Assassin (The Revelations Cycle Book 11)

by Kacey Ezell

“No,” the multi-legged fighter replied, eyes looking in different directions.

  “Hi,” Flame said, tapping the Flatar on the shoulder. “Nice to meet you too.”

  “We were checking your reflexes,” he answered, keeping the gun locked on Tamir with impressive discipline.

  “I didn’t think Rill would give you away if you were actually trying to kill us,” Flame said, relaxed but not moving. “And I also think your partner would have followed up if she wanted to fight me.”

  At that, the Tortantula made a noise that wasn’t exactly pleased, but didn’t herald immediate death. Tamir straightened and slowly lowered her gun, and after a moment, the Flatar followed suit. Flame leapt down, further into the room, and only barely dodged the leg that snapped out after her.

  “Yeah, yeah, reflexes are fine. Come on in, Human. Thanks for nothing, Rill.”

  “That’s for cheating me off that last contract,” she called back, more pleased than any of them.

  “You almost blew up the CLIENT!” he roared back.

  Flame examined the room—straightforward and mostly empty. There was a big screen, a very low, long table, and some small chairs. It was a workroom maybe, or a place to talk about their orders, and it was built more for the Flatar than the Tortantula; she supposed anywhere the giant predators decided to crouch was their spot, furniture or no.

  Tamir entered the room with a hint of a saunter—she wasn’t fully relaxed, but Flame might have been fooled if she hadn’t spent so much time in close quarters with the woman. The Tortantula watched her closely, and Tamir angled well away from the huge killer. Smart decision.

  The Flatar threw himself off his saddle, still grumbling, and fully swaggered over to the table. He made a show of swinging up his large gun and clanging it onto the table. Flame hopped onto the table, which was a better perch for her than the smaller chairs. Tamir took a moment to deliberately holster her gun, and the Tortantula turned to face them all, settling into a more comfortable position.

  “Depik. Ever kill one of us?” the Tortantula said, her voice deep and thrumming.

  Flame sat primly at the edge of the table, head tilted to stare back at her.

  “Aren’t a lot of contracts taken out on Tortantulas,” she said, giving her the compliment of sounding regretful about that.

  “Too bad. Be a good fight.”

  “You didn’t set yourself up for success in the doorway,” Flame said, not able to fully resist poking the giant being.

  “That wasn’t about killing. Could be.” Her manipulators moved, welcoming Flame to come in close and try again. “Plenty of room in here.”

  Flame’s tail lashed, once, and Tamir’s hand moved ever so slightly back toward her gun.

  “Eh. Give it a rest, Chok.” The Flatar plopped down into a seat and waved at his partner. “We just wanted to make sure they were worth talking to, and Rill aside, if they just want to talk, we can give a minute or two.”

  The Tortantula made a noncommittal noise, but got more comfortable in her low crouch, and everyone else around the room relaxed slightly.

  “I’m Fisi, that’s Chok. Figure you figured, but let’s make it official.”

  “Flame,” the Hunter said, nodding, “And Tam.”

  “We appreciate your time,” Tamir added, which received a dismissive tail flick from Flame and an equally bored fang clack from Chok.

  “Nothing good to bid on anyway. Thought we’d see what brings a Depik to our station.”

  “Surely, you’ve met one before,” Tamir said, convincingly surprised.

  “One,” Chok said, lifting and folding a leg to scratch under her abdomen. It was remotely threatening, but in the way most actions by a Tortantula were threatening. Any actual threat would have blood at the end of it, so Flame didn’t pay much attention.

  “Did he or she come around a lot? I hear some Depik have ties with the mercs, though not as much as they do with the merchant guild.”

  “Nah.” Fisi’s snort was much larger than his body should have been able to produce. “Only the once. Like you, she was too busy to play.”

  Flame wondered why the Governor had told them Hrusha had come here often. Neither of her two immediate theories were entirely satisfying. Perhaps the Governor’s mind was ailing along with her body, and she’d become a bit addled. Or, perhaps Hrusha had come here often, but invisibly.

  “Have a good talk?” Tamir had her hands comfortably at her sides, whole body at ease. She did keep Chok square in the corner of her eye for awareness, but had a solid air of relaxation around her.

  “No,” Chok said, eyes focusing on the Human. “She wanted to know about how we picked our contracts. Why we passed on some. What we’d heard about some of the other companies.”

  “She gave us some nice toys for talking with her,” Fisi added, stroking the gun in front of him. “You gonna do the same?”

  “No,” Flame answered, ears pricked forward with interest.

  “We’ll pay the credits we offered in the message.” Tamir didn’t quite sound hasty, but it came close. Flame flicked the edge of her tail again, then realized Tamir was right to paper over the attitude. They couldn’t afford a fight here. Or anywhere, yet. Killing a Peacemaker and maybe a Governor subtly didn’t seem remotely in the style of a Tortantula and Flatar.

  “When did she come here?”

  “Uhhh, couple months ago now, probably? Six or so, I’ve had some time to break in little Onnie here.” He patted his gun again, pleased with it.

  “Anything come to mind about the companies you talked about? What she was asking for?”

  “We missed out on a couple of contracts that went to the same Lumar company. No, we don’t know why she cared about the Lumar company. Stupid brutes with a stupid name. ‘Proud Fist.’ Blech.” He made a face that clearly communicated disgust. Flame thought it was adorable. “Uh. We got a big bonus for the multi-company contract we took with a Veetanho, and she asked some questions about her. Wanted to know who else we’d done jobs with in the last year or so.”

  “You got any info on that Veetanho and the companies you’re talking about? I can push a few more credits your way.”

  “I’d rather a fun job,” Fisi muttered, but shrugged a yes. “You having fun on your job, Depik?”

  “Not as much as I would have if you had really attacked,” Flame answered, looking at Chok. The Tortantula clacked her manipulators in agreement, and Fisi let out another chittering laugh that maybe also sounded the slightest bit nervous. Flame turned back to him and slow blinked her regret. “It would have been a spectacular fight. I’ll have fun at the end of this job.”

  “Yeah, fair enough.” He kept a hand on his gun, perhaps for reassurance. “Sending you over the info now. This helps you out, come back and play sometime, huh?”

  Play so clearly meant bloodshed Flame almost shuddered in delight.

  She really, really needed a hunt.

  * * *

  Flame and Tamir returned to their ship without incident, leaving Tamir relieved and Flame regretful. They dropped off the station and put in a course for the stargate, trying to figure out where they were going to go next.

  “That was pretty useless,” Tamir groused, unbelting from her flight couch and stretching. “Want something to eat?”

  “I want to kill something and eat it,” Flame muttered, but hopped down as well. “Fine.”

  “I wonder if Hrusha was wagering on the Tortantula company.” The walk to the galley was short enough that Tamir had time to say the sentence, lapse into a thoughtful silence, and open her mouth to talk again just as they stepped inside it. “Think she was trying to figure out what contracts they might take so she could keep winning against Kelket?”

  Flame tensed to spring onto the table and froze, ears swiveling as she thought. Tamir finished heating up two packets of food before the Hunter realized what had bothered her.

  “Kelket said Hrusha always won their merc wagers.”

  “Yep,” Tamir said, moving the
packets to the table and gesturing for Flame to take her usual spot.

  “Your old Human said Hrusha had lost the last round. And was angry about it. Would have been after she talked to the Flatar.”

  Tamir opened her packet with one hand, and tapped the fingers of her other hand against her bottom lip, remembering.

  “Maybe Kelket was protecting her friend’s memory. Letting her win that last one too,” the woman offered, not entirely convinced by her own words.

  “That sound like a Cemarap to you?”

  Tamir shrugged, and Flame completed her jump to the table. As Flame settled in her usual corner, Tamir sighed.

  “No, but she’s slipping. Maybe she forgot.”

  “Maybe.” They ate in silence, considering, and Flame pulled out her slate to pull up information on the companies Fisi had sent them.

  Tamir started scrolling on her own slate, eating and occasionally making noises about this merc company or that.

  “Human companies have been starting to post bigger profits,” she noted, attention fairly evenly split between her food and her slate.

  “Bad luck for Hrusha then, if she kept betting against them.”

  “No wonder she lost that last time—a couple of these got some big wins. Weird though, Proud Fist, that Lumar company Fisi mentioned? Bringing in a lot more credits than any other Lumar organization. Maybe they got a Veetanho to head them up.”

  “Who runs that company?” Flame asked, forgetting her food and snapping upright.

  “Unclear,” Tamir said, frowning. “Shouldn’t be this hard to figure out…” she trailed off, scrolling and typing, then blew out her breath in frustration.

  “Between an assassin and a bounty hunter, I am sure we can figure it out.” Flame shoved her food aside, excitement at something happening replacing her appetite.

  “Here’s a thing,” Tamir said after hours of almost total silence. Her voice held utter calm, but her hands tightened around the slate. “Proud Fist was bought with an investment from—get this—a conglomeration of pinpeck farmers. They were posting regular profits, then started going down, then about a year ago, steadily climbing again. Some big jumps, but mostly steady. Even through a change of command.” She pulled up the change of command record, clearly filed on GalNet, and turned her slate for Flame to see. “From Veetanho Rhaabou to Human Alton Gage.”

  “Pinpeck farmers.” Flame repeated the words with little inflection, studying the record. “From Benabat?”

  “Weirdly, yes. Interesting, no?”

  “Did Kelket send us here because Hrusha came here a lot, or because she wanted a Tortantula to eat us?”

  “Kelket brought Sissisk pinpecks, an extravagant amount of them, soon before she died, but had no present for Hrusha.” Now there was heat in her tone, building with each word. “Kelket maybe regularly lost merc company wagers to Hrusha, or Hrusha inexplicably lost to her, which Hrusha was suspicious about given their relative strengths. Hrusha even went to one of the most profitable merc companies to learn more.” Her tail lashed behind her, picking up speed. “Lumars shouldn’t be competing with Tortantulas, they’re not remotely in the same class. You don’t hire one for the other’s kind of jobs. A Lumar company, bought with pinpeck money, loses their Veetanho and replaces her with a Human, and is bringing in a lot more credits than they should, given their contract ratio compared to other companies.”

  “Diaden tells her I’m poking around, she arranges some unrelated mercs to come take me out to try and keep it quiet.” Tamir floated the question, letting them both consider the implications.

  “A Governor would have that kind of reach. Maybe retires when it doesn’t work, takes a step back.” Flame should have thought the timing of the Governor stepping down suspect. Were Cemara often emotional enough to release influence because they lost some friends?

  “It could be a whole lot of nothing,” Tamir warned, knuckles white against the slate.

  “Either way, we should go and thank Kelket in person for her help, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh, let’s.”

  * * *

  They burned with all possible speed back to Benabat, but no matter how fast they went, a particularly interested party would be able to see them coming.

  “If she’s in this, she’d be smart to run for it,” Tamir said, still digging through the GalNet records. Trying to find all of a Cemarap’s investments was like trying to count every piece of a Hunter’s fur; it was a long process, even if they were cooperating.

  “Find anywhere it looks likely she’d run?” They both knew an innocent former Governor would have no reason to care if they came tearing back into the system, and so would be unlikely to go anywhere. A former Governor who knew more than she was saying and potentially had a cilia or ten in the death of a Depik Peacemaker—and maybe Governor—would be out of orbit by the time they cleared the gate.

  They wanted to flush their prey, but they needed to have an idea where their prey might flee, given the need.

  “Anything on the scanners?”

  “No,” Tamir said with remarkable patience for someone who had been asked the same question for the seventeenth time. “And a small ship can use the curve of the planet and moons to avoid us almost entirely.”

  “We aren’t going to miss her,” Flame replied, grimly focused on her attempts to break into the flight control system and track ships that way.

  “Dimintina,” flight control’s message packet spooled again, no different this time than the last two they’d sent. “You are not clear for planetary landing. Accept the packet to change your course for the mid-orbit station Exabet. Confirm receipt.”

  “We are not equipped for a fight,” Tamir said, also not for the first time.

  And again, Flame ignored her. On the bright side, they wouldn’t have the same conversation again. On the not so bright side, a ship was hurtling toward them, and their scan showed it was almost definitely taking shots at them.

  “Incoming,” Flame said calmly, pulling Tamir’s concentration off the slate and back to the controls.

  “Well.” Tamir matched Flame tone for tone. “Shit.” She programmed an evasive course that would almost definitely keep them whole, and studied the course of the fleeing ship that had briefly attacked them.

  “What do you think? I’m guessing that’s not the Governor.”

  “Agreed. A bit obvious for her, and we could probably still catch this one. Looks like an in-system hopper that was left out here, can’t see an approach for it before it shot at us.”

  “Waiting in the dark,” Flame noted. “Bold. And cover, I’d guess.”

  “Meaning the Governor had a plan in case we came back, and could already be on the move.”

  “Let’s see who went through the gate recently, shall we?”

  “So glad this system is a backwater,” Tamir said, picking up her slate. “I’ll match the courses to what we’ve turned up in investments…Damn me, but some of these ships are positively ancient—” She broke off, her eyes wide and face pale.

  “Tam?” Flame asked, sitting all the way up and abandoning her idle watch over their path, now slowly diverging from that of the projectiles aimed for them. Her ears pricked up, alert for the threat as her fingerpads closed instinctively over the hilts of her two favorite knives.

  “Fuck me straight into entropy,” Tamir breathed, slamming her slate down against the edge of her couch. “I know where she’s going! Hrusha told me, before she sent me to Khatash, that there was a place…a bolt hole, she called it. She and Sissisk built it out in the ancient debris field in the Capitol system. Didn’t tell anyone but the kind of friends who might need a place to escape to…”

  Flame felt her fur rise on end. It seemed like a big jump, but Hrusha had known something—maybe everything—and if she’d planned something like this…

  “Fuck it.” Tamir said. “Want to take a risk?”

  “Only way to catch the good stuff.”

  They’d watched. They’d found
a way. The chase was on.

  * * *

  “Ah, but that’s a good point, Hunter friend of mine. Perhaps I could save you just a credit or two on—”

  Blade leaned forward, pleased to have managed a bargain with Fip on such a fine set of knives, when a faint scent pulled his attention sideways, just as the interruption solidified.

  “Chirruch, come with me,” Ichys demanded, with a brief nod to Fip that both acknowledged the Sipset trader and effectively closed him out of the conversation.

  Blade’s pulse lifted for action. In the months since he and Ichys had taken each other’s company, she had rarely commanded him, and invariably found it amusing when he asked questions rather than blindly following her. She thought it indicated an indulgent dama, somewhere north in the jungles, and considered it charming. Blade, however, had never jumped to do a dama’s bidding simply because she was dama—his dama he followed without question, because he still had much to learn from her. While he respected his sisters, he had ever been their leader. Following a female simply because of who she could become had never interested him.

  All that came to little and less, because her tone made him leap now, bargain and knives forgotten. Fip fluted a farewell, and Blade absently lifted a hand in response, his attention focused on the leashed energy all but vibrating through Ichys.

  She said nothing while they cleared the maze of stalls and merchants, and still nothing as they made their way through the twisting halls of Whispering Fear’s den. Once they’d reached Ichys’s alcove, she shoved him down on their shared nest of cushions and fabric, and closed them inside. He was fairly sure this meant neither attack, nor that he’d been found out, nor that she’d simply needed to mate, and so he waited, watching the surge of nerves and emotions ripple through her.

  “The simplest way to join a clan is by being taken as a mate,” she said, pacing in the small space, her eyes fixed on his.

  “I would hardly call it simple, if done properly,” he demurred, wondering if she was about to ask him something formal. Wondering what he would say if she did.