by William King
“Perhaps there are limits to what the weapon can do. Or perhaps he expects it to burn out after a few uses.”
“A good point.”
“Are there any spells that can protect against such weapons?” Rik asked.
“I would have to study it in detail to know for certain. It would not do to try a general counter-spell without some assurance of it working. Lord Manesi’s wizards have already made the folly of that quite clear. The green light can destroy an army.”
“When will you teach me some magic? Does your offer of apprenticeship still stand?” Rik spoke his mind, amazed by his own temerity and found that he resented that amazement. He wanted to be able to talk to Asea as an equal, to not be intimidated by her, but he realised that was impossible. She was one of the First. She would always be daunting.
“I will teach you when the time is right, but now is not the time. There are other things that demand attention. Did you see our guests last night?”
Rik thought of the beautiful young Terrarch woman, and the tall officer she was with. “I did.”
“Mark them well.”
“Why?”
“You may have to kill them.”
“You speak very casually of murder, milady.” The words came to his lips unbidden. He was surprised to find himself reprimanding her.
“I assure you I do not, Rik. If those two get what I fear they have come for, our entire campaign in Kharadrea will collapse.”
He waited in silence. After a few heartbeats she added. “The Dark Empire will have a new rich province, right on our borders. They could bring their armies in by land or by sea. I don’t think you would find living under the likes of Lord Jaderac very congenial, Rik.”
“Would you?” he asked. He found yet again that he feared her but could not help provoking her. She studied him as if considering punishing him for his insolence.
“No, I would not,” she said eventually. “I do not like the Purples. I do not like their policies. I do not like the form of slavery they practise on your people.
“But, perhaps more to the point, the Queen-Empress does not like me. I fear I would swiftly find my lands confiscated and my head on the block if she were to assume rulership of Talorea, as would Azaar and all the others who helped put Queen Arielle on her throne.”
She sounded utterly sincere, but then she would. “From all I have heard I do not think I would like to live under the Queen-Empress either,” Rik said. “Why do you really want them killed?”
“I did not say I want them killed. I said it might become necessary.”
“And you think I am the man for the job.”
“I am certain you are.”
“Because of my blood?”
“Because you can slip through wards, Rik. Because you can be made invisible to sorcery. Because you have a knowledge of locks and breaking and entering. Because you are clever and resourceful and cold of heart. Because you are a trained killer. Like it or not, the army has made you one. Because you can do it and if I set you this task I am sure you will.”
Rik thought of the girl he had seen last night, the strange emotion he had felt when he first saw her. “What if I don’t want to kill her?”
“The Lady Tamara, Rik? Don’t let her pretty face fool you. She comes from an old Purple line. She wants to overthrow the Scarlet realms and all they stand for.”
“You want to overthrow theirs. Do you think that makes you worthy of being marked for death?”
“I am marked for death, Rik. I am quite sure that given the chance Lord Jaderac or Lady Tamara would see me dead. The Queen-Empress would thank them most handsomely for arranging it.”
“When will you decide if you want them killed?”
“After I have spoken with Lord Ilmarec. After I have found out what progress they have made of convincing him to side with them.”
“How would you have me do it?”
“I told you I believe you will find a way. I will leave the matter in your hands.”
Of course, thought Rik, that way the matter would be completely deniable if he was caught. It seemed that he was being used. “And what will my reward be if I am successful?”
“You will not find me ungrateful, Rik. But before you get carried away with your demands you should remember something. You and your friends sold forbidden books to an enemy of the Realm back in Redtower. That is treason. And treason is a capital crime. What you did merits the attention of the Inquisition and a very slow and painful death.”
Of course, the Inquisition would believe that accusation coming from her. Perhaps she even had proof. Rik felt the jaws of the trap closing on him. Whatever happened he would have to do what Asea wanted. He would need to take whatever risks she asked, and do the tasks she appointed him to do.
“I am sorry, Rik,” she said. “I truly am, but there are things necessity drives me to do.”
“I am more familiar with that than you could possibly believe, milady.”
“I believe you,” she said. “We will talk of this further when the time comes”
From her manner it was clear he was dismissed.
Rik entered the courtyard and saw Sergeant Hef was waiting for him. “I trust her Ladyship had no special duties for you to perform this fine day?”
“None,” said Rik. Was the Sergeant giving him a disapproving look? It was hard to tell.
“Good, then you are rotated onto sentry duty. Take your turn at the gate. If her Ladyship needs your services I will see you are informed.”
Rik moved quickly to obey. Normally he found sentry duty too tedious for words, but today he had a lot to think about and this would ensure his thoughts were not disturbed.
He took up his position facing the Barbarian and studied the street with a wary eye for a minute or two. There were no obvious threats he could see. Just some children playing pitch and toss for coppers in the gutters, and a few food vendors selling sausages and sweetmeats. A couple of hopeful whores who had heard of the soldiers within loitered hopefully nearby, making their presence known so that assignations might be made later.
He was not so much amazed by the fact that Asea had judged him to be an assassin at heart, as by the fact that she had judged him so well. He had killed men before, in the heat of combat, on battlefields and in the back alleys of Sorrow. He had killed men when his own life was at stake as it had been back in Bertragh’s warehouse in Redtower. He had never simply killed strangers in cold blood for reward but he felt certain that he could do so if the need arose.
Now Asea was asking him to kill Terrarchs. The part of him that had been brought up to revere the Elder Race was appalled. A more rebellious part of him felt a sick thrill. He might actually be called upon to kill the masters of the world, the ones who had oppressed him and made his life miserable for so long. The same breed as his father…
That thought brought him face to face with a thought he did not particularly like. What if this whole business was just another test, carried out by Asea to see if her theory about his background was correct. He would not put it past her to do such a thing. He shook his head- it made perfect sense that she really did want Jaderac and Tamara dead.
He felt as if a wide abyss yawned in the paving stones at his feet. He had been sucked into the secret intrigues of the Terrarchs, into their conspiracies and quiet killings. He was in a sense an insider now, and that too was oddly thrilling to a boy who had spent his whole life on the outside of things. It was strange to think that to passers-by he was just a young soldier on sentry duty, but soon he might be called upon to stalk and kill some of the highest nobles in the land.
Get a grip, he told himself. This was not one of the cheap storybooks he liked to read, this was his life. He was not some secret agent bent on desperate duties in the Queen’s service. He was being asked to murder powerful people in cold blood for payment. He was not entirely sure what the fee would be; there was not even any certainty that Asea would keep her side of the bargain. Perhaps he would be sent to kil
l Jaderac and Tamara, and she would then denounce him as a madman. Such assassinations had happened in the past. No one would take his word against hers. He could be a one shot weapon, like a cheap pistol, used and then discarded.
But if what Asea said was true, he was too valuable. A killer who could bypass any ward undetected would be too useful to just throw away. Unless, of course, she was telling him these things to egg him on, to motivate him, to make him think he was invincible when in fact he would be caught and killed after the attempt.
His whole world had changed during the course of their conversation. He had found out something about himself that he had only half-suspected before, a hidden depth that horrified and frightened him. The Temple Preachers who had lectured him as a child would have had their every suspicion confirmed if they could have looked inside his head right now. They had always claimed he was naturally wicked and would come to a bad end. Before he died all of Master Pternius’s worst predictions might well be fulfilled.
Let them be. He did not care.
“Fancy a stroll round the city then?” said Weasel.
Guard duty was over. The relief was already at the gate. Rik was tired but not that tired. It would soon be night and he was in a strange town and that fed the restlessness that had been growing in him all day.
“Why not?” Rik said.
“Why not indeed,” said the Barbarian.
“Let’s not forget we’ve got some chores for the Quartermaster. I asked around today, seems the likeliest place is a tavern called The Snake’s Head. It’s down along the waterfront, near where we were yesterday.”
“Bad time of the night for that part of town,” said Rik. “What with people going missing and all.”
“You’re not saying you’re scared, are you, Halfbreed?” said the Barbarian.
“I’m just saying we should make sure our pistols are loaded and our knives are close at hand.”
The Barbarian said; “Mine usually are. It’s not my fault if you can’t keep your powder dry since you started hanging around with the Great Lady. I’m surprised you are not heading up there tonight. Or does she call the shots?”
“You want to go to the Snake’s Head or not?”
“I’m in,” said Weasel.
“Me too,” said the Barbarian.
“Then let’s get our stuff and go.”
The Snake’s Head was everything Rik had expected it to be and a little bit less. The ceiling was low. The clientele were rough as a thirsty dog’s tongue. The smoke of pipeweed, dreamweed and a dozen other narcotics filled the place. The lowest sort of bargirls, faces splashed with rouge and whitened with powder to cover their pox marks, stared at them when they came in. The Barbarian rubbed his hands together and chuckled with glee.
“My kind of place,” he said. “Time to get the beers in.”
He shouldered his way through the crowd, ignoring the glares of the hard-looking men he pushed aside. Most of them merely stared. The Barbarian was the tallest man in the room by a head, and massive with it; not the sort of person anybody wanted trouble with.
Rik and Weasel took a table in an alcove and Rik studied the place carefully. It was a classic thieves dive if ever he had seen one. Furtive men with covered packages came in, said something to the barman and then headed into the back. Doubtless there was a fence through there. Sometimes he caught sight of a man as big as the Barbarian, when the curtains were swept aside.
The Barbarian returned with three beers and tumblers full of a strong-smelling spirit. Rik shook his head and indicated the Barbarian should take the spirit. Now was not the time for getting drunk. “Looks like your informant was right, I would say. What you want to do about it?”
“I think I’ll go have a word with the man in the back room,” Weasel said.
“Want us to come with you?” Rik asked.
“No, don’t want to scare him off with the sight of your ugly faces. Stay here, and come running if I whistle. You’ll know if there’s trouble.”
“Right-o,” said the Barbarian, downing the spirit in one.
Rik wondered at this. Was it possible that Weasel did not want them to hear what he had to say to the local thieves? Or was it that he just did not want to make the locals nervous? He could play it any way he wanted as far as Rik was concerned.
A slim youth entered. He was garbed in a black tunic, with a slouch hat pulled across his eyes. He had a long knife on his hip and a pistol thrust into his belt and he walked with the strutting confidence of a city-bred bravo. Rik felt a strange flicker of recognition, and then something like an electric shock when their gazes met. He knew this person, although at first he was not certain from where. Then slowly the impossibility of what he was seeing settled on his mind.
“You look like you just saw a ghost, Halfbreed?” said the Barbarian. There was faint mockery in his voice. “That strutting cockerel there scare you?”
Rik shook his head. He was not quite sure that he wanted to tell the big man that Lady Tamara, daughter of the former Chancellor of Sardea liked to hang out in riverside taverns dressed as a man. “No, I just know him. Wait here, I’m going to have a word.”
“Just leave me on my bloody own then,” said the Barbarian.
“Drink my beer.”
“As you command, sir.”
Rik tapped the black-clad youth on the shoulder. She turned swift as a snake. Cold eyes glittered beneath the brim of the hat.
“I think you and I should talk,” Rik said.
This close he could see it really was Tamara. The Terrarch noblewoman was very well disguised. It looked as if wads of something had been placed inside her cheeks to puff them out and make them look more human and makeup had been applied to the corner of the eyes to alter their shape, the same with the lips. Dirt smeared her face in a way that no Terrarch would ever allow it to. Her hair and her hat covered her ears. There was something else too, something he could not quite put his finger on, but which he suspected was magic.
“Very well,” the voice was low and sounded human. It had a Kharadrean accent. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“I think we met very briefly the other night.” Rik was absolutely certain that she would remember him and recognise him, just as he had recognised her.
“There are private rooms upstairs.”
Words passed between Tamara and the bartender, she grabbed a bottle and two goblets and then they both headed upstairs. The private room was more like a private cupboard. It had a table and a couple of rickety chairs and a door that could be wedged closed. A small single bed took up most of the rest of the space. Tamara took a spill, lit it from one of the lanterns and then lit the candle set on a chipped plate on the table. Her expression was one of amusement. She did not seem at all frightened at being alone in a room in a rough part of town with a strange man.
She poured a drink. Rik watched her hands carefully, he was certain she added nothing to it. That did not mean the wine could not have been doctored though. It might have happened downstairs. She saw him watching her and raised the goblet to her lips and drank. He considered switching goblets with her and decided that might be a little too melodramatic. He doubted anyone would have the foresight to doctor the cups. He drank the wine. It was surprisingly good.
“I saw you at Lady Asea’s mansion the other night,” he said, once they were both seated. Their stools were very close together. Their legs touched. “I am surprised to see you here.”
“And I am surprised that you recognised me in the dim light, in these clothes, with this makeup and wrapped by these spells.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“I was wondering about that.” She passed a hand across her face. An odd rippling, distorting effect followed her hand as she made the gesture and her features became the ones he had seen the previous evening. She was, like all Terrarch women, ravishingly beautiful and there was something else about her, a sense of interest in him personally, of availability. It was written in her smile.
“I assure you I am more safe here than you are.”
“I must admit I am curious. Why exactly are you here?”
“You think I am one of those High Born who comes to the low parts of town in search of sexual adventure?” Rik had known of Terrarch women who did exactly that in Sorrow, Terrarch men as well. The way her hand now rested on his thigh seemed to confirm the impression.
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Are you offering your services?” She reached out and adjusted a lock of his hair with her hands. He pulled away, feeling a slight sting. Had she pulled out some of his hair? He looked but her hands were empty. It occurred to Rik that if Lady Asea really wanted Tamara dead, he was never going to get a better opportunity than now. Under these circumstances, though, he just could not do it. For whatever reason he found he actually rather liked her, and he was certainly intrigued.
“I wasn’t but…”
“It’s an interesting proposition. I must confess I noticed you the other night as we were departing and I thought; who is that handsome young man…” She had backed away now as if to put some distance between them. He considered what would happen if he attacked her. All she had to do was reveal who she was and he would be in terrible trouble and she was armed. Some instinct warned him that she was much more formidable than she looked.
“You thought more than that.”
“Really? Is mind reading among your many accomplishments then?”
“No but I felt something when I saw you.”
“How very romantic.”
“It was not anything romantic. I merely felt a sense of recognition. I suspect you did to.”
“You might be right. Now, why do you think that was?”
“I wish I knew,” said Rik honestly. “But I don’t. I have never seen you before last night. Why are you here?”
“I am here because like your friend, the Weasel, I have business with Black Tomar, the proprietor of this delightful establishment.”