“Tell me you’ve got something good,” Ilanna said. “Tonight’s been filled with about as much good news as a wildfire in a library.”
“Then you’re about to love me even more than you do!” A dazzling smile split Ria’s beautiful face. She motioned for Aisha to step forward. “My apprentice here found something at The Flavored Delight, down near the docks. A girl, Tamarra—”
Just then, the door burst open and a young man raced into the room, wide-eyed and breathless. “Guild Master! W-We found him!”
All thoughts of snapping angrily at the youth—a Fox, judging by his ragged clothing with its orange trim, barely thirteen or fourteen years old—fled from Ilanna’s mind.
“Where?” she demanded.
“In the sewer tunnels,” the Fox gasped, his face pale and sweat streaming down his face. “Tassat…sent me!”
“Tassat?” Errik was instantly alert. Tassat was one of his Serpent Journeymen. “What did he say?”
“The Hunter!” The young man shook his head. “The Hunter…of Voramis!”
An icy chill ran down Ilanna’s spine. Everyone knew the Hunter of Voramis by reputation—by reputation only, for no one had ever seen his face and lived. A peerless killer, ruthless in the execution of his targets, wielding a blade said to steal the very souls from his victims.
So what in the Keeper’s name is he doing in Praamis, and killing children? Then, the Fox’s words sank in.
“Tassat?” she demanded. “You say he sent you? With what message?”
The Fox wiped a hand across his brow. “To send every Serpent we have.”
Errik’s face went hard, and the expression sent another chill down Ilanna’s spine. No mistaking it, the Master of House Serpent, the Night Guild’s most proficient assassin, knew fear. And only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of facing a man said to be immortal, a killer that had plagued Voramis for more than thirty years.
By the Watcher, how the hell did this happen?
Errik turned to Ilanna, his posture stiff. “With your permission, Guild Master.”
“Go.” Ilanna nodded. She didn’t know what else to say—would this be the last time she saw her friend again?
Errik smiled and gave a little bow. “Thank you, Ilanna.” Everything he needed to say was held in those words and his expression. He nodded to Ria, clapped Kodyn on the shoulder, then strode from the room.
“Don’t even think about it!” Ilanna snapped at her son.
Kodyn had half-turned to follow Errik, but her words stopped him in his tracks. “You know I’m almost as good as any Serpent, Mom. If I can help—”
“No.” Ilanna’s tone was cold, hard as steel. “I am proud that my son is brave, but sometimes bravery is simply folly by another name. No good can come of you throwing yourself at the Hunter, not when all of House Serpent is there to deal with him.”
The question is, can they deal with him? Only the gods knew the answer to that question.
Kodyn stiffened, his face becoming an unreadable mask. “As you say, Guild Master.”
Ilanna hid a wince. He added that tight inflection to her title when he was furious.
“With your permission, Master Gold—” He drove the second barb home with a biting tone. “—I will return to the Hawk’s Highway and try to find Sid.”
“Sid?” Ilanna raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, find him?”
“I haven’t seen him since this morning.” Kodyn’s expression remained inscrutable, but a note of concern echoed in his voice. “None of the other Hawks have as well.”
“I’m certain he’s fine.” The words rang hollow—with the bloody Hunter of Voramis in her city, no one, not even King Ohilmos himself, was safe.
“Of course, Guild Master.” Kodyn gave a stiff bow, then turned and strode from the room.
Ilanna ground her teeth. Had Aisha not been in the room, she would have unleashed her frustration. But, with the young Phoenix apprentice present, she had to rein in her temper.
“Errik can handle it.” Ria’s tone was soothing, but Ilanna heard the doubt. “Not even the Hunter can defeat him.”
Ilanna wasn’t so sure, but she forced herself to nod. “Of course.” Her eyes darted to the wooden cabinet where she kept her slim sword and her collection of daggers.
“And don’t even think of doing anything as stupid as going yourself!” Fire burned in Ria’s eyes, and she stepped in front of Ilanna. “You’re the Guild Master, not a Hawk any longer, and certainly not a Serpent.”
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing!” A hint of Ilanna’s frustration burst through in her angry shout. “If it is the Watcher-damned Hunter of Voramis, it means someone with deep pockets is pissed at us. I’d say Duke Phonnis, but he’s too upright and sanctimonious to do anything like that!”
“Then listen to what Aisha has to say,” Ria pressed. “It might make things a good deal clearer.”
Biting back her frustration, Ilanna rounded on the young Ghandian woman. “Tell me,” she said through gritted teeth.
Aisha’s expression grew nervous, but to her credit, she didn’t flinch from Ilanna’s rage, simply stood taller in that same proud, defiant way Ria did. Ilanna felt a momentary flash of guilt—the girl didn’t deserve to be the target of her frustration.
She tried again in a more civil tone. “What have you found?”
“I found a girl at The Flavored Delight, Tamarra, who knew something of Chantelle’s whereabouts the night she disappeared.” Aisha spoke the language of Einan with only a hint of her native Ghandian accent echoing in her words. She, like the rest of those that had chosen to remain in Praamis and serve the Night Guild, had acclimated quickly. “Tamarra didn’t know how Chantelle left The Gilded Chateau unseen, but she did say that Chantelle mentioned where she was going.”
“Oh?” Ilanna cocked an eyebrow. Finally, some good news.
Aisha nodded. “Chantelle had begun seeing a nobleman in secret, earning coin without having to pay the Guild’s dues.”
Ilanna glanced at Ria, who shrugged. “First I’m hearing of it, though it’s not as uncommon as you’d think.”
Ilanna nodded. Not all the brothels in Praamis appreciated the Night Guild’s presence. The well-trained bouncers and enforcers were welcome, but many of the working girls still held out from paying the Guild tithes.
“Who was the nobleman?” Ilanna asked.
“Baronet Wyvern,” Aisha replied.
“Wyvern?” That took Ilanna by surprise. “The same Wyvern that Celesa had to deal with today?”
“The same. They’d fallen in love, evidently. ” Aisha stood straighter. “Though, given his presence at The Gilded Chateau, perhaps not as much as Chantelle believed. Either way, had we known of his dealings with Chantelle, he would not have walked away so easily, not without answering a few questions.”
Ilanna strode around her desk and sat in her armchair. “Baronet Wyvern taking up with Chantelle, but on the night she goes to visit him, she winds up dead. A coincidence?”
Ria leaned against the bookcase and ran her finger over one of the silver hawk figurines. “Perhaps, or perhaps not.”
“Do we know how Chantelle died?” Ilanna asked Ria. “Did we ever recover her body?”
Ria nodded. “Her throat was slashed, but her face bore those same strange burn marks as were discovered on that child’s body.”
Ilanna’s lips pursed into a frown as she went over the information in her mind.
“What if Baronet Wyvern blames us for her death?” she asked after a long moment. “If he found out about those burn marks, he might think we did that to her. To send a message to the other girls. If he truly was besotted with Chantelle, his rage could drive him to seek revenge. And what better way to get revenge than to hire the Hunter of Voramis to carry it out?”
Ria’s eyebrows shot up. “You think that’s possible?”
“It’s not as far-fetched as to imagine that the Hunter is going around Voramis murdering children for pleasure.” Ilanna shook
her head. “From what I’ve heard of him, the Hunter doesn’t kill without getting paid. If Baronet Wyvern was feeling particularly vicious, he could have taken out a bounty on all of the Night Guild. From the youngest tyro to the Guild Master herself. That could be how Arashi ended up dead, and why the Hunter killed Kindan. The other child, the one found in Old Town Market, could have been mistaken for one of our apprentices. Or perhaps he was simply collateral.”
“And the poison?” Aisha spoke up.
“Is it impossible to think an assassin would coat his blade with something that made the killing easier?” Ilanna asked. “Which could explain how he got the better of Kindan.” That was more wishful thinking than she cared to admit aloud. If that was the case, the Hunter wasn’t really as good as his legends proclaimed, so Errik and the Serpents had a chance of actually killing him.
“Baronet Wyvern certainly has pockets deep enough to buy the Flaming Tansy,” Ria said, “but to hire the Hunter of Voramis? That has to be a stretch even for him.”
“Perhaps.” Ilanna shrugged. “But I intend to ask him myself.” She strode over to the drawer and pulled out her Hawk gear.
“That won’t be necessary,” Ria said.
Ilanna glanced over her shoulder. “Oh?”
Ria fixed her with a smile. “I believe I have a much better way for you to speak with Baronet Wyvern.”
Something about the edge to Ria’s grin told Ilanna she really wasn’t going to like what the woman had in mind.
Chapter Sixteen
The Hunter had to admit the Guild assassin was good. Damned good. The man’s sword moved like a striking serpent, darting in to flick at the Hunter’s chest, then coming back for a riposte after the Hunter parried. The stiletto in his right hand, his off-hand, sought the holes in the Hunter’s guard and very nearly scored a strike that could have slowed the Hunter down.
Yet the man was merely human. The Hunter had faced and defeated demons, and the blood of demons flowed in his veins. No matter how skilled the assassin, unless he wielded iron or an Im’tasi weapon like Soulhunger, he stood no chance.
The Hunter slapped aside a quick thrust, twisted out of the path of a slash, and darted to the side to bind his blade with the assassin’s. In the instant that the assassin hesitated, the Hunter twisted his wrist so his sword glissaded along his opponent’s and struck flesh. He danced backward, out of the assassin’s reach, and showed the man the crimson staining its edge.
The man glanced down at the cut in the meat of his thigh, and winced. Not out of pain—adrenaline would diminish sensations while his heart hammered with the thrill of battle—but at the knowledge that the injury would slow him down. When facing a superior opponent, even the slightest disadvantage could turn deadly.
But the Hunter made no move to attack. Something the man had said stuck with him. “Never did I imagine you would stoop to murdering random citizens in an effort to turn the Crown against us.”
An odd thing to hear from the people responsible for killing children and dumping their bodies in alleyways. Which was what made the Hunter question the Night Guild’s complicity in the murders.
Why would he accuse me of it if he knew who was responsible? After all, it’s not like the Guild needs another excuse to kill me.
He was an assassin, a killer-for-hire with a reputation for being the best not only in Voramis, but all of the south of Einan. He’d had people try to kill him—always a failure, of course—just to build their own reputation on his death. His very presence in Praamis, the city owned by the Night Guild, was excuse enough to set all of their assassins on him. He’d taken out his competition early on during his days as the assassin of Voramis.
But those words refused to leave his head. Perhaps they weren’t the ones to kill those children.
His confrontation with the other assassin on the rooftops an hour earlier came back to him. That man, too, had seemed confused and surprised when the Hunter accused the Night Guild of the murders. Coincidence? I think not.
Now that he studied the five men, he realized they couldn’t be the ones he’d seen in the tunnels. The men he’d pursued had worn hooded robes, and only the assassin wore anything resembling a hood. Unless they’d disrobed in the dark, they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He lowered his weapons. “Take me to your Guild Master. Perhaps she can answer my questions, and none of you need die.”
“So you can kill her?” The assassin shook his head. “If you want to get at our Guild Master, you will first need to go through us.”
The Hunter sighed. “I have no desire to kill any of you, but I will not hesitate.” He fixed his gaze on the assassin. “You know who I am and what I can do. The only way to end this without bloodshed is to take me to your Guild Master.”
“Never!” The huge brute stepped past the assassin, his face livid with rage. “You will not harm her!”
He raised his club and charged. His wild swing would have crushed the Hunter’s skull, but the Hunter simply stepped back and allowed the steel-stubbed club to strike empty air. It crashed into the stone wall of the tunnel, spraying shards of slime-covered rock. The Hunter took a quick shuffle step forward and brought his knee up between the man’s legs.
Air rushed from the thug’s lungs, and he gave a pitiful half-mewl, half-moan as he sagged to his knees, hands clasped between his legs. The Hunter drove the pommel of his sword into the man’s face, shattering teeth. Another blow between the eyes knocked the thug backward, and he splashed into the muck, unconscious.
“Take me to the Guild Master,” the Hunter repeated. The more he digested the conversations with the assassins, the more he doubted the Night Guild’s guilt. A conversation with the Guild Master could put an end to this unnecessary enmity. If nothing else, they could stop trying to kill him and he wouldn’t have to waste time killing them. He had better things to do, like hunting a demon and stopping a group of murderers.
And, if I’m lucky, they could even help guide me around the sewers to find these murderers faster. The Night Guild could be a valuable resource, if only they’d stop trying to kill him.
Unfortunately, they didn’t seem ready to give in so quickly. The assassin was staring at him through narrowed eyes, expression pensive, but the others lacked his analytical mind. All three drew knives and short swords and charged in a pack.
The Hunter couldn’t fault their tactics. They’d just seen him take down their huge comrade with ease, so logic dictated that rushing him together gave them the greatest chance of overwhelming and bringing him down. Doubtless they expected him to give ground, to open space between them.
He did the opposite. He leapt forward, faster than they could react, and whipped his sword across in a horizontal arc right at their heads. Two of them—the better-dressed men with better-made weapons—managed to evade the attack. The third man, the scruffy-looking one, didn’t see it coming. The Hunter twisted his wrist at the last moment to slap the side of his blade into the man’s temple. The force of the blow knocked him hard to one side, and he crashed into the tunnel’s stone wall.
The Hunter didn’t need to look to know the man was unconscious, and his two opponents didn’t give him time to check. They hacked at him with their short swords, their attacks brutal, efficient, and lethal.
“Give us a hand here, Tassat!” shouted one as he ducked a high blow of the Hunter’s sword. His face met the Hunter’s rising boot, and the force snapped his head backward. As he splashed into the muck, the Hunter trapped his opponent’s blade in his own and punched the man hard in the nose. Cartilage crunched and blood sprayed. As the man groaned and clapped hands to his injured face, the Hunter brought his elbow whipping around and slammed it into the man’s jaw. The man fell and didn’t rise.
The assassin hadn’t moved in the two seconds it took the Hunter to dispatch the other three. His eyes were fixed on the Hunter.
“You could have killed them.” He spoke in that same quiet voice, dangerous yet not menacing. “Ye
t you held back.”
“Answer me this, assassin.” The Hunter met the man’s gaze levelly. “Are you and yours the ones killing children and leaving their bodies in the muck?”
“No.” The assassin cocked his head. “I take it that means you are not either?”
“You heard the tales of the Bloody Hand’s fate, yes?” the Hunter asked.
The man’s lips quirked into a hard smile. “A fitting end for a foul stain on this land.”
“I did that because the First killed an innocent child.” The Hunter lowered his blades. “I kill those who deserve it, but children are blameless.”
The assassin inclined his head.
“Though I hear you and your Guild twist even that innocence to your own foul ends.” The Hunter’s voice was cold, a sharp edge to his words. “Tell your Master that if I find the Night Guild responsible for these deaths, what I did to the Bloody Hand will be a mercy compared to what I will do to you.”
The assassin’s smile grew. “I will be sure to pass the message along.”
“Your friends will survive, though they will need a healer.” The Hunter sheathed his sword and stooped to pick up one of the fallen lanterns—a strange oval-shaped globe of glass filled with an unfamiliar glowing liquid—but kept Soulhunger in hand just in case the assassin tried something devious. “Relay to your Master what happened here, and tell her to stop wasting my time.”
He turned and strode toward the metal door set into the tunnel wall. The latch was unlocked, and it lifted without a sound. The door’s hinges groaned as he pulled it open, then again as he shut it behind him with a loud clang. He didn’t bother shooting the bolt—if the assassin wanted to kill him, he would have made his move back in the tunnel.
The stone-walled corridor in which he found himself looked far better-maintained than the rest of the sewer system. No water leaked from the round ceiling, and the stone walls had a marked absence of the foul-smelling slime. In fact, the tunnels were so dry that dust covered the floor—dust that revealed a number of bootprints tracking in both directions.
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