by C S Vass
Fiona begrudgingly clinked her mug with his. From behind the bar a healthy red fire sent shadows over the large room. Smiley seemed to have chosen their location based off of the fact that it was fairly busy. About thirty patrons gambled and told stories over drinks and no one seemed too keen to look anyone else in the eye. In the corner of the room a fat juggler had an array of cups, forks, and plates spinning in the air as he told a bawdy story.
“So we have a similar enemy,” Fiona said. “That doesn’t tell me who you are or how you know who I am. I better start getting some answers.”
“You are the type that itches for a fight, aren’t you?” Smiley said. His oily baritone voice sent shivers down her spine. “No matter, I was warned of that. I assure you, my motives are cleaner than…” he looked around the tavern. “Well, they’re a lot cleaner than anything that you’re going to find in here.”
Fiona arched a brow. She wanted desperately to believe that at long last she was going to gain some insight into Rodrick’s whereabouts, but she had already been disappointed a great many times.
Smiley slapped his hand onto the table and when he lifted it there was a a solid jet medallion, black as ebony, in the shape of a skull with a single perfect diamond placed in its forehead. “This should help put your mind at ease.”
Fiona gasped. She was half tempted to draw her sword, half tempted to run. She must have betrayed some emotion, because Smiley laughed. “Don’t worry love, the revolution was thirty years ago. We haven’t got cause to cut each other’s throats. Not today, anyway.”
“You’re an Imperial agent.”
“And you’re a scraggly youth who knows both sides of the wall of this city. Are we going to sit here and state the obvious, or are we going to discuss how we can help one another?”
Fiona looked uncertainly into the face across the table from her. She didn’t like any of this. Fearing the Tellosian Empire was second nature to anyone from Haygarden.
He looked into her forest green eyes with his pale blue ones. “Why don’t we get something out of the way right now? Are you going to be able to get over your obvious prejudice and work with an Imperial, or should I stop wasting my damn time?”
She swallowed. It was now or never. “I have no problem working with anybody who can help me achieve what I want. Tell me, Smiley, how do you know who I am and what do you know about my brother?”
He granted her a smile that shone like dirty sunlight.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Rodrick Sacrosin, the ex-Commander of the Brightbows, has been wanted for high crimes and misdemeanors against the Tellosian Empire for quite a time. Political barriers have long prevented us from reaching out to grab him, but the winds certainly change quickly these days.”
“Maybe too quickly for you. For two years Haygarden has wanted nothing to do with Rodrick, has offered him no diplomatic protection, and yet here you are, having failed to capture him.”
“Don’t try to gain the high ground, love. I could say the same thing about you. Be that as it may, I see an opportunity for us to work together.”
Fiona took a long sip from her mug. “You still haven’t told me how you know who I am.”
“Does it matter?” he asked. “The Tellosian Empire has hundreds of agents across the continent. We watch, and we sometimes act. It’s no surprise. Haygarden does it as well. In fact, Rodrick used to do it quite well before he started getting all of those crazy ideas in his head. But you were never influenced by that, were you Fiona? Have you ever had any fascination with the long dead Vaentysh kings?”
Fiona snorted. “If you’re even mildly competent at your job then you already know the answer to that. I want to see Rodrick dead, and I want to kill him myself.”
“Ho-ho.” Smiley’s grinned wolfishly. “Why the stipulation? Dead is dead. Isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter why I want what I want.”
“I suppose not. Then you won’t be surprised to learn that unless you render the Tellosian Empire some great service, we have no need to bring you Rodrick in chains for you to strike off his head. You see, we don’t care who does it.”
Fiona laughed. To her pleasure he frowned deeply, exaggerating the jowls of his already piggish face. “Please, you can try to impress me with your dedication to respecting political barriers but at the end of the day we all know the reason you never killed Rodrick is because you couldn’t. You still can’t.”
Smiley grinned again, but Fiona saw the murder in his eyes. “Don’t provoke me girl. It would be unfortunate for me to get mad and kill you before I got any use out of you.”
“I’m not scared of you,” she said, a little too quickly. She doubled down. “In fact if you’ve been spying on me, which certainly seems to be the case, you know that I bear the Empire no love. I may still kill you before we leave this tavern.”
“My, you really have changed,” Smiley grumbled. “They warned me of as much. Let me ask you this then, Fiona Sacrosin.” He hissed her family name, as if to make a point of it. “Where will we be if we do murder each other here? Neither one of us will be a step closer to what we want. One will be dead, the other, if they survive, will become an immediate criminal.”
“You flatter yourself by suggesting that you might survive that engagement.” Fiona gulped the rest of her drink and slammed it on the table. “Another please. As I’m sure you’re aware I’m down on my luck and the Imperial coffers run oh so deep I hear.”
Smiley’s face was unreadable but he summoned the barmaid all the same. When her drink was refreshed he said, “Let’s stop the tough talk. We both want Rodrick dead. Let’s say we help each other. Exchange information. Pass on leads. What do you say? Want to bring down an elite criminal warrior with me?”
“Your facts are not quite right. You see we don’t want the same exact thing. You want Rodrick dead by any means necessary, but what you fail to understand is that I want to kill him myself.”
Smiley took a slow, deliberate sip of his beer. “The devil is always in the details, but what does it matter? I see no reason why we shouldn’t help each other all the same. As I said, we don’t care enough to bring him to you if we get him first, but we don’t care if you get him first either. I can see you’re still not convinced, nor are you the type to succumb to a bribe. But what if I could get you something that you truly want?”
“There’s only one thing I want,” Fiona said.
Smiley chuckled. “I’ve been in this business too long to believe that. But maybe I can help give you some insight. I don’t suppose something like this would hold any value to you.”
He reached into his cloak and took out a piece of parchment which he held up to her face.
Fiona gasped.
She was looking at an expertly rendered drawing of herself. It captured her image down to her wide nose and small square teeth. In large loopy writing next to her face it simply read ‘Permission granted to leave the Imperial borders in any direction, at any time, with full assistance and cooperation from the Tellosian army.’ Underneath there was a black stamp in the same image of the skull and diamond that Smiley had shown her on his medallion.
Smiley laughed. “I thought that this might grab your attention. You don’t seem like the type to stick around after a messy job.”
Before she knew what she was doing Fiona found herself reaching out for the passport. Smiley quickly shoved it back inside his robes. “Not yet, friend. We need Rodrick’s head first. Of course, you should be warned that if you do accept this gift by killing your brother, any Tellosian guard along the border will know to take it from you once you present yourself. You see, it’s a one way ticket.”
Fiona swallowed. For a moment she debated trying to kill Smiley and simply taking it off of him. As if reading her mind he said, “Don’t even think about it. You wouldn’t stand a chance. I’m not alone. I never am.”
“Even if I did want to accept that, how would I find you?” Fiona asked.
“Oh, I’ll be in touch, F
iona. You can count on that.” He rose. “No need to make any quick decisions right now. Just keep in mind that this will be a little bonus for you should you decide to help us. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
He turned to leave, but as an afterthought looked back towards her. “I almost forgot.” He tossed her a leather pouch. She pulled open the strings and saw that it was filled with silver coins. “Can’t have you starving in the streets while you’re supposed to be doing an important job. Get yourself a good meal…and it wouldn’t hurt to get out of those filthy rags either. You smell like shit.”
* * *
Smiley left and Fiona felt as though a great weight was lifted off of her shoulders. There was much for her to consider. For most of her life the Tellosian Empire was a faceless terror, a malicious evil that existed in the stories the older generation would tell but that had been banished from within Haygarden’s walls since the Movement for Independence. To actually meet a Tellosian agent…to actually be on the same side as one!
Rodrick would kill me.
The thought made her smile. Her brother’s hatred of the Empire exceeded any smaller contempt he had for the relatively minuscule bureaucracies and failures of Haygarden’s court. Rather than dive into her thoughts she let her mind drift aimlessly as she watched the juggling bard. He had abandoned his stories to place a long silver flute between his plump lips and played a song that changed the color of the fire in the room various shades of green, blue, and turquoise depending on the notes.
It was unique to see a soundmage. Many of them had simply abandoned their craft after the Awakening. With so many real sorcerers in the world the parlor tricks of wandering bards had lost much of their appeal.
Wouldn’t that be a life, Fiona thought. Giving up everything and wandering from town to town with a magic flute, playing for coppers and drinks. In truth it was not the first time such a thought had occurred to her. She often considered over the last two years what her life would be like if she suddenly decided that she just didn’t care. To hell with Rodrick, and with everyone else too.
But every particularly cold uncomfortable night spent under the stars or huddled up in some foreign stable crawling with fleas where such thoughts were most likely to seek her out Fiona would remember that night. The horrible gut-wrenching pain of realizing that Rodrick had betrayed her, and the look of shock on Helena Fiercewind’s face as Rodrick’s sword drank her heart’s blood. There was no going back for Fiona after that. Those thoughts would burst into her head like fireworks and the rage would consume her until she could think of nothing else but slaying her brother.
At that moment she noticed a group of three come in. From the looks of it they were wealthy Imperials. The thick furs they wore were well cared for and laced with silver thread. Something about them drew her attention…they were huddled closely together and talking quickly. Fiona thought she heard Sandra Redfire’s name.
“Care for another drink, my dear?”
Fiona looked up to see the bard standing above her, a warm smile kneaded into his doughy cheeks.
“Excuse me?”
“You look lonelier than the last elf of the Moonwood,” he said brightly. “Thought you might want some company.”
Fiona lifted her mug to her lips to buy herself a moment but found that it was empty. “Don’t waste your time. I’m not looking for anyone to warm my bed tonight.”
He let out a great barking laugh that shook his massive belly. “Rather forward, aren’t you? No harm in that. But you misread my intentions miss. I’m not interested in picking fruit off your tree, so to speak. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re empty.”
Fiona shrugged. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to be. “Why not? If you’re buying I won’t refuse you.”
“That’s the spirit!” he roared. “Two hot ciders over here! I’ve had a damp in my bones since leaving the swamplands that I just can’t seem to be rid of, so I hope you don’t mind something hot.”
A few minutes later they were drinking merrily together and Fiona’s mind was near halfway to forgetting her troubles. Her new companion had tried to introduce himself but Fiona held up her hand and stopped him. “No names, please.”
He smiled at that (most everything made him smile). “Trouble with one authority or another? No, no, that’s alright by me m’lady. I’m not one to judge, and my own past is hairier than a badger’s behind so I won’t think lesser of you for it.”
Fiona took a sip of her cider. It was sweet and warm and delicious with plenty of spiced rum and a dash of cinnamon. “So how did you become a soundmage?” she asked.
A forlorn look crossed his face. “Not exactly a happy topic, that. No, no, it’s quite alright. I’m the one who approached you. Just giving you fair warning.” He chuckled and patted his round belly with large meaty hands that contained rings on many of his fingers.
“If you truly want to know it was my only option. I’m from a well-off family of landowners far south of here and so naturally I was destined to be wed to another wealthy family. Most in my situation just wed off and make it work one way or another. Heirs must be produced you know, and it’s easy enough to manage. I’ve heard it usually just requires an enthusiastic stableboy and a few pieces of gold or the threat of the noose to buy his silence. That’s what I was counting on.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “I’m sure your bride was overjoyed.”
He laughed merrily at that, but she noticed this time there was no joy in his eyes.
“I never said I was perfect, and you’re the one who asked.”
“Fair enough,” Fiona said as she gulped her cider. Her head was starting to feel very thick and warm. “So how did your blushing bride take it when you tried to put a stableboy in her bed?”
He held out his hands and grinned wickedly. “I wear a lot of rings, m’lady, but do you see a betrothal necklace around my neck? No, you don’t. Well she went straight to her father who went straight to mine. A bloody mess. I come from a folk who are more, how should we say, open-minded. But hers were from the old religious ways. Fire and salt and tridents. You know the type.
“Well just my luck that my own father needed the alliance more than he needed my comfort, so there were all sorts of damn ceremonies. They’d have men walk by me naked then hold my head underwater, make my pray to statues of nude goddesses, one cold winter day they took me outside—”
“Stop, please,” Fiona said, genuinely horrified. “If you tell me anymore I may have to go find them.”
“Oh you wouldn’t like to meet them very much at all,” he said with a grin. “But no matter. The long and the short of it is that they decided that I was incurable and turned me out. I met a soundmage at the crossroads between here and Laquath and spent ten years playing for the Laquathi court. I was quite good, before this business with the Awakening. Now like most I’m barely capable of holding the attention of a group of rowdy drunks.”
“It sounds like you’ve lived quite a life,” Fiona said. “I couldn’t imagine going through all of that.”
He smiled at her. “We all have our own burdens in life. I’m content enough these days, better than most soundmages by a long shot. I still don’t have much of a problem finding a roof over my head and a warm meal in my belly. That and the occasional conversation with a new friend makes life still worth living for me.”
The word friend had caught Fiona off guard. Suddenly, sadly, she realized she had not had such an enjoyable interaction with another person for two years.
Who am I becoming?
She smiled warmly at him and extended her hand. “It’s good to know you, friend. My name is Fiona.”
“Fiona, a pretty name that. I’m—”
The explosion blasted Fiona backwards into the air.
Spinning wildly she smacked the side of her head hard against the bar. It took her half a minute to open her eyes and rise to her knees. The room was filled with smoke. There were groans, but no faces or forms that she could identify. Slowly the noise
became louder until groans turned to screams and cries. Some of the smoke cleared. Fiona saw two men lying on the ground and rapidly crawled to them. Both were dead.
The barman was shrieking behind his bar, his face caked with blood. “What the fuck! What the fuck!” he shouted over and over again. A huge piece of the roof caved in, probably crushing at least several people, but it was far too dark to tell.
Fiona was trying to find the source of the chaos. She had absolutely no idea what had happened and was still too injured to rise to her feet. Crawling across the floor she found a large form. Heart sinking, she moved over to it and stared into the face of the man she had spent the better part of the last hour getting to know.
He looked up at her with pained dark eyes. His head was unharmed, but Fiona’s hopes were shattered when she saw a beam of wood that jutted from his stomach. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Fiona,” he said. His voice sounded so peaceful, more sleepy than hurt, like he was just waking up from a long nap. He raised a bloody hand and took hers in it. “It was good to know you. My name is Aureno.” His eyes closed, and he breathed no more.
It was as if a damn inside her had broken and all of the emotion she had locked within herself poured out as she cried over his body. She wept not just for him, but for everything that had happened, everyone she had neglected for two long years.
“He’s dead.”
The voice rattled her bones worse than the explosion. She turned, and stared into the blank hooded face of the godling.
“Shifter?” she breathed.
“Come, there’s nothing you can do.” The secret-keeper took her hand and pulled her up. “Can you walk? Good. Come on. Follow me.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “What’s happening?”
“No, put away your weapon,” Shifter commanded as she started to draw her blade. “Don’t bring attention to yourself. Follow me.”
She stared at him open-mouthed.
Shifter turned and the godling’s voice was harsh and angry. “They will take you if you stay here. Come! We have much to discuss.”