by J. P. Ashman
‘Oh… of course, I do apologise good people. I did not mean to startle you.’ Furber ducked back behind the rock and came back out wearing wet, mottled-grey seal fur around his waist.
Starks’ brow creased as he looked around to Fal and then to Errolas. ‘He killed that seal?’
Errolas laughed out and shook his head. ‘No Starks, he is the seal.’
Starks gasped. ‘Shape shifter!’ he shouted, startling them all.
Correia shook her head and sighed. ‘There’s no such bloody thing as a shape shifter, don’t be so stupid.’
Sav frowned, adding, ‘After what we’ve seen tonight, Correia, I’d believe anything.’
‘You would,’ Correia said, and Sav blushed.
‘Furber is not a shape shifter… well, not as such anyway. He’s a selkie,’ explained Errolas, as Furber nodded and bowed low, his fur slipping slightly, much to the amusement of Sav and the apparent appreciation of Correia.
‘Fin-folk,’ Gleave said, almost growling. ‘I know of your kind.’
It wasn’t hard to hear the venom in Gleave’s voice. Everyone in the group turned to him. Furber swallowed hard and his attractive, innocent smile slipped slightly.
‘You come ashore to take men’s wives and daughters,’ the stocky pathfinder continued, ‘to drive them away from their husbands and fathers.’
All heads turned back to Furber and the selkie seemed to shrink under their probing eyes.
Before he could speak, Correia turned back to Gleave and scowled at him. ‘Back on point, Gleave, I don’t remember relieving you of that duty. This is of no concern to you. Furber is clearly an informant for the ranger.’
Gleave looked like he'd been slapped, but nodded slowly all the same. He turned away and only Errolas heard him mutter something about Correia ‘changing her tone’ as he made his way a little further up the shore.
‘It does happen,’ Furber said regrettably, once Gleave had gone. ‘Your friend is right enough there, but not all of us are like that. Although, it’s not really our fault human women find us so appealing. It’s the same with human males and our females.’
‘I bet it is,’ Sav said, and he whistled at the thought.
Starks stifled a laugh and Correia glared at them both. ‘Don’t worry Furber, Gleave has a temper, it’s nothing personal.’
Fal found it amusing how the selkie had softened the hard warrior woman more in a dozen heartbeats, than he believed it would take a human male to do in a lifetime.
‘Thank you, you are too kind,’ Furber replied, bowing again.
‘Starks, pick up your crossbow,’ Fal ordered. ‘Find that bolt, stop staring at the man and take rearguard. I think Furber needs to talk to us, am I right?’
‘Yes, please let us sit.’
Fal ordered Sav up to Gleave while Correia ordered Mearson down to Starks. The rest sat on whichever rocks were flat enough to do so.
Errolas told them he'd asked the selkie to watch Fal in the early stages, before the plague, and it was then Fal remembered the grey seal whilst he and Sav had been fishing. Furber smiled innocently and Fal laughed, asking if he’d scared Sav’s fish away or whether the scout really was that unlucky with fishing. Correia had silenced Fal with one of her looks for that, and then taken the sudden silence as an opportunity to ask Furber all about himself and his people. Fal and Errolas both rolled their eyes. Correia caught their expressions and swiftly changed tack, asking about the news Furber had of Wesson.
‘It is bad,’ the half-naked selkie said, and Fal again noticed Correia’s eyes slipping below Furber’s as the man spoke. ‘Two more ships attempted to leave port early this morning. Both were intercepted immediately at the blockade, one of them wrecked.
‘People are dying by the score and I can smell it on the air when I enter the harbour. Columns of smoke reach high as Wesson burns its dead. You need to move fast before your efforts are in vain.’
Fal cringed at the thought of his home being ravaged by the disease, one that he'd released, or at least might have released.
‘What of the rumours,’ Errolas asked, and Fal was quick to notice Correia turn suddenly to the elf.
‘What rumours?’ she asked, and Fal found it amusing the King’s own Spymaster didn’t know something a half-naked selkie did.
‘Rumours from the south,’ Furber confirmed. Correia’s eyes turned swiftly back to him. ‘I met a dolphin today that had travelled with his pod from the Chriselle Coast. He encountered strange ships down there, of a build he has never seen before. He witnessed a battle between two of these ships and a Sirretan merchant cog, and so assumes they were pirates from the Tri Isles, but I am not so sure. There are rumours of Sirretan soldiers from coastal keeps along the Kaja Strip going missing and then turning up mutilated.’ Furber glanced at Fal, but continued before Fal could think why. ‘No word on who or what is doing it though, but it is being noticed. Over five hundred Sirretan soldiers were seen marching the coastal road just two days ago.’
‘A defensive manoeuvre,’ Correia said, ‘but against whom, Orismar?’
Fal flinched. Ah, that’s why you glanced at me.
‘We don’t know,’ Errolas said. ‘Rumours are all we are hearing. I have been away from home some time however; there may be more to be learnt once we arrive there.’
‘Home… our mission lies in your homeland?’ Fal said, both stunned and excited at the same time.
All three turned to Fal then and Furber was clearly surprised Fal didn’t know. Errolas smiled as Correia nodded.
‘I can’t wait to tell Sav,’ Fal said, the biggest grin for days playing upon his face despite the unusual and worrying news Furber had brought.
***
A flock of pigeons lifted from their roost on a nearby building as the black carriage rounded the corner, its driver cracking his whip over four chestnut geldings. The street was clear, as were many in the city. Most of the population were hiding away from the plague, suffering from it, or already dead, and so the driver cracked his whip again, enjoying a rare chance to send the carriage clattering down the cobbled street at speed.
A figure stepped out in front of the carriage without warning. The driver’s shock was evident in his lack of action to halt the horses bearing down on the person.
The driver closed his eyes and gripped the rail behind him.
Nothing happened.
Opening his eyes and seeing an empty street once more, he turned to look back as he slowly pulled on the reigns. He could have sworn he saw the carriage door close from the corner of his eye. He listened for a shout from the man inside, but nothing came, so he turned back, cracked his whip once more and shook his head, muttering to himself as he did so.
Inside the carriage, a slender, richly dressed man wearing horn-rimmed spectacles read a small, black book. Pursing his lips, he closed the book and peered over his spectacles to the man suddenly sat opposite him. The only sound came from hooves and wheels on cobbles, as well as the heavy breathing of the gold toothed man staring back.
The well-dressed man placed his book down beside him, removed his reading spectacles, cleaned them thoroughly with a velvet cloth and placed them in a soft leather pouch, which he withdrew from a side pocket in his immaculate coat, before placing the encased spectacles back in the same pocket. Finally finished, he looked up and smiled at his visitor.
The coach rounded a corner then and both men leaned into the turn. Once levelled out, the slender man spoke in a soft tone, but one that hinted of a confident capability his appearance seemed to contradict. ‘Master Longoss, what a pleasant surprise.’
The gold teeth revealed themselves fully.
‘I wasn’t expecting you so soon.’
‘Don’t like to hang about, Master Son,’ Longoss said, slouching back into the carriage’s comfortable chair.
‘Of course, of course and what an impressive entry you made,’ Poi Son said, trying to hide his disgust at the almost overpowering smell of urine.
‘Aye,’
Longoss said, grinning again.
‘I take it you have completed your last two tasks then, Master Longoss?’
‘Aye and don’t I always?’
Smiling, Poi Son nodded slowly, before continuing. ‘Excellent, Master Longoss, simply excellent. Your pay will be at its usual place tomorrow. I have but one more question.’
‘Go on,’ Longoss said, through the fingers of his left hand whilst biting his nails.
‘The riot, Master Longoss?’ Poi Son let the question hang for a moment, seeing how his visitor would react.
‘Which one?’ Longoss said, continuing to bite his nails.
‘The one you attended of course, to Tyndurris.’
‘Oh aye, what of it?’ Longoss moved to the nails of his right hand.
‘I heard—’
‘What?’
Poi Son flushed at being interrupted, for he certainly wasn’t accustomed to it, especially by someone who knew who he was. ‘I heard, Master Longoss, you killed a city guardsman during that riot.’
‘Aye.’
‘Right outside the door of your second mark?’
‘Aye, he ran into the door, stupid bastard.’
Poi Son winced at the curse. ‘Language, Master Longoss. We’re not in the habit of that kind of language now are we?’
Longoss sighed before muttering an apology.
‘We’re also not in the habit of killing outside of our contracts, are we? I thought you understood after the last incident.’
No reply.
‘Master Longoss, do we have a problem here?’
Longoss sat up then, stopped biting his nails and looked directly into the cat-like eyes of the man sitting opposite him. He thought for a second of how easily he could physically crush the man, by simply leaning over and squeezing his scrawny neck, but as Poi Son smiled, Longoss shook his head and apologised again.
‘Apology accepted, Master Longoss, but let us not have it happen again, dear fellow, eh? We walk a fine line the likes of you and I, and we cannot afford undue attention from the City Guard. It's lucky for us, I believe, that the current… situation in Wesson, is distracting any attention to normally fall our way when contracts outside of Park District present themselves.’
Longoss’ eyes widened and he sat up that bit more, awaiting instruction.
Poi Son was pleased Longoss was now taking matters seriously, for what was worse than an uninterested listener during matters of such importance?
‘We have ourselves such a contract you see, Master Longoss, one which shall present itself to us in the near future. And I would like you, Master Longoss, to accept that contract. Our organisation will have a lot riding on this, a lot indeed, and so I need to gauge your interest so I can make plans.’
I know ye know me name, so quit saying it every other pissin’ word, ye pompous prick. ‘Why me, Master Son?’ Longoss said, trying not to smirk. ‘Ye have a lot of others ye could call on, Master Son, so why me, Master Son?’
‘Yes, Master Longoss I do, many others…’
The threat was not lost on Longoss, but he let it slide, eager to hear what the stuck up bastard had to say. Also, knowing as he did, just how dangerous Poi Son was, he decided mocking the man may not have been his best idea ever.
‘However,’ Poi Son continued, ‘how shall I put it…?’ Poi Son paused briefly, searching for the words. ‘Ah yes, as rough and ready as you and your methods may be, Master Longoss, you have never failed us or passed on a contract. Nor have you ever been implicated as a suspect to one of your marks by the City Guard, or, which is even more remarkable I have to say, has anyone ever hinted at any connection between you and our organisation… ever, despite your countless and quite often overt contracts over the years. And so it is for that, Master Longoss, as well as your reputation amongst your peers, that I will, when it comes through, offer the contract to you and you alone.’
Longoss’ eyes widened again, as did his grin, the thought of the gold, for surely it would be gold, exciting him. Ye can say me name as much as ye want, Poi Son, if it means gold.
‘I take it you're interested then, Master Longoss?’
‘Oh aye, Master Son, I’ll take whatever it may be, as I always do… as long as it’s a bloke and not a woman, as ye well know.’
‘Well let’s not be hasty, I wanted your interest, not your agreement. We haven’t even been offered the contract as of yet, nor have I negotiated a sum for the mark. And as for details, they will come later.’
The coach rounded another corner and then came to a stop. The driver noisily climbed down from his seat and opened the carriage door. He jumped back as he saw the golden grin facing him, and his eyes darted to Poi Son, who snorted and waved the man away.
‘I shall be in touch, Master Longoss.’
‘And I’ll be waiting, Master Son,’ the assassin said, as he climbed out of the carriage.
‘Oh and Master Longoss?’
The assassin leaned back into the cab.
‘I shall expect you not to mention this to anyone of course, not even your fellows in the guild; it is of the utmost import you do not in fact.’
Longoss raised his eyebrows, but nodded his agreement, before turning to walk away.
‘One last thing, Master Longoss.’
Sighing, Longoss stopped, but didn’t turn round.
‘Was she good?’
He turned around, his brow furrowed at the question.
‘The whore?’ Poi Son had a wicked grin upon his face. ‘I hear you visited a new whore at Mother’s tonight, and wondered what you thought? You see, our watcher said you looked quite content upon leaving. He even said he may visit her himself. Shall I pass on your recommendation to him?’
Longoss swallowed hard, before bearing his gold teeth, turning and stalking off. The thought of anyone from the guild touching Elleth pulled at his nerves more than he would have thought… for reasons beyond him.
After the assassin had left, Poi Son’s grin fell away and an altogether more sinister smile presented itself. The master of the Black Guild considered the emotions he’d just witnessed in one of the most vicious men he’d ever had the pleasure to do business with.
Now that reaction may prove useful indeed…
Chapter 27: Bookworms
Not knowing why, Longoss knocked on a door he’d left only a few hours before, a door he didn’t think he would be walking back through for at least a week or so. Waiting for a response, he cast his eyes around the empty street. He was used to crowds of people milling about; pickpockets, thugs, gangers and the scared residents of Dockside all, but very few ventured out now. There were the occasional riots, big and small, when guardsmen attempted to take bodies or black cross doors in gang held areas. That always drew the people out, giving them something, or someone – the City Guard – to vent their anger on, but apart from that, very few made journeys that were unnecessary.
A key in a lock and a bolt being slid across brought Longoss’ attention back to the door in front of him, just in time to see a large woman with a surprised look on her face.
‘Longoss… ye’re back far sooner than I’d have thought,’ the woman said suspiciously.
‘Aye, that I am,’ Longoss said, flashing Mother a golden smile. ‘Decided to come see that girl again, Elleth.’
The woman smiled, but didn’t invite Longoss in. ‘Elleth’s busy my dear, how about Aynsa, the blonde? She has a lovely—’
Longoss pushed past Mother and made for the stairs, just in time to hear a cry of pain from a room above.
Mother attempted to latch on to the man’s thick arm whilst he passed. ‘What ye think ye’re doing, Longoss?’
Dragging her along briefly before shrugging her off, Longoss took the stairs two at a time.
Receiving no answer, Mother shouted after than man. ‘Ye don’t disturb when other clients are in, Longoss, ye know that, ye dumb bastard!’
The scream from the room Elleth had been in stopped Longoss’ planned reply, and he continued to the to
p of the stairs and along the corridor swiftly.
‘Please,’ Elleth said. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and her fat lip throbbed as the man thrusting himself into her slapped her across the face again, before spitting on her stomach and laughing.
She cried all the more then, her chest aching from the hacking sobs pulling at her throat. The large man thrust harder and harder, before grabbing her by the throat and squeezing hard. ‘Stop crying bitch!’ he shouted, spittle flicking from his thin lips.
Why me, why me, why me, why me…? Elleth thought, over and over, praying for anything to make the horror she was going through stop. Coppin, help me, please, where are ye?
The crash of an opening door released the man’s vice like grip from Elleth’s delicate neck. She coughed hard, sucking in stale air between coughs as the man attempted to twist around on top of her to see who'd entered the room. His forceful thrusts finally stopped.
Not caring what had made him stop, Elleth rubbed at her throat and thanked Sir Samorl as the man suddenly – and unbeknown to Elleth, fearfully – pulled himself from her and threw himself off the bed, to the side where he'd left his clothes and dagger.
She closed her eyes then, dizziness taking her as she concentrated on breathing whilst massaging her bruised neck. She thought of Coppin’s sad smile as she forced herself to calm down and take in the noises she was now hearing; grunting, cursing and metal on metal.
Longoss lunged for the naked man – who was slightly larger than him – with a small eating knife. The sweating man moved his red, heaving chest out of the way of the lunge just in time to bring his dagger up to meet the small blade.
Blades clashing briefly, Longoss pulled his knife back and threw his left fist at the man’s head.
He missed.
Think, ye fool, calm down and think. Longoss barely missed being gutted by the dagger his opponent thrust his way.
A sudden scream from the bed drew Longoss’ attention. He saw Elleth’s bruised face take in the scene of flashing blades and swinging fists. The momentary distraction cost him as the other man’s dagger slid across his left arm.
