by Travis Kerr
“I never thought, even in my wildest fantasies, that I would ever be asking you this, but I think that the time would be right for me to do so,” he began, looking deeply into her amber eyes. “I know that there’s no way for us to know what the future might bring us, but I know that I want to be with you in that future. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes!” She cried, throwing her arms around him and kissing him soundly. After a moment, far too brief for either of their liking, they broke away.
“You don’t know how happy it makes me that you want me to be your wife,” she whispered.
“About as happy as it makes me that you said yes,” Drom answered with a chuckle. “Of course, with Bloodheart and who knows how many of the other mages still hunting us, I know it will be a while before we can think about settling down somewhere and raising a family. I’m glad at least that, whatever happens now, you’ll be by my side.”
“We might have to give that some thought sooner than you realize,” Raine replied, looking away from him for a moment.
Even in the light of such a happy occasion, something is still vexing her, he realized.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“It’s what the bree was talking about, why I shouldn’t be pushing myself right now,” she answered, struggling to find the voice to say what she had known, deep down, long before the bree had confirmed it. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, or how much I should tell you if I did. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do myself just yet, but I think I’ve decided now. I’m pregnant, Drom. You’re going to be a father.”
Chapter Eighteen
“You’ve been burned,” Loretta announced hotly, coming onto her private quarters and plopping angrily on the chair across from him.
He had been staying with her there for over two months, hoping that he might find some useful bit of information regarding Martin’s death. So far he had not learned a single thing, but that hardly discouraged him. Loretta had been quietly looking into it herself for over a year, and she hadn’t found anything either.
He had also been waiting to hear that it might be safer for him to travel again. He had to get back to Raine and Drom, and soon. By now they would surely be worried, and would be wondering what might be keeping him. Before much longer they might consider coming to the city to find out for themselves, and that he couldn’t allow.
Because during that time, Bloodheart had not relaxed his search. Instead, he had become more diligent than ever. If Drom appeared on one of the roads with Ocean’s Hand anywhere near him, he would be spotted in an instant.
“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his composure.
One of us has to.
“I mean that Bloodheart isn’t just hunting for Raiste Goldstone anymore. He’s also hunting for several of your aliases. He’s hunting for Garan the wanderer, for Malik the smuggler, and about a dozen other persona’s that you’ve used in the past. He even has people hunting for your latest creation, the old merchant named Grant. He also has his men looking for a big man named Roland and a feral woman named Tara. His men are searching every wagon and traveler on every road in his territory.”
“How could he have found out about them? I didn’t think anyone had any clue that those men were all me, and no one should know about my companions.”
“They learned about your companions by questioning someone at an inn they discovered you were staying at in Tam. I’m guessing that the big man they are talking about would be the battle mage, and I already knew you have been traveling with the feral woman for a while now.”
For the briefest of instances Raiste thought he detected a hint of jealousy in her voice, but it passed as quickly as it came. She was not the type of woman inclined to jealousy, he knew, even if she did think there was more between them than there ever really was. The momentary thought passed, and he decided to ignore it for now.
If she’s worried, she’ll tell me, he thought.
He doubted she was. Surely she had taken lovers in the fifteen years he had been gone. He didn’t believe she would begrudge him his. Of course, he and Raine had never been lovers, but Loretta never asked, and he had never mentioned it.
“What about those aliases though?”
“Why do you think I’m so pissed right now?! Some of your aliases they could have learned from people on your travels, but not your last one, the old man Grant. They could only have learned about him through one place, here! Someone in my house is still passing information to the mages!”
“We already suspected as much,” he reminded her. “This hasn’t changed anything. All it’s done is confirm what we already knew.”
“Don’t even try to console me in this Raiste! A part of me had hoped that whoever it was that killed my father would have done the smart thing and left after his death. Now I know that the bastard is still here, under my roof, breaking bread with my house! I want him dead!”
Raiste understood how she felt. He felt much the same way. Whoever had killed his master, Martin, was still here somewhere.
He has much to answer for, he thought darkly.
Raiste stood and moved quickly to Loretta’s side, opening his arms to embrace her. Only once before since coming here had he held her in a way besides as a lover. They had talked about her father, and he thought that she needed someone, needed him, to comfort her. On that day, when she fell into his arms, he had realized that it was the first time she had allowed herself to grieve.
She did not want or need that now. She pushed him back forcefully, away from her. He stood over her for a moment before turning back and retaking his seat in the chair he had been sitting in.
“Sorry,” she said at once. “I didn’t mean to push you away. That’s just not what I need right now. What I need is the traitor’s head on a platter at my feet! I won’t rest until I have it.”
Raiste nodded in understanding. He wanted the same thing, though he would prefer it if he was the one holding the blade that removed that head. Now, however, they had a chance at finding the man. He was still there, somewhere.
If he’s here, we can find him.
Unfortunately he knew that trying to do so would be far too dangerous. The mages were still looking for him.
“If they are getting information from someone here, then they likely know that I’m here now,” Raiste pointed out. “I should leave now, before they come here looking for me.”
“You don’t have to worry about that Raiste,” she replied. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot since you arrived. Everyone in this building is a trained assassin. Even if we do have a traitor in our midst, the mages wouldn’t dare send anyone to attack us here. They would have to send every soldier that they have just to stand a chance.”
She’s right, he realized. They wouldn’t attack here. But what would they do?
An idea began to form in his mind. The more he thought on it, the clearer that idea became.
“How many people here could have found out who I was?” he asked suddenly. “You never mentioned my real name outside of this room and your office, and both of those rooms are protected from outside listening, right? So the number of people that could have known about me can’t be that high. It would had to have been someone who saw me when I came in. That person could have guessed who I was, but no one else would have had a way to even do that. Once the spy figured out that much, he could find out about my other aliases through other guild members.”
She thought about that for a moment.
“You’re right,” she said at last. “I’ve had my men listening for any information on Raiste Goldstone since you showed up. Someone who saw you come in could have made the connection. There were only maybe twenty people or so in the guild hall when you first came in, dressed as Grant. It must have been one of those men.”
“Exactly. And how many of those men would have been here when Martin was killed?”
“I would have to check into it, but it couldn’t have been more
than five or six. So one of those men has to be the traitor. We can finally get the man who killed my father! I’ll have every one of them brought to me in chains before the night is out! I’ll get this worm to talk!”
“Wait. Don’t do that just yet. I have a better idea.”
The Captain of the Guard watched as the cloaked, hooded man crept cautiously down the alleyway, flitting from shadow to shadow to avoid detection. He looked around at the two dozen guardsmen who waited with him, each of them armed with strong steel crossbows. It didn’t matter how good this man was, his men would have him. It was only a matter of time.
A few minutes later the cloaked man reached their position. Calmly, the Captain barked the command, and as one fully half his men stood and fired. The wiry assassin in the cloak dived to the side, somehow avoiding the crossbow bolts that flew, screaming, at the space where he had been standing.
As the man leaped to his feet the Captain barked again, and the second half of his men followed suit. This time they didn’t all fire at the man, but instead covered the spaces to either side of him as well. The Captain smiled. Their target would have no where to go, he knew.
To the assassin's credit, most of the bolts missed their intended target, but three of the bolts struck home. The impact of the bolts fired from the two hundred pound crossbows was devastating.
One of the bolts struck his right knee, shattering it in an instant. A second bolt pushed deeply into the man’s stomach, doubling him over and throwing him back at the same time. The last bolt ripped into his shoulder a moment later, spinning him like a top and sending him crashing to the ground.
He didn’t give any further orders. He didn’t need to. His men knew their jobs, and knew what they had to do. Not wasting a moment, they charged at the fallen assassin, swords raised, ready to finish the job.
He would not escape this time.
With a strength of will born of desperation, the cloaked assassin somehow struggled to his feet and in one smooth, fluid motion pulled his sword. The first guard fell to his blade, then the second. The rest of the guardsmen surrounded him, warily keeping their distance. He had no where to run, the Captain knew. All they had to do was wait.
The assassin glared at them from underneath the hood of his cloak, slowly and methodically swinging his sword back and forth in front of him. With his ravaged knee he couldn’t spring forward to attack, and with the bolt still lodged in his stomach it was only a matter of time.
His men did exactly as they had been trained to do against an injured opponent, holding a wide circle around him, darting in quickly to attack and retreating just as quickly, staying just out of reach. It was the same strategy that wolves would use when trying to kill dangerous prey, and was just as effective here as it was with their canine counterparts.
As the assassin turned quickly to strike at one of the guards who dared to get to close it happened. He moved just a little too far, and with a groan he spun to the ground, the wound in his stomach finally overcoming him.
The guards moved in for the kill as he dropped. Sword arms fell, hacking and slashing at the fallen enemy. It only lasted a moment.
Their spy had done his work well. He had given them the route the assassin would take to leave, the time of departure, everything. It had been a simple thing to finish the job.
As the guards backed away from the bloody mess staining the dirt road, the result was certain. Raiste Goldstone was dead.
“You called for me Master?” the sloveckii man asked somberly. He knew that the master of the guild would be in a foul-tempered mood tonight. He had braced himself for it. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t have heard yet.
“Yes Croakas, I did. Has there been word yet of my friend? He left here over an hour ago, and I would have expected word by now that he had made it out of the city safely.”
“I’m sorry master Loretta, I only just received word myself. The city guard apprehended someone they believe to be Raiste Goldstone in the alley behind Chestnut road. I’m afraid he died of his injuries. I know this must come as a shock to you Master. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”
“Are you certain it was behind Chestnut road?”
“Yes Master. I received the report only moment ago, but the location was certain.”
“That’s very upsetting news, Croakas.”
“I understand master. I didn’t know who he was, of course, but from the description I believe he was the friend who has been staying with you.”
“That’s not what I find upsetting Croakas,” Loretta said, her voice dropping low until it was little more than a whisper. “What upsets me, Croakas, is that only one person knew that he was to take that route. That person was you!”
As she finished five hulking figures appeared in the doorway. Croakas knew these men. They were among the best assassins in the guild. Suddenly he understood why she specifically asked for him. He clenched his fists in silent frustration. After a brief moment he unclenched them again. She knew everything, he was certain. The only thing left was to await his fate.
“You see Croakas, I gave the route to six different people in the guild. Six different routes, actually. My spies found guards on only one of those routes, the route I told you that Raiste was going to take. How long have you been a traitor to my guild Croakas? How long have you spat in the face of my family?!”
As she spoke her voice grew louder and louder, until she was practically screaming at the quiet assassin standing before her. Croakas stood, silent and passive, unmoving.
“I’m impressed Loretta,” he said calmly. “You’re much stronger and colder than Martin ever was.”
“Murderer! Don’t you dare speak his name! You don’t have the right to speak of him!”
“I apologize, Master. I was only meaning that, he, would never have sent a friend to his death just to catch a spy. Our former master wanted us to all be like he was, only killing those men that have done wrong. It is not the job of assassins to right wrongs. We kill for money, not for justice. He never understood that, but against all odds, you seem to. You may have what it takes to be the leader of an assassin's guild after all.”
“Sent a friend to his death? What friend might that have been, Loretta?” Raiste inquired, stepping into the room from behind the doorway where he had been waiting, listening to the proceedings.
“YOU!” Croakas raged. “How is this possible? I saw the guards hack you to pieces myself! There’s no way you could have escaped.”
“No, you saw the guards hacking apart one of their own men, a man we had captured earlier today that fit my description rather nicely, I think. We told him that we were going to hunt him, and that if he made it out of the city he would keep his life. As dark as the alleyway was, I’m afraid he probably never knew that it was members of the city guard that finally killed him. It’s a shame really. I watched that fight myself, and I have to admit, he made a rather good showing of himself. He might almost have done as good a job as I would have. The city guard was fooled completely.”
“Very nicely done,” the sloveckii assassin replied, regaining his composure almost at once. He even somehow managed a sly smile. He was trained by this very guild, after all. Raiste would have expected no less. “It seems that you and Master Loretta have done quite well in trapping me here. I take it that these men waiting behind me are going to take me away now, to have me executed? I hope you don’t expect me to cry or rage against my fate. I was taught better than that.”
Loretta moved in on him so fast that Raiste barely had time to register it until the attack was over. With the speed of a cobra she struck him, but unlike when she had slapped Raiste on the day of his arrival, her hand was not open, and she didn’t hold back. The assassin's head snapped backwards, but he kept his feet. As he turned back to face her he spit out one of his teeth, freshly broken from the blow, at her feet, the smile once again returning to his lips.
“You no longer have the right to call me master,” Loretta spat angrily. “However, you will
not be taken to be executed. These men are not here to kill you. They are here to prevent you from leaving.”
“Very well. In that case I believe I have proven myself a valuable spy,” the sloveckii said evenly. “Just as you have proven yourself as leader. I could be a useful ally. I have been feeding information to Bloodheart for over three years now. I could just as easily give him information that you want him to have, false information that would lead him in the wrong direction. It’s what your father would have done.”
Croakas just barely had time to finish his sentence before Loretta struck him with a vicious backhand. This time he did fall, spitting out another two teeth as he landed. He looked up at her from the ground as stood over him, waiting to see what she would do next.
“I told you that you no longer have the right to speak of my father,” she repeated, her tone even. Raiste was surprised at how she seemed to be keeping the worst of her anger in check, considering the circumstances. “You lost that right the day you poisoned him. Don’t bother trying to lie about it now.”
“I won’t,” Croakas replied. “He learned that I was working for Bloodheart, though he didn’t know that I was aware that he knew. I had no other choice but to kill him. He might have tried to turn me, as I suggested a moment ago; I realize that now. At the time I was certain that he would kill me. I knew that I couldn’t poison his food or drink, so I found another way. I poisoned the rim of his drinking glass while it was still empty. Not even he considered checking that. I’ve regretted my decision ever since, but there’s nothing that I can do to change it.”
“So that’s all you have to say for yourself? That’s your excuse?”
“No, that’s not my excuse. I don’t have any excuses for my actions. The only thing that remains is for you to decide what you are going to do with me now. Use me or execute me, the choice is yours.”
“You killed my father Croakas. Even if I wasn’t going to kill you, there’s no way I could ever trust you. You’re going to die Croakas, that much I can promise you. I just haven’t decided how yet. You men, disarm him and take him to the main hall. I’ll be there shortly with my decision.”