The Stiehl Assassin

by Terry Brooks

  Kol caught his breath. The offer was astonishing. It was as if everything he had ever wanted was lying within reach. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Good. Now hear me out. If Ajin refuses your offer—my offer, essentially—she will be confined to Skaarsland until my return, and for however long it takes her to change her mind. Remind her that I am her king, and whatever I decide is not up for debate.”

  Kol nodded slowly. “She is stubborn.”

  “I am stubborn, too. So you must find a way to make her realize that I intend for this to happen and will suffer no refusal. She will have you in spite of her recalcitrant nature, and her life will be the one she has always dreamed of. As will yours.”

  It was a clever trade-off, and a wickedly enticing bargain. In order for Kol to get what he wanted, he must persuade Ajin it was what she wanted, too. Or at least what she must decide she wanted. How much it would change their relationship, he wasn’t sure. But his need for her was impossible to deny.

  “I will do what you ask of me,” he said quietly.

  Cor d’Amphere’s smile was slow and appreciative. “Then do so tonight.”

  * * *

  —

  Not much preparation was necessary. Kol could cross the river and come at the Federation camp from behind. He would carry his weapons and little else. He already knew the layout of the camp and the location of the Prime Minister’s quarters. He need only vanish long enough to gain entrance and then kill the man as he slept. He had done this dozens of times over the years. His skills as a Penetrator were unequaled, and his reward for succeeding would be the fulfillment of a lifetime’s dream. Ajin would be his, and together they would eventually rule Skaarsland and see their new home in the Four Lands firmly established. Cor d’Amphere might even install her as his temporary regent, governing in his place while he returned to his new wife in Skaarsland, where preparations would be made for the migration of their people. Or perhaps he would ask Ajin and himself to arrange the migration while he remained behind…

  His mind spun with the possibilities, a host of changes looming somewhere not far ahead. Ajin would resist the bargain her father had made for her, but Kol was persuasive, and she knew how he felt about her. She knew, as well, what sort of person he was and what sort of husband he would be. And by marrying him, she, too, could gain what she desired—a return to the army, and eventually the throne itself.

  Excitement coursed through him, a rush of exhilaration and hope fueling his determination. That the king should offer him this opportunity was only slightly troubling. Necessity was the mother of invention, and the king would want his troublesome daughter brought under some sort of control before he restored her to favor. So what better way than to wed her to her closest friend and give her the assurance of his blessing and a path to the throne?

  His thoughts of the future were jumbled and twisted around his plans for this night, and he knew this wasn’t a good thing. He would need his full concentration for the job ahead. Nothing of what the king promised would follow if he was not successful. So he bottled up his thoughts about Ajin and the future and focused on getting through the rest of the day without letting his thoughts drift away again.

  He was only partially successful. But he excused his lapses by reminding himself that he would be fully engaged when the time arrived.

  He slept for the remainder of the day, rose to eat dinner at nightfall, and was aboard a Skaar flit and winging across the Mermidon ten miles south by the time the sun was setting. He was in no hurry to reach his destination. He had already decided to wait until at least two hours after midnight before going after Ketter Vause. He wanted not only the Prime Minister and his guards but also the bulk of the camp to be asleep when he made his strike. He would be swift, silent, and thorough before retreating the way he had come. By this time tomorrow, he would be looking forward to the return trip to Skaarsland.

  And to making Ajin his.

  * * *

  —

  Ketter Vause was finishing up plans for further action against the Skaar, which he would discuss with his commanders on the morrow. He was of two minds about this. On the one hand, it would be incredibly satisfying to attack the invaders again, this time making sure where their camp was situated and how many Skaar were occupying it. On the other hand, a truce would avoid another battle and put everything on hold while he sorted out the best way to come to another arrangement.

  What he didn’t want was another debacle like the last should he choose to attack, so he needed a plan to prevent this from happening. Nor did he want to lose any advantage he might have gained by stopping the Skaar at the Mermidon, should he choose to offer a truce. Perhaps the Skaar king would reject the truce out of hand, but Vause didn’t think so. They knew now that their vaunted ability to vanish could be negated by the Reveals, and the Federation smiths, acting under the supervision of the Dwarves, were hard at work building new machines. If another battle took place, the Skaar would be facing at least a dozen additional Reveals and men newly trained to operate them. With regard to the latter, the Dwarves were at work teaching a select band of Federation soldiers the skills required. It was something of a miracle that the Dwarves hadn’t bolted after being thrown into such a deadly battle, but Belladrin had spoken with the survivors at length when the battle was finished and persuaded them to remain.

  So with Vause’s assurance that he would abide by his agreement to terminate the conscriptions for fifty years, Belladrin had given Battenhyle, Lakodan, and their companions complete autonomy over the work being done on the Reveals. So far, things had gone well, and there had been no complaints.

  Vause looked up from his musings to find her watching him. “Do you require something of me?” she asked at once.

  He shook his head. “Just appreciating all the help and good advice you’ve given me.”

  “Perhaps you should give a little thought to your own situation. You are still the target of a possible assassination attempt, and Drisker Arc is no longer here to watch over you.”

  Vause made a rude noise and slammed his hand on his desk, his temper slipping. “He never watched over me in the first place! If he had, that witch wouldn’t have escaped. I trusted him to protect me, and he couldn’t manage it.”

  “He did stop her from harming you. She would have killed you otherwise.”

  “That was only half the job! He was supposed to prevent her from ever harming me! Now I have to worry about her coming back to try again.”

  She gave him a sympathetic look. “Whatever else happens, I will do what I can to keep you safe. I intend to sleep in the other room until this matter is concluded. No one will be able to get to you without coming through me.”

  He was shocked by her offer. To put herself in such danger took a fair bit of courage. “I can’t allow it.”

  “You can’t stop it,” she replied calmly. “It doesn’t appear to me that your guards were all that successful in protecting you. You might have better luck with me. Besides, what does it hurt? Think of how much better it will make me feel, to be of some use to you in this matter. I value you and my position as your personal assistant too highly to allow anything to happen to either. I will sleep on a mat off to one side in the shadows, where I cannot be seen. Because I am a light sleeper, I will hear anyone attempting to enter.”

  Vause rose, walked around his desk, and took her gently by the shoulders. “If it makes you feel better to sleep close by, I would be most pleased to have you do so. Having you close means a great deal to me.”

  He realized as he spoke the words that he might have gone too far, that his professing his attraction to her might cause her discomfort—even cause her to leave his service entirely. But she merely smiled and said, “You have done more for me than I could ever have expected, and you will always be my friend.”

  Releasing his grip on her shoulders with a fond pat, he we
nt back to work on his agenda for tomorrow’s meeting.

  * * *

  —

  Kol’Dre waited until well after midnight before attempting his attack on Ketter Vause. He had arrived much earlier, five miles from his destination, concealed his flit in heavy undergrowth, and hiked to less than two hundred yards of the camp perimeter to wait for nightfall. When it was dark enough, he breached the watch lines and crept to within shouting distance of the army. All of this went smoothly enough, and he was not once in any danger of being discovered. He had dozed on and off afterward for the time that remained, his thoughts drifting frequently to Ajin and how she would react to the idea of being married to him.

  He did not fool himself. She would fight the idea at first. She might even think it a big mistake. But she was a practical woman, and she would come to understand what was to be gained by choosing to accept her father’s terms. She would be worried about her mother and want to see her protected. She would be aware of her own danger if she were to be confined for too long in Skaarsland with her stepmother so close at hand and so eager to see her eliminated. She would know it was best to do the smart, practical thing and accept Kol as her husband.

  Then it would be up to him to make sure she never regretted it.

  The moon and stars provided a clear indicator of the time he had to complete his work as he started forward, choosing to make directly for the Prime Minister’s tent. He had invoked his ability to disappear, but he stayed in the shadows anyway, avoiding any contact with passersby. There were few to be found at this hour, and most were concentrating on getting to wherever they were going and paying scant attention to anything around them.

  So the path to Ketter Vause was completed easily enough.

  But at the main entry, he hesitated, debating. It would be quicker to cut an opening into the rear of the tent and enter that way. Cutting through canvas was noisy, though, and a rent in the fabric might be noticed before he could finish with Vause. So he used a different approach and distracted the two sentries by drawing them away from the tent opening just long enough to allow him to slip in behind them before they moved back at their stations.

  Once inside, he took out his killing blade, the one he favored most—long and thin and razor-sharp—and waited for his eyes to adjust. An aide dozed in his seat at a desk to one side, paperwork scattered before him. Behind him, tent flaps concealed another chamber, likely an anteroom to the Prime Minister’s bedchamber. There would be guards there, as well. Remaining invisible—a necessary precaution—he eased the flaps aside for a quick peek and spied a pair of guards standing watch on the far side of the room. They were standing close together in front of the flaps leading to the Prime Minister’s sleeping chamber, whispering to each other. Good enough. He slipped swiftly inside and started forward.

  And almost immediately he stopped. A figure lay stretched out on a sleeping mat to one side, barely visible in the shadows. In his eagerness to reach Vause, he had almost missed this. A closer look revealed a young woman. As he started moving again, she lifted her head and looked directly at him. He froze, knowing her reaction was automatic, her response to a sense of something being there. But she couldn’t possibly see him; no one could. He had shifted into his Skaar invisibility mode. So he waited while she stared in his direction a moment longer and then lay down again, closing her eyes and returning to sleep.

  A trickle of sweat ran down Kol’Dre’s back. That had been much too close. For a moment, he could have sworn the woman had seen him, but the guards right in front of him had done nothing to suggest he was visible. He gave it another few moments, and then slipped behind them and through the curtains to the bedchamber beyond.

  Ketter Vause lay asleep on the far side of the chamber, snoring softly. Kol’Dre dropped his Skaar concealment and crossed slowly to the bedside. This was all too easy. He took a long minute to study the sleeping man, his hands at his sides, his blade held ready. Already, he was picturing himself with Ajin, the two of them bound together by marriage and life.

  He leaned forward carefully, placed his hand over the sleeping man’s mouth, and drove his blade through the other’s ear and into his brain. The Prime Minister’s eyes flew open in shock, but his momentary struggles were weak, and in seconds his eyes dimmed and his body went limp.

  Kol’Dre kept his hand firmly in place over the other’s mouth a few seconds longer, just to be sure, then released him and stepped back. A quick look around revealed the chamber was still empty. No one had been alerted; no one had come to investigate.

  He exhaled slowly. The matter was over and done with. He wiped his blade on the bedcovers and sheathed it. Ketter Vause was no more.

  * * *

  —

  He was halfway back across the room and on his way to making an escape when a fist slammed into his chest. He grunted in response, the unexpected blow telling him everything he needed to know. Already he could feel the cold steel of a knife driven deep between his ribs and into his heart. He could feel the blade moving about inside him almost experimentally. Kol fought to break free, but his ability to function was gone. It was as if, in a moment’s time, his strength had been sapped, and now his life was draining away with it.

  Ajin, he thought in despair.

  He would never see her again.

  A figure materialized in front of him, and the shock of seeing the face of the young woman who had been sleeping in the anteroom was even greater than the realization that he was dying.

  “Cor d’Amphere thanks you greatly for your service and bids me tell you it is no longer required,” whispered Belladrin Rish.

  They were the last words he heard before he died.

  THIRTY

  TEN DAYS EARLIER, WHEN Clizia Porse walked past Tavo Kaynin and beyond the firelight of the Federation camp, she did so knowing she would not be immediately followed. She left Drisker and his young companions in such a state of disarray that it would take them some time to pull themselves together before they came after her. But she was not foolish enough to think they would not attempt pursuit, so once in the shadows she picked up her pace.

  She was caught off guard at finding Drisker hiding in the Prime Minister’s quarters, but she had turned the tables on him quickly and then faced down the brother before his sister could come to his aid. Still conflicted, that boy, but he had given her a clear path to an escape, which was all she needed. Her plans for doing away with Ketter Vause were shattered, along with any reasonable chance of getting to him later on. From now on, they would be looking after him closely, and extra precautions would certainly be taken to catch her out.

  She had been lucky this time, and she knew it. But she could not count on that sort of luck again. Next time, it might turn out to be an entirely different story.

  She hiked back to where she had left her small airship, glancing back every now and then to cast with her magic for any sign of pursuit. But she detected nothing and decided that even though the Druid and his companions would eventually give chase, they wouldn’t do so immediately. What they would do was give her time enough to get clear and begin to feel safe, and then pounce on her like hungry cats.

  Because they wouldn’t have any trouble tracking her, would they? Not with that bit of magic Drisker had flung into her cloak at the end of her confrontation with Tavo to make sure he could find her later.

  Well, let him come.

  She was rethinking all of it—everything she had planned and done, everything she had thought to accomplish or still might. Having done so, she decided she wanted him to find her. Drisker would never give up searching for her, so the obvious solution was to give him a clear path and then dispatch him. What was a little more problematic was how she might accomplish this. She might be a match for the wishsong siblings, but Drisker was another matter entirely. He was her equal in magic, her verbal disparagement of him notwithstanding. So however she chose to elimin
ate him had better be something he wouldn’t see coming.

  She reached her airship, climbed aboard, powered up, and flew off. She did not bother with attempting to return to the Skaar encampment. That part of her life was over. Cor d’Amphere would want nothing to do with her now that she had failed him once again. All her previous successes would count for naught, her elimination of Gerrendren Elessedil, an act that had left the Elves leaderless and uncertain of what to do about it, and her successful efforts to help his daughter and the advance force gain access to Paranor and the Druids, which had resulted in the almost complete annihilation of the latter.

  No, the Skaar king would only remember that she had failed him here, and that the Prime Minister of the Federation was still alive.

  Yet she did not feel defeated. She had not lost all hope of rebuilding the Druid order with herself as Ard Rhys. All that was still within reach, once she rid herself of Drisker Arc. When that was accomplished, she could find a way to deal with the Elves and the Federation and all the others who might try to oppose her. Whatever happened after that, she was more than a match for it.

  But how was she to eliminate Drisker?

  She experienced a momentary regret at having to leave the last of her possessions behind, but none of them mattered enough to risk a return. She had the Stiehl and the scrye orb, and those were the treasures that mattered. She had the use of her skills and experience, which were more than sufficient to protect her. The rest could easily be replaced. What she needed to settle on at this point was a destination.