted the wealth, power and respect that comes with a noble title. She knew that he viewed her as simply one more possible means to that end. She was also astute enough to recognize that he’d just as quickly discard her, if that would serve his purposes.
She still had the axe that she’d recovered from the warehouse in the Waterfront district. She kept it hanging from her belt, though the imprint had almost entirely faded. She enjoyed the odd looks she received from passers-by. Her, an obvious scholar or mage, with an axe at her hip. In her pouch she carried only two copper coins. His copper coins that she’d recovered from a pool of blood near a corpse of his making. She extended two fingers into the pouch and touched the coins. They had grown shiny from the repeated contact, but the imprint was still strong.
When they reached the University, the mages were waiting and Felis was among them. He stepped forward to greet her. She felt pleased to see him and said, “Why am I not surprised to see you here, prepared to join us?” Felis shrugged, “I tend to hear about things, and this Gifted lad is of interest to me. I have been studying Talent development for a few years now, and from how you describe it, this Gift is a complete anomaly.” Yoren was speaking to the mages, then all turned to face her. Yoren inquired, “West, is it?” Iona turned, as if to catch a scent on the air, “West, and north. But there already isn’t much to go on.”
They were passing through The Heights, nearing the edge of the city, when they witnessed a cluster of nearly a dozen guards and City Watchmen in a heated argument. Most of them were simply glaring at each other but two of them were in a shouting match. As they drew nearer, it was obvious that one of them clearly outranked the other, but such was the fervor of the lower ranking man that he scarcely seemed to pay heed to it. As they got close enough to hear the words, the higher ranking Watch Captain could be heard to say, “Stand down, sergeant or we’ll be adding insubordination to your growing list of reprimands, not least of which is incompetence and gross dereliction of duty!” This seemed to calm the other man, but only slightly, “Sir, we are trying to faithfully discharge our duty, but the trail ends here!” He vehemently stabbed a finger toward the ground at their feet. The captain retorted, “If that’s the case, then you’ve no real choice but to return to your post and await the official inquiry!” The sergeant began to gain steam again, “There’s no point, sir. There’s no prisoners left there to guard! There’s just us and the masons, and we surely don’t have to guard them. At the moment, they’re not even willing to step outside their bunkhouse!”
At this point, Yoren was close enough to intercede. He held up his Badge of Office, “Excuse my interruption of your scintillating discussion, but please inform me what this is all about.” The captain opened his mouth to speak but Yoren interrupted him, “My apologies, captain. I was actually asking the sergeant.” The sergeant flashed a prideful expression which quickly withered under the captain’s glare. The sergeant cleared his throat and began, “All the prisoners from the quarry escaped. They were broken out, I’m sure of it. But the blackguards also relocked the stockade gate behind them so we didn’t notice until it was time to get everyone up for work this morning.” As the man took a breath, Yoren inquired, “And how can you be certain that they were broken out?” The sergeant replied simply, “Four of our guards had been killed with arrows, or crossbow bolts.” One of the other guards chimed in, “And cuz one-a the masons seen ‘em!” he received a backhanded swat from one of his cohorts, but Yoren followed the information and addressed the man, “And what did the masons say?” The guard now looked uncomfortable to be the subject of attention. He looked to the sergeant for relief. The sergeant growled, “Tell the man. Can’t you see? He’s the Royal Spymaster! If anyone can get to the bottom of this, it’ll be him!” Yoren smiled. Iona knew that was meant to be his ‘comforting’ smile. He didn’t realize it was closer to the smile you might find on a predator as it closed in on its prey. The guard stammered, “One-a the masons said he seen one-a the blackguards. Said he moved faster’n the wind an’ had eyes’a the devil!” The guard was nodding vigorously, as if to add credence to his report. Yoren inquired further, “And why do you call them “blackguards”?” The sergeant came to the man’s rescue and answered for him, “Sir, the mason reported that the person he saw was dressed all in black leather. But in the storm last night, with all the wind and rain, it could’a been brown or blue cloth for all we know. Once clothes get that wet, they get shiny, and then everything looks like leather. An’ that time’a night, all dark colors look black.” The second guard spoke up, there was a slight whine to his voice, “I’m jes’ sayin’ what they tol’ me.” Yoren held his hands out in a calming gesture, “I understand that. And I want to hear everything you have to say.” He turned to the sergeant, “Might I guess that the quarry is generally in that direction?” He pointed northwest. The sergeant affirmed with a gruff, “It is, sir.” Yoren looked back to Iona. She nodded. Yoren then asked, “And what led you here?” The sergeant replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “Wagon tracks.” Yoren raised an eyebrow, “Wagon tracks led you from the quarry to here?” The sergeant gave a definitive nod, “Yes, sir. Deep ruts from there to here, then they disappear entering The Heights.” Yoren looked from guard to guard and they were all nodding in agreement. The Spymaster turned to the Watch Captain, “And were there any reports of wagons, heavily laden with fugitives, being hauled through the city last night?” Th
e Watch Captain drew himself up to his full height and announced, “None, sir!” Yoren nodded his head, “Of course there wasn’t.” Iona noticed that while Yoren was asking questions, Felis had been looking west at the approaching tracks, then east into The Heights. One of the other guards interjected, “But sergeant, like I tol’ ya, them tracks coulda been left by them kids after they dropped off the blankets an’ firewood. We don’t know fer a fact that them tracks come from them blackguards.” Felis was still listening as he walked far enough west to see past the walls and buildings. He looked north toward the reservoir then south along the University walls. The sergeant replied, “That blondish-haired lad said he needed to get home before he got in trouble. They wouldn’t have come this way. They would have taken the southern road and not even approached town. Besides, their wagons were empty. Are you tellin’ me that empty wagons made ruts that deep?!” Felis then looked east again and followed an invisible line back around to the south. He walked a little further south, to the corner of the University wall and examined the ground. Yoren returned to an earlier line of questioning. He asked the sergeant, “You mentioned that four guards had been killed by arrows or crossbow bolts. How is it that you don’t know which?” The sergeant looked flatly at Yoren, “Because all that was still there was the holes in ‘em, and through their armor. Whatever it was that made the holes was gone.” It was apparent that Felis was still listening to the ongoing conversation. When he returned to stand beside Iona, he was smiling, faintly.
