by CS Sealey
Tiderius, Rasmus, Emil and Angora sat themselves down at the table. Angora, who looked the least surprised at discovering his heritage, began to tell Zoran what she knew of the sorcerer. Gradually, they all contributed fragments of information, painting a picture of Varren’s character and reputation.
The group did not rise from the table for many hours. Other men wandered in and out, as did some of the prostitutes to whom Lila gave sanctuary. The light faded from the windows and candles were lit and Zoran began to smell the aroma of broth wafting up from the floor below. Still, the group talked of the consul Archis Varren, his men and the attempts already made on his life by the common people, all of which had ended disastrously.
Very soon, it became clear to Zoran that he would need a stroke of the finest luck – or a miracle – to kill the sorcerer. But rather than deterring him, it made him all the more eager to begin his work.
*
Two days later, the shaman left the headquarters with a crackle of energy that stirred those who had not woken with the sun. The former pleasure house had twenty-three rooms, all furnished in slightly different ways to stimulate different moods for its patrons. These rooms were no longer as luxurious as they had been and several people slept in each, on rough pallets or sleeping mats. Wherever possible, women were separated from the men but more of the latter had been arriving – from where, Zoran could not guess – and so Tiderius, Rasmus and Zoran had been moved in with Angora and three other women. Though they were wary of Zoran, the women did not complain.
The assassin had been up for a few hours but only heard the loud crackle when he was swinging himself onto the windowsill, returning from an early morning exploration of the Te’Roek rooftops. He wrenched open the door and wandered out into the corridor, pulling his cowl down around his neck and throwing back his hood. Compared with the crisp morning air outside, the sanctuary was warm and stagnant. His kohled eyes swept the landing below and he caught sight of the lingering traces of smoke from the shaman’s transportation spell in the air.
Rasmus appeared on the landing below, turned, and noticed Zoran’s presence. He lifted a hand in greeting.
“Latrett has gone?”
“Yes,” Rasmus replied, “to report back to the queen.”
“What is there to report? No progress has been made since I arrived.” Zoran descended the stairs, rearranging his robes so they were not so tight around his body. “In my profession, I am used to being given an assignment with the expectation that it will be carried out immediately or on a selected future date.”
“I know it must be frustrating, but without the support of the people, we have no hope of overthrowing the Ayons. But we are making progress. The reinforcements from the southern regiments will join us here.”
“How?” Zoran asked. “The Ayons check every single person and their effects at the gates. Won’t they be suspicious of a man bringing in armor and a sword?”
“They won’t be carrying armor, and only those who are posing as farmers will be able to smuggle in weapons. We have many smithies in the city secretly working on weapons and armor now. Some of the first groups have already come through – that’s why all these extra men are here. They’ll be moved on to other houses soon, though. This is just a halfway house.
“A couple of days before we attack, we’ll send word to the fleet and tell them to sail up the river so the remainder of the reinforcements will arrive in time to help us push the Ayons from the city.”
“You mentioned something about the Tareks yesterday.”
“Ah, yes. They are beginning to mobilize in Milena. It will still be some weeks yet before they arrive.”
“You surely aren’t jumping into the fray. And how do we drive the Ayons out with so few?”
“Releasing men from the dungeons and city prisons will be one of our first objectives. But in order to ensure the Ayons’ foothold here crumbles, we have to destroy their pillars of strength. Varren’s commanders and lieutenants must be dealt with one by one. He cannot hold the city without them.”
“I see. Do you have a list?”
Rasmus grinned and produced a folded piece of parchment from a pouch on his belt. He smoothed it out before handing it to Zoran. There were many names listed there, more than forty in all. Zoran raised his eyebrows.
“How many months did you say you thought it would take to smuggle in enough of your allies?”
“A few. Until we have sufficient numbers to destabilize them.”
“Well, this will give me something to do this winter,” Zoran said, pocketing the list.
“I didn’t mean for you to kill them all yourself!” Rasmus exclaimed.
“Since coming here, Captain Auran, I have not been idle. I already know where the Ayons eat, sleep and train, how many men make up each unit and the pattern of their shifts. I also know where their rounds leave blind spots. I am an assassin. Why else was I brought here so early but to pick them off myself?”
“I’m sure Emil didn’t intend you to handle all these men on your own!”
Zoran chuckled. “Don’t think I can do it? If we have all winter, I can dispatch one of these names every few days. They could simply disappear, die slowly from what appears to be disease or find themselves drugged and confused, leading to a very nasty accident or even suicide. I have a variety of ways, providing I have access to the resources.”
Rasmus looked doubtful, but there was a hint of interest in his eyes.
“I tell you what,” Zoran said, extending his hand, “join me tonight and I’ll show you how the first of these men will meet their fate. We can take out a unit of guards for starters.”
Rasmus’s eyes widened. For a moment, Zoran thought the captain would refuse, but Rasmus laughed and grasped Zoran’s hand eagerly.
“You’re on.”
*
Zoran gestured silently at the group of Ayon soldiers and raised three fingers. Rasmus frowned and shook his head hastily. The assassin grinned, then leaned in close and whispered in Rasmus’s ear. “Do you wish to participate?”
Rasmus glanced at the guards. “I could take two by surprise.”
“I say you can take three.”
“No, two,” Rasmus whispered back.
“Their armor is weaker at which points?”
“I believe just the neck, under the arms and the feet,” Rasmus said, watching as the guards passed their dark alleyway and continued down the thoroughfare.
“Not so,” the assassin said. “Their armor is also weak here, here and here.” He touched both the front and back of his knees and the inside of his thighs. “Utilize every weakness, Captain Auran. Do this and you will certainly take three.”
Rasmus shook his head and looked at the patrol. The group of seven had stopped outside a door and one of them was bending over a figure slumped against the wall to one side. Rasmus could not hear what was being said but, if the laughter that followed was any indication, the soldiers were delighting in another’s misfortunes.
“The perfect distraction,” Zoran said. “It will serve as well as the shadows.”
“No, Zoran, I’m not so sure about this. If they raise the alarm – ”
But the assassin had already stepped out of the alley and was walking down the street toward the guards. Rasmus cursed quietly, mustered his courage, then followed him. Zoran was walking slowly but not silently, and it was not long before they were spotted by one of the guards.
“Nice weather for it, eh? Give him one from me,” Zoran said, perfectly mimicking the Ayons’ northern accent, tipped his head, but showed no inclination to stop.
The Ayon paid him no further attention. Rasmus watched as Zoran looked over his shoulder as he passed the guards and nodded. It was now or never. Three men. He had to take out three men.
Rasmus approached the guards and silently slid his sword from its sheath. He could see Zoran doing the same with his twin knives. He took in a deep breath, then they struck simultaneously. Rasmus swung his sword, striking his
first Ayon around the back of the knees. The man cried out in surprise and pain but Rasmus had already moved on to his second. He lunged at the guard, driving his sword beneath the iron plates of armor and deep into the man’s ribs. Kicking him to the ground, he spun around and was just in time to deflect a blow coming at his unprotected head from the third. He quickly parried and forced the Ayon up against the wall beside the door. The soldier tripped on a discarded brick, lost his balance and fell. Rasmus then had little trouble dispatching him.
Turning, he found his first victim clawing at the ground, desperately trying to crawl away, his legs useless from the initial blow Rasmus had dealt him. He approached the guard and rolled him over with his boot.
“May your general die a much more painful death,” he said, then swiftly plunged his sword deep into the Ayon’s chest.
As he retracted his sword, he became aware of a strange silence and turned. All the soldiers were dead and Zoran was not too far away, cleaning his knives on the shirt of one of his four victims. As the assassin stood, he deftly twirled his knives in his fingers and then sheathed them.
“Thank you, sirs!” the huddled man exclaimed, struggling to find his feet. “I am in your debt.”
“Go to Berri Tavern and seek out a man named Cassios,” Rasmus said, helping the man stand. “He may need you should you wish to repay that debt. Tell him that Auran sent you.”
“At once, sir! At once!”
The man limped away and Rasmus watched him go. Presently, he heard a grunt and turned to face the assassin. He was crouching beside another of his victims and began to pick through his pockets. He produced a few coins and then, raising his eyes, flicked a few Rasmus’s way.
“I said you could take three.”
CHAPTER 66
It was hard work convincing the poorer citizens of Te’Roek that the Ayons meant them harm when they were giving out free bread once a day and providing the homeless with warm clothes and shelter. Some of the beggars had never known the taste of fresh rolls and were eager to believe that the Ayon consul truly wished for their wellbeing when they no longer slept under the stars. It snowed very rarely in Te’Roek but the winds were winter’s coldest and cruelest, which led more and more citizens to ask the Ayons for help.
The men and women who had been turned out of their houses for supposed crimes against the new ruler, however, hated Lord General Archis Varren. And the Ronnesian aristocrats were treading lightly, offering their rooms to Ayon captains and military officials freely. But even as they did so, their suspicious eyes watched and their ears strained to hear any information that could help the rebellion.
It had been just over five months now since the Ayons had seized control of the city and the resistance felt the passing of time acutely. Everywhere they turned, citizens were suffering and their resolve was crumbling. Countless people had left the city after the siege, which meant a lot of houses were now inhabited by members of the Ayon army. Where a small family had once dwelt comfortably in an apartment, now an entire unit of Ayon soldiers slept and rested. So despite the southern reinforcements entering the city a couple of times a day disguised as farmers or merchants, the Ayons still vastly outnumbered them.
Winter was slowly drawing to an end, though the cold conditions did not appear to be lifting. The resistance faced the terrible choice of lying low until the warmer temperatures returned, while exploiting the Ayons’ generosity of their apparently endless supply of food, or fighting them in the freezing winds and snow. They might be able to catch the Ayons by surprise but, once the alarm was sounded, their advantage would be lost. Even the shortest of journeys through the city streets required several layers of clothing and resolve like iron – an assault would last many hours, maybe even days. It was too much to hope they could win a battle in such conditions.
“We don’t have nearly enough men for any sort of face-to-face fight,” Cassios said one particularly cold night, trying to make himself heard over the rattling of the shutters and howling of the wind outside. “However, if we can use the city’s layout to our advantage, we can easily ambush them.”
“Yes, the reinforcements are just trickling in too slowly,” Rasmus muttered with frustration. “At this rate, I guess it will be at least another month before we have enough men to begin the attack.”
“The odds are certainly against us. Sable, what do you suggest?” Cassios asked.
Zoran Sable sighed and closed his eyes. He was his usual pessimistic self. Though he spent a considerable amount of time telling the resistance leaders the many ways their plans would fail, he also spent a great deal of time discussing solutions, often coupled with quick diagrams on scraps of parchment. He was a useful asset, but they were still no closer to their goal, regardless of his nighttime endeavors.
Rasmus glanced at the assassin. Zoran’s head was propped against the wall behind him and his arms were resting in his lap, giving the appearance of a man deeply asleep. As though to prove he was as awake as the rest of them, the elf opened his mouth and said, “I can operate well enough in the cold but limbs always move best in warmer weather. No great battle was ever won in snow.”
“Then you suggest patience?” Rasmus asked.
Zoran scratched at a nick on his left ear, then grunted an affirmative.
“Even though you’re so eager to be on your way?” Cassios asked.
The assassin chuckled. “I must live to reach the end of the Ayon occupation, just the same as the rest of you. I only get paid if you’re successful and there’s some of you left alive to hand over the gold, right?”
The men laughed at this, though they were far from cheerful.
Later, Rasmus approached the assassin and passed him a mug of water. Zoran inclined his head in thanks.
“The situation isn’t developing for good or for bad,” Rasmus muttered. “If the Ayons made an outward show of domination, we could talk to the people and explain the Ayons’ motives, but so long as they give them bread when they’re starving and blankets when they’re cold, our people will do nothing against them.”
“And you have no resources to counter their generosity,” Zoran said. “I can kill in dozens of ways, but most other things, especially politics, leave me somewhat lacking.”
Rasmus nodded. “I’m new to it myself.”
“And, yet, if we up the number of officials I kill each week, the Ayons will suspect something. I have already noticed an increased security on all buildings in which the captains and officers are being housed. Some have even been moved into the castle suites. That will be harder. The place is so vast and enclosed.”
“But can you do it?” Rasmus asked. “If we’re to succeed in the attack, as many experienced captains as possible must be killed.”
“Oh, I can do it, Auran,” Zoran assured him. “Besides, if I’m to aid Latrett in defeating Varren, I’ll have to know my way around that castle like the back of my hand. Any expedition into the place before then will be crucial to my success.”
“I wish I could help bring Varren down,” Rasmus said angrily. “The things I’ve seen him do…”
Zoran sighed and drained his mug. “It makes you wonder, though, doesn’t it?”
“What does?” Rasmus asked, regarding him curiously.
“Good…bad. What separates Varren from, say, Latrett? I have seen fury in the shaman’s eyes but only kindness from Varren’s actions to the people. I have only your word that he is something other than he appears.”
“Kindness?” Rasmus asked. “He’s bribing them!”
“I know, Auran, but my point is simple. What the consul has done is nothing more than what I would expect Latrett to do in his place, had the positions been reversed. He despises Ayons, all Ayons – just as Varren despises all Ronnesians.”
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
Zoran chuckled. “I only mean to say that, from a neutral perspective, like mine, it’s sometimes hard to decide who has the right to claim they are acting for the greater go
od.”
Rasmus regarded him silently for a long time before sighing and nodding slowly. “I had never thought of it that way.”
“True, right now, it is your own people who are suffering, but had your own armies pushed into Leith and occupied Delseroy, would it be any different?”
“I would hope so. That would explain Angora’s anger, in any case.”
“The Teronian? Yes, she should know. However, I’m surprised she’s here with us and not with the Ayons, considering her history.”
“What do you mean?”
“She told me she was married, for a brief time, to King Samian. I must admit, I didn’t believe her at first, but after she related her story in great detail and showed me the rings, I was quite convinced and equally confused.”
“Then you should understand why Varren will kill her if he ever sees her again,” Rasmus said. “He believes she killed the king.”
“And even after marrying the enemy, you still welcomed her back?”
“The Circle has its motive, certainly, but her true friends would never turn their backs on her. When she sets her mind to something, she also sets her heart to it. Angora agreed to marry King Samian in exchange for the safety of the neutral islands in the Kalladean and she did everything she could to make the alliance work. She only stays here now because she believes Varren would attack whoever gave her sanctuary, and he already wants all of us dead, so she’s not putting us in any further danger by being here. In any case, I doubt my brother would let her out of his sight now, even if she did wish to leave.”
“He is the father of the child, I presume.”
“Yes.”
Zoran considered Rasmus for a long while before speaking.
“You are a very strange man, Auran,” he said. “Not many men would sit by and watch the woman they love be smothered by another.”
Rasmus stiffened. He looked about the mess to see whether any of the other occupants had heard the elf’s words, but they were all talking among themselves, engrossed in their own conversations.