When his gaze fell on her, he stood straighter and arched a heavy eyebrow. “Master of the Night Guild, I presume?”
“And who the bloody hell might you be?” Ilanna stopped two paces away, well within the reach of his weapons.
A wry smile played on his lips. “Come now, Guild Master. Must we play that game?”
“The one where you invade my home after beating and killing my men?” Ilanna folded her arms over her chest, a pose as stubborn and defiant as his. “You and I seem to have very different definitions of what a game is.”
“To be fair, your men attacked me.” The Hunter shrugged. “And I let your men in the sewers live with nothing but a few bruises and broken bones. That’s more mercy than I’ve offered most men.”
Ilanna snorted. “How gracious of you! Allow me to hold a feast in gratitude for your kindness.”
Again, the little smile tugged on the Hunter’s lips. “I’m not particularly hungry. I will, however, settle for answers.”
Ilanna cocked her head. “Is that all?”
“Yes.” The Hunter’s voice was calm, his posture relaxed despite the wall of steel, flesh, and bone confronting him.
Ilanna had to admit a grudging respect for the man. Anyone who can face down that many enemies without fear is either a fool or someone I’d hate to cross blades with. Everything she’d heard about him made it clear he was no fool.
“And you simply expect me to give you the answers you seek?” Ilanna pursed her lips. “After what you’ve done, I should simply order my men to cut you down. At the very least, clap you in irons and haul you around the city. No one kills my people without repercussions.”
“I think that, in this instance, you might want to consider making an exception.” A hint of disdain flickered across the Hunter’s face as he surveyed the men and women—now numbering close to fifty, including Errik, Master Hound, and the hulking Master Bloodbear—arrayed against him. “I’ve got more important things to do with my evening than killing the lot of you.”
Master Bloodbear growled and was about to step forward, but Ilanna held up a hand to stop him. “Such confidence. Perhaps too much?”
The Hunter shrugged. “I’d rather we didn’t find out.” He gestured to the earth-packed walls and floor of the tunnel. “It would be a shame to stain these fine halls with unnecessary blood.”
“Even if it’s yours?” Ilanna asked.
Again, a disdainful shrug, but no retort.
Ilanna’s estimation of the man went up another small notch. Her threat of violence hadn’t fazed him; he hadn’t reached for the dagger in his belt or the sword at his hip. He’d simply met her words with a level gaze, not a hint of fear in his dark eyes.
“Very well.” Ilanna nodded. “I will hear your questions. I do not promise answers, but you may speak your piece unharmed.”
“Very gracious.” The Hunter swept a courtly bow, which caused the Hounds and Bloodbears nearest him to flinch and raise their weapons.
Ilanna would swear a mocking smile flashed on the Hunter’s lips, but when the assassin straightened, his expression had returned to its usual impassivity.
“Ilanna,” Ria said in her ear, “are you sure this is wise?”
“If the choice is speak or fight,” Ilanna whispered back, squeezing the woman’s hand, “words kill far fewer people than blades. Especially blades in the hands of the Keeper-damned Hunter of Voramis.”
She raised her voice so all the Journeymen could hear. “Lower your weapons.”
For a long moment, none in the hall moved. Ilanna could almost hear their minds working, trying to calculate their chances of taking on the Hunter either singly or in a rush.
“The Hunter is our guest.” Ilanna’s voice was firm, hard. “For now.”
Tassat moved first, sheathing his blade and straightening from his wary crouch. The rest of House Serpent did likewise, and one by one, the assorted Hounds and Bloodbears followed suit. Master Bloodbear lowered his huge fists and removed his studded steel knuckles. Master Hound sheathed his two long dirks.
Only Errik hadn’t moved. His face remained blank, expressionless as he stared at the Hunter, sword and dagger held in a low grip. Ilanna had seen him kill men faster than they could blink from that position. She knew him well enough to know what went through his mind. Kindan had been his friend, and he wouldn’t allow the Serpent’s death to go unanswered. Not unless she ordered him to.
Ilanna rested a hand on her friend’s arm. “Don’t.” A single word, pitched low for his ears.
Something hard and cold flashed in Errik’s eyes, but after a long moment, he sheathed his blades.
The Hunter’s gaze fixed on her, a curious expression on his face. She wondered what he was thinking, but those eyes—how dark are they?—revealed nothing.
“Come.” She stepped back and motioned for him to follow. “Let us speak in private.”
Ria stiffened, but Ilanna stopped her with a quick shake of her head. To her credit, the woman held her tongue, simply fell in step a pace behind Ilanna—her Guild Master in front of her and the Hunter at her back.
Ilanna smiled at Ria’s protectiveness. She’d fallen in love with the woman’s ferocity and desire to watch out not only for Kodyn, but Ilanna herself. Ria would face the Long Keeper himself before letting anything happen to either of them. Ilanna could only hope Ria didn’t feel threatened enough to act on that nature. Ria might be good, more proficient with her weapons than most Serpents, but that was the Hunter of bloody Voramis behind her. Ilanna doubted she was that good.
Conscious of the Hunter’s eyes burning into her back, she led the way through the tunnels toward the Guild Master’s office. Darreth looked up at Ilanna’s approach, his expression curious. Then his eyes slid past her to the man walking behind Ria and the Scorpion’s face went white. He buried his nose in a stack of papers and made a clear point not to meet the Hunter’s gaze.
Ilanna opened the door and stepped aside for the Hunter to enter. “We can speak freely in here.”
With a little nod, the Hunter strode around Ria and into the office. He moved with the grace of a predator, the confidence of a warrior. He had never been in the Night Guild before—that she knew of, at least—but he walked as if he owned the place.
Ilanna made to enter next, but Ria and Errik shoved past before she could step forward. Only her stern glare stopped Masters Hound and Bloodbear from piling in after the others.
The last thing I need is for the Hunter to feel any more threatened. And, if Ria and Errik couldn’t stop the Hunter from killing her, if that was his intention, two more fighters wouldn’t do much to slow him down.
She closed the door behind her, pushed between Errik and Ria, and strode around the desk to sit in her stuffed armchair. Ria and Errik hurried to stand beside her. Neither moved to draw weapons, but their hands hovered near their hilts.
The Hunter, however, seemed perfectly at ease despite the threatening glares leveled at him. He scanned the room and nodded. “Not what I was expecting.” His gesture encompassed the room. “I’d think the Master of the Night Guild would live a bit more lavishly.”
“I’m certain you didn’t come here to judge my décor.” Fear made Ilanna’s voice a bit harder, sharper than she intended. “You have questions. Spit them out, and we’ll see if I feel like answering them.”
The Hunter leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin, that infuriating smile tugging at his lips. He remained silent for a long moment, doubtless enjoying the discomfort his reputation bred.
Ilanna waited until he opened his mouth to speak, then cut in first. “You injured and killed my men.”
“They attacked me,” the Hunter replied without hesitation. “Ask your assassin, I gave them a chance to walk away unharmed.”
“You can understand why they might think twice about inviting you into our home,” Ilanna said. “You aren’t exactly known for your friendly visits.”
“Neither are you.”
&
nbsp; Errik and Ria stiffened as the Hunter reached into his cloak, and the Serpent half-drew his sword.
The Hunter paused, his smile growing as he moved slowly. Errik’s sword came all the way from its sheath as the assassin drew a dagger, but the Hunter simply placed the blade on the desk before her.
Ilanna glanced down at the weapon, a skull-headed dagger with two ruby eyes. “Where did you get that?” she asked.
“Baronet Wyvern was kind enough to show it to me.” The Hunter sat back, once again relaxed and at ease in his chair. “We had a chat about his…relationship with the Night Guild.”
Ilanna shrugged. “You’d be surprised how many relationships we have. Not only here in Praamis, but in Voramis as well.”
The Hunter cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
Ilanna sat back in her chair now, her posture matching his. “But you didn’t come here to exchange banter about who has friends in higher places. What do you really want?”
“The truth.” The Hunter’s lips pressed into a tight line. “About Lady Chasteyn’s Bluejackets, and why the Night Guild uses them to do their dirty work.”
“Dirty work?” Ilanna struggled to hide her confusion. “What dirty work?”
“Blackmail.” The Hunter drew a scrap of parchment from his robes, again making Errik and Ria tense, and placed it on the desk before him.
Ilanna picked up the parchment and scanned its contents. “Young Lady Riandra’s blood is on your hands, Baronet Wyvern,” it read. “What is it worth to keep her death a secret?”
“You take offense at our methods of keeping the nobles of Praamis in line?” she asked as she folded the note.
“No.” The Hunter shook his head. “But when the one hired to deliver that message turns up dead, murdered, then I begin to grow curious.” For the first time, a hint of emotion cracked his featureless expression: anger. Fire blazed in his eyes, a brown so dark they almost looked black. “So why did the child carrying that message end up lying in an alley in Old Town Market?”
Ilanna’s gut clenched. Another body? No, she realized. They’d obtained the body collected by the Praamian Guards that morning, found in Old Town Market. Somehow, the Hunter had stumbled across the corpse.
But why the hell does he care?
The answer to that question could prove a very interesting one.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Hunter fixed the Master of the Night Guild with a solemn expression. Thoughts of the dead child brought anger surging into his gut, but he forced himself to keep his temper under control.
If I do or say anything wrong, those two guard dogs behind her will bite.
He found the three people before him a fascinating study. He couldn’t deny the Guild Master’s beauty—dark hair that stood in sharp contrast to her pale Praamian skin, full lips, well-formed nose and cheekbones, and her unique scent of lilies, roses, and leather. Her strong shoulders, callused hands, and trim waistline spoke of an active life.
Yet it had been her strength of will that intrigued him. She sat in her armchair with the relaxed poise of a gentlewoman at high tea, and her eyes showed not a trace of fear. She held herself and spoke with a calm self-assurance that reminded the Hunter of Kiara.
The fact that she, a woman a full head shorter than him, ruled the Night Guild spoke volumes about her temperament and character. Her underlings deferred to her automatically. She hadn’t needed to shout her men down, but she’d given the command in a tone that expected obedience. And they had. Fifty men and women with bared weapons and murder in their eyes—mingled with a healthy dose of fear, of course—had heeded her command.
Clearly she’s not the sort to be cowed into submission.
And the way the two behind her hovered, clearly they cared about her. Both looked ready to throw themselves at the Hunter at a moment’s notice. Everything about the man—from his dark glare, wary eyes, tense posture, and grey clothing a match for the Hunter’s own—screamed assassin. Very likely a skilled one, given the way the rest of his kind deferred to him. He smelled of sword oil, wood, and musk, a manly scent that spoke of an affinity for violence.
The third, the broad-shouldered woman with skin the color of Vothmot kaffe, was a mystery to him. Her unique scent of gardenias, crabapples, and fresh-cut grass intrigued him almost as much as her visible strength and ferocity. He’d heard tales of the warriors of distant Ghandia and Issai but never met one in battle. Judging by the way she crouched like a lioness over her cub, he wasn’t certain he’d want to.
His gaze returned to the Guild Master. “You’ve yet to answer my question.”
He hadn’t missed the slight narrowing of her eyes, the sharp intake of breath at his words. He’d caught her off-guard.
To her credit, she recovered in an instant and shot back, “You think us somehow to blame for the child’s death?”
The Hunter shrugged. “The thought had crossed my mind. After all, the reputation of the Night Guild is known far and wide. The things they do to children…”
That elicited an interesting reaction from the woman before him. She stiffened, her features somehow growing more attractive as they hardened into a glare. “Your reputation isn’t one of peace and harmony, Hunter,” she fired back.
The Hunter inclined his head. “On that, we can agree.”
Inwardly, he grinned. She has fire this one. Watcher help whoever tries to tame her.
“Permit me a moment, will you?” the Guild Master asked.
The Hunter raised an eyebrow.
The Guild Master ignored him and turned to the man beside her. “Errik, fetch Darreth for me.”
The man, Errik, shook his head. “Not a damned chance. I’m not leaving you here with him.”
“If he wanted me dead, Errik,” the Guild Master said, her tone patient, “I’ve no doubt I’d be speaking to the Long Keeper at this very moment.”
The Hunter allowed his smile to show.
Errik fixed the Hunter with a hard glare, then stalked around the desk toward the door. The Hunter never took his eyes from the Guild Master as the door opened, then closed a few seconds later.
“You called, Master Gold?” came a new voice.
The Hunter turned to find the bespectacled man from the desk outside standing as far away from him as possible. His face remained the same ashy pale color, and despite his attentiveness to the Guild Master, he shot nervous glances at the Hunter from the corner of his eye.
“Tell me, Darreth, whose script is this?” Master Gold held out the note the Hunter had brought.
The nervous man took the parchment from the Guild Master and scanned it for a few seconds. “Journeyman Entym’s, I believe.”
“Have Entym sent here at once.” She spoke in a quiet voice, yet one that brooked no argument.
“Of course, Master Gold.” The man gave the Guild Master a little bow, shot a nervous glance at the Hunter, and fled from the room.
Master Gold leaned back in her chair. “If one of my Journeymen sent the note, perhaps they will be better-suited to give you the answers you seek. While we wait, perhaps you might tell me why it’s so important that you find out the provenance of that blackmail note. After all, you yourself said you care little about how my Night Guild handles our business in Praamis.”
“And I don’t.” The Hunter shook his head. “But when children end up dead in the streets, that’s when I start to care.”
“Which is what I find most curious of all.” A smile played on the Guild Master’s lips as she leaned forward. “Why should you, legendary assassin of Voramis, care about one Praamian child? Unless you’ve been paid to hunt down his killer, of course. Though I find that highly implausible, given the body was first discovered this morning.”
The Hunter remained silent as he pondered how to answer her question. He’d expected it and had prepared a lengthy lie, yet now, facing the Master of the Night Guild, he knew his deceit would hold less water than a shattered crystal goblet.
He drew in a deep breath. �
�Would you believe me if I told you I had a soft spot for innocent children who have no one to defend them from the evils of this world?” It was true, but it sounded better spun into a lie—one someone like the Guild Master could believe.
“An assassin with a heart of gold?” Master Gold chuckled. “Would you believe me if I told you we use the Bluejackets to run our messages as a way of helping the orphans?”
The Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
Master Gold spread her hands. “We are who we are, Hunter. We are an enterprise dedicated to profit, pure and simple. Yet on those occasions when it is possible, we do what we can to ensure coins find their way into the pockets of those who need it.”
The Hunter couldn’t tell if she was lying or not—she would have made a superb actor, that much he knew.
Just then, the door opened. The man who entered was short and round, nearly the perfect circle, with a bald head that sat like a ball of dough atop his pale, pasty body. His robes bore ink stains that matched the black smudges on his hands and face.
“Y-You summoned me, Guild Master?” He wiped a beat of sweat from his sloping forehead.
Master Gold held out the note. “Did you pen this?”
The man, Entym, took the parchment and studied it. “I did.” His expression grew curious. “But I see no error in the lettering or the message. I thought it succinct enough for—”
Master Gold raised a hand, and the man’s words stuttered to silence.
“Did you hire a Bluejacket to deliver this to Baronet Wyvern?” Master Gold asked.
“Yes.” The Journeyman bobbed his round head, which set his cheeks wobbling. “Was it not delivered?”
“No,” the Hunter growled. “The boy carrying the message ended up dead.”
Entym’s eyes widened. “By the Mistress! How terrible, truly terrible!”
Darkblade Justice: An Epic Fantasy Murder Mystery (Hero of Darkness Book 7) Page 18
