Zane Halloway: Omnibus Edition

by P. T. Hylton

  She found the section containing the Abditus Society documents easily enough, and it didn’t take her long to locate the volumes that contained the apprenticeship records.

  Lily heard a sound, and she ducked behind a bookshelf and waited. Before long, the sound of rattling lungs struggling to take in air joined the sounds of the footsteps. Then a warm glow of light flickered down the passageway.

  She risked a glance around the corner and saw an old man with only a few strands of hair sticking out of his head. He wore heavy robes and carried a candle enclosed in a protective orb. The orb was intended to prevent a fire if the candle were dropped, or so Lily guessed.

  The man moved toward one of the shelves and ran a long, gnarled finger along the spines before finally stopping on one and clucking his tongue in approval. He flipped pages for what seemed like an hour before finally grunting, letting out an explosive fart, and pulling a scrap of parchment and a quill out of his left sleeve. He muttered to himself as he scratched at the parchment with the quill, making marks far too small for Lily to read at this distance.

  He rolled up the parchment and slid it back up his sleeve.

  As he turned to go, he paused for just a moment and looked around slowly, his brow furrowed. Lily held her breath. Had he somehow spotted her? Impossible. Stealth was one of the areas she most excelled. Not that Zane would come out and tell her so, but she noticed a lack of annoyance on his face when they practiced stealth maneuvers.

  After a few tense moments, the old man turned and walked briskly down the aisle.

  She briefly considered leaving. There was a chance—a small one, but a chance—the old man had noticed her. The safe move was to assume he had. But the thought of returning to Zane empty handed and seeing the almost-but-not-quite imperceptible disappointment on his face was too much. She had to see this through.

  Lily waited until the echo of the old man’s footfalls drifted away before emerging from her place in the shadows. She went back to the book and started flipping through it.

  The most difficult part was figuring out the organizational system. At first, she’d thought it was cataloged chronologically, but that theory quickly broke down. It clearly wasn’t alphabetically.

  It took her ten minutes to crack it. The volume was organized by magical branch of study, which made an odd sort of sense, but the materials within each section were organized geographically.

  She rubbed her temples and shook her head to clear it before continuing. This would be easier if she had a map of the city, but she wasn’t about to dig through these dusty old stacks searching for one. That could easily take her the rest of the afternoon. She had a vague idea of where Graze’s shop was located, and so was able to narrow down her search.

  She turned another page and there it was: Baldwin Graze (Thorns & Tangles). List of apprentices.

  It appeared the elder Graze had taken two apprentices at a time, one to learn thorns and one to learn tangles. She found what she was looking for halfway down the list: George Vander (Thorns) & Irving Farns (Tangles).

  She tapped her finger on the page as she thought. She’d never heard of an abditus named George Vander. Not that she knew many abditus by name; she was hardly an expert in the field. But if Vander and Irving had been through the grueling apprenticeship process together, Vander likely knew Irving as well as anyone. At least, he had at one time. It would be a place to start.

  She suddenly wondered if there was a record of ferox apprentices in this room. Peter hadn’t mentioned whether the Ferox Society was allowed to keep their own records. Was her name in one of these books? And did the same book also have the names of Zane’s past apprentices? The ones he never talked about?

  As she was about to close the book, something on the facing page caught her eye. She blinked hard, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

  Rebecca Waters (Thorns). List of apprentices. Gilbert Locke. Lisa Howard. Jacob Von Ridden. Zane Halloway.

  It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be her Zane. She knew his feelings on magic. He used magical devices only when absolutely necessary, and he loathed those who relied on them for everyday tasks.

  If he had apprenticed as an abditus—as a thornsman no less—he must know a lot more about magic than he let on. Why had he left that field? How had he become a ferox?

  A voice behind her interrupted her thoughts.

  “Ma’am, please turn around slowly. Hands out, palms up.”

  The voice was low and gruff.

  Lily squeezed her eyes shut. The old man must have seen her. If he worked here and spent his days in the silence of the records, maybe he’d been able to hear her breathing. He could have gone back and checked if anyone was signed in. And since no one was, he could have sent in the guard.

  She should have taken off as soon as the old man had left. No use worrying about that now. Hindsight is only useful if you’re a wetlander, as the saying went.

  So far, the man had only seen her from behind. She was confident she’d be able to take him out before he got a good look at her face.

  Whatever happened, she couldn’t be captured. Zane’s disappointment if she returned empty handed would be nothing compared to his anger if she were thrown in jail. Not only would it mean he’d have to pay for her release, but it would reflect poorly on him. It could mean the end of her apprenticeship. She wouldn’t allow that to happen.

  She held out her empty hands, palm up, just as the guard had ordered. She turned very slowly, trying to get the man’s position in her peripheral vision before she attacked. She saw him, a huge man shaped like a pile of rocks. He was big but likely slow.

  Then she saw something else just behind him. Two something elses.

  There were three guards.

  “Slowly,” the man said.

  Lily kept turning toward them as her mind raced. She’d never fought this many men at once. In training, sure, but not for real. Zane occasionally brought in a few men to spar against her. These guards were all bigger than her usual training partners.

  She had to make every strike count. Every blow had to disable one of them. They had her beat in strength, size, and reach. But Lily—she had speed.

  She went for the closest man first, the one who’d spoken to her. Lunging forward, she drove her fist into his throat, delivering a sharp, powerful punch that would leave him struggling for breath the rest of the fight.

  In one fluid motion, Lily turned toward the man next to him and stomped hard on the outside of his knee, driving it down to the floor at an angle the joint wasn’t meant to bend. The man yelped like an injured animal and went down.

  The third man was struggling to get his sword free of its scabbard, one hand on the hilt and one on the sheath. He kept pulling on the sword while Lily scurried toward him, set her feet, and delivered an uppercut that rocked him back on his heels. She pressed the attack, delivering a series of jabs to the man’s face. She threw one final punch and broke his nose. He fell to his knees, blood and tears streaming down his face.

  She turned back to the second man. Remarkably, he was trying to stand up. He used his sword like a cane to push himself to his feet. Lily felt conflicting waves of admiration and disgust. The man was only doing his job—he seemed exceedingly dedicated to the task of bringing her to justice—but standing wasn’t worth the price he was about to pay for it.

  “Come on,” he said, supporting himself on his sword.

  Her leg shot forward, sweeping the sword out from under him. As he fell, she stomped on his other knee, and he yelped again. No way he was getting up now.

  Lily looked at the three downed men, two struggling for breath and one unable to stand, but all alive. Zane would be pleased. He was stoutly against killing anyone for free.

  It was dim in the hall, and she’d been moving quickly. They wouldn’t be able to identify her. And even if they had seen her face, it wasn’t likely they’d recognize her. Who was she, anyway? Just some shabbily dressed girl with dark skin.

  She walke
d away from the three men and began to climb toward the high window.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Zane sat in his study, his eyes closed, thinking about tangles.

  He was considering the particulars of this case, of killing a man who’d invented revolutionary applications for protective magics, when he heard the window open upstairs.

  He produced a knife from his sleeve and turned toward the door. The sitting room had no windows.

  It was Lily. He knew it had to be her, coming in through the window to avoid possible attacks by the Eakhart children. The thought of those kids and their ingenuity usually made him smile. But not now. Someone was entering his home, and though it was almost certainly Lily, there was the slight chance it wasn’t. It could be an assassin out to make a name for himself. Or it could be Zane’s former apprentice, the only one who still lived. Or one of the pirate Longstrain’s many widows, all of whom had vowed revenge against the assassin who’d killed their beloved husband. It could be any one of a dozen enemies or someone he’d never heard of who hated him for reasons he would never know.

  Or it could be Jacob Von Ridden.

  Zane held the knife loosely but securely in his hand. If that door opened and it was anyone but Lily, anyone at all, they would have a blade buried in their eye before they made it two steps into the room.

  After what had happened at Volst Hall, he was feeling less confident about his ability to protect himself.

  Zane heard the light footfall of a woman or a small man with some good bit of training. From the other side of the door, a voice said, “It’s Lily. May I enter?”

  He relaxed, but only a little. A good assassin never completely relaxed, even around his apprentice. Especially around his apprentice. “Come in.”

  He looked her up and down as Lily entered. Dust covered her cloak, and her hands were red and swollen.

  “You’ve been climbing,” he said. “And…fighting?”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. She was getting better at hiding her emotions, but she still slipped now and again.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He just nodded. “What did you find out?”

  She slid across the room, moving in an effortless way that always reminded him of a spider. She dropped into the chair across from him. “I have a lead.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Good. Tell me.”

  “Another boy apprenticed for Graze during the same time period Farns did. A guy named Vander. Vander focused on thorns while Farns focused on tangles.”

  He allowed himself to smile, just a little. “Good. And how does that help us?”

  “Vander may have stayed in touch with Farns, right? I mean, you apprentice with someone, you probably become friends.”

  “Possibly,” Zane allowed.

  “And if not, he can still give us insight into Farns’s character. His temperament. All the stuff you say we should investigate before going after a target.”

  “Good,” Zane said again. “The biggest problem is locating Farns. If George Vander can’t help us with that, he can at least give us background information.”

  The joy on Lily’s face disappeared. “I never told you his first name. You already knew about Vander?”

  “Oh yes. George Vander was the most important thornsman in the world ten or fifteen years ago. I didn’t send you to find the information for my sake. You needed to find it for yourself. You need to practice your social skills.” He glanced at her swollen knuckles. “How’d that go, by the way?”

  Her face reddened. “I had to hurt some people. But I didn’t beat the information out of them, if that’s what you’re thinking. Some guards caught me where I shouldn’t have been, and I had to avoid capture.”

  “How many of them?”

  “Three.”

  Zane nodded and allowed his smile to return. “Very good. But your social skills still need work. George Vander owns a shop on the Southside. At least, he did. It was very popular before the neighborhood went to hell.”

  “Where on the Southside?” Lily asked.

  “Far Southside. Near the elvish ghetto.”

  Her face went pale.

  “I said near, not in. Go to Vander’s place and see if the shop’s still there. If it is, find out what he knows. And please—” he glanced at her battered knuckles “—use words, not fists.”

  She grimaced, then nodded. “So you’re taking the job.”

  He rubbed his chin. “I didn’t say that. I’m considering.” He saw the impatience on her face. “What do you think? Should I take the job?”

  Lily got to her feet and began pacing. Good. That meant she was giving it real thought. “I’m not sure. I mean, we don’t know anything about this guy. He could be the incarnation of evil or one of God’s own saints. We just don’t know.”

  Zane decided to press her a bit. He was still trying to figure out what type of assassin she would someday become. Would she be the kind who killed for justice? Or the kind who killed for the highest bidder? Or would she be something else, something like Zane? “And is that what matters? His moral standing?”

  She ran a hand through her long black hair “It’s not irrelevant. It’s like you taught me. We take life and we have to take that very seriously. So, yes, we have to know about our target. That’s why you’re sending me to Vander’s, right?”

  He leaned forward in his seat. So far she was just miming his own words back to him. He needed to push her further. “Okay then. It’s about morals. Let me give you a situation. A poor man, a man who can’t possibly pay your fees, somehow finds out what you do for a living. He comes to you and asks you to kill his brother-in-law. The brother-in-law is abusing the man’s sister and their children to the point that the man’s afraid for their lives. Do you kill the brother-in-law?”

  “Sure. I’d investigate the situation, but, if it all checks out, I don’t see why not. If the cause is just, why not use our skills?”

  “Fine,” Zane said. “A few weeks later another poor man shows up at your door. The first poor man told him about you. Someone raped this man’s wife. The rapist bribed the lawmen and they will do nothing. Will you help him, too?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. I’ll kill a rapist.”

  “Good. Now more people who are unable to pay are coming to you. They all want someone killed, and many of them are very good at explaining why it’s morally right to do so. And now you’ve opened yourself to listening to dozens of pitches from people asking you to do your job for free. If the requestor is eloquent enough, you might just do it. And now you’ve gone from being a professional who does a difficult job for a fair price to being a vigilante willing to kill for those who present a compelling enough argument.”

  She squinted at him. “So your message is that we shouldn’t let morals weigh into our decisions?”

  Zane shrugged. “I’m simply saying if morals are your guiding compass, you’re a crusader, not an assassin. And people will expect you to work for free. Let’s not pretend our job is moral. Maybe our role is simply to perform our function as expertly as possible.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “But you’ve told me deciding which jobs to take is the most important part of what we do.”

  “Did I?” he asked.

  “And you wouldn’t spend so long deciding whether to accept a job if you didn’t care about the morals.” She smiled. “I think you’re testing me.”

  He stood up and made the knife disappear into his sleeve. “Perhaps you’re right. Or perhaps you’re wrong. Maybe I’m just trying to figure out if this Farns job is challenging enough to be worth my while.”

  The smile melted off her face.

  “Get some sleep,” Zane said. “Tomorrow you’ll go to Vander. Find out what he knows. Bring me what you find and then I’ll decide whether or not to take the job.”

  Lily frowned, brushed the dust off her cloak, and turned to go, her face a confused mess of emotions.

  Good. She could spend the night thinking about it. Maybe she would start
forming her own ideas on what she would and wouldn’t kill for.

  Zane closed his eyes and thought about tangles.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lily covered her head with the hood of her dark green cloak and kept her eyes down, hoping not to attract attention.

  Growing up, her family had been far from wealthy. They were farmers living on land owned by a lord who took a bit more every year. It had always been a struggle to stay one step ahead of whatever was needed next. Her few friends had been in similar circumstances. She would have likely remained there her whole life had it not been for the results of her Tens tests.

  Her Tens showed she had remarkable aptitude in areas she would have never considered, as had Peter’s, though in a very different field.

  When she’d become Zane’s apprentice years later, the most difficult part of the transition had been learning to appear natural in the circles Zane traveled. His clientele came from the headiest heights of the upper class, so Zane had taught her how to visit sprawling family manors without gawking at every tapestry like the commoner she was. She’d learned how to hold conversations with lords and ladies—people who wore clothing that cost more than the home she’d grown up in—without blushing.

  She’d soon developed an ability to blend in, to go unnoticed in a room full of people. She found she could drift back a few steps, angle her body into the shadows just so, and people tended to forget she existed. Which was exactly how she liked it.

  The neighborhood she was entering now was the opposite of those lofty manors. It was equally uncomfortable, but for different reasons. The way these people had to live tugged at her soul.

  The streets were covered in filth, both human and horse. The houses crowded together so close the neighbors could lean out their windows and shake hands, and many of the houses leaned at alarming angles. The streets were loud, too. Children running and playing, oblivious to the filth, women calling to the children, and men barking orders at other men. Everyone shouting.