Starwatch

by Ian Blackport

  “You can only imagine how charming I am when I want to be.” Cyriana pursed her lips at the Shiylan. “I’d expected to be dealing with your boss today.”

  “He finds himself needed elsewhere. Yours isn’t the only scheme he has his fingers in. You’ll have to suffer through a talk with me instead.”

  “No great burden, provided you’re amenable to my requests.”

  “There are no longer any requests,” Noose countered. “I claim the artifact from you and bring an end to our partnership. A clean split.”

  “I think a crucial aspect of our affiliation may have slipped your mind. Accidentally, I’m sure. Namely me getting paid a handsome sum for all the shit I’ve dealt with.”

  “A discussion relating to compensation will wait until I see proof of your achievements.”

  “Why am I not surprised? Though before we begin negotiating in earnest, there’s one more thing. Tell your goons to stop lurking amid the tombstones. I know we aren’t alone.”

  “Evidently there is little your keen mind fails to notice.” Noose cocked his head sideward and lifted a fist.

  “I happen to know a thing or two about loitering unseen. I wish others would throw some credit my way once in a while. I did accomplish the impossible for your employer yesterday. Some professional courtesy in return might be nice.”

  “Adversaries underestimating your peculiar skillset is likely why you remain alive. A fatal flaw I don’t intend to replicate.”

  Cyriana shifted her gaze to either side, stifling a curse as a half dozen bruisers stepped between statuary. She had only counted two during her trip in. This might prove more problematic than she wagered. “Plenty muscle for what should be a simple exchange.”

  “Yes indeed. An element of overkill on my part. Or rather, it would be if you’d brought the relic with you. But the scroll is currently elsewhere, isn’t it?”

  “Much like the money I’m owed. Or did you think I wouldn’t notice you and all your hoodlums don’t have sacks or chests awaiting me?”

  “And is this why you didn’t honor our arrangement? Because you merely assumed I wouldn’t fulfill my end of the bargain and sought leverage?”

  “You’re only half right. I know you have zero intention of ever paying me. I’m hedging my bets by holding back on the lone bargaining chip I have.”

  “What makes you believe torture isn’t beneath me? I could just chain you to a rack if you insist on being recalcitrant.”

  “Do that and you’ll never learn where I’ve stashed the goods,” Cyriana retorted. “Didn’t Yarn tell you how stubborn I am? Start plucking teeth or snipping my toes and I’ll stay mum out of spite. I have frightening single-mindedness when it comes to being vindictive. One of my virtues.”

  “I can believe that. Which is why I’ve elected to use a more dependable solution.”

  “Oh?”

  “Self-interest,” Noose explained. “The most trustworthy emotion I know. Ah, here he is now.”

  “Here who is?”

  “I’ve been indulging your maddening need for discourse as a means of stalling until I could spring my plot. Thank goodness this chore is over with.”

  Cyriana furrowed her brow and turned, sighting Eloran ambling through tombstones wearing a satisfied smirk. His cane tapped atop smoothed stone littering the grass. Shorn nails gouged flesh as she balled her fists and lunged for his throat. “Fucking snake! You gave him the codex?”

  An armed thug interposed himself between her and the turncoat she needed to beat senseless. Cyriana eyed the sword leveled at her chest and withdrew a step, mentally marking its wielder for death first. Woe to the misguided fool who impeded her burning desire for revenge.

  Noose clapped dusky hands together and grinned. “Now that we’re all here, we can finally move our dialogue along to a resolution. My patience for this task is otherwise strained.”

  She clamped teeth onto her numbing lip and tried to quieten budding fury. Cyriana lifted venomous eyes toward Eloran, hoping his smug visage did not cause her to lose control. A yearning to satisfy vengeance against her former friend simmered within, yet she suppressed the sensation for now. Even if it was her final defiant act in this life, she vowed to impose retribution before the end. “During the heist,” she finally said. “That’s when you betrayed me. When you alone remained at the inn, unwatched for hours while we risked our lives.”

  “How perceptive of you,” replied Noose. “Your friend was most accommodating to our requests. We shared a lovely bottle of wine in the bedchamber you used as a common room. Eloran was a gracious host. One might even have anticipated such an astute mind to predict this fell meeting.”

  Cyriana ignored his words and continued to face the man she once chose to trust. “Why Eloran? After all we’ve been through together...why?”

  “You promised me something you couldn’t deliver. Had I continued to side with you, I would earn nothing for my part in your scheme. At least this way I guarantee for myself what you swore to give me.”

  “So that’s what it all comes down to, you bastard? You don’t trust that I have the talents for this? Without your helping hand this Shiylan prick never would’ve weaseled his way to the codex’s location.”

  Noose touched a palm to his heart. “Ouch.”

  “He’d have learned it one way or another,” Eloran claimed. “You waste your breath insulting me and Thorkell for our arrogance, but you’re far and away the most conceited person I’ve ever known. Without me doing this, you would’ve been made to suffer, and you’d have broken. You might not have earned a copper for this job, but at least you’re alive because of what I did.”

  “Yet in one moment she’s outlived her entire usefulness to me,” Noose sneered. “Must play on your otherwise calm state of mind, yes? Wondering what fate awaits now that the codex is already safely in our possession and no negotiation tactics are left to you.”

  “I have a good idea what my outcome will be,” Cyriana said. “Thanks to this traitor in our midst.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with concern for one’s own welfare. Self-preservation is no sin, my dear.”

  “It is when the desire means consciously betraying the only friends you have left.”

  “Friends,” Eloran snorted. “You all despise me and waste no opportunity to make that fact abundantly clear. You do little more than suffer my presence because I’m talented.”

  “We put our own damned necks on the line to free you. Can you even comprehend what the Draugans or Talivin would’ve done to us for impersonating legionaries? There were only four of us. Talivin’s house guards could’ve slaughtered us if he got suspicious, but we accepted that risk for your sake.”

  He waggled fingers and scrunched his face into a glare. “You did it for what my hands are able to perform. Don’t pretend altruism played a role.”

  “That wasn’t our only motivation, you egotistical simpleton. You think we couldn’t find another forger in the whole country? Thorkell knows three. We sprung you from the estate because we know you. Because, despite how insufferable you can be, we once trusted you. We wanted someone dependable at our side. Thanks for tossing that generosity back in our faces.”

  “This is a truly fascinating altercation,” Noose countered, “but I haven’t the time for bickering.”

  “Fine by me,” agreed Eloran. “Let Cyriana walk away to brood in her ire. We can conclude our business without her.”

  “I won’t be walking anywhere,” she snapped. “Since you’ve already given him the artifact, do you actually think he plans to let me leave this place unharmed?”

  “Ah, so our thief can read the writing on the wall,” Noose murmured. “More than can be said for the conspirator who thought himself so intelligent.”

  “I don’t understand,” Eloran stuttered. “We discussed this.”

  “You’ve signed my death sentence,” answered Cyriana. “Gods man, did you not grasp the blatant meaning behind his name? Nooses do one thing.”

&nbs
p; A pained mien flitted across Eloran’s features and he stared at Cyriana until words stumbled forth. “You must believe me, I never intended for this to happen.”

  “I don’t have to believe anything you claim. Intentions mean nothing weighed against the consequences. You should’ve seen this coming, but you’re too damned ignorant.”

  “I don’t want anyone to be killed!” Eloran faced Noose and raised open palms in a supplicating gesture. “Please, don’t do this. There’s no need to take her life.”

  “No reason to feel morose over your choices, Eloran. Our thieving friend will have company when she meets her end.” Noose beckoned with one finger.

  “Company—?”

  Eloran was strangled into silence as two brutes shoved him to the ground and trussed arms and legs with woven rope. Futile resistance ended when a backhand caught Eloran’s jaw. He blinked watery eyes and gazed upward at Noose in confusion, a dribble of pale red staining his chin. “What is this?”

  “Disposing of our tools after an exemplary job. You did as I asked and circumvented Cyriana’s little scheme. And from one professional to another, I’m pleased with your work. Regrettably, it’s time for me to renege on our bargain.”

  “We had an agreement!”

  “I also had an agreement with Cyriana, as you might recall. You should have figured I’m not often burdened with feelings of regret. Alliances are such fickle things. And you’re hardly the one to be throwing stones, aren’t you?”

  “You don’t have to kill us.”

  “Perhaps not. You do seem rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But I will nonetheless. I despise loose ends. I’ll debate the implications and necessity on another day, when I have some spare time.” Noose thrust a finger at Cyriana and his hirelings converged wearing dispassionate countenances.

  Shrieking wind brushed Cyriana’s ears and a quavering shaft impaled one man’s sternum, ejecting dark spatter onto worn marble at his feet. He stumbled an uncertain stride forward and collapsed twitching lanky limbs.

  Noose scrambled beyond statues littering the knoll. “She has support!”

  Cyriana dived for cover behind a tombstone and snatched knives from her belt. She hunkered against windswept letters etched into stone, tightening moist hands around worn leather. Sweat beaded from her hairline and dripped down a sweltering brow to sting squinted eyes. Curses echoed amid the reverberating twangs of loosed quarrels. One Shiylan bodyguard dashed into view, dipped under a streaking projectile and skidded alongside slanted statuary. Cyriana squeezed supple grips in shaky hands and charged.

  She leaped at the man and smashed a shoulder into his ribcage, knocking their entangled bodies onto unkempt grass patches. A boot lifted skyward to smack against Cyriana’s hipbone and the brute swung his blade, glancing off her hardened leather jacket. Fiery anguish blossomed through her stomach and Cyriana voiced a howl, sinking both daggers into the man writhing beneath. His flailing body stiffened as she pushed deeper, blinking away tears at her own pain until the man ceased convulsing.

  Cyriana exhaled a hoarse breath and rolled off the corpse, releasing her imbedded daggers to remain where they rested. Screams and clashing blades sounded as she struggled to climb onto her elbows. One thug staggered over unkempt grass with blood weeping from his chest and tripped atop fractured sculptures. Shouted commands were strangled into silence when another ruffian collapsed, a shuddering quarrel bulging beneath his collarbone. Baskaran glided into view as though a vengeful wraith and skewered the wounded man where he lay. The duelist shifted his stance, pivoting for a lunge toward one foe wielding a longsword. Iron flashed in twilight’s waning glow and uttered keening screeches. Cyriana lost sight of the combatants as Baskaran forced his adversary to withdraw. She soon glimpsed another familiar figure, cowering while his deceptive plan failed all around him.

  Noose flinched when one bolt gouged a divot into the weathered tombstone shielding him and splintered apart. His eyes found Cyriana through standing graves and regarded her with a profound hatred beyond all reason. He braced one hand against moss encrusted stone and scrambled upright, sprinting across uneven terrain in retreat. Noose unleashed a bloodcurdling shriek as a projectile tore into one knee, whipping his leg out from beneath him and pitching the man into a graceless fall.

  Eerie calm descended on the necropolis and Cyriana listened for movement. Quiet reigned for several long heartbeats until crunching footfalls were interrupted by Maylene’s voice.

  “Bunch of shitheads.”

  Using a half fallen gravestone for support, Cyriana raised her head and found the other woman marching between rows of burials. Loading her hand crossbow, Maylene locked a whipcord bowstring into place, stepped over one crawling figure and loosed a quarrel into his skull midstride. A shivering spasm succumbed to stillness and Maylene continued onward as though unaware.

  Cyriana staggered onto bruised knees, plucking her gory daggers free and sheathing one. She surveyed the carnage before ambling toward Noose and crouching at his side. One swarthy hand clutched a squat quarrel protruding from his shattered kneecap. It looked painful, so she jabbed a forefinger into the wound and smiled at his harsh wail.

  “Hello again,” she purred. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  Jarring breaths escaped his lips between clenched teeth and he offered no retort.

  Cyriana grasped Noose’s jaw in one hand. “Where can I find Rope? I want to feed my impulsive desire to have a chitchat with the man. And to open his throat.”

  “You never will. He’s leaving the Empire with your precious relic in hand as we speak.”

  “Well isn’t that grand,” she murmured, releasing his face. “Guess your usefulness to me is minimal then.”

  “Seems that way.”

  “You saved my life once. I was never enamored with your shadowy presence, but up until tonight I was willing to grant you some gratitude. You should know I’m not generous with that sentiment.” She glanced at the dagger in her hand and softly rapped its blade against the man’s thigh. “And now you’ve tried to kill me.”

  “Orders. Nothing personal, girl.” He winced and dragged his ruined leg higher. “I don’t question my masters.”

  “Orders,” Cyriana repeated. “When you fail to crawl home to your boss, he’ll realize you botched his commands. And he’ll know I killed you. I hope he loses sleep at the thought, wondering if one day he’ll wake to find me poised over his bed with a blade.”

  “He won’t, because you’ll soon be dead.”

  “Guess I was right to never waste much thought on gratitude. At least where you’re concerned. I’ll save it for the worthy ones.” She plunged the dagger into his throat and sawed until arrogant brown eyes faded to nothing. Cyriana wrenched the grisly implement free as Maylene approached and gazed at glossy fluids pooling beneath the corpse. “Was that opening salvo yours?”

  “Damn right it was,” Maylene replied. “You think Thorkell has aim like that from distance?”

  “I think the crippling blow to Noose might’ve come from him.”

  “Probably only nicked his knee because Thorkell was shooting for the chest.” Maylene glanced at the unmoving form and rested her crossbow against one shoulder. “We could’ve extracted nuggets of information from him first.”

  “That was far too satisfying to delay any longer. We’ll have to content ourselves with not knowing some details. Seems Rope already fled anyways.” Cyriana brushed a black strand hanging over one eye. “Eloran turned sniveling traitor on us.”

  “I figured. Glimpsed him here crouched at Noose’s feet, when he should be elsewhere, and put two and two together. Stings a little, though I can’t say I’m wholly surprised at this turn.”

  “Right you are.”

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Duped nonetheless. And a little stiff.” Cyriana rolled one shoulder delicately, feeling a twinge of pain ripple through her stomach. “I expected betrayal from the beginning. Occupational hazard, I suppose. I didn’
t anticipate it creeping up from certain directions though.”

  Maylene cast a glower to Eloran and shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”

  “Never used to.” She dabbed wetness beneath her hairline and the hand came away streaked in red. “I can’t help but notice you didn’t do as I asked.”

  “I can’t help but notice you’re still alive because I don’t take directions well.”

  Cyriana glanced over a shoulder when she heard boots striding atop stone fragments and sighted Baskaran wending between tombstones with Thorkell in tow. The duelist used a handkerchief to clean his sullied rapier while Thorkell cradled an empty crossbow.

  “I thought you weren’t keen on fighting,” Baskaran said to the man at his side.

  “Scuffle up close and risk the possibility of a stabbing? Not bloody likely. But ask me to skewer an unsuspecting foe in his backside with an arrow from twenty paces? Oh yes, I’ll do that.”

  Baskaran tapped the crossbow in Thorkell’s hands. “That holds quarrels.”

  “There’s a difference?” The false-facer sauntered closer and frowned at Eloran. “I see you found our wayward forger. What hole did he scamper off into?”

  “Our benefactor’s coin purse,” Cyriana answered.

  “Imagine that. I’d claim to be flabbergasted at this about-face, but that’d be a lie. Eloran’s allegiances were always suspect.”

  “Have you decided what to do with him?” queried Baskaran.

  Cyriana brushed her hands together as though dusting off dirt. “Nothing different from what I’m doing right now.”

  “You can’t mean to leave me here,” Eloran responded.

  “Why not? You chose this path you’re on. You chose to betray us and put our lives at risk. Noose would’ve killed me if it hadn’t been for the others watching over me. They came when I needed them most. You just spat in my face.”

  He squirmed against rope binding his limbs, achieving little more than flopping from one grass patch to another. “I’ll die if you abandon me!”