“He hasn’t been killed by his rivals because he’s the best assassin still,” Dean added.
“And his main rivals in the House are the three of us,” Marco pointed out. The others nodded. “So, do we do it?” he asked. “Do we help Jannpar by putting the best leader in as Chairman?”
Dean cleared his throat. “This must be said. Without a fee or an assignment, we’re breaking House rules. The punishment for that is death or banishment, depending. Are we willing to risk losing our home and our livelihood over this?”
The three of them looked at each other. They put their fists over their hearts as one. “Yes,” Melissa said. “Let’s do what should be done.”
* * *
The planning for Lord Slaughter’s unknowing rise to power took a few weeks. The list of those who needed to be removed was long and all the deaths had to look accidental. They agreed on death for all opponents, because dead men and women could share no tales of threats and persuasion.
However, they’d been taught to always have at least one backup plan. Said plan was to ensure that, should those in authority start investigations, they would find a secret conspiracy to overthrow Jannpar’s stability. The conspiracy would, of course, implicate the dead or those who might need to be dead who hadn’t been removed yet.
The existing Chairman had to go, of course, or there would be no new election by the Houses. But they determined that removing the potential candidates prior would be wisest and ensure that Jannpar retained stable leadership.
While the Heads of all Houses could run for Chairman, as could any landed noble or citizen with enough money to ensure they could afford to leave their current occupation and still keep their property and such, most would never have an interest. Other than those from the Merchant’s Guild.
The Merchant’s Guild was the largest Guild in Jannpar, and the land of Tavaria as well, and had provided the majority of Jannpar’s Chairmen over the years. Though the Guilds of Educators, Military, Religion, Financiers, and even Thieves had all had representatives running the show at one time or another, seven out of every ten Chairmen came from the Merchant’s Guild.
The Guilds of Healers, Whores, Entertainers, Builders, Artisans, and Farmers had never successfully put forth a candidate, and the Guild of Magicians was never allowed to offer one. The Assassins had never put forth a candidate, either. And, technically, they weren’t doing so now. At least not yet.
Marco, Dean, and Melissa planned and, while they went about their normal routines and assignments, they studied their future targets and set up their backup plan.
While Melissa poisoned the man who had gotten her wealthy client pregnant, then run off to seduce a slew of other woman—using the age-old technique of feigning sexual interest and then giving him a tincture of aconite in his ‘before the sex’ drink—she rifled through his things, finding several convenient weapons, disguises for both Marco and Dean, as well as a listing of most of the influential families in the city. This list had the names of all the females of birthing age, listed in order of years of expected child bearing and attractiveness—with the least attractive first.
“We’re well done of you,” she murmured as her target expired. “Though I credit you with an interesting and, no doubt, enjoyable plan to control and influence the wealth of our land.”
She also left a set of clues—well-hidden yet findable should someone keen on the job be searching—that would implicate him in the conspiracy.
Marco and Dean created a bar fight that gave them an almost laughably easy way to knife a tradesman who’d kept more than his share of Marco’s client’s profits and an ambitious young financier whom Dean’s client wanted dead versus challenging for said client’s position. They also lifted papers from several merchants who had access to those they’d deemed likely candidates and planted evidence of the conspiracy on these merchants and some lower level financiers, because efficiency was a House watchword.
And so it went, assignments assisting in the setup of the overall plan, spare time spent shadowing targets, planting fake evidence, and casing various buildings—they had the layouts of every building in Jannpar memorized, but people tended to be less predictable than clay and wood—all while biding their time until they felt everything was in place with nothing left to chance.
* * *
Plan finally in motion, Melissa headed out at dusk. Early for a normal job, but she wasn’t officially working. She was taking a few personal hours; at least, that’s what she told anyone in the House who asked.
She walked with purpose to the Artists Quarter. While the Guild of Artisans had never forwarded a successful candidate, one of their members was quite popular and looked to be a real challenger for the Chairmanship.
Iria was an exceptional artist, skilled in paintings, tapestries, and pottery. Melissa, Dean, and Marco had spent quite a lot of their earnings on her works in recent days. Not so much as to draw attention, but enough, once Iria was dead, to ensure a good return on their investment.
Therefore, Iria greeted Melissa with happy expectation, particularly since the Quarter was shutting down and almost devoid of customers. Melissa returned the greeting, ignoring the pang having to assassinate Iria gave her. “Shall we go for tea once you close?”
“I’ll close right now,” Iria said.
“Excellent, I’ll meet you there and secure our table.”
Melissa went into the alleyway they used to get to the tea stall and waited. Iria came into the alley a few minutes later. “I have the table and realized I hadn’t given you a greeting hug.” She included a special extra.
“What was that?” Iria asked as their hug ended. “I felt something prick my back.”
Melissa looked around and squinted. “There’s a bee nearby.”
Iria went pale. “I … I am allergic …”
Melissa slammed her hand against the wall. “I’ve killed it. Let me see.” She turned Iria around and pulled her blouse up. “I don’t see anything much,” she said doubtfully.
Iria grabbed her neck. “My throat … closing …”
“I’m sure I have an antidote with me.” Iria gasped as Melissa fumbled around in her pocket. Melissa pulled a needle out and shot it into Iria’s arm.
“Thank you,” Iria gasped, right before she stopped breathing.
Melissa heaved a sigh. She wanted to close Iria’s eyes, but that would indicate someone had been with her. Instead she let the body fall as it would in a case of anaphylactic shock and hurried off to her appointment at the massage tent at the other end of the Quarter. She was almost asleep when news of Iria’s untimely death reached them.
Dean had arranged for the Merchant’s Guild dinner to be imported quail. That the quail had all been fed hemlock-laced feed—which the birds were immune to—and that, therefore, their flesh was deadly if ingested, was seen as terribly bad luck. It was considered a tragic choice by the Guild’s chef for buying food from outside of Tavaria and the Chef was only fined, not imprisoned or executed.
Marco, meanwhile, had weakened a footbridge several of the potential candidates from the Guild of Religion used when attending monthly meetings at their favorite bar. A collapsing bridge wasn’t exactly news, nor was it a surefire way to kill anyone—unless those falling hit onto rocks sharpened to a knife’s point and tainted with arsenic. The river’s water washed away the arsenic traces, and the water would dissipate the poison enough that others wouldn’t be harmed and some might even gain a slight immunity. It was a public service, really.
And so it went—a choking death here, an allergic reaction there, a mugging gone badly, even a suicide. All normal deaths for Tavaria’s largest city.
They’d decided on a slow death for the current Chairman, in no small part because he was a terrible leader and the very reason Lord Slaughter had been musing about leadership in the first place. Melissa had ensured that pills the Chairman, and the Chairman alone, ingested daily were treated with a slight dusting of arsenic. Since the pills were those
the Chairman took to give himself more sexual virility in order to indulge his sexual appetites, this method allowed him to, essentially, kill himself, which the assassins found rather poetic.
As they moved to more obvious targets, less obvious methods were required. Tragic accidents required many moving parts, but they were one of Dean’s best skills.
Horses being spooked were commonplace, and something a top assassin shouldn’t need to bother with, but they tended to do the trick. How the horse or horses were panicked was where the skill came in—on any given day, there was something happening in Jannpar to upset the most nervous of the Gods’ creatures.
Dean was quite good with all animals and he enjoyed using their natural natures to assist him in his work. Nothing spooked a horse faster than a deadly snake, and then the snake was there to ensure the target died if the horse didn’t do the job. Sadly, despite their effectiveness, asps and other deadly serpents were rare in Jannpar these days, so his preferred choice was out.
Flying insects were plentiful, however, and a good sting on the rump could cause many a horse to throw its rider. A swarm of stinging beetles was effective to the point of certainty—even the best trained warhorse didn’t want stinging beetles in its face and would react from nature and by instinct versus training. And, if the right circumstances were in place, the situation and resulting death were unsuspicious.
So, just before dawn, Dean broke a jar of honey over a pile of dung outside the entrance to the brothel the Chairman and several of their top targets preferred. This location was perfect, since three potential candidates—and therefore, three targets—worked at the bank across the street.
He joined the others on the roof of the bank and waited to watch the show. “Those in the brothel should be leaving just as those going to the bank arrive,” Marco said softly. “Wait to trigger the beetles until we see the Chairman leaving, though.”
“I wasn’t trained yesterday,” Melissa replied, with more humor than rebuke in her tone.
They waited. And waited. People came and went, but none went into the bank or came out of the brothel. “Why aren’t the financiers arriving?” Dean asked. “They should have been here an hour ago.”
“Why aren’t those in the brothel leaving to get to their homes or businesses?” Melissa added.
“Something’s wrong,” Marco replied. “Get ready to run for the House. Alibi Number Twelve.”
“Spent all night playing cards because we had no assignments,” Dean said. “Check.”
Melissa jerked and put her hands on their arms. “Wait.”
They froze and then the men heard what Melissa already had—women screaming.
Whores ran out of the brothel, screaming their heads off. The three assassins listened intently. “Customers died in their beds,” Melissa said. “Several of them.”
“I heard at least one name, and it was a name on our list,” Dean added, as town guards began to arrive.
“Time to go.” Marco grabbed the others’ hands and pulled them away.
They headed back to the House quickly but carefully, put the beetles back in the storeroom, and were all in Melissa’s room playing cards and looking tired when the door opened to reveal Lady Slaughter.
“I apologize for not knocking,” she said. “But I’ve been looking for you three and I already checked Marco and Dean’s rooms.”
“Mother, what can we do for you?” Marco asked casually.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I wanted to let you three know—several murders happened last night. None of them ordered by the House.”
“Do we need to investigate?” Melissa asked.
“No, not yet. But please be aware that someone seems to be working outside of our laws or has taken assignments without advising the House, meaning stealing from us.” She smiled fondly at them. “Though, not you three, of course.”
She closed the door and the three looked at each other. “What now?” Dean asked softly.
“Now,” Marco replied, “we find out who was killed and how many of them were on our list.”
* * *
“All of them,” Melissa said hours later, as she returned from the Day Market and joined Marco and Dean in Marco’s room. “Every person who died last night was on our list. And they all died in their beds. Some from ‘explainable’ reasons, some from their throats being slit.”
“Father is at a Guild meeting,” Marco told her. “Explaining that our House is not responsible for any of these deaths.”
“We aren’t,” Dean pointed out. “We didn’t kill them. We planned to, but someone beat us to it.”
“Far less elegantly,” Melissa added with a sniff. “Even if they were effective.”
“The problem isn’t elegance or effectiveness,” Marco said. “The problem is that it was done all at once and in an obvious manner, meaning that someone else is likely after the Chairman’s position.”
“Which is now open,” Dean said. “Since the Chairman got his throat slit at the brothel.”
Before they could fret about this, or formulate a counter plan, there was a knock on the door and Lady Slaughter put her head in. “I just wanted to let you all know—a conspiracy has been discovered. I need you to come to an All House Meeting right now.”
They pointedly didn’t look at each other as they followed Lady Slaughter to the meeting room. All the House, other than Lord Slaughter, were in attendance.
“There appears to be a conspiracy to undermine the stability of Jannpar,” Lady Slaughter said without preamble, “which would then undermine all of Tavaria. All assassinations are, therefore, in abeyance until the city has stable leadership.”
“What do we do, then?” Dean asked.
“We wait. Our Guilds are choosing a new Chairman as we speak.”
The three assassins still didn’t look at each other, but they all felt discouraged. All their planning was now useless, because someone from the Merchants Guild would likely step in and it would be dangerous for the House if that person was killed.
“Where does the conspiracy originate?” Melissa asked. “Do we know?”
Lady Slaughter nodded. “The Magicians Guild has contacted their Houses in Tavaria’s other cities—none of those other Guilds will admit to being involved and we have confirmed that by contacting my other children, who know of no Houses working against us. This, in fact, tracks with what’s been discovered here in Jannpar. The threat seems to be from outside Tavaria’s borders. As near as we have determined based on the clues found so far, assassins not associated with any known House have taken the assignment to disable our government. Signs point to either Cadnis or Veed, or both.”
So, their backup plan was working. One small victory. “Is retaliation planned?” Marco asked.
“Not as yet,” his mother replied. “Our tensions are always high with those lands, but since Jannpar is nowhere near either lands’ border, we are waiting to see what those who run Tavaria feel is best.”
“Politics as usual,” Melissa said quietly.
“Perhaps,” Lady Slaughter replied. “Perhaps not.”
* * *
The Guilds’ selection of a new Chairman took a week. The Magicians Guild hadn’t had this much work to do for a long time—every member was using all their powers to speak with Guilds across the land. Marco hadn’t talked to his siblings this much in ages, either, so there was an upside.
But finally the decision was made. Everyone who could squeeze in was at the town square in front of the Chairman’s Office. The Assassins were all on the roofs, however, so they had a good view without being crowded—the rest of the city felt safer this way, as well.
The Head of the Merchants Guild was speaking, his voice projected by a spell. Aldroth droned on for a bit, talking about the conspiracy and how Jannpar and Tavaria’s enemies would not be allowed to triumph, but he finally got to the relevant part of his speech: who was to be the new Chairman.
“Think he’s going to introduce himself?” Dean asked.
“Didn’t stop them from nominating the last Chairman,” Marco muttered.
“Hush,” Lady Slaughter said gently.
“After much careful deliberation, we have chosen a new Chairman who we feel will send a strong message to our enemies,” Aldroth said.
“Going to be from the Military Guild,” Dean said. “Mark my words.”
“The Gods help us,” Marco replied. “We’ll be at war forever if that happens.”
“Hush now,” Lady Slaughter said.
“Our new Chairman did not seek this position,” Aldroth continued. “He, in fact, tried to refuse it. But his sense of loyalty to Jannpar and Tavaria overruled his desire to remain a simple Head of his Guild.”
“By the Gods, he is going to announce himself, isn’t he?” Melissa gasped.
“Hush, children,” Lady Slaughter said a bit more strongly.
“I am therefore pleased and gratified to present our new Chairman,” Aldroth went on. “One who has proven time and again that he is a man of honor and of his word. And a man who these rogues who want to destroy us will fear more than any other. I give you … Chairman Slaughter!”
Lord Slaughter walked out to the cheering of the crowd. The Assassins were, of course, the loudest of those cheering, but no one seemed upset with the outcome, other than Lord Slaughter, who looked a little embarrassed.
“Our new Chairman is the greatest Assassin in the land, nay the world!” Aldroth exclaimed. “These rogue assassins fear him, as well they should! Our Assassins Guild is the strongest in all of Tavaria, and, as his last act as Head of the Assassins Guild, Lord Slaughter has pledged them to find and destroy those who have done this treachery, sparing our brave soldiers any unneeded bloodshed. Therefore, in his first act as Chairman, Chairman Slaughter has proven he’s the leader Jannpar needs!”
Guilds & Glaives Page 10