by Mark Robson
As they entered the blackness of the stone passageway, Reynik realised that it was not totally dark. There was a dim glow emanating from somewhere ahead that lit their way sufficiently for them to see where they were going.
When they entered the chamber at the far end of the passage, the contrast from the meeting chamber was startling. Where the meeting chamber had been clearly dug out and fashioned with the tools of man, this chamber looked as if it were a naturally formed cave. Irregular walls glowed with an eerie green light that Reynik took to be either natural, chemically made, or magical in nature. No fire he had ever seen burned with such a colour, but then there were no flames. It almost seemed as if the rocks themselves were glowing.
For a moment, Reynik’s mind wandered back to the Royal Court in Thrandor and Femke’s trial. Alchemist Pennold had used a rock that gave off an invisible influence to demonstrate Shalidar’s guilt. Was this the sort of reaction happening here? Reynik would love to have time to study the place in more depth, but events were pressing him forwards with unrelenting pace.
In the centre of the chamber there was a large, flat block of stone that looked suspiciously like an altar. As he drew nearer, Reynik could see that there were deep engravings in the top surface. Pictures matching the predator symbols in the meeting hall had been carved into the stone. Some were tiny. Others were larger. However, each predator symbol on this rock had something in common – there was an identical circle of runes carved around each one.
The language of magic was written in runes like this, Reynik realised. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the thought. It was one of the few things he knew about the magical arts. Until now, he had questioned in the depths of his mind whether the magical transfer to the Guild headquarters could have been an elaborate hoax. Any last doubts he had harboured dissolved in an instant at the sight of the runes. This was real.
The Guildmaster led Reynik right up to the stone, whilst the rest of the hooded assassins formed a circle around it. The cave was large, but Reynik was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of claustrophobia. He was hemmed in on all sides by deadly killers and sealed in solid rock. There was no way out. Panic welled inside, but once again his father’s calming words filled his mind.
‘Panic is death. Do not give in to it. Breathe deeply and slowly. Relax your shoulders and be ready. The best way out of a bad situation will only become apparent when you’re thinking clearly.’
‘Brothers, we gather again around the binding stone faced with a decision. Our new Brother here needs a name. There are three available. What say you, Brothers? With which icon should our new Brother be bound? The Falcon, the Sea Serpent, or the Wolf Spider? You have all heard the tales of his most recent kills. Which would you say suits him most?’
Reynik glanced again at the top of the binding stone and saw the three silver icons nestled in their respective carvings. ‘Oh, Shand, please not the spider!’ he prayed silently.
The Guildmaster turned to the nearest assassin. ‘What say you, Firedrake?’
‘Wolf Spider.’
‘What say you, Bear?’
‘Falcon.’
And so it went on around the circle.
‘What say you, Dragon?’
‘Wolf Spider,’ the hooded figure answered. An involuntary shudder ran down Reynik’s back. The voice was distinctive. It was Shalidar. Definitely. His uncle’s killer was the Dragon.
A woman’s voice, low and purring answered when the Guildmaster addressed ‘Fox’. She named him ‘Falcon’. Reynik was surprised. The Guildmaster never referred to ‘Sisters’, only ‘Brothers’. How had a woman gained membership of the Guild if it were so gender-biased as to not even recognise her as female?
The last member was asked.
‘Two say “Sea Serpent”, five say “Falcon”, and five say “Wolf Spider”. The casting vote is mine,’ the Guildmaster announced solemnly. ‘I have considered the approach you took to your last kill and, to me, your naming seemed self-evident. I name you . . . Brother Wolf Spider. Take up your icon, Brother, and bind your soul with ours.’
Reynik’s heart sank. The silver wolf spider icon gave him the creeps. It was not pleasant to think he would have to live with it close to him for the rest of his life. But this was not a time to show hesitation. With jaw clenched in anticipation, he reached out and lifted the silver spider from its underlying carved image. For the briefest of instants, the world reeled under him, but then . . . nothing. He felt completely normal. No unusual sensations, no magical tingling, no sense of anything out of the ordinary at all.
He had thought he would feel different somehow. The link that the Guildmaster had described between icon and the life force of an individual had made him expect to be consciously aware of it. He was not. It was a complete anticlimax.
‘Now, Brother Wolf Spider, you are required to repeat the creed. By this creed you will live and be judged. No matter what the present Emperor may believe, this brotherhood has stood the test of time because of the integrity of its members. We have a proud tradition of loyalty and respect that spans centuries. For better, or for worse, you have become a Brother to us. As long as you uphold the creed, you shall enjoy the protection and support of this Guild. Do not seek to twist its words, or bend it to your will, for it will destroy you. Repeat after me, please: I accept that as a member of this Quild . . .’
Reynik did as he was told, repeating each clause of the creed with as near identical inflections to those of the Guildmaster as he could manage. The final lines threatened to stick in his throat, but he forced them out.
‘I state this creed in the full knowledge that should
I break it,
My life will be forfeit.’
It was done. He had successfully infiltrated the Guild of Assassins. But at what price? Was the information he had gained worth his life? Maybe the Emperor would feel it was a small price to pay: the life of one Legionnaire for information that could possibly bring down the Guild of Assassins. Yes, to the Emperor this might well appear a reasonable exchange, Reynik mused. A General will calculate and analyse attrition rates carefully before, during and after any campaign. A good Commander will do the same. Sometimes sacrifices are needed to win the day. There is no place for guilt in the minds of such men. Reynik knew this all too well. It ran in his blood. If a Commander allowed feelings for individuals to interfere with his decisions, then how could he possibly expect to win the day?
Reynik had so much to tell Femke and the Emperor. Despite not learning where this secret headquarters was, he had plenty of hitherto unknown information about the Guild and how it worked. With what he knew about the organisation, it would become much easier to identify members of the Guild. This information would be invaluable to them. All he had to do now was to survive long enough to ensure he passed it on.
‘Welcome, Brother,’ the Guildmaster announced, his voice sounding genuinely warm. He put a friendly arm across Reynik’s shoulders. ‘There will be a short period during which you will be on probation, and you will have to make your first kill for the Guild before you’re truly a full Brother. However, I don’t anticipate either will offer you any great problems. Come now. I will get one of the servants to show you to your quarters. Please do not attempt to use your icon to transport out of the headquarters until I give you my permission. It would not be advisable to risk travelling alone until your body has adapted to the transfer sickness. On your first foray back into Shandrim, your stone Brother will accompany you. Brother Cougar is your stone Brother.’
One of the other assassins bowed. ‘Welcome, stone Brother,’ he said. ‘It will be my pleasure to shepherd you.’
The Guildmaster led Reynik out of the naming room and back through the dark corridor to the main meeting chamber. They were met there by a servant in plain brown robes who, in turn, led Reynik onwards through the wolf spider alcove and into the corridor and chambers beyond. Shalidar watched him go, following his every step through narrowed eyes. The rest of the assass
ins were dispersing to their relative alcoves, but Shalidar held back.
‘Guildmaster. A moment, please,’ he called softly.
‘Yes, Brother Dragon? What is it?’
‘There is something about Brother Wolf Spider that bothers me,’ he said, his voice hesitant.
‘And what is that?’
‘I don’t know, Guildmaster. A feeling. An instinct that tells me he will be trouble.’
‘That’s rather rich coming from you,’ the Guildmaster chuckled. ‘But Brother Viper indicated a similar feeling. Fear not, Brother Dragon. He will be watched carefully. On second thoughts, given your feelings about him, I’d like you to be one of those to watch him. Be careful, Brother. From Viper’s report, he’s lacking in experience, but he’s got a lot of raw talent. Don’t underestimate him. If he is here to betray us, then he may have more abilities than he has let us see.’
‘If the Guild have him, then you’ll never find him.’
‘The Guild must be based somewhere, Shedrick. It’s got to be here in Shandrim, because they react so damned quickly to events. Surely someone must know. No organisation can keep their headquarters totally secret for ever.’
Femke’s frustration was building. She had tried to find the headquarters of the Guild of Assassins before, but had never taken the search seriously. Her previous search had been purely to satisfy her personal curiosity. Information was her business, and it never hurt to anticipate the market. People were always looking to uncover secrets. The Guild of Assassins was one of the most secretive societies ever formed. It stood to reason someone would want to know about it eventually.
‘Ah, but they can, Miss,’ Shedrick replied softly, his face twisting into a conspiratorial grin. He looked around nervously and lowered his voice still further. ‘They magic away somewhere. They can . . . disappear.’
Femke almost laughed aloud at his dramatic conclusion, but she restrained herself. Shedrick was a good source. He was clearly serious about his statement. If he thought she was mocking him, he might decide to take his information elsewhere. She needed Shedrick too much to lose him over such a trifle.
‘Disappear, Shedrick? Are you sure? I don’t want to doubt you, but if the assassins can disappear at will, then why are they ever caught?’
‘I don’t know, Miss, but I know it’s true. I’ve seen it, Miss. One minute he was there, the next there were some sparkly lights and he was gone. I’ve never seen the like before, nor since, Miss. It was eerie – made all the hairs on my head stand on end.’
‘Who, Shedrick? Who did you see disappear and when?’
‘One of them assassins, Miss. I can’t say I’ve ever heard his name, but I saw him sneaking out from the camp of the Legions last week. All dressed in black, he was. Black cloak and hood. Looked like death, he did. One of the Legion Commanders was killed that night. It doesn’t take deep thought to work out this man in black was the killer.’
‘So you saw him out near the military camp. Is that where he disappeared?’
‘No, Miss. He led me a merry path through the city first. We were almost to the inner city when it happened. I’m wondering now if he caught on to my following him. I was being extra careful, ’cause you don’t want to upset a member of the Guild. I could have sworn he hadn’t seen me, but then, all of a sudden he paused at the entrance to an alleyway and looked back. He was looking straight at where I was hiding when he just faded away. All that was left were a few sparkles in the air and then they were gone too. I swear, Miss. It’s Shand’s own truth, it is.’
Femke looked hard at the man’s face. It was hard to pin him with her stare, as his eyes were almost constantly on the move. He was a weasel of a man: small, alert, and always quick to stick his nose in where there was trouble. However, there was no hint of fabrication in his body language. He clearly believed what he was saying to be the truth. The question was, what did he actually see? Had it been a clever illusion, something to disguise a hidden entrance? She needed to find out.
‘Thank you, Shedrick, you’ve been most helpful.’ She handed him several silver senna, which disappeared into a pocket at the speed of a striking snake. ‘You can have the same again if you show me where the man disappeared,’ she added.
Shedrick paused for a moment and he scratched nervously behind one ear. ‘I don’t know, Miss. It could be dangerous.’
‘Would this help you decide then?’ Femke asked, her voice becoming silky soft as she produced a gold sen and rubbed it gently between her fingers. Shedrick licked his lips and reached for the coin, but Femke was faster. ‘Not until you’ve shown me the place,’ she insisted, giving the coin a final waggle before putting it back in her pocket.
‘You play a dangerous game, Miss, but I’ll show you. Come with me. It’s dark out there, but it’s a bit early for cutthroats and thieves to be abroad yet. Let’s get it over with before I change my mind.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘At last! I thought you’d never come. Welcome. Here – sit down. Have a drink. I have a lucrative proposition for you.’
‘They’re always the best kind, Lord Tremarle,’ Shalidar responded with a twisted smile. He strolled casually across to an armchair. Turning, sitting, and crossing his legs in one fluid movement, the assassin leaned back, steepling his fingers in front of his chest as he regarded his host with an intense gaze.
It was easy to see Lord Tremarle was in a state of emotional turmoil. Anger and grief warred with the nervousness that was common in those who dealt with members of the Guild. Shalidar eyed the thickset old Lord carefully, trying to discern if there were any specific knowledge behind Tremarle’s grief and anger. Did he know that his son’s killer was sitting across the room from him? It was unlikely. Lord Tremarle could be a devious power monger, but when it came to family and friends, he wore his heart on his sleeve.
Tremarle handed Shalidar a generous glass of wine. The assassin took a tiny sip and nodded his thanks.
‘When I left the message requesting you to come, I did so with different intentions,’ the Lord began. ‘Lord Lacedian told me he had become the target of a member of your profession. It appears his information was correct. Was the assassin responsible for my friend’s death a member of the Guild?’
‘No . . . and yes,’ Shalidar replied, taking another sip of wine. ‘The person who killed your friend was not a member of the Guild when he carried out the hit, but he has since been inducted into membership. As we speak, he is settling into his new quarters. If you are looking for revenge on the killer of your friend, then I’m afraid I must leave now, for no matter how much I might wish to help you, I cannot accept a contract on one of my fellow Guild members.’
‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ Tremarle said quickly. ‘I’m the last person to want to upset the Guild by proposing such a thing. However, I’d like to take out a contract on the person who was ultimately responsible. I want you to kill the person who ordered Lacedian’s death, for I’m certain it’s the same person who was responsible for the death of my son.’
Shalidar raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘This should be interesting,’ he thought. It was hard to imagine a connection between the two deaths, given his rather unique inside knowledge.
‘Lacedian confided in me that he was certain he knew who had taken out the contract on his life,’ Tremarle continued, oblivious to Shalidar’s body language. ‘Some time ago I heard the merest whisper of a rumour that you may have carried out a similar service in the past. It is not a rumour that ever spread far, for no one wanted to be heard repeating such a thing. I’m aware of your creed, and that such a service is not normally for sale, but my fee for making this hit may make you feel it worth the risk.’
Lights began to flicker on in the assassin’s mind. Shalidar knew now what Tremarle wanted. He had killed the last Emperor for Vallaine. Somehow, Tremarle knew this. How, and who had told him, was worrying, for Shalidar was in enough trouble with the Guildmaster as it was.
Lord Tremarle’s reasoning for takin
g out a contract on Surabar was flawed, though. He must have been badly misinformed to think this Emperor, of all people, would ever order an assassination. His reasoning for Surabar being responsible for the death of Danar was also twisted. Shalidar had killed him to further Femke’s pain – how could that be Surabar’s fault?
It was true that nothing would please Shalidar more than to be paid for killing the Emperor, unless maybe it were to be paid for killing the girl, Femke, but the Guildmaster was watching him. He could not break the creed so spectacularly and expect to get away with it. Still, he thought, there was nothing lost by hearing Lord Tremarle out. He could always pass on information of the Lord’s offered contract to the Guildmaster as a show of loyalty.
‘I’m not sure what rumour you have heard, Lord Tremarle, but I have been incorrectly attributed many kills over the years. I can only assume you are referring to the ultimate Imperial target, which is, as you have correctly stated, out of bounds to Guild members. Let’s imagine for a moment, however, that such a target were fair game. What would this fee be, that would be worth my facing not only the direct danger involved, but the wrath of my Guild into the bargain?’
Lord Tremarle met his eyes with an expression full of determined passion. ‘Everything I own,’ he replied.
Shalidar laughed aloud, quickly putting his glass of wine on the side table to avoid spilling it. ‘Everything, my Lord! How could you give me everything? Where would you live? What of your wife?’
Lord Tremarle held his gaze firm and his expression remained deadly serious. ‘I will give my estate, my wealth, indeed my very name to the man who can achieve this thing,’ he breathed. ‘I will legally adopt him as my son, such that upon my death he shall gain full inheritance of my House.’
Femke sighed and pushed the plate away. The food on it had barely been touched. Ordering it had been a mistake. Her stomach was twisted with worry for Reynik. Even the smell of the steaming meat and potatoes repulsed her. It was too soon to give up on seeing him again. They had arranged a different rendezvous point and time for every day of the week. This was the third he had missed, but she would continue to go to the pre-arranged meeting places until all hope had gone. How long would that be, she wondered? A week? A month? It did not bear thinking about.