by J. M. Martin
“Nothing,” he answered, lowering the linen-wrapped hand to his lap. “What is it you want?” It was best to get down to the meat of things quickly. He could feel the shift in the air of the tavern. The men were edgy, either by way of opportunity or concern, and he had no wish to prolong this conversation beyond business. Reyh tilted his head to the side, feigning stretching it, taking account of the Caapi men and the Teti slaver. The slaver had gone back to his discussion, his tone lowered and private. The blue-haired southerners, however, weren’t hiding their interest in Reyh’s table, both men glowering candidly across the floor.
“Act natural,” Reyh said. “Two Caapi bastards are watching us.”
She turned to examine the pair. Reyh could only stare at her, aghast.
“Why did you look?” he asked when her eyes came back to his, fighting to keep the reprimand from his voice.
“Curiosity.”
“By the hells and all their burning treasures, woman, how daft are you?” Reyh swallowed as he noticed the men rising from their table to start toward his. “They’re coming over.” He slid his tankard aside, clearing the top of the table, suppressing a groan at the same time. “Keep your mouth shut.”
Straightening, Reyh greeted the two southerners with a forced, congenial smile. He did well to hide his teeth. “Gentlemen.”
The two men ignored him, their attentions instead on Illia. The man on the left, unhesitatingly, reached out and snatched her by the hair, jerking her up from her seat. Before Reyh could react, Illia spun round in the man’s grip and took hold of his hand atop her head. Her other arm shot up, connecting with the southerner’s arm, snapping it at the elbow. Reyh felt his stomach lurch at the sound. Yet it didn’t seem to bother the man as he swung his left arm around to try and seize her again. She was wilier than anticipated though, dropping beneath the revolving arm and coming up in a flash to thrust an open palm beneath the man’s chin. His head whipped violently backward, and he dropped to the floor.
It was when the second blue-hair lurched toward her that Reyh intervened. He stood from the bench and slammed the palm of his linen-wrapped hand against the side of the man’s head. The round, steel disk secured in his palm struck a sound and ringing blow. A spray of blood blossomed from the man’s ruined ear, and he went down squealing.
Reyh hurtled the writhing form and took Illia by the hand, tugging her for the entrance hall. Aassa whistled as they passed, and Reyh gave her an apologetic smile. The Teti man was laughing heartily, one hand balancing atop his prodigious paunch.
“It’ll be on that tab of yours, Shadow,” Aassa called as Reyh escaped the tavern, bringing Illia into the warm evening air of Telhinsol. The noxious aroma of the Unhil was pushed into their faces by a soft western wind, smelling like a witch’s concoction brewed in a boiling privy. It was a familiar and comforting odor to Reyh, the same as the scent of a father’s sweat is savored by his children.
He took her away by a winding, roundabout path, hoping none of the city’s lawmen had seen him racing away from the tavern with a disheveled noblewoman in tow. With one hand he led her along. With the other, he pulled out of his cloak, the garment more likely to draw attention on Telhinsol’s streets than it was to turn eyes. He rolled it up and kept it cupped in hand as he took an arching bridge that crossed a small, artificial stream. Casting an eye over a shoulder, Reyh ducked off the road and found a measure of privacy within a secluded stand of pine and elm that worked as a cramped little park. The benches there had long ago fallen to pieces, and only stone slabs cracked and fringed in weeds remained. Reyh took a seat on the bare earth and motioned for Illia to do the same. He listened for signs of pursuers as he unwound the bandage from his hand. After a minute, nothing. He breathed out in relief.
“Look, lady,” he said, scratching at his chin, “I’ve got tell you, it might seem like I don’t mind a little confrontation now and again, but I do mind it. Very much. Those men could have killed you. Worse, they could’ve killed me. I’m not up for all that.”
She was watching him while pushing her hair back from her face, biting at her upper lip as she worked. “I do apologize, but it remains that we’re out of harm’s way.”
“It appears as such.” Though he didn’t think that the case. Something about this woman had him second-guessing his choice of lifestyle. It was always the pretty ones that brought the ugliest problems. “Let’s be quick about defining this job. The sooner I get it done, the better.”
“Very well, but you first have to agree to take me with you.”
“Absolutely not,” he said. She was mad. That’s all there was to it. What man in his right mind would let this cotton-head tag along behind him?
“I was told you were accommodating.” She’d stopped fussing with her hair and had placed her hands in her lap. There, the fingers were creasing her cloak between her knees.
“Darrin tells a lot of tall tales,” Reyh lied. “Easier to get coins that way.” Too much risk and too little reward on his part to give her hope. She’d be persuaded against her cause to accompany him or he’d back out. He was in no great need for this job. Besides, she was asking for his life. No hill of coins was worth such a gamble.
“Regardless, I will come with you.” Her hands had stopped their playing and were still now, as unmoving in her lap as the look upon her face. “What I seek can only be taken by my own hand.”
“Then you will find someone else to work with.”
“No, I do not think so.” An irritating smile perked the corners of her lips, and Reyh felt his stomach drop to the bottoms of his feet when she whispered, “Lord Reyh of Casn by Casn.”
Reyh peered hard at the woman. He’d been mistaken before. She wasn’t so much attractive as she was confident. “I don’t take to blackmail, lady.” His tone suggested his ire.
“And I don’t take to men unwilling to do what they’re paid to do.”
“Who are you?”
She waved a hand in the air, disarming Reyh’s question. “A woman who’s in desperate need of what you can offer.”
“How did you learn about me? About my name?” He and Darrin had worked studiously at keeping his private matters private, especially that of his high-standing within Telhinsol’s elite. They had a strict vetting process to ensure that those Reyh dealt with were, and would stay, ignorant to his elevated position.
She smiled again, this time sly and mischievous. “Don’t tell me you’re not aware of all that gold can purchase.”
“Darrin sold me out?” Impossible. They’d been working together for more than a decade. There was trust and camaraderie built between them, a kinship that couldn’t be broken, no matter the weight of coins pressing upon it.
“He figured I was worth it,” she said into the silence. “As I think you will as well.”
“You have a fine hold on my balls, lady,” Reyh said, begrudging her that point, “and not the way I usually like. Look, I’m not going to chance my life, or yours, for a couple of coins. You haven’t even told me what it is you need stolen.” That part he didn’t like one bit. There was something about a reticent patron that truly unnerved him. Everyone had something to hide, true, but those who came and paid for his services usually weren’t ones to dither.
“What needs taken….” she began before hesitating. She glanced away from Reyh, blinking. When she returned her attention, she said, “It’s important to me that I take part. I’ll tell you only when you agree that I’m going with you.”
“I can’t make that agreement.”
“Your reputation is on the line, Lord Reyh. Who will take kindly to you once it’s known how many valuables you’ve pilfered from your trusting equals?”
“Dead people tell no tales.”
She laughed and tossed her blonde hair, calling his bluff. “You wouldn’t kill a woman,” she said. “You barely stomached the sound of an elbow breaking.” She took a breath to settle herself, then looked him straight in the eyes. “Here are the terms: You’re paid, I keep sile
nt, and you take me where I need to go. If you fear for your life, then listen to me. What we’re about is dangerous, I won’t lie, but I’m capable enough, and I’m determined. You’ve seen that.”
“Determination only gets one so far.” He could feel himself bending to her will, folding in on all she held against him. The strength in her voice forced him to second guess her. Perhaps she wasn’t some frilly noble who’d traipsed into Telhinsol’s underbelly with her heart set on a diamond or ruby. Maybe there was something legitimate to her. Plus, he had to admit, she was more than able to carry her own.
Added to that, he couldn’t very well afford to be ousted. That could see the noose around his neck or a pile of flaming sticks at his feet. Nobility was a birthright or bought. Those not expelled from a highborn’s loins needed to make their ascension monetarily. Reyh had achieved that by unburdening Telhinsol’s wealthy of some of their most prized possessions. Certainly not how many envisioned the rise of a lord. As it was, he couldn’t allow ten years of work to be throttled by some obstinate woman.
“All right,” he said, sticking his hand out. “Agreed.” She took his hand and shook it once, firm.
“I need you to help me kill at man,” she said, still holding his fingers in a tight grip.
Well, shit. When he tried to retract his hand, she didn’t let it go.
“Are we still in agreement, Lord Reyh?”
“I’m no cutthroat, lady. I’m a thief and only because I know the easiest ways into all the manors of the city.”
“I know. That’s why I hired you.” She released his hand. “It’s not a pretty task, I understand, but it’s necessary.”
Reyh nodded grimly. “I suppose this is where I get your story.”
“It’s short. Bear with me.” She swallowed and started. “My father sold me off in order to prevent war. He was ever the coward at heart. With a Caapi horde encroaching upon our border, he sought a peaceful solution, one that involved bartering his daughter for an end to their barbarous advance.”
“Your father’s a king, I presume.”
She nodded. “I am—was—Princess Illia of Cantl. Now I’m the slave bride of a loathsome barbarian.” She touched gently at her stomach. “He wants nothing from me but a son. My father’s agreement will be worthless in a decade if he succeeds in that.”
“That’s why you want him dead, to save your country?” Honorable, at least.
Her blue eyes peered from slits, and her mouth was a tight crease. “No. I want his life for what he took from me. The…thing raped me.” The words slid through that unmovable line of her lips. “That’s why I will kill him.”
“I don’t mean to be crass or questioning,” Reyh said, pulling his steel biter from a pocket and flicking off a couple of sparks, “but couldn’t you have easily killed him in his sleep after….” He flinched, unsure how far he could speak on such a sensitive matter. He tucked the biter away, letting his hands check his other secreted items.
She didn’t look bothered by the question. Instead, she appeared momentarily defeated. “I will just say that mistakes were made,” she answered. “Mistakes that won’t be made again, I assure you.” Her shoulders leveled out a bit, displaying her sudden defiance.
Reyh understood that look. “Those blue-hairs were waiting for you, weren’t they?”
“Yes. And they’re done with.”
“Where are we to find your husband?” Headstrong wasn’t the word for her. She was above and beyond that. Revenge had a way of turning determination into something akin to unflinching zeal, and she carried it proudly.
“Lord Green’s manor,” she answered. “We were guesting there until the new moon when we’d finally return south.”
“He wouldn’t have left?”
She shook her head. “I’m valuable to him, and he has nowhere else to go in the city while his men search for me. He’ll be there.”
“Very well, but we wait until the twin hour,” Reyh said, trying his best to ignore the pace set by his ramped heart. He’d not thought this night would see him entertaining a princess’s murderous vengeance, but he’d made his choice, and there was no reneging now.
#
Reyh knew Telhinsol with the same intimacy that a man knew the lay of his wife. He led Illia along its curving, night-clad streets lined by tall whitestone buildings and low shacks stacked one atop another. He escorted her down pinched alleys that smelled wet and foul—Telhinsol could have been beautiful if not for the ramshackle homes, uneven roads, and the constant detritus spilled in these hidden lanes. And they climbed rising hillsides of soft grass lined with riverrock walkways where starlight gave the world a pale, white-gold blush.
When they closed near the manor of Lord Green, Reyh halted. They stood in the deep shadows of a storefront awning, Reyh taking account of the low hedges bordering the high iron-wrought gate enclosing the manor grounds.
“We climb that?” she asked at his side.
He shook his head. “There’s a sally gate to the north. It leads almost directly to a small servant’s entrance on the side of the manor. We’ll enter there and follow the servant runs.” Nearly all manor houses were equipped with these hidden passages, called rat routes by the nobility, passages that allowed the servants to move quickly and quietly about the home without fear of interrupting their masters. “What floor was your room?”
“Third.”
Reyh smiled to himself, drawing up a mental picture of the manor’s layout. “Good.” The third floor of Green Manor was outfitted with a single guest room. The rest of the space had been opened to house Green’s collected suits of armor. “Now listen,” he stressed. “Once inside, no more talking. We’ll be better off by not attracting notice. Green isn’t a lenient man.” A bit gullible, certainly, but brutal when vexed.
“You don’t need to enlighten me on the kind of man Lord Green is.” She shifted where she stood. “I’ve witnessed his…disturbing anger. But our concern should be for Qusin, my husband.”
“Very well. Follow me and do only as I do, hear?” At her nod, he pulled into his cloak and tugged his cloth mask on. Two holes covered by a fine black mesh hid his eyes.
Without prolonging the moment further, Reyh led her from the awning out across the street and along the hedgerow until they reached the sally gate. He pulled from his cloak pocket a thin wire and inserted it into the keyhole. Producing a length of notched steel from the same pocket, he slid it in overtop the wire and fiddled the two together. The lock clicked, and Reyh gently pushed the gate inward. Pocketing his tools, he motioned forward, and the two of them crossed the expansive yard.
It was quiet, and if there was one thing Reyh enjoyed about Telhinsol’s nobility it was that they thought themselves invulnerable. Even after his numerous thefts, none thought to bring in more men to guard their belongings. Something to do with pride.
They entered the building, and Reyh set the path through a hidden door that put them inside the walls. He brought them to a flight of narrow steps, which climbed past the second floor to the third. There, they followed a twisting corridor until coming to a short, bolted door that led into Illia’s former guest room. Reyh pressed an ear against the thin wood and listened while he counted to three hundred, then he threw the bolt and eased the door carefully inward. Taking quick stock of the room, he noted the bundle atop the bed lit by the light of a single lantern. With a breath that was all for composure, he crept slowly and carefully into the room, keeping Illia behind him. At the bed, Reyh’s heart plummeted. He whipped his head around, ignoring the fabricated body, and watched as three blue-hairs peeled away from the deep shadows at the back of the room. Lord Green was at their side, coaxing a lantern to life.
The largest of the threesome, the one Reyh assumed to be Qusin, wore a long red wound across his pale, broad chest, the remnant, Reyh was certain, of Illia’s mistake.
Thoughts of putting up a fight flitted through his head, but he decided against, not even reaching for his dagger. They were outnumbered an
d caught off guard. Not an enviable position. He’d need a better opportunity before acting.
The two blue-hairs hustled over and took Reyh by the arms. Illia went ignored.
“This is the deceiver who brought you to our bedchamber?” the Caapi lord asked, throat filled with ridicule. He walked over to Reyh and snatched the cloth mask from his head.
Lord Green inhaled sharply. “Lord Reyh!” He took a step closer, squinting as though not believing his own sight. “My God, it is you!” Reyh didn’t respond.
He was given a rough search, the men drawing out tools and his knife, as well as his flask of akee. The tools they tossed across the room. One of the men took the knife for himself. And the flask they set on a near table beside a low burning lamp. Reyh tried observing everything taken off him, tallying his possessions. If he wasn’t mistaken, they’d missed his biter. A small twinge of hope creased his breast, one that immediately wilted as he noticed another blue-hair standing by the near wall. That man’s right ear was deformed and red, and a crimson tinge spread out from the injury across his cheek, hiding the line of his thin beard.
“Chauin,” Illia’s husband said, noting the direction of Reyh’s attention, “I think you owe this man something.”
Chauin sauntered over, granting his lord an appreciative grin.
“You’re lucky she killed Tarasin,” Chauin said to Reyh, smiling. “Lord Qusin offers like for like.”
Restrained as he was, Reyh could only watch as the blue-haired southerner drew a long, curved knife from his belt. The steel gleamed wickedly in the surrounding light. Chauin took a handful of Reyh’s short hair and, restraining him with a powerful arm, shucked off an ear.
The pain was blinding. Reyh screamed at the burning wound, shivering madly in his captors’ hold. He couldn’t lift a hand to his head, could do nothing but suffer the torment. Through teary eyes he could see the grin of Chauin’s face. Reyh dropped his head, suddenly dizzy. The floor seemed to be sliding back and forth. His legs buckled, and the two men gripping his biceps were all that kept him from crumbling.