Assassin (The Revelations Cycle Book 11)

by Kacey Ezell

  With a smaller group though, sound carried oddly, and the room seemed too big. There were no obvious perches or ledges for resting above the floor, though the walls seemed rough enough to allow for a determined climb if one wanted to go around their peers. An elevated section across the room from the entrance held a cushioned bench, clearly meant for the dama, as there were no other seats or places to rest.

  This room was meant for the clan to gather, hear what the dama had to say, and leave. Faint wear marks in the ground indicated this might not always have been the way, but Dirrys had been dama for twice as long as Blade had lived, and only two members of her clan were old enough to know what it had looked like before, so this was how Whispering Fear ran.

  Blade allowed himself a brief moment to remember Night Wind’s gathering room, the chairs, cushions, and shelves scattered around. How Deluge had loved to slip into whatever seat Susa was about to choose, and surprise her. How Flame had gotten good enough to sometimes surprise Deluge at his own game, sneaking onto the chair first in her quintessence field, and pouncing on him.

  There were no pranks here, and while some of the Hunters grouped together with evidence of warmth and existing bonds, this room meant business first and last.

  He made another effort to see it objectively. He didn’t trust Dirrys, and so he wanted to see this clan negatively. It was more than a family group, larger and older than his own clan, and of course it would operate differently. Until recently, it had been one of the wealthiest clans, and therefore “differently” did not mean the same as “worse.” The Hunters all carried the healthy wariness that came of being summoned by their dama, but otherwise carried their conversations with ease. No one appeared in fear of some unexpected, unprovoked punishment.

  Chirruch, from an even smaller clan, would have no idea how to judge it, and so he observed without worry that it would make him stand out. Watch. Find a way.

  * * *

  “This is barely half of our Hunters, maybe a third of the clan,” Ichys murmured at his shoulder before her scent had a chance to register.

  “I had no idea,” he lied, then glanced at her when she laughed.

  “Of course, you did. You researched Whispering Fear the day you met me at Fip’s.”

  “I…” Blade blinked quickly, one ear swiveling back as he tried to remember where he’d slipped, what she knew. Were they gathered because they knew who he was?

  “When we went hunting,” there was amusement in her voice, and she slow blinked to signal he could calm himself, “you knew a bit more about my clan than the day we met. Hunters like to know what they’re getting into—I would never be angry at you for that.”

  Foolish. Nearly gave himself away on the mistaken notion he had already somehow revealed himself. That would be a truly embarrassing way to go, after all this work and time. He lowered his eyes, both ears pricked forward in rueful acknowledgment.

  “I didn’t want you to think me a lost yokel. I am, of course, but I hoped you’d see more.”

  She laughed again and leaned to rub her cheek against his. Several of the other Hunters noticed, one turning to watch more obviously that the others. A rival lover, perhaps, or an aspiring one. Ichys didn’t pay attention.

  “Have you adopted a wanderer?” a new voice asked, from a space Blade knew was empty a moment ago.

  “Arow.” There was fondness in her tone, and Ichys moved slightly away from Blade to greet the arrival. “This is Chirruch, new to the city and visitor to our clan, from Deep Night.”

  Blade took the time of her introduction to fully observe the Hunter who’d managed to appear without warning, to even his senses. Arow had deep brown fur with a rich shine, unshaven and barely scarred despite his age. The male was older than any Hunter he’d met before, including the elders at the council. Though he did not need to, he dipped his head to this deo, and the older male rumbled deep in his chest.

  “He’ll do. I didn’t know they taught such manners that far in the jungle.”

  Despite the warmth in the older male’s tone, Blade stiffened, as Chirruch must. Young, untested in the city, with much to prove to win a place in Whispering Fear, it was exactly the reaction he would be expected to have.

  “Just because life is harder for us there, doesn’t mean we don’t learn equally as deeply as you city-dwellers.”

  “Well spoken. I like the little claw point of insult in return, most skillfully done. Not too witty or angry, just enough to show me you have teeth.” It should have been ridiculous, this older Hunter narrating the balance Blade had struck, but instead it felt like…praise. Indeed, Ichys made a pleased noise deep in her throat, and Blade straightened further, though he couldn’t have said if that was his reaction, or what he thought Chirruch would do.

  “You didn’t think I’d bring just anyone here, did you?” Ichys rubbed against Blade again, then moved away to greet others before Arow could answer.

  “Ichys has only sponsored two Hunters before, both females,” the deo said, ignoring Ichys’s rhetorical question with his dark yellow eyes locked steadily on Blade’s. At Blade’s obvious surprise, he nodded. Rarely would a female in line for Heir, but not yet confirmed, actively welcome a potential competitor into her clan. Rarer still, to purposefully sponsor her inclusion. It wasn’t entirely unheard of, given that the best Damas put the needs of the clan far above their own, but unusual enough to remark upon.

  Before either of them could say more, a stirring in the crowd indicated Whispering Fear’s Dama. He couldn’t imagine this dama modeling Ichys’s actions and wondered where the younger female had learned such goodness.

  Arow melted away as invisibly as he’d come, and Blade was sure it had nothing to do with quintessence. The old Hunter could have given Flame a competition, and it gave him a momentary pang to consider how much Flame would enjoy someone to push her skills so thoroughly.

  Dirrys took her time moving to her elevated bench, accepting greetings and deferential gestures. Blade categorized it as preening, and he could have been much less gracious. He tracked her as she moved through the crowd, or allowed the Hunters to move around her, as Chirruch would be expected to do. He put years of experience erasing his feelings to use, showing only the vital interest of one whose position depends on the dama, rather than one who would like to like to slice her from top to tail and roll in the blood.

  “We have a number of new contracts to choose from,” she said after taking her due, settling comfortably on the bench and surveying those she had invited. “Opportunities for both our experienced Hunters, and for some potential clan members to prove their value to Whispering Fear. Of course, we can take no joy when other clans falter,” her voice was appropriately neutral, though the lazy motion of her tail hinted at unseemly satisfaction, “but all we can do is step into the unfortunate void they leave behind.”

  Better business for the successful, the implied message echoed, and Blade felt the confirmation of her part in Night Wind’s destruction as a blow. Despite the control holding his emotions in check, he curled his fingerpads close against his palm to ensure no hint of claw showed. Attacking her here, now, had only the slightest margin of possible success, and none of clearing his clan. He would be better than her, in all things.

  “Our best honor for other Hunters is to succeed wildly and ongoing, to ensure the survival and flourishing of our kind. And so, we grow our clan, by influence and with strong Hunters. And, we may hope, with kits of our own.” She did not glance at either of her offspring, but stretched comfortably instead. Blade wondered if she’d actually insulted them, her own kitas, in front of the gathered Hunters, though he knew better than to glance around to study them in answer to his question.

  “I have the contracts ready, for you to review and request. Some, of course, I will assign as I see fit, but as ever I will not waste your time including those in the shared files.”

  That damas could choose who took certain contracts was no secret, but to openly acknowledge her use of power serve
d only to remind the Hunters in the room that she could do so and to engender their interest in what they wouldn’t see. Blade did look around then, not needing to see Dirrys’s indolent posture to note her smugness. A new arrival had every reason to see how established clan members reacted to the dama’s statement, though Blade had other motives.

  A small handful of Hunters shifted, showing what could be subtle hints of unease or simply a poorly-settled lunch. Either way, it marked additional beings for him to casually talk with, in order to continue to grow his understanding of the reputation of this particular dama.

  His gaze snagged on Ichys, standing at an alert attention rather than resting on her hind legs as was her right. He watched her too long—Dirrys had started talking again, and he’d missed the first words, and then he saw Arow, across the room. The older male watched him watch Ichys, and Blade had to smooth down the fur on his back with a conscious effort.

  Neither Ichys nor the old deo would break his focus, he told himself, and tore his attention back toward Dirrys, who paced now, ending a declarative statement about trade. That other species, while perhaps not as deadly as the galactically-feared Depik assassins, could serve as great profit partners to Whispering Fear, if only they had the right Governor.

  Blade had left the council with the understanding that Dirrys wanted the Peacemaker contract his dama had taken, but he reconsidered, watching this show. The Governor contract may not have been as immediately lucrative, yet there were sizable perks. For a clan that had grown ancient and fat on both trade and off-world hunts, Whispering Fear could act decisively with the sort of advance picture of trade negotiations and upcoming contracts a Governor had access to.

  He had no proof for his actual mission, so the sudden interest in finding out more about what had happened to the former Governor had to be pushed aside. It was tempting though, because of course a dama who had chosen to wipe out an entire clan on the basis of some inconclusive video and no motive would certainly be capable of killing one of their own for gain.

  Blade hadn’t thought he could think any lower of Dirrys, but in this, at least, he had been mistaken.

  The gathering broke apart as soon as Dirrys jumped down from her bench, indicating the formalities, such as they were, had closed. Hunters made noises and gestures indicating they would review the public files in privacy, or that they should like to approach the dama later on one or the other, and began to leave. Ichys slow blinked a smile at him, then turned to leave with her half-sister, Sivand, and Blade took the opportunity to follow two strangers out of the room, both of whom glanced at him and dropped into their quintessence fields.

  That gave him all the permission he needed to pull his own field around him, wait until he was fairly sure the hall had cleared, and make his way back to the audience chamber he’d just left. If he kept his distance from the dama, she shouldn’t be able to sense him. And while he didn’t entirely believe she’d be so foolish as to throw out something incriminating in a place where so many assassins could still invisibly linger, stranger things had happened. Regardless, it gave him the opportunity to see her in action without needing to monitor his own reactions, which allowed him to pay much closer attention.

  “None of the contracts are worthy of you, Grissik,” Dirrys said, her ears pointed forward and her gaze earnest on the rangy Hunter. “You should reconsider the opportunity to monitor the Malluma Songo crop in the southwest. You know we cannot have another failure, and there are few I trust as much as you to ensure profits accumulate in that corner again.”

  Blade knew it was meant to be inspiring, but he felt his fur lift in disgust. There was a threat there—perhaps Grissik had failed off-world, or had played some part in the spectacular crop failure referenced at the last council. Something in how Dirrys leaned in, or how her tail held perfectly still and straight behind her. Grissik may or may not have read it, but ducked his head and retreated quickly enough that Blade assumed he had.

  “Shall I send you off-world again, Arow?” Dirrys asked sweetly as the last of the other Hunters made their way out. Her tail lifted in an idle curve, and she didn’t turn to face him.

  Arow settled comfortably on all four legs, supremely unconcerned with the tone and bearing of his dama. She finally turned around as his silence outpaced her patience, and he pricked his ears politely toward her and tilted his head.

  “No,” she purred, sitting back on her hind legs, unconcerned by every measure, “how could I risk you? You’ve become so grandly aged, and all the young Hunters must have someone to look to. You always were such a good teacher.”

  The briefest flicker of his flattened ears showed she had scored a hit, though not one Blade could entirely decipher. Arow must be easily thirty, an unusual age for any Hunter, and doubly so for a male, so her reference to his age couldn’t have wounded him. Teaching, then, some loss of a student, or she had found a way to keep him from leaving Khatash, and he missed the space between stars.

  “Have you chosen one of those new arrivals to train, then? Ichys seems fond of the orange one, though I like how the big gray one from Creeping Fog moves.”

  “Have you chosen one of the new ones, then, Dama?” Arow asked, solicitous. “The clan always benefits from the new blood of outside Hunters, but of course there is much to be said for having our own kits around.”

  Her tail dropped from its smug curve, flattening to the floor behind her, and Blade caught just a waft of searing rage from her, quickly stifled. Instead, she lifted a front leg and smoothed the fur over her cheeks, uncaring.

  “Such standards you have, Arow, asking others to do something you were never quite capable of yourself. Whispering Fear is lucky I care as deeply as I do, both bearing and raising two surviving kitas and bringing us the most lucrative of contracts.”

  Despite the calm of her tone, Blade saw the fur ripple down the middle of her back, and how precisely she held her face toward Arow. She was not furious enough to attack the male, but she balanced on a claw tip. Arow’s tail twitched once, either acknowledging that fact or daring her to lunge, followed by a half-blink nearly as insulting as grooming himself in front of her.

  “Contracts that nearly offset our losses,” Arow agreed, dipping his head in something like deference to her. Blade appreciated that Arow hadn’t mentioned the loss of the Peacemaker contract, given how likely that would have led to bloodshed, and Blade wasn’t sure which way such a battle would have ended.

  “Our finances are stronger than they’ve been in a long while,” the dama snapped back, goaded into blurting something, and Blade leaned forward so quickly Arow flicked the barest of glances his way. There was no way the deo could have seen him, but Blade clamped down on his emotions doubly hard all the same. It was equally impossible that Whispering Fear’s investments could have offset the loss of the Malluma Songo crop and several dropped contracts, never mind the hints he’d heard from Firnt and others about failing deals. Able to recover in time, surely, but stronger than before? Impossible.

  Unless the dama was not only holding contracts for certain clan members, but also taking secret contracts herself.

  Secret contracts such as attempting to wipe out Night Wind, for instance.

  Arow inclined his head again and stood, and Blade cursed his eagerness—despite his quintessence field, Arow must have sensed something of his movement.

  “So you say, Dama, and of course you know best. I’ll not keep you any longer.”

  Blade held still at every level until both had left, then silently cursed the whole invisible walk back to his den.

  * * *

  Flame sprawled dangerously on the floor of her small cabin. It wasn’t proper ship behavior, since any sudden stop or course correction to avoid an attack would send her flying into a bulkhead, but they’d been flying through empty space for what felt like seasons, and it wouldn’t end for another double ninenight. Beyond that one joyfully bloody hallway on Capitol, she’d done nothing but stalk or wait or force herself to patience since
they’d left Khatash.

  Fled it. The thought itched in her mind, leaving without knowing what had come of her siblings, of her Susa. No way to search for them now, when the best-case scenario—that she’d find them—meant the potential of calling down the wrong kind of attention on them…

  Yet again she pushed the thought away, shoved herself up to her feet, and stalked out of her cabin. Tamir was either in the galley or strapped into the command couch; she bet on the latter and got it in one.

  “Anyone out there?”

  “Nothing in sensor range.” Tamir rolled her couch around to face Flame, exhaustion clear on her face. Flame wasn’t the only one sick of travel. “We’ve already hopped two gates, without a tail. I don’t think they’ll find us here, and Briglen isn’t top of the list they’d guess for me to run to.”

  “Because you have higher priority shadowy ship drops?” Flame hopped into the second couch, but didn’t reach for the belts. Her ears flicked back, indicating it was a rhetorical question.

  “Briglen is just the waypoint. We’ll leave the ship there, get to my contact, and he’ll get us over to the shipyard. They’ve moved it a couple of times already, and I don’t think a name has stuck yet. I’ve tried not to pay too much attention, just in case they ever go crossways with the Peacemakers.”

  Flame made a noise, knowing Tamir had explained it already; she still did not especially care much about the details. While they usually consumed her, given how important details were to successfully completing a contract, now each new piece of information that didn’t lead to an answer about her dama, what had happened on Capitol, or how her littermates fared, only made her want to scratch through armor while someone inside the armor tried to kill her.

  “We can ask my contact what he’s heard in the chatter about Governors and Peacemakers, but otherwise all we have is the video, the Cemarap Governor being dodgy on gifts, and Hrusha’s ambiguous message to your dama. And that something is definitely going on, if someone is trying to kill us. Did you turn up anything on that knife?”