by Cindy Dees
And the small treasure room in the back … if that room had been breached … to see Aurelius’s greatest magical treasures. Ahh, he would give his firstborn child to have his pick of that horde. He could all but taste the schemes of that insufferable solinari that he could upend. Emptying the special treasure room’s contents into his own coffers could be disastrous to Aurelius. Set the whoreson back decades. The power he could gain …
But instead, here he was creeping along like a sewer rat. Summoned … summoned!… to speak with Kane. The cursed assassin had interfered with Anton at every turn ever since they’d both arrived in Dupree on the same ship.
He’d sent letters through channels weeks ago to the Imperial Assassin’s Guild requesting a new round of assassinations. More specifically, he’d demanded writs for right of vengeance. He’d expected to meet with Selea Rouge, rumored to be a local master assassin, so the nulvari could deliver his writs to him.
But instead, Kane himself had answered. He was said to be master of the entire Dupree Assassin’s Guild. What did it mean? Surely the assassins weren’t trying to signal some sort of break with the Empire. But lo, the possibilities if they were …
Kane had been specific. Anton was to come alone. No guards. No girls. Although why he’d bring women to this sort of meeting Anton had no idea. Exactly what kind of governor did Kane think he was, anyway? It did hint at his reputation back in Koth, though.
Anton nodded in satisfaction. He intentionally cultivated rumors that he was an incompetent libertine accomplishing nothing of worth in Dupree, which had turned out to be not a particularly productive or profitable colony. It kept other Kothite nobles from rushing over here to replenish their coffers.
More important, his poor reputation lowered the Emperor’s expectations of income and productivity from him. All the more for his own coffers—unless some rabble broke into a rich guild storehouse and took booty that he coveted for himself, curse them all. He would crush the perpetrators slowly and publicly for that. A stern lesson to the people of Dupree not to tangle with their empire’s gold—
“You are late.”
Anton jumped violently as a disembodied voice came out of a lane between two buildings. “Who goes?” he demanded.
“Do you answer the call or not?”
He did not appreciate being treated like some lackey. “I am here aren’t I?” he snarled.
“Then come with me.”
He rolled his eyes at the heavy mystery surrounding this rendezvous and followed the cloaked figure deeper into the alley. An unmarked door opened before his guide, who stepped back to let Anton enter alone.
He looked around a plain, low-beamed room. A fireplace provided the only flickering light, and two tall-backed, stuffed armchairs sat at angles to each other before the fire. Other than that, the room was completely bare. He moved around the chairs and was not surprised to see a man seated in one of them already, an average-looking fellow of middle age.
Anton didn’t bother to memorize the features. He’d heard that Kane never allowed his true face to be seen by any who did not die immediately upon seeing it. No doubt tonight’s facade was the result of a potion of disguise, anyway. Tricky recipe to master. Rare. Expensive. But this was Kane.
Anton took the second chair. He didn’t bother to ask if they had privacy. This was the Assassin’s Guild. Of course their business would be conducted in complete secrecy.
“Governor.”
“Guildmaster.” He noted with satisfaction that the assassin did not correct the rank. So. He finally had confirmation that Kane was the guildmaster. Slippery whoresons, these killers. Even that simple a piece of information was a closely guarded secret. “You wished to speak with me?”
“I require evidence before I can sign a writ approving right of vengeance.”
A man of few words, this Kane. Anton said equally briefly, “I have it.”
“Do you wish to pursue single deaths or something more permanent?”
Anton raised his brow to express his annoyance at being made to state the obvious. “I wish to eliminate all of the people on my list permanently.”
“Permanent death is a different matter. We do not make a routine practice of signing over permission to non–guild members to pursue such a goal. To do so encroaches greatly upon our purview.”
Even in matters such as this he could not escape guild wrangling? Anton marshaled his irritation enough to answer reasonably politely, “I will not object to your people carrying out the assassinations as long as my targets are removed permanently.”
“What you seek is difficult to achieve.”
“But not impossible. With persistence and repeated deaths, entirely achievable.”
“An expensive endeavor.”
He didn’t bother to respond. He was the governor of Dupree. His resources were more or less unlimited.
A gloved hand reached across the space between them expectantly. The black leather was so thin and perfectly fitted that it looked like skin painted on Kane’s hand. “Your list.”
Anton rummaged in his belt pouch and came up with the list of names. He passed it over.
Kane perused it in leisurely fashion. “Do you invoke the right of vengeance, Governor?”
“I do.” It was good to be governor. He had the power to declare his own right of vengeance against anyone who dared to cross him.
The hand was held out expectantly once more. Silently Anton laid a sheaf of parchments in the hand. The required proof that his targets had all earned vengeance from him. It was mostly a formality for him to produce it. As governor, he could fabricate any evidence he needed and there was no one to gainsay his word.
However, the protocols must be followed. When Kane signed a writ, he was vouching for the validity of both the contract and the evidence for the contract. Should the writ later be proven invalid, Kane would die for it and not the customer contracting for the assassination. It kept the guild from running around killing anyone whom it chose. Or at least that was the reasoning. Whether it truly worked that way or not was anyone’s guess.
Kane perused the documents at length. Eventually, he murmured, “Your evidence is adequate.”
Not necessarily real, but adequate. After all, this was not an Imperial court of law. Kane required only enough documentation to cover his hide should someone challenge his signature on the writs.
The guildmaster added unexpectedly, “I have an asset ideally placed to execute several of these contracts.”
Anton itched to know who the asset might be and which of his enemies was exposed, but that was not how the guild worked. Show too much curiosity and you were likely to become a target yourself.
“There is one target I wish for you to deal with personally, Guildmaster.”
“Which one would that be?”
“The first name on the list.”
“Ahh.” A world of understanding was packed into that single syllable. Then, “That will be a difficult contract, indeed.”
Anton didn’t have a care for the difficulty of it. He was sick and tired of his enemies thwarting him, and it was time they were removed once and for all. If the cursed Boki couldn’t do the job, he would see to it himself.
Kane said quietly, “I will execute that contract personally, as you request. However, there is something special I will need for the job. And I believe you are ideally suited to provide it to me, Governor. You are an accomplished alchemist, are you not?”
Anton nodded in the affirmative. He would move heaven and earth to give Kane whatever he needed to get that particular job done. But when the assassin named his requirement, it gave even him pause. Whether the assassin planned to use the item in doing the killing or merely take it in payment for the killing Anton did not know. He knew better than to ask.
He answered quickly, “I will get it for you.”
Kane named an additional price for the other killings that would beggar most men. But he was not most men. He was Governor Anton Constantine, and he’d
been looting Dupree for many years. Anton nodded and raised his right hand in solemn promise. “We have a deal.”
“Done.”
* * *
Will had to get moving. But he felt terrible. His head swam and he alternated between shivering and sweating. He’d emptied his stomach long ago, but his body still heaved as if he had not. He felt on the verge of collapsing but dared not stop moving. Soldiers ranged throughout the city still, looking for looters and rabble-rousers. Twice he heard troops capturing and beating their victims close by.
He had to find the Heart building. Rosana would expect him there. And maybe he could get some healing for whatever ailed him.
He dragged himself along with the vague idea of also finding the black lizardman girl and getting her to take this stupid wood thing off him. His thoughts limped in desperate circles along with his feet. But he found no answers in the town’s muddy bowels.
Despair swallowed him. He had no supper, no roof over his head, and no coin to buy either. His message was delivered, his grand quest finished before it began. The man who was supposed to help him had instead taken away his name and threatened to kill him. His parents were dead, his home destroyed. What was he supposed to do now?
A tavern. Maybe he could tuck himself into a corner and go unnoticed for the night. Maybe work for a meal. A shout went up ahead of him, and three soldiers broke into a run, rushing toward him.
He backed up a few steps, ducked into a side street, and ran for his life. If he was lost before, now he was turned around and confused to boot in the maze of narrow, dark streets. He didn’t run far; he was simply too exhausted to go on. He crouched in a fetid alley, dizzy with sickness and fear.
He ducked behind a pile of empty, decrepit barrels. Something—someone—had just slipped into the alley from the far end. Someone up to no good, if the way the person was sliding from shadow to shadow was any indication. The cloaked and hooded stranger stopped in a recessed doorway not far ahead of him and froze there, nearly invisible, as if waiting to meet someone.
Will debated what to do. He dared not reveal himself to the dangerous-looking stranger. Then another figure came up from behind Will, gliding past his hiding place silently, and he was left with no choice but to stay put. The second person was shorter and stockier than the first. But he, too, wore a dark cloak and deep cowl.
The first figure waited until the second was abreast of him before stepping out of the doorway. Shorty lurched.
Whispered snatches of a whispered conversation floated to Will.
“… entire southern quadrant and west wall locked down…”
“… riot down by the Red Boar Inn…”
“… army’s on a rampage…”
Then Shorty whispered brusquely, “I have a job for you—”
“Who and how many?” Will thought he heard a sigh in the tall stranger’s whispery voice.
“Three for you. There are others, but I can take them easily enough.”
The tall one muttered, “The writs?”
Shorty rustled under his cloak and produced a narrow leather tube. “Here. Signed by Kane himself.”
Will bit back a gasp. The name was legend. These men weren’t common murderers. Worse. Much worse. They were Imperial assassins if they were passing around writs of execution. He was dead if these men discovered him eavesdropping on Assassin’s Guild business.
The scroll tube disappeared under the tall one’s cloak as he murmured so frigidly Will felt the cold ripple across his skin, “Consider it done.”
The short man nodded tersely and departed, slipping away into the night. After Shorty had disappeared, the tall figure strode directly toward Will’s pile of barrels. Stopped before it.
A harsh voice slid from the darkness of the hood. “You may come out, now.”
Will hesitated for an instant, but the shadowy figure glided unerringly to his hiding place and loomed above him, waiting. Menace wafted off the figure like vapor curling off ice. Dead. I am dead. He’d survived a Boki attack and a homicidal guildmaster, but there would be no escape from this faceless assassin.
Surreptitiously, Will unbuttoned the loop holding his dagger down. And there was always his uncertain magic. Pitiful protection against the danger emanating from the tall form before him. Reluctantly, he stood.
“How much did you hear?” a half-whispered rasp demanded.
“Nothing,” Will replied nervously.
“You lie.” A pause. “But I don’t suppose it matters. Anton’s soldiers will kill you long before they stop to question you on who or what you’ve seen.”
Maybe it was fatigue that made him reckless. Or maybe he was just too sick to have a care for his well-being. Will blurted, “Why don’t you just kill me here and now? Then I can’t carry any tales.”
The tall form visibly recoiled. “I have no writ of execution for you. You are perfectly safe with me until I get one … or until you threaten me and my … associates.”
A delicate way of putting it. Will replied carefully, “Truly, sir. I only heard a few snippets, and they made little sense.”
An almost soundless chuckle. “Now that was honestly said.”
Silence descended upon the alley. Faint sounds drifted to them on the night air of shouting in the distance. A ruckus of some kind, but far away.
“You must get off the street,” the stranger announced.
“Actually, I was thinking the same thing. If you know a place where I can go, I’ll gladly avail myself of it.”
“You look sick. The Heart is the destination for you, methinks.”
Hope flickered in his breast. Was it possible that this menacing stranger would take him exactly where he wanted to go? Careful not to sound too eager, he replied, “Actually, I do not feel well.”
“Come, youngling.”
Youngling? That was an elven term. Was this person an elf then? Or was he just using the word to throw Will off?
The cloaked figure continued, “We must go. Now.” His voice dropped into a bare whisper. “Evil comes this way.”
A chill snaked its way down Will’s spine. The dire warning had a prophetic ring about it. “What sort of evil?” he breathed.
“Pray you never learn of it firsthand. But I fear that will not be your fate—for I believe it comes for you.”
Evil? Coming for him? Will had no more time to wonder what his impromptu companion meant, for the man froze abruptly.
The hooded figure breathed, “Get down.”
Will dropped into a crouch, easing back into his original hidey-hole while the stranger swept past him and into a doorway across from Will’s position. The man’s black cloak blended seamlessly into the shadows. Will was startled at how totally the tall stranger disappeared. One moment he was there, and the next he wasn’t. Had Will not seen him hide in that alcove, he’d never have known the man was there. It was uncanny. And, frankly, unnerving.
A pair of soldiers turned into the alley from the nearest end, walking and talking noisily. “… see the look on ’is face when that crone whacked ’is knees wit’ ’er broom?”
The second soldier guffawed as the pair strode past Will and the cloaked stranger’s position. “Bet the old witch won’ do that again. ’E laid her flat, ’e did.”
The two soldiers swaggered on down the alley, laughing. They passed no more than an arm’s length from the cloaked man and never saw him. Will let out a relieved breath as the soldiers rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.
The stranger materialized out of the shadows like some sort of specter. “Let us make haste to the Heart.”
He probably shouldn’t follow the cloaked man like a lamb to the slaughter, but his mind was so fuzzy he could think of nothing else to do. Besides, he got the distinct impression it would be the last foolish thing he ever did to cross this man.
They made their cautious way across Dupree over the next half hour, easing from shadow to shadow, pausing often to listen for approaching soldiers. The city was crawling with
them, and the only townspeople risking crossing the army’s path this eve were being as furtive as Will and his secretive guide. The way the stranger avoided detection bordered on unnatural.
After giving him a strict order not to move from his current hiding spot, the stranger left him in a dark shadow and slipped around a corner. Several minutes passed and Will’s curiosity got the better of him. He crouched low to peek around the corner of a building. Great flying dragons, it was a guild square! With soldiers lounging at even intervals all around the open space.
He spied out the guild hall’s trim and then fervently wished he hadn’t. He was plastered against the outer wall of the Slaver’s Guild. Had he just handed himself over to an Imperial Slaver?
* * *
Syreena Wingblade reveled in the stiff breeze ruffling the white feathers that covered her scalp where humans would have hair. An urge to spread her arms and fly nearly overcame her. Not that avarians could actually fly. She could soar for a short period of time and even land lightly out of it, but the peregrine falcon portion of her spirit still longed for true flight.
“You have everything you need for your journey, Lady Wingblade?”
She turned to the handsome kindari who had been so courteous to her since she arrived in the Imperial Seat. On behalf of the Queen of Quantaine, Talissar had lent her rooms within the queen’s quarters, and he’d even provided a carriage and escort for her down to the docks and the Black Ship Courageous. Not that she, as an Imperial noble, needed protection. Who would dare to harm her and incur the wrath of the Empire, particularly at the foot of the Seat of Eternity itself?
A sailor cried a debarkation warning, and Talissar murmured, “Safe journey to you, then, my lady.”
Strange journey, more like it. As far as she could tell, she was being posted to Dupree to be some sort of official observer. Of whom she knew not, although she could guess. The governor, Anton Constantine, had a dodgy reputation in Koth. He had an even dodgier reputation in their mutual home kingdom of Culdroone. In fact, her family had been destroyed by the very cabal Anton’s family was rumored to control, the Coil. It had been her family’s debt to the Coil that landed her in indentured servitude.
