Zusa’s smile faded, and she dropped the flirtatious tone.
“And I take it Ridley is?” she asked.
“Ridley’s as high up as you may ever meet,” Alex said, running a hand through his long brown hair as he talked. “Impress him and you’re set. Claim all you want you’ve never been with a guild, but the way you dress and carry yourself says otherwise. Don’t worry. It don’t matter who you used to be with. I was a member of the Serpents before Muzien arrived. Thankfully he’s shown no bad blood toward anyone, regardless of who they once served, not even the old Spider Guild members. So if Ridley asks you who you once worked with, just tell him the truth. It’ll be better for you in the long run, all right? Telling lies is a good way to find yourself facedown in a ditch somewhere, choking on your own tongue.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Zusa said, walking alongside him.
She could only guess where Alex was taking her. Along the way she debated whether to use an alias when she met with Ridley. To the bulk of the city, Zusa did not exist. She was an oddity to those who worked in the Gemcroft mansion, and only a few, like Victor, knew how dangerous she truly was. For Muzien to know about her, he’d have to have looked extensively into Alyssa’s history. In some ways he seemed like someone who would do that, but on the other hand, if the elf did not think of Alyssa as a threat, he might not have done but the most cursory of digging.
Of course, if he’d done extensive research, he might recognize her on sight, making her name of little relevance when he could just look upon her face.
Alex took her to a nondescript home, stopping before its unguarded door. The front had a single window, and through its dirty glass she saw the light of a candle burning within, obscured by the thick curtain blocking the entirety of the window. Above the door, small but finely cut, was the symbol of the Sun Guild. Despite the lack of any lamps or torches, the symbol seemed to shine in the moonlight. Alex knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, then knocked several more times. When the door cracked open, he stepped back and bowed his head in respect.
“Someone wishing to join the guild,” Alex said to whoever was within.
“Send him to the recruiters,” said a rough voice within. “It’s their job, not mine.”
“It’s a her,” Alex said, and there was no hiding the sudden nervousness in his voice. “And she’s … unusual. I figured it best you meet her.”
The door swung all the way open, and out stepped a stocky man with short hair and pockmarks on his face. He glanced Zusa up and down, seemingly unimpressed.
“Ridley,” he said, not offering his hand.
“And I am Zusa. I wish to become a member of the Sun Guild.”
“Why us?” Ridley asked.
“Because there is no one else, not anymore.”
The man cracked a half-smile. Leaning back against his door, he crossed his arms and seemed to regard her a second time. Beside her Alex fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable and wishing to leave.
“In that you’re correct,” Ridley said finally. “And we did it through sacrifice and determination. We did it shedding blood, not through luck and laziness. If you accept the symbol of the Sun, you’re devoting your entire life to our cause. Every breath of air you take into your lungs, every beat of your heart in your chest, it is done to further the servitude to the whole. Members of the Sun will become your family, your friends, your entire reason for existing. If you are willing to embrace our teachings, if you are willing to bleed for us, and die for us, then you will share in the tremendous wealth and power we wield, wealth and power that grow every single day. Is this something you’re still interested in joining?”
It was bondage, Zusa realized, a unique form of it, perhaps, but bondage nonetheless. The chains were made of gold and blood, and they would have her enter it willingly, but that mattered little in the end. She had a feeling Karak would be proud.
“I am,” she said, standing tall and meeting Ridley’s eye when she answered.
Ridley scratched the side of his face, clucked his tongue.
“Alex says you’re special,” he said. “Prove it. Kill him.”
Alex paled.
“Wait, what did—”
No hesitation. No second thoughts. To show humanity or hesitation would only betray her. She drew her dagger and cut across Alex’s throat before he could try to defend himself. As the blood flowed, Zusa slid to the side, avoiding its spray. To the ground Alex dropped, clutching at his throat as he made noises that might have been attempts at words. Zusa refused to look at him, instead watching Ridley. If the man held the slightest sympathy, he did not show it. A special kind of monster, Zusa realized, but when she looked to the body she felt no remorse, either. How different from him could she truly pretend to be?
“You’ve killed before,” Ridley said, tilting his head to one side, analyzing her, judging her. “Did you belong to one of the former guilds here, or are you a mercenary?”
“A mercenary,” Zusa lied. “From Angelport. I’ve come here for work, and for coin. The Sun Guild seems the perfect fit.”
“You are a killer then? Not a thief of coin but of blood?”
It might take her down a dark road, but she knew it best suited her skills.
“I am,” she said.
“So be it. Follow me. Your test isn’t over just yet.”
Without waiting for a response, he left his home, assuming it was his home, and began backtracking along the route Alex and Zusa had taken. He walked with a purpose, and a distant dread built in Zusa as she anticipated the reason. Behind them Alex’s body remained, though she had a feeling members of the Sun would deal with it shortly … which meant Ridley’s home was being watched at all times.
Back to that lamplit street corner they went, halting a hundred feet away. The remaining two men saw Ridley and Zusa approaching, and they stood up straighter, with Hal nodding in greeting.
“Your speed is great,” Ridley said, softly at first so only she could hear. “But let’s see how you handle a more prepared enemy. Todd! Hal! This woman comes for your life. Defend yourselves!”
Zusa drew her daggers as the two men readied their blades. Hal looked calm, but Todd reckless and angry. Instead of rushing them she slowly approached, each step measured. She wanted to frighten them with her certainty. She wanted to unnerve them with her lack of fear. Taking a cue from Haern, she leaned forward, letting her cloak wrap about her. Halfway between them she crouched down, tensing the muscles in her legs in anticipation of her charge.
“Is Alex dead, too?” Hal asked as he held his sword with both hands.
“He is,” said Zusa.
“Then it’s on my head. You better kill me, girl, or I’m taking every bit of my guilt out on your corpse.”
Zusa smiled.
“Consider it done.”
She burst into movement, a charge at Todd instead of Hal. Fear was in the smaller man’s eyes. There’d be no competition, no dance, no risk of his plunging a blade in her back with a coward’s bravery. Just a quick death. Todd swung at her, as did his fellow rogue, but Zusa rolled to one side, recovered her footing, and then lunged. Her daggers found purchase, plunging through Todd’s ribs. Driving the weapons harder into him, she pushed him back, then retreated when Hal’s long sword slashed for her neck. She twirled so she could set her feet and reposition her blades. In came the bearded man’s thrust, but he’d rushed the attack in hopes of catching her unprepared.
With a simple twist and shift of her left arm, she parried the attack wide. Having overextended himself, there was nothing he could do, not compared to Zusa’s speed. A step, a thrust, and to the street he dropped, blood gushing from the hole she’d opened in his chest. Steeling her heart against his cries, she stood above the dying man with her daggers in her hands. Despite the sudden fight, despite her pounding heart, they did not tremble.
Behind her Ridley clapped.
“Well done,” he said. “Not even a challenge, I daresay. You will be a fine addition to o
ur guild.”
Zusa watched the man die, saw the life leave his eyes as he breathed his last. He was scum, she told herself. Just a foe worthy of death. The lives she saved by bringing Muzien to justice easily outweighed a few dead guild rats. Easy, cruel words, and she repeated them in her head so no guilt might dare surface within her breast.
“They broke the rules,” Ridley said, coming up beside her and seeing how she focused on the dead man. “If you were an assassin, they’d have brought you right to my doorstep instead of a recruiter’s. For such a mistake, they deserved death.”
“Even though I’m not an assassin?” she asked.
Ridley grinned at her.
“Oh, you’re an assassin, just our assassin now. Besides, I wanted to see how well you killed men you’d spoken with. So far, so good. Come with me. It’s time to make your entrance official and get you your star.”
Back north they walked, again leaving the bodies where they lay. Is all of Veldaren their personal burial ground? thought Zusa grimly.
At first she thought they were going back to Ridley’s home, but instead he veered west, through a row of carefully lit stores. At the far end he stopped and gestured at the door of what seemed a simple little shop. With a gentle push, the door cracked open.
“Through here,” he said. “Know that once you enter, your life is sworn to the Sun.”
She brushed past him, pushed the door open all the way to reveal an empty, dark space. After a single step, the floor creaking beneath her foot, a sharp, brutal pain struck the back of her head. The world spun, she was falling, and then came only darkness.
When Zusa awoke she sat upright in a wooden chair. Her arms were bound behind her back, the rope about her wrists looping up and around her neck before trailing back down to bind her ankles as well. The moment she struggled she felt the knots tighten, choking off her breath. Gasping, she tried to relax and take in her surroundings, not that there was much to see. She was in a pitch-black room, without window or lantern for light. If there was anyone else with her, she could not hear them. The back of her head throbbed where she’d been struck. If that was the worst of it, she considered herself lucky. She was fully clothed, which was a relief, though her daggers were missing.
“Damn it,” she muttered, throat feeling raw. She’d made a mistake, but could still recover. They’d left her alive, and in darkness. With shadows being doorways for her, she could be free in moments. However, not killing her meant one of two things. They wanted either to torture her, or to question her. If she remained, and endured the questioning, her task might not yet be a failure …
“I see you’re awake,” said a man’s voice in the darkness. Zusa froze, frightened, but only temporarily.
Calm down, she told herself. You still have this under control. Keep your head, and play along with their game.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” Zusa told her captor.
A lantern burst alight directly above her head, bathing her in a dull yellow glow. It took all of Zusa’s concentration not to swear, and she hid her panic in the general discomfort of the sudden brightness. With the lantern so close, the darkness was gone, the shadows she could use as doorways distant. From what she could see, her chair was in the center of a grand room, for the light did not reach a single wall. At best, she might be able to roll the chair into the darker recesses, but doing so would leave her horribly vulnerable.
Blinking away the colored spots in her vision, she looked to her captor, who stood opposite her with arms crossed. His left hand was black, his ears scarred along the tops. His face, while youthful, was sharp and angular, his blue eyes full of curiosity. There was only one man who might be before her. More correctly, one elf.
“Muzien,” Zusa said.
“Indeed,” Muzien said, eyes sparkling. “Ridley told me your name was Zusa, though I have plenty of reasons to doubt its authenticity. Would you care to tell me your real name?”
“Zusa is my real name.”
Muzien smirked.
“Is that so? Let’s find out for certain.”
He drew a blade from his belt, and with slow, almost casual ease, he put the sharpened edge to her throat, teasing her skin as it slid up and down. His face was mere inches away, eyes boring into hers.
“I’ve had many, many years to practice and learn,” he said. His breath smelled like mint leaves, Zusa realized. She didn’t know why it unnerved her, but it did. “I know how to read a man’s, or woman’s, reactions. The way the eyes dilate. The way they look to their feet, or twitch their fingers, or stress the wrong word when trying so very hard to insist they never lie. There’s many more, of course, and a definite art to picking out the lies. Informed intuition, you might say. So let me ask you again, woman … what is your name?”
She refused to look away, and she didn’t dare dwell on her own reactions. The more she tried to ensure her hands remained still, or her face expressionless, the more likely she’d come across as unnatural. Her entire body was a mask, she told herself. Pretend you are in your wrappings. All he will see is your eyes, and you know how to control a man with them.
“My name is Zusa,” she said.
“Did you ever carry a name before that one, Zusa?”
It was a needle to her heart, but she answered anyway.
“Before I was Zusa, my name was Katherine.”
“Katherine,” Muzien said, tilting his head from side to side. She felt like a piece of meat before him. “Katherine, what a beautiful name, far more so than Zusa. So tell me, Katherine, who are you spying for?”
Her immediate instinct was to deny it, and she forced it down. Play the game, she had to play the game.
“Just a spy?” she asked. “How do you know I’m not here to kill you?”
Muzien paused, just long enough for Zusa to know she’d won him over.
“A person of your skill does not simply appear,” he said, stepping back and pulling the blade from her throat. “Ridley assured me you could kill the finest of my men with those daggers of yours. That impresses me, Katherine. More importantly, it means I should have heard of you by now, yet I don’t believe I have. Would you care to explain why?”
The opening was there, so simple and perfect it almost made Zusa smile. Almost.
“Because no one was to know of my existence,” she said. “I was a faceless of Karak, trained to be my god’s blade in the night.”
The elf turned and walked to the edge of the lantern’s reach, not once taking his eyes off her. Beyond her sight he grabbed a wooden chair similar to hers, carried it back, and set it down in front of her.
“You were a servant?” Muzien asked as he took a seat. “Are you no longer?”
“Cut these ropes off of me,” Zusa said. “Only then will I give you my answer.”
“You’re still in a rather precarious position to issue demands.”
“It’s a condition, not a demand. Cut my throat if you wish, but you still won’t get my answer. That only comes when the ropes are off.”
The elf smiled at her.
“You’re a rare flower, aren’t you?”
“Those who know me would say I’m more thorns than flower.”
Muzien rose, and after two quick cuts, the ropes fell slack. Zusa pulled her arms free, rubbed a sore stretch on her neck. As the elf sat back down, she straightened in her chair and tried to settle on the right words to detail her past in the temple.
“I was once a priestess,” she said, figuring to start from the beginning. “We were under strict orders to have no physical contact with the opposite sex, especially fellow members of the temple. I broke that rule, and because of that I was forced to become a member of the faceless.”
“There are no faceless in Mordeina,” Muzien said. “Who, or what, are you?”
“We were Karak’s shameful, forced to wear dark strips of cloth across our entire bodies, hiding even our eyes with thin white silk. Every day was a penance, our bodies a thing of sin, our killings our atone
ment. We were trained to move through darkness, and to remain unseen when we wished it so. The wealthy in good standing with the temple could pay for our services, bringing death to their enemies. The only difference between us and you was that the coin we earned for our killings went to our god instead of our pockets.”
Muzien chuckled.
“There are more differences between you and me than just that,” he said. “But this imprisonment to your god … how long ago did you escape it?”
This was tougher to answer, and she almost lied. Still, pretending she had just left Karak’s temple would involve too many potential chances to be found out.
“Nine years,” she said. “I escaped them nine years ago. As far as I know, they believe I’m dead.”
It was strange how excited the elf seemed to become. His eyes were wider, his smile brighter. Eager, she realized. Learning of her loathing of her god made him eager to hear more, and to join in himself.
“To repress your sexuality is unnatural,” he said, rising to his feet and beginning to pace. “What sin is there in your fornication? Your pitifully short-lived race would have already died out long ago without it. But Karak wants control, doesn’t he? He wants defeated men, twisted, bent, heads down, eyes to the ground. What the gods call humility, I call slavery. What the gods call worship, I call indulging vanity. They’re no different from each other, none of them, no matter what their followers insist. In the end the gods want puppets who will willingly hand over their strings, begging to be made to dance. So tell me, Katherine, deep down in your heart, are you still one of their dancers?”
Zusa rose to her feet, and she pulled her shoulders back wide and stood tall.
“I will never bow to Karak again,” she said. “And my name is Zusa. Katherine died years ago when those priests lashed her naked and bleeding body.”
Muzien’s darkened hand flexed, unflexed.
“You are a stunning beauty,” he said. “I cannot wait to witness your blades in action.”
Just when Zusa was finally ready to relax, to let out the breath it seemed she’d been holding since she awoke in that room, Muzien suddenly exploded in motion. An elbow slammed into her stomach, a fist into her cheek. A kick dropped to her to one knee, and she let out a pained cry as she heard the ringing of metal. Muzien’s hand was on her throat, his sword pressed against her gut. His speed, his fluidity of movement … it was incredible. In a mere heartbeat he’d shown her how easily he could defeat her. Despite the sudden violence, when he spoke there was no anger in his voice, just simple truth.
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