Chapter 7
Mel left the guildmaster's quarters more troubled than ever. It had been the second time in one day that she had heard the phrase 'watch the shadows', and both times it had come from the two people that she respected the most; her father and Darlheim. It shook her to her core because those words were usually spoken by members of the public about the rogues guild itself. For the two most powerful members to use that phrase made her nervous.
She waited for the elevator and when it arrived, she told the operator to take her to the third level. She rode upwards in silence, her thoughts chaotic.
Something is coming, Hallic had told her. Protect your student, Darlheim warned. By the depths, what was going on? Was it all about the prince, or was it something more? She had no idea.
“We are here, master.”
Mel blinked as she looked at the elevator operator.
“Hmm? Oh. Right. Sorry, I was lost in thought.”
The dwarf, whom she didn't immediately recognize, smiled at her.
“I understand,” he said cheerfully. “You are a busy person. I cannot imagine how much responsibility masters like yourself have.”
Mel had to laugh at that.
“It's not that bad,” she disagreed. “Thank your for your patience.”
She stepped out of the lift and the operator winked as he pulled the lever. The cage descended out of sight and Mel set off for Joshen's quarters. She was surprised by the cheekiness of the young dwarf in the elevator, winking at a master like that.
He'd better watch himself, she thought as she passed several closed doors. Some of the higher ranked rogues were not as easy going as she was. Perhaps he was a newer member? She didn't recall ever seeing him before.
She reached the door to Joshen's quarters and put the strange dwarf out of her mind. There were more important things to worry about.
She knocked on the metal door and then waited.
Has my father made contact with the mages, she wondered. I hope so. The sooner we find that damned prince, the better.
After a minute had passed, she frowned at the closed door and knocked again, harder this time.
The door creaked under her pounding and then opened several inches, squeaking slightly.
Mel was immediately on alert. She spun around, slamming her back against the wall beside the door as she looked up and down the ramp.
She saw no one. There was only silence, which was very unusual. The guild headquarters was a busy place and it was the middle of the day. There should be runners and others hurrying from place to place. Instead, the silence was absolute and Mel berated herself for being distracted and not noticing it until now.
She drew a hidden dagger and pushed the door open with her left hand, careful to remain to the side and out of sight as it opened. There was no sound beyond the squeal of the hinges and she cautiously leaned over and peered into the room.
“Damn it,” she muttered.
There was a body lying just inside of the room, one arm outstretched as if trying to reach the door. She couldn't see its face, but she knew that it wasn't Ethen.
It must be Joshen, she thought. I've only spoken to him a few times, but the hair color seems right.
There was a pool of blood spread out beneath the body, shining in the light of the room. Whoever had killed Joshen had done so recently.
While I was with the guildmaster, Mel thought darkly. Did they know that I was away from my quarters when they attacked? Possibly.
She looked around again and then slowly stepped through the door. She closed it behind her and locked it without looking, keeping her eyes focused on the room around her.
It was a simple sitting room, with a few chairs and a couch. A ceiling light shone down on the scene of the crime and illuminated all of the corners. There was no place for anyone to hide and Mel let out a slow breath. She wouldn't be ambushed, at least not in this room.
She took a moment to squat down and check Joshen's pulse. His skin was already cold and he was clearly dead.
“Damn it,” Mel said again.
She stood up and glided silently across the room to the open door on the other side. This led into the bedroom and Mel paused to scan the room before she entered.
A wide bed took up most of the room and another door led to the lavatory. Sprawled across the bed was another dwarf, staring blindly at the ceiling. It was Ethen.
Mel's breath caught in her throat, but she kept her composure and moved slowly toward the body. Whoever had killed the two dwarves could have left a surprise or two behind them, and she was took a moment to examine the room carefully.
“Ah, there you are,” she murmured.
A thin wire, almost invisible from the doorway, was stretched from the foot of the bed to the wall, just a few inches off of the ground. Mel crept forward and crouched down to examine it. Beneath the bed, a small round metallic sphere was attached to the bottom of the mattress.
“Bomb,” she whispered. “Tricky bastards, weren't you? Well, not tricky enough.”
She lay down, rolled over on to her back and pushed herself underneath the bed. It took only a few seconds for her to detach the wire from the trigger of the bomb. Then she cut the tape that held the explosive to the mattress and slipped it into a pocket.
After that she got up again and thoroughly searched the rest of Joshen's quarters, just in case.
But that had been the only trap left by the assassin, or assassins, and she was finally able to sit down on the bed next to Ethen's body and examine it carefully.
The first thing that Mel did was to close the blank eyes. A dark stain spread out underneath Ethen's head and she could see that he had been stabbed at the base of his neck, probably while he was sleeping.
There was nothing in his pockets and no sign of a struggle and she easily worked out what must have happened.
Ethen had been resting after his journey and someone had knocked on Joshen's door while his guest slept. Naturally Joshen had opened it, not suspecting anything out of the ordinary. The assailant had probably killed him with a single thrust to the heart and then had caught Joshen as he fell and quietly laid him on the ground. Then he or she had entered the bedroom, killed Ethen as he slept and rigged the trap for whoever would come to investigate when Joshen didn't show up for his next assignment. Why they had turned the body over so that Ethen was facing the ceiling was a mystery. Perhaps to distract her so that she would rush forward and set off the trap? Well, they had failed, fortunately.
Simple, quick, neat. A job worthy of a practiced assassin, Mel thought as she looked at Ethen sadly.
But even though the general public seemed to believe that all members of the rogues guild were trained killers, they were not. Only a small handful of people were trained in the techniques of infiltration and assassination. Mel was one of them, as was her father. But there were no more than a dozen others who could claim such skills.
And none of them would do this, Mel told herself. Of that she had no doubt. Even if they had been coerced or had turned traitor, killing a fellow rogue within the guild headquarters itself would be unthinkable. No, this was the work of someone else. An outsider. But who? And why?
Two deaths just because Ethen had snooped into a private message from Annia to Darlheim? What was the point?
“The guildmaster already had the information,” Mel said softly, trying to work it out. “And once he did, it shouldn't have mattered if Ethen passed on the copy to someone else. Why kill him?”
Had Darlheim told anyone else about Annia's suspicions besides herself after he had read the message from Cindercore? She didn't think so. The old dwarf had been exhausted and would probably be sleeping for several hours. After he had rested, she was sure that he would pass along the information to senior members of the guild whom he trusted and then they could begin investigating its veracity.
And what if he never got the chance to pass on that information?
Mel gasped at the sudden thought.
&n
bsp; What if the only one who was ever told was herself? Who would believe her if Darlheim was dead? If he passed away in his sleep, and if it looked like a natural death, who would question it? After all, the guildmaster was very old and quite infirm. And if Annia was simultaneously murdered in Cindercore, the knowledge of the infiltration of the guild would be known to no one except for herself. Members of the guild would remain ignorant of the traitors among them and the king could be in great danger.
She stood up quickly as the face of the elevator operator appeared in her mind. That wink that he had given her suddenly took on another meaning.
“He was mocking me,” Mel snarled angrily. “Mocking me as he descended back down...”
She stopped for a second and gasped.
“...back down to Darlheim's quarters,” she said in a strained whisper.
Her blood ran cold and then she raced out of the room, running for the exit.
The elevator car did not respond immediately when Mel pushed the button next to the shaft. She only waited a moment before she hurried down the ramp to a ladder that ran from the top of the guild to the bottom. It was normally used only when the elevators were being serviced.
She descended the metal ladder as quickly as she could, slipping several times and almost falling in her rush to reach the guildmaster's quarters. In her heart, Mel knew that she couldn't get to Darlheim in time to save him, but she held out a faint hope that she was wrong and that when she got there, she would find the old dwarf peacefully sleeping in his bed. It was a desperate hope at best.
When she reached the bottom of the ladder, Mel stopped for a moment and looked around. Again, the area was unnaturally quiet. There was no one hurrying past carrying messages, or groups casually chatting together. It was as if the entire place was deserted. Mel had never seen it like this before and it frightened her.
Surely the entire membership hadn't been co-opted by the traitorous prince? Had it? She had to believe that wasn't possible.
She moved toward the guildmaster's quarters, all of her senses straining to detect any threats. But there was nothing to see and the only noises were the creaks and groans of the structure around her. Even the air was still. It smelled of oil, metal and dust. To Mel it seemed more like the scent of death.
The door to Darlheim's rooms was wide open and she felt a chill run down her back. She had closed that door when she'd left.
A quick glance inside of the office revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The lamps were still lit and the guildmaster's desk was still covered with papers and reports. The silence was deafening.
With her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Mel slipped into the room and stalked silently across the open space to the inner door. She stopped and took a breath, preparing for the worst. She glanced down at her dagger, its wicked edge glittering in the light, and then peered into the guildmaster's bedroom.
The lights were off and the room was draped in shadow, but the glow from the office lit the bedroom well enough for her to see the bed.
There was a lump underneath the blankets and Mel felt a faint ray of hope. Perhaps Darlheim was really just sleeping. There were no signs of a struggle and the room was very quiet.
“Guildmaster?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
There was no answer and Mel felt a pang of loss. The old dwarf had always been a light sleeper. It was a good trait to have as a rogue and he had told her when she was very young to sleep with one eye open. Mel remembered laughing at that phrase, but she had taken his advice. Now it appeared that the guildmaster hadn't slept lightly enough.
But I have to be sure, she thought grimly.
Mel touched the vambrace on her left arm and a muffled metallic click told her that it was armed. She looked around the bedroom again and then entered the room.
“Don't move, Mel.”
She froze. The disembodied voice that had spoken had come from the air around her, but she recognized it immediately.
“Father?” she said in surprise.
“Yes. Don't bother looking for me. I am on the other side of the city at the moment.”
“But...how are you doing this?” Mel asked, confused.
“I'm not. We have a new ally and he is using his talents to allow us to speak. Fortunately the guild is not shielded against magic.”
“Ah, a mage,” she said with a nod.
She looked at the figure on the bed.
“Is Darlheim dead?” she asked.
“I am afraid so. This Magic Mirror spell that our friend is using allows me to see well even in the darkness. And I can see blood soaking through the blankets. I have also seen several hooded figures converging on those quarters. You've walked into a trap.”
Mel cursed under her breath even as she felt a mixture of sadness and fear. She stared at the remains of the guildmaster.
Whoever did this will pay, she swore silently. I promise you that, Darlheim.
“What can I do?”
“Stay still. You are about to experience your first taste of magic. I doubt that you will enjoy it, but it will save your life.”
“What are you talking about?” Mel asked nervously. “What's going to happen?”
“You are going to be rescued. Now be silent. Our enemies are right outside of the office. Breathe deeply and don't move.”
Mel's next question caught in her throat as she heard a muffled sound. Darlheim's killers were inside the office!
I don't know what my father is about to do, she thought, but I won't sit here passively and wait to be slaughtered.
She sheathed her dagger and unbuckled the vambrace on her forearm. She slipped the small bomb from her pocket and wrapped the vambrace around it. Then she pulled a small pin from its inner surface and began counting.
“You can't hide from us, little girl,” a cold, mocking voice hissed from the outer room. “You have nowhere to run. Maybe if you beg for your life, we'll grant you mercy.”
Mel finished her countdown and smiled viciously as she tossed the vambrace through the open doorway.
“Here's some mercy for you,” she growled as she rolled away from the doorway.
There was a moment of silence and then an explosion ripped through the air, followed by screams of agony.
Mel stayed low as she waited to see if anyone had survived the rain of shrapnel from her device. She thought that she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom and she drew her dagger again.
“Come and get it,” she muttered.
A sudden harsh blast of light blinded her and she threw up her left hand to shield her eyes. Before she could react, a voice spoke from behind her.
“Easy now. You're safe.”
It was her father's voice.
Mel stood up cautiously, blinking rapidly to try to adjust her eyes. She realized that she was standing in a very ordinary-looking room lit by many candles. After having been in the dark bedroom of the guildmaster, it seemed abnormally bright by comparison.
She sheathed her blade and wiped tears from her eyes. She turned around to see Hallic standing a few feet away.
“Father? Where are we?”
Hallic didn't answer for a moment. Instead he stepped forward and gave her a very rare hug. Mel returned it fiercely and then released him. She knew that her father disliked being touched, even by her.
“Welcome to the mages' quarter,” he said with a smile. “Allow me to introduce our new friend, and your savior.”
He gestured at another dwarf who was standing on the rogue's left side.
“This is Larin Dunnor.”
Mel looked at the stranger. He was wearing a gray robe with red sash. His blue eyes regarded her kindly and he was smiling through his red beard.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Larin said warmly.
He bowed and gestured at the room around them.
“Welcome to my home. Please, take a seat. You've had a difficult day.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied. “I suppose you could say that.�
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There were a couple of chairs placed on either side of a small fireplace and Mel walked over and sat down on one of them. She felt disoriented, as if she was dreaming. It was only as she allowed herself to relax a bit that she realized that her hands were shaking.
The mage sat down across from her while Hallic crossed the room, picked up another chair and moved it to sit next to his daughter.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he looked at her closely.
“All right?”
Mel shook her head and rubbed her temples with her fingertips.
“I don't think so. Darlheim is dead and the guild has been infiltrated. The world that I thought I knew has been turned upside-down in the space of a few hours. No, I am far from all right, Father. Do you know what's going on?”
Hallic glanced at Larin.
“Not entirely, no,” he replied. “I asked our new friend here if he could use his magic to check on you. As I told you the last time we spoke, I've had a feeling that things weren't quite right with the guild lately. Nothing concrete, of course. Just a sense of something a little...off. So, at my request, Larin used an amazing spell that he calls Magic Mirror which allowed us to peer into the guild headquarters.”
He nodded at something on the wall across from them and Mel looked over to see a large mirror hanging there.
“We were just in time to see you enter Darlheim's quarters,” Hallic continued. “Larin was able to spot the murderers following you and he pulled you out just in time.”
He gave his daughter an admiring look.
“Good job with that little surprise you gave those damned traitors. I didn't know that you had created such a device.”
Mel had to smile. Her father's compliments were few in number and she always appreciated it when she received one.
“Thank you,” she replied. “I like to tinker, as you know, and I thought that I should bring along a little insurance when I checked on the guildmaster.”
She felt a lump in her throat as she thought of Darlheim.
“He spent his life dedicated to the guild, guiding it, protecting it from outside interference,” she continued. “And in the end, the guild itself killed him. How could this happen?”
The Dwarven Rebellion Page 9