by T L Ford
"Bruised, scratched, clawed, and bit, but I'll be fine." He grunted as he got to his feet. "These things are huge!" he exclaimed, toeing the one he'd slain.
"Nearly as big as my horse," Corishm confirmed.
"Smart, too," Angela added. "They were working together."
Jamil's horse neighed piteously, still laying on the dirt path, obviously dying. Corishm went over to it and slit its throat, putting it out of its misery. "Guess we're having fresh meat for dinner."
"I don't think we should stay here," Angela said, staring intently into the dark trees. "Corishm, I think that one you wounded might come back. Maybe even with friends."
Jamil began to gather their gear from the horses. "That's paranoid. They're just wolves." Jamil yanked on one of the saddlebags until it pulled free of the horse. "We're going to have to leave some of this gear. Can't possibly carry it all."
The woods still had an uneasy silence and Angela remained unnerved, her throat and stomach tight with foreboding. "Let's sort this stuff and get out of here. Only need two bedrolls. Jamil, leave yours," she instructed.
"I'm taking my pack," Corishm announced. "I have some personal items I don't want to leave behind. I can carry some of the food." He also cut free several of the wolves teeth and claws to take.
They ended up with one tarp, two blankets, food and water, and some individual items. When everyone was loaded, Angela picked up the bag of charts from the ship. Corishm quirked an eyebrow at her and she explained simply, "Tithe."
Corishm muttered about the horse meat they were leaving behind, but fell silent as they continued down the road. Angela listened to the unnaturally quiet night forest and hurried them as much as possible in the dark.
* * * * *
When morning came, all three were exhausted and aching. The landscape had changed from dense forest to an open area filled with tall, golden grasses and an occasional tree.
"According to the reports, we should find the sentry in the next few days," Corishm announced.
"How much farther after that until Merryweather," Jamil asked.
Corishm answered tiredly, "A day, maybe two." He shifted his backpack and trudged onward. "By horse."
"I'm taking first watch," Angela declared. "Jamil, you take middle. I'm not the least bit tired and those wolves are still bothering me." Truthfully, she felt like they'd been stalked the entire way out of the forest. Her neck and shoulders were more sore from tension and constantly looking behind them than from the supplies she carried. While she could have collapsed into an instant slumber in a safer setting, there was no point at all with danger both ahead and behind.
They set up a hidden camp and Jamil and Corishm dozed off. Angela sat and listened as the sun rose into the sky. Nearby, the forest and grassland were alive with animal sounds but farther off into the forest, it was still silent. She even cupped her hands by her ears to try to extend and focus her hearing. The direction they would travel come nightfall had typical animal sounds, but she could also sense occasional indeterminable echoes of disturbances.
Angela did not wake Jamil. The sun slowly crept directly overhead and as it moved to the west in the afternoon, puffy white clouds began to obscure it and the wind picked up causing the grasses to sway in magnificent low rolling hills. The forest sounds returned to normal, as nearly as she could tell, and she sighed in relief. She watched a flock of birds fly overhead and wondered what they saw below them.
She wished she might fly across the landscape and forget everything that had happened before and do as Jamil suggested - create her own life. Maybe start a small school in a small town that had no thieves and no mages. Somewhere where what she wore didn't matter. A happy place, where she might take local kids out to the beach in the afternoon to collect shells. A place where no one starved and everyone had a home.
These dreams were like the breeze on the grasses, beautiful in passing, a transient illusion of a different landscape. Reality, however, required not the wounded heart's hopeful running away, but its heroic determination to forge a better life despite challenges; to be honorable, upright, and pure. In short, being someone her mother (and her father, apparently) would be proud of.
Kevin Bennett was her family and an honorable, upright, and pure person would not abandon his (or her) family to deadly predators, despite the family's political alignment and profession. She already felt awful about ripping at her real father's heart with cruel words that could never be unspoken. Running away for a chance at a different life would be giving up even more of her soul. She also had friends to consider. What about her best friend Luez? Leaving would mean losing him. Uncomfortably, she wondered if the geas weren't driving her to return, if she'd take the coward's path anyway.
She didn't wake Corishm either. Dark clouds replaced the white ones and as the sun was setting, a light rain started, promising a much sturdier storm as the night progressed. The water woke both Corishm and Jamil, who lectured her. She was too fatigued to care.
Soon, clouds completely covered the moon, darkening the landscape into blackness. Angela could barely see just beyond Corishm who led the way down the path. She actually preferred walking to riding with Jamil, although she'd never confess it to her companions. If she weren't lugging so much baggage, physical and emotional, she'd probably have really enjoyed the walk. Her heavy bag tugged at her shoulders, but she liked the feel of solid ground beneath her feet. The heavy conflict of emotions weighed her down, so her sore feet offered a strangely welcome, insistent distraction.
Around what Angela judged was midnight, the thunderstorm finally arrived, delivering a torrential downpour bolstered by heavy winds, thunder, and lightning which tore across the landscape and drenched them and their supplies thoroughly.
At Jamil's urging, all three lay flat on the ground, sandwiched between their tarp and blankets to avoid being struck by lightning. Angela lay between them and with the inactivity and fatigue taking their toll, she finally slept. She dreamt of drowning and of a great suffocating blackness. She was relieved when Corishm woke her after only a few hours and said they'd decided to continue. The rain had lessened to a mere sprinkle, though they could still see flashes of lightning off in the distant sky. Eventually, the rain stopped entirely.
"I'll need to repack my gear and check everything when we get enough light," Corishm said, pushing his wet hair back out of his eyes, and squeezing out as much residual water as he could.
"We'll have to check everything," Angela agreed.
They trudged onward and the grassy terrain turned into a mix of large, boulder-sized rocks and small trees. After a while, they saw an orange glow and stopped.
"You should put the ring on, Milady," Corishm whispered at the same time Jamil asked, "Do you think that's the sentry?"
"No," Angela answered, spinning around, "That's the distraction."
Behind them, two men stepped out from behind large rocks. One had a longsword while the other had both a shortsword and a dagger. Had Angela not been still listening for the wolves behind them, she might have missed the brush of a shoe on dirt. At least two of them could have been dead before they even realized they were under attack.
Then Angela saw how they were standing. These were not trained fighters or at least they hadn't had her level of sword instruction and practice. She quickly grabbed Corishm's hand before he could launch the dagger he was about to throw. "Wait! Don't kill them!"
"Why not?!" Corishm said incredulously, but he stopped.
The one threw his dagger at Angela and she effortlessly deflected it with hers. "They're meant to die. Look at them," she explained.
"What do you mean, we're meant to die?" The one with the longsword hesitated.
Angela gazed at him with pity. "Well? Weren't you told to kill a girl with my description?"
"He didn't say talk to her. Just kill her and we can go get the bonus," the one with the shortsword stated.
"He who?" Angela asked. "Never mind. He probably didn't give his real name anyway.
I bet he's got you reporting in every day who you saw coming and going."
"He does." The longsword man frowned.
"It's your silence he's waiting for. Not your report. He doesn't care at all who's coming or going. He just wants to know when I arrive."
"No," the one with the shortsword argued, "He just wants you dead." He ran forward and swung his sword at her.
Angela easily disarmed him, sending the shortsword flying over the boulder they'd been hiding behind, and shoved him back at an angle that caused him to trip on a rock and fall. She stopped Jamil from swinging his sword at the man, too. To Jamil, she said, "Come on. Do you really think our enemy would expect these two to take out two Master-level," this was exaggerated, "Thieves' Guild apprentices and their bodyguard?" To the one with the longsword, she added, "I'm sure you're quite skilled. I'm not saying you aren't a perfectly fine fighter or assassin or whatever you call yourself. You're just not in our class."
"Oh," Corishm murmured, "I see what you mean. They might get a lucky shot, but most likely, they die. Either way, our enemy finds out we're in the area."
Angela nodded to Corishm. "Yeah."
"We can't have them reporting, though," Corishm observed.
When Angela agreed with this, both their assailants were starting to look uneasy. Angela bit her lip, thinking, and then said, "How much are you getting paid?"
"We'll get fifteen silver each if we bring your head to him."
Angela made a disbelieving choking sound and remarked to Corishm, "He's offered twenty gold at other dens for the return of my head." She saw Jamil frown. She turned back to their assailants. "We do seem to have a problem. All of us. We need to get into town and you need to live. Corishm, how much money do you have on you?"
"A couple gold, some silver, a handful of coppers."
"How about this?" Angela asked the sentries, "We give you two gold, that's worth twenty silver, to report what we ask you to. In no more than two weeks, provided we don't hear you've reported anything differently, I'll see you have the other eighteen gold. You have to promise to keep doing sentry duty as normal for at least three more weeks after that, unless the man that hired you dismisses you."
The one still standing lowered his longsword. "Deal."
Corishm gave him two gold coins, looking at Angela skeptically. She merely smiled back at him.
"Now tell us what you know about the person who hired you?" she asked sweetly.
Sadly, from their description of a cloaked man, the traitor could have been almost anyone in the Guild. She demonstrated the ring of disguise and told them how their report would seem accurate. Then, Angela, Corishm, and Jamil found a place well away from the sentry men to make camp.
* * * * *
After they had gone through their gear and spread most of it out to dry, they had discussed and argued over the best way to go into town. They finally settled on a direct approach.
"Remember, every word you speak must be truth. A single lie and we'll both be in the dungeon."
"This is not a good plan," Jamil said again. "I should be going. I'm here to protect you, Angela!"
"Corishm can give me to Lord Merryweather without causing undue curiosity. You cannot. And he'd trip you up in a lie. You have spent too much time being honest over the last few years."
"As I should have. As you should have. You don't need to cast your lot with the Guild, you know. There are ways to break a geas."
"The best way you can protect me is to find out who is working against me. Do it for my mother. He had her killed. Would you have me ignore that?"
"I told you I will watch for it. I'm just not happy about it. You put yourself in unnecessary danger."
"Watch your own back, too," Corishm put in, obviously weary of Jamil's constant anti-Guild commentary, subtle or not. "The man or men we are hunting are plotting to take out a Guildmaster in his own lair. That is not someone to underestimate."
"Ok. So we have a plan." Angela summarized, "Jamil will enter town first. A week later, Corishm and I arrive. Corishm will give me, disguised as Jamil, to Lord Merryweather." Angela hoped her Master would still be there to receive her. "I will discuss the matter with Lord Merryweather the first time we are alone, which could be several days to a couple weeks, and warn him. He'll be able to start using his ring of truth to try and ferret out the traitor. On the fourteenth day, if I've still not made contact, I'll reveal myself."
"If he doesn't kill you first," Jamil muttered.
Angela ignored that. "Corishm will hang out in town looking suspicious, spend some time talking with me, and generally give our prey someone besides me to watch. Jamil, you get the hard part. You need to spot anyone showing an unnatural interest in either of us and find out what they are about. If you discover that either of us are in immediate danger of attack or if you discover who our enemy is, you leave your room shutter open just slightly and Corishm will contact you and pass word to me. We'll only get one chance to make contact though, so don't do it unless you have absolute proof. You're our secret weapon. And if someone does see your face and thinks you are me, you are my twin, looking for me, heard I was mixed up with a bad crowd, and so on. Display no thief-signs whatsoever, even if that means letting yourself be robbed." Jamil wasn't particularly pleased to be a weapon at all.
Corishm hiked back to the sentry and told them how to report while Angela and Jamil sorted through the gear to see which pieces were dry enough to pack.
CHAPTER 6: Merryweather
Angela shuffled in Jamil's body, which was no easy task given its innate dexterity. She tried her best to look servant-ish. Corishm frowned at her and led the way through the public den entrance.
"Corishm, guildmember of Behr and apprentice to Guildmaster de Behr, and Selig, guildmember of Behr," Squall called out.
The den was achingly familiar as was the man with the ugly scar sitting on his throne. Angela exhaled breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. He looked older than she remembered. Worn out. And rumpled - no one was seeing to his clothes. Her fellow apprentices stood near him and that made her skin crawl. She and Corishm stopped at the audience line and bowed.
Her Master had a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he gestured for them to speak.
"Guildmaster, I am Corishm de Behr. My Master sends both his greetings and this gift." He gestured at Angela. "A servant, geased to you."
"How is your Master?"
"As mean as ever, Guildmaster."
"Did he receive my letter?"
"Yes, Guildmaster."
Angela observed the apprentices. The traitor now knew two letters had been sent, if he hadn't known before. Whoever it was gave no sign that anything was amiss.
Corishm continued, "He also sends this." Slowly, he reached into his backpack and withdrew a large, thick leather-bound book. He set it on the floor in front of him.
Wait, that wasn't in the script, Angela thought. What was that? She leaned forward slightly and looked at the book. Was that what she thought it was? A murmur went through the watching thieves. It certainly looked like it. She squinted and read the small print burned into the cover. "A Master Thief's Observations". Only two in existence, and generally considered to be the most valuable artifacts of the Thieves' Guild. Rumor said they held all the secrets of thievery and described, in step by step detail, how to do certain tasks. Rumor also said it would take a lifetime to master and that anyone able to do so would be unstoppable. No wonder he had wanted to check his pack after the rain.
Her Master gestured for Davies to fetch it. Davies inspected the book for traps and poisons and brought it to him. The Guildmaster flipped through it casually.
"So, Selig, what is it the Guildmaster de Behr had in mind when he sent you?"
Corishm answered, "Selig is mute, Guildmaster." Corishm and Angela had debated this. Would it trigger his truth ring or not? Technically 'Selig' was mute. That Angela wasn't might be a problem. She was beginning to discover how someone might lie to a person with a ring of truth. Sta
tements that were true, but not truthful at all. Was this how the traitor operated all the time?
"Mute, eh? How very interesting. Do you write?"
Angela nodded.
"Are you an assassin?"
Angela debated for a moment and finally nodded. While she hadn't been through all of the forms to be a Guild assassin, she'd certainly killed.
"And are you a thief?"
She nodded again.
"So my friend has sent me a mute thief and assassin who can write, as well as geased to me?"
She nodded again.
"Excellent. I shall have to think of something to do with you. You are not to harm me or anyone in this Guild. You are to do exactly as you are told at all times, immediately."
Angela nodded and bowed.
He stood. "I suppose that will do. Come with me, Selig." He dismissed Corishm, saying, "Thank you for bringing the book, Corishm de Behr. Do not leave town quite yet."
Corishm bowed low.
The Guildmaster slipped out through his private entrance. Davies followed. Angela, trying to maintain the servant-shuffle, followed Davies. They arrived at the small receiving chamber so she knew her Master didn't trust her at all. If he had, they'd be in his private rooms. He sat in one of the chairs. Davies took up post at his elbow.
The Guildmaster watched her for a few moments and then, coming to a decision, commanded, "Davies, I think I would like to have a private conversation with our new assassin. Bring paper and ink."
Davies removed his dagger and handed it to the Guildmaster. "Yes, Master." He left.
After the door closed, they waited for the footsteps to fade. Then they both spoke at once. "What are you doing here?" he said. "Master! I'm so glad you're safe!"
"Angela?! I thought you were Guildmaster de Behr!"
"He lent me his ring; it seems he quite values your friendship. Master, we must speak quickly. We have a traitor. I was attacked. He's sending letters on your behalf, but missing the..." This last part was muffled as he had jumped up from his chair and was busy hugging her, mashing her face into his chest in his joy. The priceless artifact fell to the floor like discarded trash.