“A job went sideways earlier tonight.”
She turned back to him, smirking. “So that’s why you’re back so early. I wasn’t sure if you simply missed me.”
“Jessica—”
“I’ll keep my ears open for any news. Maybe you should do better with completing your jobs.”
She said it with a hint of a smile.
How much does she know about what I did?
Gavin had been intentionally vague with her over the time he’d been in Yoran, not wanting her to know what it was that he did. Stealing. Capturing those who needed to be moved. Killing, when it came to it. He didn’t think she would judge him in any way, but it was more to protect her. It was easier for her to deny that she knew anything about him when she didn’t know his line of work.
“Are you in trouble?” she asked. Her smile faded as a look of real concern appeared on her face and within her deep blue eyes.
“No more than usual.”
“Seeing as how I don’t know you all that well, I don’t know what ‘usual’ involves.”
“These days, it involves me working for someone whose face I’ve never seen, doing jobs that are increasingly dangerous, and trying to keep from having my friend brought into the middle of everything.”
Jessica watched him for a moment before shaking her head. “Are you telling me you’ve never met your employer?”
“Not yet.”
“How do you get the jobs then?”
“They always use an intermediary.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“It’s not so much that I’m okay with it as that I don’t have much of a choice. The jobs pay well.”
“That’s all you care about?”
He frowned. “Is there anything else I should be concerned about? I mean, I need to find well-paying jobs to ensure I can pay for my lodging.”
She grinned at him. “I’m sure we can speak to the proprietor. I suspect she wouldn’t have any problem with you finding alternative methods of payment.”
Gavin found himself laughing. Despite what he’d gone through tonight, sitting and talking with Jessica always put him at ease.
“There is more than financial benefit you can take from your work,” she said.
“Really? What other benefits do you take from your work?” he asked.
“You mean, other than having the benefit of spending time with men like you?”
“How many other men like me are you spending time with?”
“You’d be surprised, Gavin.” She got up and tapped the table. “Let me bring you some food and fresh ale, then you can relax.” She looked over to where Wrenlow had moved. He was sitting alone on the far side of the tavern, his book open on his lap once more, the pen moving rapidly as he made notes. “Maybe I should send one of my girls over and have a few words with him. Do you think that would make him feel better?”
“No, it would probably make him more nervous than anything. I need him focused.”
She grinned, tapped the tabletop, and sauntered off, weaving her way to pause in front of Wrenlow’s table. Gavin shook his head as she leaned over, revealing a flash of her ample cleavage. Even from here, he could see what she was doing.
“That one can be a bit difficult,” Gaspar said, taking a seat across from Gavin.
The old thief was grizzled, with one eye constantly narrowed, and there was a perpetual sense that he was seeing more than what he let on. The heavy hide cloak he wore always had a stain, though never in the same place. Gavin had always found that amusing, something of a mystery about the man, almost as if he were getting it cleaned and then dirtying it again.
“You’re back early,” Gavin said.
“Now you sound like her,” Gaspar said, nodding to Jessica.
Gavin smiled to himself. “I suppose I do. I figured you’d be gone for most of the night.”
“Not tonight. Too many preparations for the next job.”
Gaspar rarely spoke about his jobs, preferring to keep the details to the crew he hired. Seeing as how Gavin was never part of those crews, he found out about what type of things they did only when the jobs were over.
“I figured you’d be gone longer too,” Gaspar said.
The way he said it suggested he had knowledge of what Gavin was involved in. Knowing the thief and the connections he had, it was possible he did know. He was well-connected within Yoran and often able to use those connections to find information others wanted to keep hidden. Gavin wouldn’t be able to conceal much from Gaspar if the man deemed it desirable to know.
“The job went sideways,” Gavin admitted.
“Still don’t know who you’re working for?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Yet?” Gaspar arched one bushy eyebrow, leaning toward him. “Something changed. You never really cared before.”
“I cared. It was just…”
Gaspar leaned back, laughing. “Turnabout.”
“What was that?”
The man chuckled. “Turnabout. An assassin gets turned on. Never would’ve expected it to be your employer, but I guess your employer never expected you to fail him.”
“Or her.”
“Do you think?”
Gavin looked around the inside of the tavern. “I don’t really know. Outside of Yoran, I would’ve said no”—the neighboring cities were nothing if not harsh on women—“but inside the city? With the people I’ve met here, I really don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s her,” Gaspar said, nodding to Jessica.
It was Gavin’s turn to chuckle, though there was a part of him troubled by the idea. He didn’t think it was Jessica, but it could be somebody else he knew. Hamish knew things about him and had information he really shouldn’t; not without having insider information as to the kinds of things Gavin was involved in. Somehow, the other man always had an upper hand.
“I didn’t say that to get you upset, boy. I was just—”
“You didn’t upset me. I was just thinking I keep assuming that my employer is somebody with money and who’s well-connected, but maybe it’s someone I haven’t paid any attention to.”
“You don’t think your employer has money? I thought you were taking jobs to get paid. What kind of assassin are you if you aren’t willing to work for money?”
Gavin flipped the knife out of its sheath, slamming it onto the table quickly. It was a flurry of movement, faster than most people could track. He expected Gaspar to jerk his head back, but the old thief simply sat there, watching him.
“Not an assassin,” he said more harshly than necessary.
“Those are the jobs you’ve been taking.”
Gavin glowered at him. They had been, though they weren’t the kinds of jobs he preferred. He didn’t like killing unless he knew the person deserved it. That was where Wrenlow came in. Even tonight’s target wouldn’t have been handed over to Hamish until Gavin knew more about her.
“I get paid. I’m starting to wonder if perhaps the person paying me is hiding in plain sight.” It was going to force him to look at everybody with a different level of suspicion. Perhaps that was Hamish’s plan—if there was a plan at all.
“Care to talk about it?” Gaspar asked.
A minstrel took up a position in the far corner. They started slowly strumming a long-necked lute, and the music drifted into the tavern. When they started singing, their warbly voice sounded something like an injured animal. Gavin shook his head, looking across the tavern to Jessica, who grinned as she locked eyes with him.
“Damn that woman,” he muttered.
“You don’t like the music?”
“She knows I don’t like music. I think she’s been hiring the worst minstrels in all of Yoran just to torment me.”
“Why would she torment you with minstrels?”
Gavin got to his feet and grabbed the knife, placing it back into a sheath and shaking his head again. “Because she wants me out of the tavern.”
As he sta
rted past Gaspar, the thief reached for his wrist. Gavin grabbed the man’s hand, pulling it off and twisting. A slender, dark-haired woman sitting in the corner jumped to her feet. Gavin noticed the narrow blade strapped to her waist and stiffened. Imogen often worked with Gaspar, so Gavin should have known she’d be here, but he hadn’t seen her. She could be sneaky. Wrenlow watched Imogen, but he hadn’t moved. Not much help for him there.
Gavin released Gaspar’s hand quickly, letting out a slow sigh. “I’m sorry, Gaspar. Force of habit.”
“Never apologize. I shouldn’t have laid a hand on you. You’re quicker than you look.”
“That’s sort of my trade,” Gavin said.
“Right, but I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be nearly as quick as that. Anyway, don’t go angering that one,” he said, nodding to Jessica.
“I have no intention of angering her.”
“Don’t go hurting her either.”
Though he and Wrenlow were in Yoran for now, if this job didn’t work out, he was perfectly willing to move on. He had to be careful not to get attached. With Jessica, that had proven increasingly difficult.
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
Gaspar chuckled again. He tipped his chair back, teetering on the back legs and balancing. “Your best. Sounds like the way things went for you tonight, your best isn’t always good enough.”
Gavin scowled at him. “What do you know about it?”
“I don’t know anything. Just that you seem awfully distressed and that there was a high-level house targeted tonight.” He cocked a brow at him. “That wouldn’t be you, would it?”
“No.”
He crossed the tavern, putting distance between him and Gaspar. He liked the old thief, but sometimes Gaspar tried to stick his nose into places he didn’t need to. It was the kind of thing that would end up getting the old man hurt.
The warbling singer continued to torment Gavin’s eardrum as he crossed the tavern. The only part that sounded decent was the strumming of the lute, and even that was terrible.
“I’m going to go back outside,” he said as he leaned close to Wrenlow.
“Why? Did you learn something?”
“No. I just need to stretch my legs. Besides, it’s far too early for me to be in here drinking.”
“I thought you wanted a night free.”
Gavin looked across the tavern to where Gaspar was visiting with Jessica, then to the singer, and finally back to Wrenlow. “I thought so, too, but I don’t think tonight is going to be my night for a quiet time.”
He stepped outside into the darkness, where there was still a gentle breeze blowing through the city. He paused in the shadows outside of the Roasted Dragon, taking in the smells of the city itself. This area had a bit more decay than in other sections of the city, and an undercurrent of filth was carried with the breeze. Many of the shop owners attempted to mitigate the smells with flowers planted outside of their shops, producing a mixture of competing fragrances. Somewhere nearby, he detected the scents of bread baking and the savory aromas of meat and vegetables. Music drifted out of the Roasted Dragon; a jaunty tune sung by the tone-deaf minstrel inside.
Shadows moved with him.
“Not already,” he muttered as he unsheathed his knives, preparing for the attack.
Chapter Four
Gavin rolled the hilts of the knives in his hands. He ran his fingers along the leather to get comfortable with it again as he slipped back along the street, moving in the shadows. It would be better for him to avoid a fight, though given his mood, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing for him.
It would be better for him to move away from the Dragon so he didn’t create chaos right outside. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Jessica and the others inside by drawing the constables’ attention to the tavern.
Gavin continued to move up the street, backing as quickly as he could until he reached an intersection. Then he shifted, spinning and moving deliberately. There were others out in the street, but when they saw his cloaked form with a pair of blades in his hands, they scattered.
He wasn’t accustomed to being the one running. Most of the time, he was the one doing the chasing. In Yoran, everything had gone sideways. He kept talking about how this job in particular was the one that was trouble, but truth be told, many of the jobs had been off ever since they’d come here. Most of that was because his employer was hiring him to take on increasingly difficult jobs. Some of them involved getting into places that were incredibly fortified, while other jobs involved high-level targets.
Gavin had avoided most of them but refusing ran the risk of losing future jobs. Besides, in Yoran everyone was guilty of something. Situated on the outskirts of the kingdom of Henethell, the city had more thieves and criminals than he’d seen anywhere else. Most of them were like Gaspar, the kind of criminal he was accustomed to working with, but others operated from places of wealth.
Gavin reached an alleyway and darted along it, backing into the shadows. From there, the street opened in front of him. He might be trapped here, but with the way the buildings were situated, he thought he might be able to scale them and escape if it came down to it. Any fight here would force his attacker into face-to-face contact, which gave Gavin the advantage.
He moved toward the back of the alley, the darkness swallowing him. As he did, he watched for any signs of movement. No one passed on the street ahead. Gradually, the shadows started to darken and grow, and he frowned. Someone must have extinguished the lantern along the street.
That would put him at a disadvantage. He had decent eyesight, but not as good as some. There were times when he wished he’d paid for enchantments that would augment his sight, but they were dangerous.
A figure appeared at the mouth of the alley. Gavin stayed motionless, waiting. When the attacker came, he’d either drive his knives into their stomach and move on, or he would wait for them to leave and pursue them. If somebody was willing to come to the Dragon for him, he was determined to see why they would and who they were working for.
Maybe it was for his employer.
That didn’t feel quite right though. He expected his employer to give him more time to complete the job. Hamish would’ve bought him enough time to at least have another try at the target, even if only another night.
The shadowy form continued moving along the alley toward him. They were thin. And not alone.
There was a second one, and Gavin smiled to himself. He had chosen the alley intentionally, wanting to make sure the fight was one-on-one, and having two come down the alley would only help him. The close quarters would put two attackers at a disadvantage, running the risk of them getting tangled up in one another.
When they were near enough, he lunged forward at one. He swept in a quick arc with his left hand, bringing his right underneath. They caught both arms with a blocking movement, preventing Gavin’s strike from hitting its mark. The attacker moved quickly—almost as quickly as he did.
That surprised him. Twice in one night?
Gavin gritted his teeth and switched his fighting style. He thought about a different technique, moving into a close combat type of style where he could attack more easily. He flashed forward, flipping the knife up and bringing his left hand in at a lower angle. Both attacks were blocked by the other person in the alley. Almost too late, Gavin realized that the second attacker was no longer there.
Movement behind him caught his attention, and he spun, realizing they’d somehow scrambled up the walls and gotten behind him.
Balls.
The alley might’ve been a mistake. He was pinned. He stabbed with one hand but found the other attacker driving their elbow down onto his arm. Pain screamed through his arm as he nearly dropped the knife. Ignoring that pain, he kicked behind him. A grunt was his reward, and he flipped the knife, driving it back and hitting only air. He darted forward and switched hands, using his good arm to slash at the first attacker. That one seemed quicker.
Something cut thro
ugh his cloak. Gavin swore under his breath and dropped low, crouching for a moment and then driving up. The angle was such that he launched himself, using the crown of his head as a weapon. He hammered the underside of his attacker’s jaw, freeing himself from being trapped.
Gavin rolled over his attacker, putting himself on the other side of the alley, closer to the street. Now the attackers were behind him. At least he had only two.
Light from the street made it difficult for him to see them. He studied their dark cloaks and their lithe figures, and with the way they moved in their attacks, he almost groaned.
El’aras.
That had to be who they were. It had been years since he’d faced any of them, though there was a distinct style to their fighting—fluidity and speed. This was not what he expected. This was not the kind of job he would’ve taken.
The El’aras were athletic and almost universally thin. The men making their way toward him had angular faces, and their cloaks shimmered as they moved, giving them an appearance of something almost supernatural. In a way, they were supernatural. The El’aras were a magical people who lived beyond the reaches of humans, and it was rare for him to encounter them. There was a time when humans and El’aras mingled more frequently, but war had a way of separating people.
War and sorcerers.
Now the El’aras rarely risked the cities of humans for fear of sorcerers. When they were found, they were like this: small clusters, all dangerous.
What purpose did they have here?
Gavin wasn’t going to be able to win against them. Normally, he had the upper hand in fights. It came from his own heritage and his own quickness, but in this case, he had nothing.
The nearest attacker darted forward, sweeping his long dagger toward him. Gavin dodged to the side, pinned the man’s arm up against the wall, and kicked. At the same time, he jabbed with his good arm, driving his knife blade into the man’s arm.
It sunk in, and the El’aras attacker dropped the blade. Gavin kicked it, sending it skittering down the alley. He drove his heel into the attacker’s knee, which would slow him, but not enough. Not nearly enough.
The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3 Page 4