Journeyman Assassin

by Brian Keller

  Cooper didn’t know why he hadn’t considered it. He’d had all day to think about it. “What do I do now?” Should he try to confront the doorman? Should he try to find evidence of his involvement? Either course would require him to try breaking into the house. No, not house, It’s the Bank of the Guild. Foolishness. Perhaps he should simply return to the Guild. He’d only missed a couple of classes, he shouldn’t be in too much trouble. But there was something tickling the back of Cooper’s mind, perhaps it was something about how Jarell moved, perhaps it was simply instinct or even just a hunch, but the thought entered Cooper’s mind, “What if it’s him? What if he’s the one responsible?” Cooper began to stalk Jarell, the Guild’s Master of Coin.

  He held back far enough so he wouldn’t be noticed. In fact, he was far enough back that he’d nearly lost sight of him several times before leaving The Grid and entering The Heights. The fact that Jarell was soon walking along the channel made it more difficult. Normally he’d prefer to be able to shift from one side of the lane to the other, so he wasn’t always in the same position if Jarell should happen to turn and look behind him. Along the river channel, he had no such option.

  They’d almost reached Lakeside when Jarell stopped at a house and knocked on the door. The door was opened almost immediately and Jarell was ushered inside. As Cooper drew nearer he could hear the boisterous sounds of loud conversation and revelry. He was not dressed to mingle in a social occasion. If he were to get inside, he’d need a pretense. He considered using the Courier sash to gain entry, but it was a common thing for household staff to escort the courier if they were brought into the house. In fact, Cooper could only recall one occasion when he’d ever been left unobserved as a Courier, and that was when he’d first begun in the Guild and was still tagging along behind Birt. Cooper inspected the building. Three stories high, the first story was quarried stone and the top two were scrubbed stucco. Several windows had small balconies looking over the Whitefoam towards the Palace. Cooper had not yet entered the Palace District, but looking across the channel, it appeared to be a blending of The Grid and the Trade Quarter. The streets were wide and ordered, but it appeared there was a mix of houses, manors and businesses. The difference was that all the businesses bore the royal crest on or near the doors.

  There was no real vantage point from which to observe this residence. Cooper would either need to devise a plan and go with it, or he’d need to walk on past and come back around again. Cooper thought, “Perhaps there’s another way in? Surely groceries and supplies aren’t brought in the front door.” Cooper walked back the way he’d come for a block and pulled out the sash, donned it and returned to the house. Cooper cleared his throat and knocked. The door was opened immediately. When the doorman saw that Cooper couldn’t possibly be on the guest list, he barred the door with his own frame. Before the man could speak, Cooper asked, “Sir, how much further down before the addresses change to Lakeside?” He held up the copper tube, in case the man somehow missed noticing the gold sash. As the man replied, “You still have almost a hundred yards to go, young man.”, Cooper was looking past him to learn as much of the interior layout as he could see. Cooper put on an expression of embarrassment, “My apologies, sir. I couldn’t help looking. Quite a gathering you have here… about a hundred yards, thank you, sir.” Cooper bowed his head in appreciation and quickly scampered off. He was a young Courier in a hurry, after all.

  Looking inside had given him plenty of information he needed. He had seen the architecture of the entryway, which gave him some indication of how the nearby rooms might be arranged. He’d also observed the uniforms of the servants and recognized they were specific to this household, being made from fabric dyed the same colors as the family’s coat of arms, so proudly displayed in the foyer. He needed to find the servant’s entrance.

  As he rounded the corner he was pulling off the sash and tucking it away, not taking the time to roll it up and slip it into the tube. Cooper had to circle around a neighboring residence before he found the alleyway that would lead him where he needed to go. He hadn’t even gotten close enough to see the back of the residence before he heard the sounds of grunting and complaining ahead of him. “Get off my foot!” “Well if yer feet weren’t so huge, they’d be easier to avoid.”, this accompanied by the sounds of someone straining under a heavy load. Then “I can’t help that now, can I? Besides-” That voice was interrupted by the voice of an older man, obviously in charge of whatever the efforts were, “Before ye go into comparing the size of yer feet with the size of yer wee dangler, let me remind you we’ve got less than fifteen minutes to get the contents of this cart into that house, or we get our pay docked.” As Cooper looked around the corner to witness the proceedings, he saw three men struggling to get a barrel balanced at the end of the cart while a fourth was positioning some boards to form a makeshift ramp. As Cooper stepped more fully into view the older man called out, “Hey lad! You there! Want to earn a coupla coppers for a few minutes hard work?” Cooper quickly adopted the vocabulary of the local lowborn, it’s what he’d spoken for years so it was like pulling on a well-worn pair gloves that had been in the closet all spring and summer, “If ye think I’ll tote that barrel inside, ye can keep yer coppers!” The men all chuckled, “Nah, lad. But if ye can manage to grasp a ham in one hand and a turkey in the other and take it to the kitchen, and then come back and do the same with this bread and cheese, we oughta have this barrel inside and propped up by the time yer done. That’s worth a coupla coppers to me.” Cooper nodded and climbed into the cart.

  Chapter 39

  As he hauled the meat to the kitchen, Cooper was studying the layout. When he noticed a coatrack in the hall leading towards the main rooms he paused to improve his grip on the turkey and re-balance the ham. He could see a servant’s shirt hanging on a hook. It was probably too big for him. “Better to be too big than too small”, he thought. As he entered the kitchen with the meat he kept his eyes low. One of the women in the kitchen called out, “Ham, over here!” Cooper put a short hop in his step as he hustled over to her. Cooper replied, “Where’s the turkey go, mam?” She pointed to a block near the oven, “Drop it there, next to the cleaver.” Cooper walked quickly to do as she said and ducked his head as he left the kitchen. He returned to the cart and gathered up as many loaves as he could carry without crushing them and a burlap sack that held several wax covered rounds of cheese. The men had the barrel at the bottom of the ramp and were lined up alongside it, working it up a step at a time. As Cooper hopped past them and entered the kitchen again he called out, “Bread and cheese, mam!” The same woman called back, “Leave ‘em on the table there, by the door.” As Cooper piled the loaves on the table he called back, “Barrel’s comin’ in, mam. Ready fer it?” The woman glanced up and wiped her hands on her apron, “Oh, fer the love of-”, she interrupted herself as she shouted, “Tarvis! Where ya at with those wedges?! Barrel’s comin’ in!” Cooper quickly stepped out to retrieve the remaining loaves and waited behind the men as they rolled the barrel into the kitchen. Members of the kitchen staff were hurrying to assist. One was positioning the wedges to raise the barrel, two were preparing the ropes and pulleys that would be used to pick it up to place it onto a rack, while still others were standing by to place straps around the barrel and connect it to the set of hooks that were at the ends of the ropes. This flurry of activity gave Cooper plenty of cover to slip away and snatch the servant’s shirt as he moved down the hall. There was a lavatory in the hall and he stepped into it and gathered his cloak behind him. He had to loosen his belt in order to push his cloak behind his buttocks. He danced around a little bit as he realized that loosening his belt caused the weight of his blades to pull his breeches towards his ankles. He managed, but now had a greater appreciation for suspenders. He pulled the servant’s shirt over his head and felt like he was fairly swimming in it. The shirt was intended for an adult. As he rolled and cuffed the sleeves, he decided there was little to be done about it unless he co
uld find a better fitting one elsewhere.

  He hadn’t taken more than a half dozen steps when he heard from the kitchen, “Now where did that lad go? I promised him a coupla coppers.” Cooper turned away and walked toward the center of the house. As he entered the large dining hall one of the older servers grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him towards the hall, demanding, “And just who are you?!” Cooper whined, “I’m Cecil. I just got hired on a few minutes ago to help with clearing up dishes. It’s just for today.” He put on a pouting expression as he pulled at the fabric on his chest, “They didn’t even have a shirt to fit me.” The server slapped him on the back of his head exclaiming, “All right then. Just stay out of sight as much as possible. You look ridiculous.” As Cooper scanned the room he noticed that the brief but intense exchange between himself and the server had drawn some attention. When his eyes finally located Jarell, it was to the uncomfortable discovery that the Master of Coin was staring straight at him. When two people look into each other’s eyes, even across a room, the rest of the world may be oblivious but to the two people involved it is an unmistakable event. That had just happened, and there was no doubt that Jarell had recognized him.

  Jarell gracefully excused himself from whatever conversation he’d been engaged in and navigated through the room to stand beside Cooper. As he made a show of straightening Cooper’s shirt he spoke quietly, “I am unaware of any Guild operation here tonight.” As he stepped back, he scrutinized Cooper’s attire. He gave Cooper a look of disappointment, bordering on disgust, “And this looks terribly impromptu. Should I assume you’re here for me?” Jarell laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him from the dining room and into the foyer. Almost everyone was in the dining hall and ballroom but Jarell led him up the central staircase as if he owned the place. Jarell was making idle conversation, commenting on aspects of the architecture and pointing out bits of little interest about some of the displayed artwork. Meanwhile, Cooper was struggling with how to broach the topic of how deeply the Master of Coin might be involved with the killings, if at all. Jarell led him up a second flight of stairs and quickly into a sitting room. The room had two pairs of large glass doors that opened onto a balcony with a view of the Palace. Cooper managed to comment, “There must be quite a view from here in the morning, sir.” Jarell walked to the window and looked through the glass, “I’d have to agree.” He turned to face Cooper, “I wonder what else we might agree on?” Cooper faced the man fully, listening intently but saying nothing. Jarell was studying him as he asked, “Would you rather have wealth now? Or next year?” Cooper replied, “I’m not sure I understand, sir. Are you offering me money?” Jarell laughed, “Not yet I’m not. I am speaking hypothetically. Is a handful of gold today more valuable to you than the promise of gold tomorrow?” Cooper wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. He kept his reply deliberately vague, “I suppose that would depend, sir. On whether I had enough coin to feed myself today.” Jarell was shaking his head, “No, either I am being unclear or you are thinking too small.” The man began pacing around, looking at the floor, as if he were searching for a solution woven into the fibers of the rug. Cooper wanted to keep him talking, “I suppose either might be the case, sir. I understand you’re using analogies to try and make a point but I’m afraid that without knowing what the point is, I’m focusing on the choices.” Jarell nodded, “Exactly right, young man.” He appeared to have made a decision, “Alright then. Let me ask you this, do you think you can describe the essence of Power?” Cooper couldn’t help but feel like he was being drawn into the kind of discussion he often had with Master Worthan, except with Jarell he felt like a net was being slowly drawn tighter around him. Cooper gave the question some thought, but he knew if he took too long to answer, Jarell would simply lose patience and the conversation would be over. He simply stated, “Sir, I suppose the essence of Power is the ability to make something happen, in accordance with your plans or wishes.” Jarell smiled, “For only a few moments of thought, that’s actually fairly well put.” Jarell took a few steps then turned and retraced his steps, “And which would you view as more valuable, the actuality of power? Or the illusion of power?” Cooper answered quickly, “Sir, of course the actuality of power would be preferred, but if no one else could recognize the difference except me, wouldn’t the illusion of power be the same thing?” Jarell nodded at his reply. Cooper was just scrambling to keep the conversation moving as he attempted to sort out where all this might be going. Jarell smiled, “Let us try a different approach. Let’s say we’re building a house. We’re both on opposite sides of the site. Both working hard, putting beams in position, hammering nails and all that goes into that kind of work.” He paused to make sure Cooper was following along. Cooper kept an attentive look on his face as he tried to ignore thoughts of how Jarell likely knew even less about construction than he did. Jarell continued, “I look over and see that what you’re doing is not right and threatens to collapse the entire structure. Shouldn’t I try to correct you?” Cooper nodded, “Of course, sir.” Jarell continued, “And if you refuse to take my advice? Insisting that what you’re doing will work just fine; shouldn’t I stop you from bringing ruin to our efforts?” Cooper found himself nodding, but he was finally connecting the dots. Jarell, the Guild’s Master of Coin was not only involved with the killings, he was behind it all. Cooper tried to keep his body language stable and his expression the same look of thoughtful confusion he’d had since they’d entered the sitting room. Cooper heard himself say, “If you want to save the building, sir, the flaws have to be fixed.” Jarell exclaimed, “Exactly right! The ability to build something in accordance with the best plans. And that brings us back to how you described Power.” Jarell seemed to finally be warming up to the topic he was working towards and took a small leap of faith, “The Guild views power as coming from two sources: Money and Manipulation. My view is that the Guild should use power to increase its wealth and thereby further increase its power. The current view is that the Guild may spend more than it should in order to increase our influence and attempt to increase our power in that way. The Master’s Council does not see the fault in the current logic.” Jarell stopped speaking, looking at Cooper for his reply. Cooper realized this was an important juncture in this conversation. He observed, “Sir, I may just be a kid but I understand that most people act sensibly, protecting their interests, increasing their holdings and so on. When I see someone doing something that I think is stupid, it usually means that I am lacking all the facts. Simply because I don’t understand it, or can’t explain it, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong or stupid. As for your notion that coin equals power, I can’t agree with that. Money can’t buy power. It can only rent it.”

  Jarell bristled, “So you agree with the way the Guild currently exercises its power?” Cooper asked himself, “Where could Jarell be going with these questions?”, but instead he replied with a statement he hoped wouldn’t be recognized as a ‘fishing expedition’, “I’m afraid you’re asking a question I can’t possibly answer, sir. I don’t even understand everything the Guild does.”

  This statement brought Jarell to a halt. He turned to face the boy, Jarell wondered if he’d already overplayed his hand. He’d assumed that the boy either knew something specific or at least suspected. Worst case, though unlikely, he might be here simply to locate him and call for Assassins. He had been trying to assess whether the boy might be recruited to his side of things. Perhaps a different tactic was called for…

  Jarell turned to face Cooper again, “Suppose you tell me what brought you here today?” Cooper made a blatant verbal attempt at evasion, “Are we back to speaking hypothetically, sir?” At that reply Jarell’s demeanor changed and he was once again the Guild’s Master of Coin, a man to be respected and feared. He growled, “Do not try my patience, boy.

  Cooper realized the time for subtlety and subterfuge has passed, “Sir, I followed you here because I suspected your doorman of being behind the recent attacks on the Guil
d. While speaking to you I have come to the realization that he was likely only acting on your orders.” As he spoke these words, Jarell began sidestepping to block Cooper’s path to the door. This was a language Cooper understood much better than all the hypotheticals and analogies. Cooper took a couple steps backward and in a single sweeping motion pulled the servants shirt over his head and cast it aside. The Master of Coin chuckled, “So that’s why you looked almost hunchbacked. I thought it was just one more aspect of your pitiful disguise.” Jarell continued to talk. Cooper thought, “I guess he thinks that if he keeps talking, I won’t notice how he’s trying to hem me in.” Jarell continued, “If you try to fight me, you’ll lose. Badly.” Jarell had a flash of memory, “You’re much like Garoth, you know. He thought he was extraordinarily Talented as well. He died badly.” Cooper was shocked to hear this admission, but he didn’t back down. He shrugged and simply stated, “Actually, I haven’t Manifested yet.”

  Jarell paused, “You haven’t Manifested yet?!? By confronting me, you’re even more foolish than I had thought. And to think I was trying to see whether you would join me.” He shook his head as if to chide himself, then paused and nodded in self-affirmation, “I knew you would be trouble from the beginning. As you were casing the house of my neighbor, the Duke. I sent for an Assassin to kill you… instead, Felis recruited you.” He almost spat out the last sentence before he continued, “Later when you came to my home… MY home… to inquire about your account. I was prepared to kill you then, but I had too many other preparations already in motion. To kill you then might have brought too much scrutiny on me. The only way you could know to knock on my door would be if someone, likely an Adept or Master, told you where to find me… and if someone told you, wouldn’t that person know that you were coming to see me? And then if you didn’t return? No, I had to let you continue back to the Guild, blissfully ignorant of how close you’d come to death.” He seemed to be truly gaining momentum, feeding on his own words, “But you’re here on your own now, aren’t you? Who else knows you’re here? No one, I’d wager. Removing you now before you become a real threat is just good business. Nothing personal.”