by Guy Antibes
~
Divvid cowered in the corner. Sovad looked at his son, wondering how the boy felt. “Is it your turn? You want to fight me?”
“It would be just like you. To kill your own son,” Sovad heard his son’s fear being replaced with anger. “just after you killed his closest friend. Go ahead, kill me. You’ve taken every bit of my life from me.”
“I don’t know how I could have done that,” Sovad said, wiping his blade on Nirov’s clothes. “It was your mother who forced you into the Assassin’s Guild. I didn’t think it suited you.”
“How could you know what Mother has done for me?” Divvid’s anger was taking over. He picked up Nirov’s sword and held it out at his father.
“I may not be a very good father, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t kept track of you from time to time. Your mother hates me… can’t say I blame her. But she never really listened to me, once she found out what I did for a living. She is the one deserving of your anger, forcing you into paths not appropriate to your skills. If you still desire a military career, I’d hurry to join up with General Crissor and come up with a good story between you. The Council will demand a credible tale from you both to keep your heads.”
Sovad could see his son weighing his options as he lowered the sword. Divvid looked at Nirov lying in a pool of blood. “You can’t go back,” he said.
“That option was taken from me, the minute I agreed to assassinate the Korvannans. You might think me a cold-blooded killer, and you’re right. But I never kill without a reason and their deaths had no reason. If I hadn’t killed Nirov, he certainly would have seen me killed in Murgontia. In fact, Uven wouldn’t have let me live in any circumstance, you know. Perhaps my tolerance of incompetence has changed.” Between the Westter debacle and now this, his career as an assassin had just ended. He watched the blood thicken on the floor and sighed. No question it was time to retire.
“You’d better leave quickly then. I am getting my things and will take your advice.” His son paused. “I never knew you had even a shred of concern for me. And it takes this.” He looked down at Nirov’s body. Divvid put out his hand. Sovad, for the first time ever, shook the proffered hand of his son.
“Good luck with the council. Tell them the truth about what just happened, but, perhaps, not the whole truth.” Sovad gave his son a wink and quickly left.
On his way down the stairs and on to the street, he kept his emotions together. Once he was out of sight, he ducked into an alley and leaned against the wall to collect himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and resisted running back to talk to his son with every bit of will power within him. Divvid actually shook his hand. It wasn’t much, but he was struck that the handshake would be the last physical contact he would likely ever have with his own child. His eyes welled up, as he took deep breaths, putting his hands on his knees. The moment passed. He wiped his eyes and made his way back to his hideout, regretting the end of his long career.
~~~
Chapter 27
Lorna and Panix visited all of the tanneries in Gerell. None of them used exactly the same process to either tan or boil leather. They all missed something contained in the leather fragment.
“We’ve gone through all of the tanneries. What do we do now?” Lorna sat down on a bench in a little park between the tanning district and the embassy.
Panix sat down next to her and spent a moment observing people pass by walking, riding in coaches and driving the occasional steamcar. The sun shone on the little park as the trees filtered the light that reached the pair, dappling them in shadows. He thought of the past season and all that happened in his previously secure life. The whole world shifted, for better or worse, when Sovad Mustak walked into his life. Now he tried out something new for Moshin. That gave him a measure of peace. Now, perhaps, he’d be doing things he had only read about in Moshin’s book. If no one else would take up his father’s cause, he’d train himself to find out the truth. He felt a nudge in his ribs.
“I asked you a question.”
“Tanneries, right?” He looked at Lorna, then at the shops arrayed in the square, noticing that she looked at a weapons shop that stood across the road.
“Armorers use boiled leather,” Lorna said. “Let’s go into that shop and see if they know all the armorers.” An excellent suggestion and Panix told her so.
As they entered the shop, Panix could smell a mixture of polish and rust—it had a sharp texture that he could almost taste. Tiny gas lights lit up the shop. The shopkeeper obviously kept the gaslights going during the day to increase the shining points on his polished weaponry.
“Looking for a weapon, sir? Or something dainty for the lady?” The shopkeeper wore a dirty tan apron over his linen shirt. His curly gray hair and rosy cheeks were at odds with the knowing eyes. Panix thought this man could be ex-military as he examined a rack of swords.
Pulling one out of the rack, he looked it over. “This is a handsome sword, but I wouldn’t sell this one. It’s been repaired. You might not be able to see it, but the break was tacked back together. See this line?” Panix showed him a nearly invisible line running crosswise in the middle of the blade. “The repair won’t hold up. It wouldn’t do your reputation any good to sell it.”
The shopkeeper took a loupe out of his pocket and examined the line. “Quite an eye you have. I think only a magician would be able to spot that. I have one that comes to work with my blades every month, but this particular blade came in last week.”
“I’m a magician, in fact, I will repair this if you will give us some information.” Panix looked at Lorna, who looked pleased when he said “us”.
“Certainly. Little enough for pay. My knowledge may be limited, but what I have is yours.” The man smiled.
Panix ran his hand over the blade and felt many dislocations in the metal’s structure. It was more poorly made than he first thought, but it had a rather nice hilt. That was probably why it was so quickly fixed and sold. He walked to the counter and laid the blade down. His hand then passed again over the blade, giving Panix the focus he needed as he realigned the grain in the blade, creating a double runnel along the length, with the excess material going into the blade, making it stronger and more dense. Lorna and the shopkeeper were silent. He passed his hand over it again sharpening the edges of the sword. Picking it up, he made a few swings testing the weapon for balance.
“What did you do? My magician only sharpens and tones sword blades. You remade it.” He looked at Panix with a great deal of respect.
“It’s something I picked up in Pent.” Panix smiled at the man. “You can now double the price of this and it will still be a bargain.”
He gave the sword to the man who tested the edge. “This is marvelous.”
Panix watched the man pull an empty case from beneath the counter and laid the sword on it.
“Now you seek information.”
“We do. Lorna?”
She looked at Panix and then at the weapons master. “We are looking for makers or users of boiled leather. It doesn’t look like you sell any armor.”
“Armor is not in vogue at present. But you’re right; there is a market for boiled leather as incidental protection under a soldier’s tunic. There are only three such places in Gerell. Let me write down their names.” The man went behind his counter to a stand-up desk and wrote out the names. They had visited all three.
“Are there any other sources of boiled leather in Gerell besides these tanners?” Lorna asked.
“Only one that I know of. His leather is tough but rather supple. Abnar uses a different process, but it won’t hold its shape well, so he sells more of it to saddle makers than to armorers. I’ll write his name down, too. He runs a butchery, but he and his wife also have a rendering yard for animal slaughter just outside of town and he does his leather making on the side.”
~
“We’ve exhausted all of our leads except for the butcher.” Lorna told everyone assembled in the Embassy sitting room. “No
ne of them had any of the butcher’s material on hand.
“While you two have been out with your enquiries, our agents found Nirov Kyrod dead in his rooms, an hour ago. He’s been gone for a few days. Nirov had a companion staying with him, but evidently he’s cleared out as well. It looked like a fight since the furniture was in disarray and his sword laid on the floor beside him. Maybe a little love spat gone awry,? Moshin said.
“What does this do to Jorlan’s claim to the throne?” Panix said. “He’s in the pay of the Murgontians, that’s clear.”
“We know all that, but without more proof than the glass you found on the spokes, the blame for King Tomlano’s death is uncertain,” Corilla said.
Tobet added, “But Pent is no longer suspected and Jorlan’s demands that Pent was at fault have stopped.”
Lorna sighed. “At least something good has happened.”
The ambassador’s aide walked into the room and beckoned Tobet to his side. They whispered for a few minutes as the group watched in rapt attention.
“The crisis seems to be averted. We’ve just gotten a message from Boidan that the Murgontian army has turned around and is heading back to Murgontia along with complaints that the Pent-Murgontian road they are on is now impassable, quite likely until next year.”
They all looked at Panix.
“Just glad it worked, but it might take more than a year to make the road safe. We can thank a lot of things for turning back the Murgontians, I’m sure. The weather being the biggest.”
“Here, here,” said Moshin.
“We still need to find Sovad,” Corilla said. “He might have already fled.”
Harlan had an idea. “Perhaps there might be some clues at Nirov’s rooms, if we can get there right now.”
“I’ll go with you,” Moshin rose. “Panix, you come too.”
~
The stink of death hung in the air. Nirov’s body had already been removed, but the pool of blood remained on the carpet. His sword still remained on the floor.
Panix picked it up and looked at it. He closed his eyes to concentrate. “Silk fibers along a third of its length. It’s the same color as the fibers we found on the bar to the garbage chamber.”
“So Sovad killed Nirov.” Moshin put his hand to his chin. “You’re getting rather good at this, Panix.”
“Surprising isn’t it? I had no idea you could discover so much with by sensing and manipulating physical structures.”
“You’re still inventing ways to apply magic aren’t you?”
“Give it a rest for now, Moshin. We have to find Sovad and bring him to justice.” Panix wasn’t seeking notoriety for all he had done, but he sensed that an investigative team was forming up all on its own.
As they left the inn, Panix pictured a noose of scarlet silk tightening around Sovad’s throat.
~
The day dawned bright and sunny, finally carrying the warmth of midsummer. Divvid caught up to the end of the General Crissor’s column. The charnel wagons with soldiers’ dead bodies covered with lime and stitched up in body bags were a league behind the main group. He couldn’t wait to pass them and rode up the line. The soldiers’ backs were bowed in defeat as they trudged back to their homeland. Wagon after wagon contained the sick and wounded. He finally reached the head of the column.
“General Crissor, sir. I bring news of Nirov Kyrod.”
“Interesting, Mustak. ‘News of…’ you say?” Divvid could see that the General wasn’t pleased to see him.
“Sovad Mustak killed Nirov in a duel in his apartments just days ago.”
General Crissor smiled. “Sovad killed him? Give your father a medal. No, we can’t do that, can we?”
“With Sovad’s failures during this campaign, I’m afraid he’d lose his head as soon as he shows his face in Murgon.” Divvid actually feld bad that his father had so utterly lost.
The General rode deep in thought.
“One thing my father told me when I left.”
“Yes, Mustak?” At least the General hadn’t yet called his guards to take him away. That was a good sign.
“He said our paths to survival rested on a united front, when we report to Wilton’s cabinet.”
The general appraised Divvid as he rode next to him. “I think your father’s advice is the best I’ve heard during this entire debacle. Let’s get to work. I can use a voice defending me against Bollet’s and Nirov’s death in the Council, when we make our inevitable report.” They continued their discussions on their way back to Murgontia.
~
The once-sodden citizens of Gerell suddenly wore brighter clothes. Panix noticed the atmosphere of the city changed from days ago, when he arrived at the docks. He looked forward to seeking out Abnar, the butcher.
With Lorna at his side, they walked into the crowded shop. Display cases overflowed with meat and Abnar’s products were cut well and arranged with greenery. Panix noticed the bundles of herbs hanging from the ceilings bringing a wholesome scent to the shop. He could feel his mouth watering.
“Madam,” Lorna called. A woman of middle age was in the back attending to writing down the accounts and taking the money. “Do you sell boiled leather here?”
“Yes I do, could you come back in a half hour, when this rush is over?”
“Certainly, we will return,” Lorna said.
The pair walked outside and passed an alleyway. Panix turned back and looked down the alley. “The butchery is probably behind their shop. That long shed might be where some of their leather is. Let’s look while they’re taking care of customers.”
“Maybe this gate will lead us in.” Lorna unlatched it and walked through. They found themselves in a small utility yard paved with gravel.
Panix saw the small blacksmithing forge and a sharpening wheel underneath an overhang. “This is his work yard, but I don’t see any tanning facilities.”
Lorna walked up to the steps leading into the back shed. “What’s in here?”
Panix unlocked the door with his talent. Cold air assaulted them when he opened the door and noticed that Lonra shivered in the sun. “A cold storage.” She walked first into the dark warehouse.
“Probably moves all of his unsold meat in here when the shop’s not open.” Panix followed Lorna into the building, producing an airlight.
“Ice under the straw.” Lorna said as she could see her breath in the cold dark room. Shapes loomed up towards her as Panix increased the intensity of the light. She started when she realized the shapes were carcasses hanging from chains laid out above their heads.
“Didn’t the armorer say the butcher had a slaughterhouse on outskirts of town? Maybe that’s where he tans and processes the leather.” Panix said. He felt a shiver of something else—someone’s faint magic signature, somehow familiar. He doused his light and barely saw a line of light on the floor on the other side of the storage room.
Panix lit a light again. “There might be a room behind that wall,” he whispered. “Stay here while I look.” He could see Lorna with her arms about her, trying to stay warm.
The wall looked solid. No door hardware, latch or hook protruded from the wall, but Panix could sense the door as he examined the wall and detected a metal spring embedded beneath underneath a knot in the wood.
Panix didn’t carry a sword but drew his knife as he pushed on the door, popping it open.
“Hera?” Sovad said from another room. He walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of bread and cooked meat in one hand and a mug of ale in the other. Panix could see Sovad stagger at the sight of his nemesis. “Oh, hello Panix. I didn’t think you were in Gerellia or I would have invited you over.”
Panix could feel the tension winding up in his opponent as Sovad appeared to casually walk to the table and sit down. He tore a piece of bread and put it in his mouth. “Want some?”
“No. What I want is an explanation behind your actions in Gerell. You sabotaged the King’s carriage, resulting in his death. You tried, unsuccessfu
lly, to assassinate Tobet and Corilla Westter. You killed Nirov Kyrod.”
“And how can you prove these wild accusations?”
“I noticed the glass particles from your garrote on the cut spokes of the wheels. You left particles of silk on the bar outside of the Korvannan garbage chamber. Leather particles were left behind on the glass shards on the fence linking you to the scarlet silk. The butcher makes that leather and it’s different than anything else made in Gerell. And, finally, I detected scarlet silk particles on Nirov Kyrod’s sword as you undoubtedly grasped it when you cut his throat.
“It all fits. Corilla and Tobet Westter can identify you. From the lump on your upper arm, you have a good slice wrapped up, where the ambassador cut you.”
“When did you develop all of these fine detection skills? I didn’t see them in Pent.” Sovad said. Panix could pick up that Sovad was about to spring on him.
Sovad pulled a scarlet silk scarf from his pocket and dangled it in front of Panix. “Is this what you’re looking for?” He pulled a pouch from his pocket and drew out a coiled leather thong with glass magically bonded to strengthened leather. “And this?”
Panix backed away. He imagined either of those around his neck with Sovad tightening them for all his life was worth. He put out his hand and flamed the silk. Sovad jumped back.
He tried it on the garrote, but the magic that held it together also kept it from disintegrating. He shattered the glass particles, which fell like white dust from the thong. The garrote could still kill him, but his neck wouldn’t be mangled like his father’s.
The men looked at each other. Panix could not detect any hatred in Sovad’s gaze.
“You can give up, Sovad. The army has retreated and is on its way back to Murgontia. Nirov is dead and Nirov’s companion has fled and will certainly point you out as the killer.”
“So I can be executed for assassinating King Tomlano or be executed for assassinating Nirov Kyrod? It looks like I’ll be executed either way.”
Panix heard a scream. He turned to the door and felt the thong tighten around his neck. Panix struggled for breath as he looked on at Lorna fighting the butcher’s wife. Barely able to breathe, he levitated a carcass as Hera pulled a knife. She grabbed Lorna and was about to sink the blade in her chest. Panix let the carcass go and Hera was struck down. Lorna fell to the floor; the knife glanced across her shoulder revealing her skin and a fine line of blood beginning to seep.