The Reluctant Assassin Boxset

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  Doing her best impression of the condescending instructor, Skylar said:

  "Sugar and lies

  and everything nice

  that's what I'm made of

  find me or divine me

  but surely don't bind me

  or you'll get nothing at all

  this maze is a test

  and if you're the best

  then you'll win the grand prize of it all."

  As soon as she was done speaking, everyone went quiet. Glances passed between them, which told Zayn that they'd heard what he'd heard as well. He kept quiet until someone finally said it.

  "Find me or divine me," said Vin, shaking his head.

  "We've been playing this game all wrong," said Keelan.

  Skylar smacked her hands together as if she were squashing a bug. "We've been playing by his rules."

  "I think that's the lesson," said Zayn. "We're thinking like students, but life isn't like that. There's not always a textbook answer."

  "So how do we find him?" asked Vin.

  "Ignore what he said," said Zayn. "It's meant to confine our thinking. If you're going to find someone who doesn't want to be found, how would you do it?"

  "Depends on where he is," said Portia.

  "We know he's in the city," added Keelan.

  "Do we?" asked Zayn. "He's always shown up on his time. He could be coming from anywhere."

  "What about what we know of him? You know, that he's like Dionysus, or maybe is Dionysus," said Keelan.

  "Then we're looking in the wrong spot," said Skylar. "Ain't no way the god of wine and parties is in the Undercity. He's probably in a bar in the city."

  As soon as Skylar said it, everyone's eyes widened with understanding.

  "And we know someone who knows like all the bars in the city," said Skylar.

  They hurried back to the house, finding Petri in the living room on the couch eating a bowl of cereal with an overlarge spoon. Her mouth was full when they burst in. She stared back at them, looking like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  "Wha—"

  "Do you know any bars with a heavy wine, honey, and madness theme?" asked Skylar.

  Petri crunched down on the cereal and proceeded to finish the bite in her mouth while they watched. When she was finished, she asked, "Asylum Grapes?"

  "That's got to be it," said Zayn.

  They rushed out the door, headed straight to the Green Line, checking their phones for the location of the bar. When they made it to Asylum Grapes in the fifth ward, they realized Marley was still with them, but no one questioned the orange tabby as they burst into the bar.

  The place was a mix between a harem and a mental hospital, with padded walls covered in vineyard designs. Thankfully, it was still early afternoon, so the place was relatively empty, except for a private room in back. They found Instructor Minoan in robes, lounging on a bed of pillows with three half-naked attendants, two female and one male, conversing quietly while sipping on wine and nibbling on fresh bruschetta.

  As soon as they burst in, his eyes widened with surprise. He dismissed his attendants, poured a glass of wine, and held it up to them.

  "Congratulations," slurred the instructor, clearly a little drunk.

  "We've won the game," said Zayn. "Hand over the grand prize."

  "Have you now," he said as he took a sip from his glass.

  The instructor's form wavered slightly, indicating an illusion. Zayn moved towards the door, but Skylar was faster, throwing a shadowy rope around Instructor Minoan before he could escape.

  "Gotcha," said Skylar.

  "Not quite," said Instructor Minoan with a victorious smile on his lips. "As I said in my riddle, you cannot bind me!"

  "But you're not bound," said Skylar with an equally victorious smile. "This is but a shadow. You're free to leave at any time."

  The instructor tested the rope of shadow around his waist, finding it insubstantial.

  "Clever girl. I thought that clause would keep me safe." He sighed. "I guess I actually have to hand over the prize. Priyanka warned me there were some cunning teams."

  "You've talked to Priyanka recently?" asked Zayn, hopefully.

  "Ah," said the instructor, passing his fingers across his lips as if they were a zipper. "I cannot say."

  When Instructor Minoan reached into his robe, everyone reacted as if he were about to escape. But he pulled out a stoppered jar and handed it to Skylar.

  "Six doses of ambrosia," said Instructor Minoan. "One for each of your team."

  "What does it do?" asked Skylar, holding up the jar to the light. A glistening orange liquid, almost like a marmalade, sloshed around inside the glass.

  "It gives protection for a short time," he said. "Use it wisely, for you will never receive it again. Farewell, it appears my time is at an end."

  Instructor Minoan gave them a flourishing bow at the same moment a waitress in a toga came in with a tray of fruits and cheeses. When they looked back, he was gone.

  The waitress frowned. "So...who's going to pay his bill?"

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Wayward Theater, May 2016

  The golden ticket

  With the sounds of applause still ringing in his ears, Zayn slumped into the makeup chair, throwing his boots onto the counter. In their final week at the Wayward Theater, they'd performed five shows, including two on Saturday. With the Sunday matinee complete, they were done with their obligations.

  The others weren't as worn out as he was. They were having drinks with the owner in the greenroom. Zayn had left because he didn't want to bring down their mood with his aggravation. The play had been a smashing success, they'd had packed audiences every night after the first show, but they'd failed at the one thing the play was meant to do: get them an invite to The Diamond Eternal Ball.

  Zayn crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at the calendar on the wall. The picture for the month of May was a cat on a stage doing what he assumed was Hamlet based on the tiny skull in the cat's paw. But that's not what he was mad about. There were only three days before The Diamond Eternal Ball. Not enough time to do another show, one that would get them an invite.

  He sensed a presence lurking behind him. The owner kept coming back to drag him into the other room, not only for drinks, but to extend the run of the play. But as successful as it'd been, they hadn't come to Invictus to be on stage, and so he'd declined, regardless of the rising percentage of cut offered each time.

  "I told you, I'll join later," said Zayn, ripping another flier in half, before crumpling it into a ball. "I just don't feel like celebrating right now."

  "Are all human actors this moody? Especially after a successful play?" asked a cold voice from behind him.

  Zayn nearly fell out of his chair as he pulled his boots off the counter, looking up into the almost golden eyes of the hooded maetrie he'd seen at the back of previous shows. Precept. Zayn recognized the maetrie from when he'd broken into the embassy.

  "May I help you?" asked Zayn.

  Precept tilted his head, a sign that something was wrong. When Zayn remembered the bracelet on his wrist blocking the maetrie's passive charm, he let his face slacken and his eyes take on a glossy quality. The change brought a slight creasing around the eyes.

  "Your play is quite remarkable," said Precept.

  "Thank you," said Zayn, trying to sound like he'd just been drugged.

  "Though no match for the proper forms in the Eternal City, it was amusing enough." Precept handed him a glass ball that glowed with a golden warmth. "This will get you into The Diamond Eternal Ball three days hence. You will perform for the prince, but do not presume to make eye contact, or change anything from what I have seen thus far. It was good for a human play."

  Zayn thought he was going to say more, but the tall maetrie swept from the room as if the walls themselves would obey his commands.

  Holding the warm golden ball on his palm, a profound sense of relief overcame him. He'd been pursuing
the idea of the play getting them an invite for so long without fruition, he'd thought that he'd led the team wrong. Even in that moment, with the invite in his hand, it didn't feel real.

  He found the others in the greenroom with the owner. Petri was perched on the back of the gray couch with a mug clutched between her hands, still in her stained glass face makeup. Her dark hair had been untamed and hung around her shoulders. She looked like she was trying to hold back a smile, but doing a terrible job.

  Skylar was alternating between taking drinks and wiping silver paint from her face using a handy wipe while laughing and talking with the others, who stood at the center of the room in their costumes. The owner, upon seeing his arrival, raised a glass in salute and slipped from the room.

  "About time you joined us, cuz," said Keelan, wrapping his arm around Zayn's shoulder.

  "Good you came," said Portia, "It wasn't right celebrating our last play without you."

  "It's not our last play," said Zayn.

  No one reacted at first, except for Keelan, who punched him in the arm and said, "As fun as this has been, we really need to get back to focusing on the Academy. I'm so behind on my homework for O'Keefe. If I screw up another trinket, she said she was going to partner me with Eddie next year in the advanced class."

  "No," said Zayn, holding up the golden ball, "we're not performing at the Wayward Theater."

  "Is that...?" asked Keelan, eyes white with excitement.

  "An invite to The Diamond Eternal Ball, yes."

  The others whooped and hollered, patting him on his back.

  "You were right," said Vin. "They invited us. I was beginning to doubt they would."

  "Me too," said Zayn. "Which means we're not done. We need to prepare for the next show, but this time the stakes are higher. We're performing for the prince."

  Skylar let out a low whistle.

  Keelan shrugged his shoulders. "What's the worst that can happen? We'll be in the embassy where we want to be, even if we bomb."

  Zayn saw where their thoughts were going. "Remember what we're learning in Konig's class? Focus on the play, nothing else. We're there for a performance, just like we've been doing for months now."

  "Right," said Keelan, shaking his head, looking sheepish for his comment, "sorry."

  "No worries," Zayn said. "But make sure we're prepared in three days' time. No talking about it, or thinking about it. Focus on the play, and only that, but you know, bring some extra gear in case we get asked to do more than The Liebereisen of Kanedari."

  When Zayn moved to leave the room, Keelan said, "But you just got to the after-party."

  "If we're headed to The Diamond Eternal Ball, I have some things to do before we go. Nothing big. I just need to check on things."

  They seemed to accept his lie, or knew there was no point in asking because he wouldn't tell. Zayn had one more thing to do, but it didn't have anything to do with The Diamond Eternal Ball. It had to do with a certain question he'd been asked by the Lady of Varna. He didn't have an answer, yet, but he was close.

  Chapter Thirty

  Honeycomb, May 2016

  Winding up the agent

  A day before The Diamond Eternal Ball, Zayn was standing in the back of Instructor Konig's class, barely paying attention to the lecture about how quazaefs are used in some divination rituals, because he knew this section of the classwork tome by heart.

  He was busy thinking about Varna and waiting for class to end so he could ask the instructor a few questions. He'd nearly made up his mind on how he would answer the Lady's question, but it was a matter of which method.

  "...but these are the recorded and generally known procedures of divinations. But don't forget that prophecy or fortune-telling can be wrong. As we've discussed time and time again, when a seer peeks at the future, they're not seeing a version of the future that's written in stone, but a likely probability based on the intentions of those involved. Sometimes intentions tangle, creating a tipping point." Konig made a T with his hands, rocking the top portion. "A nudge here sends the prophecy this direction, or a bump here sends it the other way. This can happen when there are competing intentions, creating a multifaceted future. Of course, a good seer can see through these conflicts and suss out the answer to this complex statistical conflux, but going down this path takes you into the deeper mysteries of the Oculus Hall. For the Academy, it's enough to understand the possibilities."

  Instructor Konig glanced at his watch.

  "And that should do it for today. Remember next class, your divination stone should be ready. I will test it and grade accordingly. If it cannot predict a randomly chosen and rolled dodecahedron within an 86.7% hit rate, then you will not pass this portion of the class. You are dismissed."

  As his classmates shuffled towards the door, Zayn pushed through the crowd towards the instructor, who was gathering his notes from the floor.

  "Hello, Mr. Carter, what can I do for you?"

  Zayn checked to make sure most of the class was almost gone.

  "I have a question, theoretical of course, about some obfuscation strategies," said Zayn.

  "You know I love a good spitball session, whatcha got for me?" asked Instructor Konig, his bushy mustache waggling.

  "I've been thinking a lot about the Sleeper Agent class," said Zayn.

  The instructor's lips flattened. "Hmm...yes, go ahead."

  Zayn hesitated, and not because he didn't want to ask the question, but because there'd always been a nagging doubt in his head about Priyanka's loyalties. Was she truly a friend to the Lady of Varna, or was she being blackmailed or held by an irrevocable curse? He wanted to believe the latter, that Priyanka hated the Lady as much as he did, and was quietly helping him in his quest by providing the knowledge and magic to defeat her.

  But another part of him thought that he might be projecting. That because he liked her, he believed her good intentions. But that might not be the case. In fact, Priyanka might be testing him for the Lady by providing knowledge—delivered by an unwitting or witting Instructor Konig—that would only lead to his failure.

  These two images of his patron warred in his head. Was she a friend or foe? Was she helping him against the Lady? Or was she setting him up to fail?

  "What if rather than memory deletion, new memories were added that contradicted the first, suggested that someone's mind had been made up in a different way at one point. Then later, that false memory could be removed and the original intention would take over. Would that work?"

  Instructor Konig tapped on his chin as his eyes roved back and forth. "I suppose I understand what you're asking. It's a little different twist to the Sleeper Agent gambit. You're not deleting anything, but I still think the issue of unintended consequences would be in effect. You never know how the subconscious mind will react to forced changes, creating built-up forces that could eventually break the mind."

  "What if those unintended consequences are palatable? Within the allowable risk profile?" asked Zayn.

  "That's always the question. How much are you willing to risk?" asked Konig, with a throwaway shrug. "But these are all theoretical questions. It's impossible to create an ethical experiment to test the hypothesis, so we'll never truly know."

  "Hmm...I see," said Zayn. "I have one more theory, you know, for fun."

  Instructor Konig smiled, but his eyes were gravely serious.

  "Yes, go ahead."

  "You talked about conflicting intentions. What if there are multiple, competing intentions, not a few, or even a dozen, but lots. Could that obfuscate a prediction?" asked Zayn.

  Instructor Konig nodded as if he'd heard this question before. "Yes, yes. But then you run into the issue of the Archibald Paradox, which basically states that once you get past even two or three competing intentions, that having more intentions, regardless of the variety, makes it easier to see the eventual future."

  "That doesn't make any sense," said Zayn.

  "It does if you recall that a seer is seeing the f
uture based on what's in people's minds. If there are more people thinking about something, then it's easier to get a better picture of it, no matter how good they're hiding it. It's like taking multiple versions of a fuzzy picture and comparing the common points to get a better view." He snapped his fingers. "Which is why conspiracies are more difficult the more people you get involved, for the same reason. The more people you have thinking about a goal, the easier it is to see it. Which is why there are no large-scale wars between the realms, because it would be easy to predict."

  "But what about the Diamond Court Embassy? It arrived and no one knew what it was for until they announced it," said Zayn.

  "That's because it's a benign intrusion into this world. If Queen Zaire had bad intentions for the city of sorcery, the seers in Oculus would have seen it." He wrinkled his forehead. "Is this what this is about? The embassy? Are you worried about it, because there's nothing to be worried about."

  "No, not at all," said Zayn, looking at his shoes. "Like I said, I'm just curious. You teach a really good class and it makes me think."

  Instructor Konig patted him on the shoulder. "Wonderful to hear. I'm quite pleased. Anyway, if there was going to be an issue at The Diamond Eternal Ball, I wouldn't be going."

  Zayn's head snapped up. "You're going to be there?"

  "Yes indeed. I received an invite last week. The queen invited a number of dignitaries from the city, including representatives from every major Hall and a few of the lesser ones. It's my good fortune that Priyanka was busy, so I could attend."

  "Someone from nearly every Hall..." repeated Zayn.

  He wasn't sure why this seemed significant, but it bothered him.

  "Did I answer your questions to your satisfaction?" asked Instructor Konig with a cheery smile.

  "Yes, I think you did. Thank you. You've given me a lot to think about," said Zayn.

  Instructor Konig's smile wrinkled with a passing thought. "Before you go, may I ask a question of you?"

  The sudden hesitancy in the instructor made Zayn pay attention.

  Instructor Konig swallowed heavily. "Has this year...how have I...what do you...what did you think of my class this year?" Before Zayn could answer, he held his hand out, stopping him. "I'm sorry, this seems rather silly, I know I should have more self-confidence than this, but I never felt like I fit in during my time in the Academy, and with my government job, I felt like I was mostly in the way. This year has been a terrific experience for me, and I feel like I might have found something that I could do, a way that I could contribute. Have I, you know, done a good job?"