The Forgotten
The Sighted Assassin
D.K. Holmberg
ASH Publishing
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
About the Author
Also by D.K. Holmberg
Copyright © 2016 by D.K. Holmberg
Cover by Rebecca Frank
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1
I saw her from across the room. Most men would, I suspect.
She looked everything like the drawing I’d been given, and nothing. Dark hair ran in ringlets down her neck, ending in the middle of her back. Full lips were stained with a hint of crimson from the cup of wine she casually sipped. Pale eyes, flecked with green I should have recognized, scanned the room as if she knew others were watching. Even her purple dress, the style rare in Eban, its soft neckline hiding generous cleavage, showed just enough of her long, graceful legs to draw attention. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.
How was I going to kill her?
All I had to find her was the name of the tavern and the drawing. No name. That was unusual for Orly. The thief-master typically had more than a name; he had a lengthy list of reasons the person needed to be removed, almost a list of offenses. For me, that mattered.
I didn’t have that with this woman. Only her picture. And the damned tavern. For twenty gold tils. Too much for the woman, but Orly knew I wouldn’t refuse that much gold, just as he knew the resemblance to Talia would drag me into this.
I leaned away, careful not to stare too long, rolling a long dart between my fingers. A simple flick of the wrist and the toxin would take hold, yet I hesitated. It wasn’t the idea of killing her that bothered me. Not much, at least. A woman like her would have protection or else she wouldn’t be in a place like the Durven.
This place stank of spilt ale and sweat. The floor was little more than packed dirt. Tables and chairs were rough hewn, threatening splinters as you sat along them. Even the ale was rotten, tasting more bitter than smooth. Nothing like the nicer taverns in Eban, places like the Brite Pot where I preferred to frequent, even now that Talia no longer ran it.
No, the Durven was a place for thieves and gamblers. Men like me. A place where serving women and whores all competed to see who could remove coin from hand the fastest. For a woman like her to be found here meant protection, and likely something different than the Binders.
My hand touched the short sword concealed under my cloak as I pocketed the dart, trying to determine who might be with her. A smoky fire in the back of the room created a haze I couldn’t easily see through. Likely intentional in a place like the Durven. Too few lanterns hung on hooks around the tavern, giving only flickering light. My Sight let me see through the haze, but I saw only a table with three old men gaming at dice and a fat man sitting alone along the back wall. Hints of motion, mere shimmers of shadow, shifted in the far corner where I couldn’t see well.
A half-dozen prostitutes, faces painted to draw men’s attention, circulated through the tavern. They left the old men gaming and the fat man alone. Soon the tavern would fill with better-paying customers. Then it would be harder to make my move.
One of the serving girls approached. A plump one, breasts nearly exposed, practically bounced up to my table. Clearly I had been too free with my coin. Either that or she recognized me. With my connection to the Binders, the network of spies throughout Eban ran by the tavern mistresses, it was hard to know.
I waved her away and used the opportunity to shift in my seat, trying and failing to see into the corner. I kept the woman in my line of sight.
She had to have protection. Could it be the Binders?
I doubted Orly would make that mistake again. That meant alternative protection. No lady like her would set foot in the Durven without any. And I couldn’t make my move without knowing where it was, not if I wanted to keep my skull intact.
I looked back at the woman, unable to avert my eyes. Damn Orly and this assignment. A woman like her deserved to be catered to. Or better yet—plied with drinks and brought home and bedded. Not killed like some common thief.
Of course, were she a common thief, I wouldn’t have been sent.
I bet the old man didn’t even know what she looked like. Better yet, maybe he did. That almost made me chuckle. Maybe that’s what drew his ire. Wouldn’t put it past the old man to put out a hit on some lady who ignored his advances. Or his coin.
I’d been sitting here long enough. Soon I’d have to either order food or get the attention of one of the prostitutes. I was in no mood for either. The only other option was reaching the tavern mistress, but my connection to the Binders wasn’t what it once had been.
I still hadn’t learned why Orly wanted this woman dead. I had to know. The killing was easy. It was the why that mattered.
I stood from the table and started toward the woman, pulling my cloak around me. The cooler nights gave an excuse for the cloak but still marked me as a traveler, a foreigner. Useful since I was neither. The nervous flicker of her pale eyes told me she had seen me. She turned slowly to look away, careful not to make it too obvious.
The price Orly put on this woman was enough to get the job done quickly. Not that it mattered. That much coin pretty much assured this woman would be dead soon, whether it was me or another of Orly’s assassins. I’d just as soon keep the coin.
“Hey there, stranger.”
I ignored the painted prostitute veering in front of me, her eyelids tinted purple and blooms of pink bursting along her cheeks. Her thin dress hung ragged and nearly translucent, clinging to her round body, leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Not interested,” I grumbled and slid to step around her.
The woman grabbed my wrist and turned me. She stood on her toes, breasts perking toward my chest. She was tall for a woman but still I towered nearly a foot over her. “You sure are a tall one. So many things I would do with that long brown hair of yours.” She smiled and fluttered her eyes, keeping her hand on my wrist. “I could make a man out of you tonight. Give you a reason to grow a beard,” she purred. “Only five coppers and I’m yours—”
“I’m sure you would be,” I said, grabbing her hand and peeling it off my arm, “but I’m really not interested.”
“Another girl, maybe? You could have us both. Just eight coppers for that. No other bargain like that in Eban.”
I looked at her and gave her my best smile. She smi
led at me, her face full of the hope of the coin she could earn. I really had been too free with it tonight. At a place like the Durven, a little copper went a lot farther than other places.
Once I knew she looked, I blinked slowly to reveal my eyes, the dark green a declaration. I knew the effect it would have, especially if she’d heard the rumors of my presence in Eban.
She stepped back, the seductive smile fading from her mouth as she stepped away from me. Not as quick as some, but a reaction still. “Maybe another girl, then.”
I snorted and turned back toward the lady.
She was gone.
Damn.
I should have known better. The woman was clever, I’ll give her that. I wasn’t sure how she managed to use the prostitutes as a distraction, but at least now I finally knew what her protection was. And I was still no closer to getting to her.
She hadn’t slipped out the front door. It had been in view the entire time the other had distracted me. Other than a pair of men stinking of the docks, no one else had come in or out.
I hunched over, knowing it made me look shorter—less intimidating at least—and made my way back to my table and took a seat. Not much choice but to wait and see if she would return.
The others left me alone as the night grew longer. The Durven grew busier, men slowly filing in to find a place to sit and drink. Many disappeared with one of the painted women for a while before reappearing. Still my target did not return.
As far as I knew, there was no other entrance to the Durven. She was still here, somewhere. I considered searching the place, but the idea of going room to room in a place like the Durven without anyone watching my back made me nervous. Even a plump woman—Binder or not—could put a knife in your back.
I waited until well after midnight. The tavern had grown quiet, slowly emptying. The women began to disappear and not return. She was not coming back. I couldn’t believe a lady like that would hole up in a place like the Durven. She must know someone was after her.
She did now, at least. I should’ve been more careful. If I was being honest with myself, I should’ve been more careful with the entire night. I had the woman in sight and let her get away.
Was it the coin or something else?
A woman like her was distracting, even to me. And I knew better.
At least I still had time before one of Orly’s other assassins got to her. None of the others had my gifts, my Sight. All would want the coin.
As much as I hated the idea, I’d have to come back. Catch her by surprise. Get her away from the tavern and whatever protection existed for her here. First I would learn why, and then, if the reason was right, I’d kill her.
I sighed. Sometimes it was hard being unlike other assassins.
2
Orly looked at me with his weathered face, flat grey eyes nearly as intimidating to me as my own green-tinted eyes were to others. He wore a simple dark jacket and pants that belied their likely cost. Short-cropped hair was peppered with white, but his wiry frame remained lithe. I had seen him kill with nearly as much skill as I could manage. I dared not underestimate him.
It had been months since I’d seen him. The jobs were less frequent now than they once had been. I knew Orly had others he hired, men who wouldn’t ask the questions I asked and who didn’t have the same thoroughness when it came to killing. They were easier hires, which made them easier to follow, and easier to stop if the job was wrong. I suspected Orly knew I intervened, which made his hiring me for this task all the more surprising.
He met with me in his private office, standing along the far wall as I entered. Most would presume that a sign of respect, but I knew better. For Orly, it was his way of ensuring his safety. There was no way out but the single door manned by two of his personal guards.
The office was well appointed, not surprising given Orly’s wealth and the way he now tried to portray himself as something other than a thief-master. Shelves covered the walls, stuffed with books bound in leather—a luxury few would have, let alone display. A few ornate ceramics decorated the shelves. I recognized work from Yilan and Cort. Exotic and expensive. A thick rug covered the ground, woven with intricate patterns I didn’t recognize. A large stone fireplace set along the back wall glowed softly, giving the room its only light. A smoky haze hung in the air, probably only visible to me.
“Galen,” he began, saying my name with a mix of respect and ownership. I hated the way he managed to do that. “Have you taken care of that task I have asked of you?”
Orly turned to the small table next to him and poured a small cup of wine from a slender glass bottle. Another one of his excesses; few could afford such delicate glass and here, Orly almost flaunted it. I was sure it was impressive for most, but I had seen this trick countless times. He brought the cup to his nose, carefully swirling it and inhaling before taking a drink.
“You know I have not.” No use lying to Orly. He was too well connected in Eban for me to pull off. It wasn’t only that he controlled most of the underworld throughout the city, but he bribed his way through the ruling class as well. He’d come a long way from the upstart thief I’d met so many years ago, while I remained nothing more than a thief.
“You will lose your prize, then,” Orly said, taking a slow drink.
“You know I will not.”
He set his glass down and laughed. It was harsh, like a wolf howling, and almost hurt my ears. A flicker of amusement crossed his eyes. “Probably not, Galen. Others may try, though.”
“Of course,” I said. I had long ago learned that Orly rarely trusted in a single assassin. When he decided you were dead, someone would get to you. For the right reason, that often meant me.
“You have decided, then?”
I smiled. An assignment from Orly was never an order, not really. At least not when it came to me. For the longest time, I had enough coin that I didn’t need to take his jobs, but the money from Carth had begun to run out and I’d need to restock my supplies eventually. If she ever returned to Eban, I suspected she’d bring more of the darts I preferred, but with her, there was no telling when that might be.
“Not completely.”
He arched his brow. “Really?”
“I trust you’ve seen her?” I asked.
A dark smile fell on his face and I wondered if I had been right. Had she slighted him? “Have you?” he asked, leaning forward.
There seemed more to this than a simple inquiry. Did he want to know where I found the woman? I wouldn’t put it past him to use that knowledge to send other assassins after her. He didn’t really care who did the job; the same amount of coin left his purse. But it mattered to me. Others did messier work, leaving too many dead. Such killings as this should be quiet and leave only doubt behind.
“I have,” I answered.
“Hmm.”
Orly turned and poured another glass of wine. He touched his small finger to the top edge of the glass as he poured. He held it out, offering it to me.
I took the glass, eyeing it carefully. As I swirled the wine, I saw the faint shimmer of powder mixed into the wine. A delicate attempt. Without my Sight, I might have missed it. “What is it?”
Annoyance flickered across his face. “You always know, don’t you, Galen?”
I nodded. “The day I don’t is the day I retire.”
Orly’s sudden smile would make another man squirm. I saw it every time I met with him. “It will be.”
I inhaled deeply, carefully. Bitter. A hint of spice. Exotic. “Tchinth powder,” I said. “Brutal.”
And expensive. Currently almost impossible to acquire, it was made from seeds from the tchinth flower, which bloomed only once every seven years. Even a small dose would cause significant swelling, puffing of the mouth and lips. Most wouldn’t survive, suffocating slowly. I had used tchinth powder more than once. It made for a clean kill, as the swelling disappeared almost as soon as the victim died.
“I have only heard of its effects,” Orly admitted.
Orly laughed. Again, the sound grated on me. “Another time, Galen.”
I pulled the glass to my nose and inhaled again. Orly knew of the toxic effects of tchinth, but did he know of its other uses? Probably not. Like most men in his position, he thought only of killing, never of healing. Of course, since coming to Eban, I was not so different.
“What has she done?” I asked softly. I twisted slightly, missing the weight of my sword. Weapons were not allowed in Orly’s presence. I had to leave sword and cloak in the front room of Orly’s borrowed home, never certain if they would be there when I returned. Not my pouch, though. That I refused to leave. Of all my possessions, it was the most valuable.
Orly knew I was never truly unarmed. I suspect I was one of the few he let get near him with anything close to a weapon. It was the reason for the two men standing to either side of his door.
“Getting soft? A woman like that usually has the opposite effect.”
I smiled at that, inhaling the tainted wine again. “Could be I am.”
He frowned, watching me with the wine glass, an unreadable expression staining his wrinkled face. “If you weren’t so damn skilled, I would have no use for you.”
I tilted my head in a token of thanks. “You keep testing me.”
“And you keep passing.”
I pulled myself up to my full height, coming uncomfortably close to the ceiling as I did. “They haven’t been difficult tests.”
Orly met my eyes, now flared a deep green, and didn’t blink. He was the only one who didn’t. “Will knowing make this task easier for you or harder?”
“Without knowing, I can’t guarantee I’ll take the job.”
Orly smiled again. “Twenty gold tils. Enough for most men to last a decade.”
I shifted slightly, considering simply leaving. I’d left money behind before. “I’m not most men.”
The Forgotten (The Sighted Assassin Book 2) Page 1