Black Guild

by J. P. Ashman

  ‘And I suppose,’ Severun said, picking a lump of excrement from his face and throwing it at his companion whilst heaving some more, ‘that was all part of their plan to gauge us too, was it?’

  ‘No,’ Egan said. He spat, trying to remove the taste of piss from his mouth. Samorl hydrate that woman… ‘I expect that’s a case of us,’ he spat again, ‘standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Although I’m sure,’ another throaty spit, ‘it’s given them something to laugh at, reducing their suspicion of us as potential enemies.’

  ‘Oh, I am pleased.’ Severun closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath before pointing the unicorn’s head of his staff at his face, which erupted in a jet of cool water.

  Egan squeezed his eyes shut in front of Severun and waited his turn, the continuing smell overpowering.

  ‘Come on,’ he forced through tight lips, ‘use that conspicuous walking stick on me.’

  After a couple of moments, Egan opened his eyes to see the wall of the house, but no wizard. He turned to the sucking footsteps of Severun walking down the road, further into Dockside. Wiping at his face again, gagging again, Egan shook his head, sighed and followed.

  ‘The damned guild has nothing to fear from us two at this rate.’

  ‘What?’ Severun shouted back.

  ‘Nothing!’ Egan replied, heaving yet again.

  Chapter 19 – Nose of a dog

  A studded door with a polished brass knocker filled Severun and Egan’s view as they turned the corner the third lad they’d now dealt with led them to. Surrounding the door was a chipped and soiled marble arch, a large keystone at the top. At the side of the door more brass, this time in the oblong shape of a plate, like the rich guilds in Guild District used. On that brass plate, letters had been etched.

  To book assassinations, knock here.

  The lad turned around and grinned. ‘Like it? He said you would.’ Before they could respond, he disappeared down a side passage neither of them had noticed, their attentions stolen by the doorway.

  ‘Great,’ Severun said. Egan nodded. ‘It seems they heard us.’

  ‘Every word,’ Egan added, ‘and I’m not so sure the chamber pot incident was a total accident now, either.’ It was Severun’s turn to nod, nose wrinkled at the continuous smell coming from them both. Mainly from Egan, but from them both nonetheless.

  ‘I agree,’ Severun said, ‘although I see no relevance in doing that to us.’

  ‘Well…’ Egan smirked. ‘At least they have a sense of humour.’

  ‘Great,’ Severun said again. ‘Do you wish to knock? Or do I have the honour?’

  ‘By all means.’ Egan held his arm out in invitation for Severun to step forward and strike the brass knocker.

  Severun did so, and when he did, the knocker made a pitiful tapping sound.

  Severun turned to Egan, who shrugged, whilst one hand moved to hover over his rapier hilt and the other over a hand-held crossbow strapped to his harness.

  Childish laughter came from the dark path beside the door and the watcher boy appeared again. ‘Down here,’ he said, barely suppressing his laughter. ‘That door isn’t real, it’s for your entertainment. And ours.’ He grinned and motioned for them to follow.

  Severun scoffed. ‘Yes, very entertaining.’

  Egan laughed. ‘Lead on, my lord Severun.’

  ‘Oh no, Master Dundaven, after you. It is I that insist.’

  Laughing again, Egan followed the boy down the passage he’d had to turn sideways to get down, and Severun followed, cursing under his breath.

  As they proceeded down the passageway, which was nothing more than two tall buildings set extremely close together, Severun stumbled several times, over what, he had no idea and no wish to know, much to the amusement, it seemed, of both the watcher and Egan.

  Several heartbeats later they came to a recent hole in the left-hand wall. The boy led them inside. Severun had to duck to miss the makeshift wooden lintel spanning the small gap, and although Egan didn’t have to stoop quite so low, he had to remove his hat. Once inside what they realised was a courtyard, and quite a plush one at that considering the district they were in, the two men were able to straighten.

  ‘Take a seat and Master Son will be with you shortly,’ the lad said, before disappearing through an opening covered by a heavy drape.

  Looking around the ivy-covered walls, Severun surmised there were probably spy holes, if not arrow slits hidden in each wall, and even now they were being watched.

  ‘Alright,’ Egan said, ‘we might as well take a seat and relax.’ He moved his sheathed rapier out of the way and took a seat on the nearest bench, behind Severun, who walked the perimeter of the yard.

  ‘Relax, are you serious?’ Severun hissed. ‘We could be anywhere and our hosts anyone. A ganger haunt at the mercy of a vicious murdering gang master, or even better, we could actually be where we want to be, in the blasted Black Guild! Neither of which fill me with a sudden urge to put my feet up, take out my pipe and think about pleasantries past or future, endeavours new or—’

  ‘I get the picture.’

  ‘Do you, Egan? Do you really? I seriously doubt that.’ Lords above, this man…

  ‘Severun, sit down. If this is the Black Guild, this is what we wanted and if they wanted us dead, we would be by now, so what are you worried about?’

  ‘Of course, how silly of me to worry at all about any of this, when all we’re trying to do here is…’

  Egan was out of his seat, across the yard and up against Severun in a heartbeat, his left hand pressing against Severun’s mouth and his right hand holding the top of the ornate staff. His eyes did all the talking needed and Severun nodded before relaxing. Egan removed both hands and walked back to the bench. Before he could sit, the watcher pulled the heavy drapes aside and a woman with green hair appeared holding two goblets filled with a ruby wine. She attempted a half-hearted curtsy and offered the drinks.

  Egan smiled, took his goblet and walked back, with the woman, to Severun, who accepted his with a genuine smile. The woman curtsied again and hurried back through the curtained doorway, where the watcher stood, grinning.

  ‘It’s good stuff,’ the lad said, indicating the drinks both men held. ‘Master Son let me taste it, for doing good. He’ll be ready for you shortly.’ He was gone before they could reply.

  Egan sniffed the liquid and threw it back in one go. Severun’s eyes widened and rolled as Egan smacked his lips in appreciation.

  Severun sipped the drink. Not bad, he thought.

  ‘I’ve tasted that before, but don’t recall the name,’ Egan said, licking his lips. ‘From my neck of the woods I would think. Southern wine is the best.’

  ‘I can’t say I’ve had it before, but I know what you mean… a familiar taste to it. Can’t quite put my finger on it though. Knowing our luck, it’s laced with something.’

  Egan shook his head. ‘No, I’d have smelt it. Even the unscented ones,’ he added before Severun could say anything. ‘There might be a lot you know and can do, wizard, but there are hidden talents within me too you know.’

  ‘A dog’s nose?’

  ‘Droll.’

  ‘Then what? How could you smell an unscented substance?’

  ‘I was blessed with it when I joined the order.’

  Severun nearly spat the contents of his mouth.

  ‘Laugh all you like, but there are things far more powerful than magic in this world, and just because you or your precious guild can’t explain them, doesn’t mean they’re less real.’

  ‘If you say so, Egan,’ Severun said, unconvinced. He finished the goblet.

  Before either could say another word, the young watcher pulled the drapes back again and called for them to follow him through. They kept hold of their goblets, even though both were empty, and followed the boy into a smoky, oil-lamp lit room, which led to more heavy drapes.

  ‘He’s through here,’ the lad said, holding the second lot of drapes aside.

 
; ‘Thank you,’ Egan said as he ruffled the lad’s hair. The boy screwed up his face and ruffled it back again. It looked no different to Severun, who smiled and followed Egan through.

  The room beyond had a low ceiling, with oak beams reaching from near to far wall, where a small window let a minimal amount of sunlight through. Under the window sat a large man with a hat set low over his pronounced brow. A thick set jaw matched his burly arms and ham-sized fists, which held a small lute he poorly plucked with his left hand. Two stools sat in front of a low table, where a quill and several sheaves of rough paper lay. The man stopped plucking the strings long enough to point at the stools and nod to the watcher, who pushed in between the two men, snatched the goblets from their hands and disappeared through the drapes.

  Egan and Severun took a stool each and stared at the beast of a man, awaiting an introduction.

  He offered a tight-lipped smile and continued to pluck at strings, nothing musical forthcoming.

  Before Egan or Severun could say anything to break the awkward silence, the green haired woman appeared with the two goblets, full again with a green liquid this time.

  After accepting them, Severun noticed Egan subtly sniffing the liquid before sipping it. Severun followed suit.

  ‘Good?’ Master Son had a surprisingly soft voice, a child-like innocence to the way he asked the question. Although for some reason, Severun felt it to be false; an act.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Egan said, before drinking some more.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Severun agreed, ‘thank you, Master Son.’ The man’s right eye twitched at the mention of his name.

  ‘Please,’ he said, again with an innocence that didn’t fit his face, ‘call me Poi.’

  ‘Thank you, Poi…’ Severun swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

  Egan smiled briefly, before lifting the goblet and sniffing what was left of the liquid. The large man’s attention seemed to drift down to the lute, which he began strumming incredibly badly indeed. Severun found himself entranced by the shocking music, if it could be called that, and had to concentrate on the table to put the goblet down. He noticed the goblet was empty. I drank it all?

  So had Egan, who also put his goblet down on the table in front. ‘Ha,’ he cried. ‘Poi Son, I get it. Oh, how very funny. What’s your real name?’ Egan had a silly grin on his face that Severun wanted to disapprove of, but he found himself grinning.

  Their host looked up at the question. The awful music stopped. ‘That is hi— my name. Poi Son. My… father was called Poi.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Egan said, his disbelief plain to see. ‘Well, if that’s your name and trade also, I can tell you now…’ Egan was now slurring his words and swaying, much to the vocal amusement of Severun. ‘…you’ve a lot to learn! You can’t spike my drinks, oh no, I would smell it, you see?’

  ‘Blessed he is,’ Severun said rather loudly. ‘Blessed by Sir Samorl himself… with the nose of a dog no less!’

  ‘Yes, nose of a damned dog I say, he says, we all say, so say all of us!’

  ‘Well, of course,’ the man sat opposite said, his voice taking on a bass tone. He put down his lute and sat forward on his chair. ‘That’s why I didn’t poison your drinks.’

  ‘Ha! I knew it! See, wizard? I told you!’

  ‘You did, dog nose. Ha ha!’

  ‘It’s why I poisoned the contents of the chamber pot this morning. Slow acting poison I used, or should I say, poisons. Doubt ye smelt them did ye? Too much shit comin’ out yer mouth. Much like now. Which will teach ye for seeking the bastard Black Guild’s services. Cunts that they are.’

  Egan’s smile faded at the revelation, but Severun laughed out loud again, slapping his knee, then his companion, who fell off his stool.

  ‘Old dog nose here could smell through your shit, couldn’t you, dog nose? Dog nose? You awake?’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ the large man said, his grin spreading, golden. ‘And neither will you be in a moment’s time.’

  ‘I very much doubt…’ Severun landed in a heap atop Egan.

  Longoss retrieved the stolen lute and started playing again.

  ‘Gods below, Longoss,’ Coppin said, from behind the heavy drapes. ‘Cut that din out will ye and drag them two through here.’

  Sighing, Longoss whipped the hat off his earless head and threw it and the lute across the room.

  ‘Aye,’ the former assassin said, ‘I’m on it. We best be off anyway, lass, before the owners of this here house return.’

  Chapter 20 – There’s gold in that

  Dark became murk; murk became haze, a haze including a green smudge and a gold… grin.

  Egan tried to shuffle away from the two, no, three solidifying people stood before him. The back of his head struck stone. He looked left, his vision delayed in following the movement. Nothing. He risked the pain and the ache behind his eyes to look right. Severun. Out cold.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ the green haired woman said, voice soft.

  ‘Well, ye bastard?’ the one who’d called himself Poi Son said.

  Egan reeled at that rough voice. ‘Yes, yes,’ he managed, although his throat disliked it.

  ‘Your friend will wake soon enough,’ the woman said. ‘Or so we hope. The poison turned out to be more potent than we’d expected.’ She grimaced. ‘It’s a new day, you might like to know.’ She crouched before Egan and slapped away the big man’s hand. ‘He’s tied up, Longoss. Quit worrying for me.’

  ‘He’s a witchunter, lass,’ the third, older man said.’ He stood the furthest away, an old but well-kept crossbow cradled in his thick arms.

  ‘I was a witchunter,’ Egan corrected, scanning the room for clues as to where they were. Barrels, crates… A cellar, he decided.

  ‘Was?’ Longoss asked, heavy brow furrowing and revealing a myriad of silvery scars previously hidden amongst lines and larger scars.

  ‘Yes, was,’ Egan snapped, not wanting to talk more than he had to.

  Longoss crouched now, leaning in to look Egan up and down.

  ‘Ye dress and arm like one?’ he said. ‘Ain’t that right, Keep?’ The older man nodded.

  ‘And you dress and smell like a piss-stained drunkard,’ Egan retorted. ‘Is that what you—?’

  This Longoss moves quick for his size, Egan thought whilst groaning on the stone tiles. His aching eyes and throbbing head had a new friend, which dribbled blood onto his top lip.

  ‘I guess I deserved that,’ Egan said, nose throbbing whilst being pulled to a sitting position once more by the woman, who he realised was the one that’d hit him. He nodded in appreciation at that and sniffed at the free-flowing blood. She pressed a dirty cloth to his nose. It stunk of piss. Guess I deserve that too.

  ‘Ye smell like a chamber pot yerself,’ she said, with a wink.

  Egan couldn’t help but smile, despite the situation.

  ‘All they want to know,’ Keep said, casually aiming his loaded crossbow at Egan, ‘is why you sought out the Black Guild? Why you sought out Poi Son specifically?’

  Severun groaned, but remained unconscious.

  Licking the metallic taste from his top lip, Egan nodded.

  ‘That question would have saved a lot of time, and pain our end, if you’d bothered to ask it before you drugged us.’

  Coppin frowned. Longoss snarled and Egan went on quickly.

  ‘I know who you two are,’ he said, nodding to the two crouched before him, ‘and assume you, sir, are in league with them?’ he said of the man with the crossbow.

  ‘That doesn’t answer my question,’ Keep said.

  ‘You’re trying to hinder the guild,’ Egan went on. ‘Poi Son especially. Hence why you took us, thinking us his potential clients.’

  ‘And ye’re not?’ Coppin asked, widening her eyes.

  Egan shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘This is taking too long.’ Longoss drew a small knife.

  ‘We’re here to hinder them too,’ Egan practically spat. The knife hovered before him and Lon
goss nodded for him to go on. ‘The Lord High Constable ordered us to track down Poi Son, to track him down and find all we could about the planned assassination of—’

  ‘King Barrison,’ Longoss finished, his voice but a hoarse whisper.

  Egan nodded eagerly. The knife lowered.

  ‘Not many people know about that,’ Keep said, lowering his crossbow. ‘Most of them’re in this cellar.’

  ‘Aye,’ Longoss said, as if trying the word for the first time. His eyes drifted past Egan’s for a moment, before focusing back on the former witchunter. ‘Tell us more.’

  ‘See to the wizard first—’

  ‘See,’ Coppin said, spinning to look upon Keep, ‘I told ye he were a mage.’

  Keep took a deep breath, placed the crossbow on the ground, rooted in a pouch at his belt and threw the woman a coin. Longoss snatched it before she could whisk it away.

  ‘Mine for telling ye both these two were too stupid on the street to be real clients.’

  Egan frowned and glanced at Severun on the floor next to him.

  ‘Aye, witchunter, it were the wizard who gave ye both away.’

  ‘I knew it.’

  ‘So ye’re really here to help?’ Coppin asked, eager for it to be true.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Egan said.

  ‘But ye’re here to take down the Black Guild? Ye said it yerself,’ she said, leaning forward that bit more.

  ‘We’re here to stop Barrison’s assassination, nothing more.’

  ‘Same thing,’ Longoss said. Coppin nodded.

  ‘And we’re to do nothing whilst we’re in this state.’ Egan shuffled and pulled against his bonds.

  ‘Not sure we can trust ye, yet,’ Keep said, picking his crossbow back up.

  ‘Well, what will that take?’ Egan asked, incredulous. ‘We can hardly prove it whilst tied down here, can we?’

  ‘We’ll think on it,’ Keep offered. He removed the bolt from the crossbow, relaxed the string and headed up the steps to the door. ‘I’ve a tavern to run. You two, give the wizard some water, and his pet witchunter. Then come up to me, we’ve talking to do.’