“Reward?” Greed sparkled in the woman’s dark eyes. “I…er…I didn’t do it for any reward—just trying to do my duty to the city, you understand—but I wouldn’t mind if—”
“Before that,” Issa cut the woman off, “there’s a simple matter of the oath.”
The eager light of avarice in Roethel’s eyes gave way to nervous hesitation. “The…what?”
Issa nodded. “An oath. On your eternity in the Long Keeper’s arms.” She gave the woman a too-sweet smile. “I need to be certain that your testimony is true. I’d hate for anyone to be arrested on false claims. But I’m certain you’d have no trouble swearing that oath. After all, there is no risk to your immortal soul because you are clearly telling the truth. And it’s all in the name of duty to the city, you understand.”
Roethel’s face blanched, going a hideous shade of pale green-grey. “Er…” Her words seemed to have suddenly dried up. She cast about as if looking for a way to flee, and a nervous light filled her eyes as she realized four black-armored Indomitables stood between her and freedom.
“Come now,” Issa said, giving the woman’s arm a gentle tug. “A simple oath is all that stands between you and a reward for the capture of a Gatherer.”
Issa could see the war raging in the woman’s eyes. On one hand, the promise of coin, food, even prestige or elevation to a higher caste. On the other, the threat of eternal damnation, an afterlife spent in wandering among the Undying rejected by the Long Keeper.
“Er…perhaps I…er…misspoke,” the woman stammered.
“Misspoke?” Issa cocked an eyebrow. “You spoke clearly enough when you accused him of being a Gatherer.”
“I-I mean, I might have been mistaken when I said I saw him come home with blood on his hands.” Words poured from Roethel’s mouth in a panicked torrent. “It’s possible that what I thought was blood was, in fact, something else. Like red cloth.” She seized on that. “Yes, red cloth! I’m certain if you search the house you will find a bright red shirt or shawl, and that would explain what I saw as blood. It’s possible, even likely, that Samril here is not actually a Gatherer. Call it a misunderstanding and we can all forget about it, yes?”
The woman licked her lips nervously, her eyes darting between Issa, the Dictator, and the accused Samril.
Issa fought back the urge to clap the woman in irons—if only for nearly getting an innocent man killed, if nothing else. Yet she mastered her anger enough to thrust a finger toward the door and growl, “Go!”
Roethel fled without a backward glance. Fear lent wings to her feet and she fled the hovel before Issa lowered her arm.
Issa turned to the Dictator. “Get out,” she snapped. “You and your men.”
The Indomitable’s face was a stony mask, but he saluted. “Sir.” His words were clipped, tight, and he marched stiffly toward the door.
“Let this be a lesson!” Issa barked, freezing the man in place. “Exercise restraint, or I will be forced to intervene.” Her voice dropped to a growl. “And you don’t want that.”
The Dictator said nothing, but strode from the hovel behind his men.
The moment the Indomitables left, Samril’s wife and children rushed from the adjoining room and threw their arms around him, sobbing into his shirt. The man held them close and whispered soothing words in their ears.
Issa turned to leave. The man and his family had endured enough for one night.
“Wait!” Samril called.
Issa shot a curious glance over her shoulder.
With effort, Samril broke free of his sobbing family and strode toward her. “Roethel’s a vicious crone, but she wasn’t entirely lying. She did see me coming home early this morning.”
Issa’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I was out late last night.” Samril lowered his voice. “I was in line at the Hall of Bounty for my family. But when I came home, I saw them.” His tone dropped to a whisper. “I saw the Gatherers nailing the dead Blade to the cross.”
Issa sucked in a breath. Surprise gave way to anger, as incandescent as Killian’s furnace after an hour of working the bellows. “You didn’t think to say something?” she hissed.
“And what, get myself killed?” Samril’ face hardened. “The Indomitables don’t give a damn about the Mahjuri unless they need someone to take out their anger on or to blame for a crime. Down here, you learn quick to keep your mouth shut no matter what you see. If the Indomitables don’t find a way to make you regret it, the Ybrazhe will. And now the Gatherers, it seems.”
“So why talk to me?” Issa asked. “If it’s just going to put you in danger.”
“Because you saved my family,” Samril said. “The Indomitables would have executed them alongside me for being Gatherers as well. I owe you for their lives.”
A deep sense of satisfaction settled into Issa’s stomach and she struggled to hide a smile. If nothing else, she’d done one good deed tonight. It might not make up for everything this man and his family had endured, but it was better than nothing.
“Tell me what you saw.”
“Five hooded men hauling a black cart with a cracked rear left wheel.” Samril screwed up his face in thought. “I didn’t think much of it until they went into Murder Square and started setting up the cross. Then they brought out the body and I knew they were up to no good.”
“Where did they come from?” Issa asked. “And where did they go?”
“East.” Samril nodded in the direction. “Once they were done crucifying the body and painting those words, they hauled that cart back the way they’d come.”
Issa’s jaw clenched. The man’s testimony confirmed what Nysin’s great aunt had heard, but it didn’t get her closer to finding the killers.
“I followed them.”
The words, spoken in a quiet tone, set hope surging through her.
“Where?”
“Just beyond Trader’s Way,” Samril replied. “They turned on the second street after the main avenue, but there were so few people about that they would have seen me if I followed them any farther. The Ybrazhe are bad, but the Gatherers…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “We know not to mess with them.”
“Thank you.” Issa reached for the man’s hand and gripped it. “Thank you!”
Hope surged within her. One step closer to finding Kellas’ murderer. She owed the dead Dhukari that much.
She turned to leave, but stopped at the door. “Here.” She took out a silver coin and placed it on the table. “For your family.”
Samril’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak. Issa left before he could get out the words. That coin had represented most of her personal wealth—even the hardest-working Earaqi earned next to nothing—but as a Keeper’s Blade, she didn’t need money. They did. That coin would help to feed the Mahjuri for a week.
Such a small gesture did little to combat the misery on the Slave’s Tier. The people faced death of starvation, thirst, or the Azure Rot. Few could dare to dream of a better life for their children, much less for themselves. Most would simply exist, scratching out a pitiful living, until they went to the Long Keeper’s arms. Their lives meant little to anyone outside their families, and they’d spend eternity in the common Crypt carved out for the Mahjuri too poor to afford a proper burial.
But it was a start. For this one family, it meant a great deal. Issa had sworn to serve the people of Shalandra. Her service as a Keeper’s Blade wasn’t her only choice—she would take every opportunity to leave the city fractionally better.
“Rilith, Viddan, Nysin!” Issa shouted. Her Indomitables came running, and she filled them in on what she’d learned.
“Round up the other patrols and bring them here at once.” She fixed them with a hard look. “We may not know where the Gatherers are hiding out, but we’ve got a direction to start looking.”
Nodding, the three Indomitable trainees sprinted off to summon the two Dictators and their patrols.
“Eny
era,” she addressed the fastest of her patrol. “Get up to the Citadel of Stone and tell either Invictus Tannard, Archateros Hykos, or Lady Callista that we need reinforcements down here. Blades, not Indomitables.”
The Earaqi trainee cocked an eyebrow.
“More Indomitables will just throw fuel on the fire,” Issa explained in a low voice. “But the Mahjuri don’t hate the Blades as much. They won’t resent our presence.”
Enyera nodded understanding. “Yes, sir.” With a salute, she turned and raced east, toward Trader’s Way.
Grim determination hardened within Issa as she watched Enyera go. She had to hope reinforcements arrived before the situation escalated, but if not, she’d handle it herself with the Indomitables she had. The time had come to finish what she started in the Keeper’s Crypts.
Chapter Thirteen
Where in the Keeper’s name did he go? The question repeated in Kodyn’s mind as he studied the empty alley that Handsome had disappeared into mere seconds earlier. He can’t just disappear into thin air. The assassin would use a more mundane method of vanishing.
Kodyn drew in a deep breath and forced his scrambling mind to calm. Logic overrode the instinctive emotional reaction, and he broke down the methods he would use to pull a similar trick in Praamis. The sewers would be his first choice—grates, openings, and covered holes could be found all around Praamis, if a clever thief knew where to look. But as far as he knew, the city of Shalandra had no sewer tunnels, and a quick examination of the alley revealed no apertures to indicate otherwise.
That rules out the underground.
Kodyn’s gaze traveled up the walls, searching for any hidden ladders that would lead up to the rooftops. House Hawk had many such access points cleverly concealed in alleys just like this one—dead-ends that seemed to lead nowhere, which meant less foot traffic and therefore lower chance of discovery.
He limped deeper into the alley, wincing at the pain in his ankle, and scanned the walls for any hidden handholds or carved stepping stones. The debris covering the floor scuffed beneath his feet, and he winced at the loud noise. If Handsome had ducked out of sight and hid nearby, he’d overhear Kodyn. A nasty surprise could be waiting for him at the end of the alley.
Kodyn clenched his jaw and reached for the hilt of a throwing dagger. He won’t catch me off-guard.
Yet as he reached the stone wall, he found no ladders or concealed ropes that would give Handsome quick access to the rooftops. With a growled curse, he turned back the way he’d come and—
What in the bloody hell?
To his right, just a pace from where he stood, a narrow opening had been carved into the wall of the house. The craftsmanship was superb—he hadn’t seen it even when standing right next to it. It was only visible from the very end of the alley.
He hesitated a heartbeat before entering the opening. The Black Widow’s warning echoed in his mind. If he went in here, he’d be facing Handsome alone, armed only with his wits, three daggers, and his long sword. If he was hunting a Serpent, he’d certainly think twice about such odds.
Yet he had no intention of fighting Handsome. The opening led somewhere, but he had to find out where in order to summon reinforcements to help him capture the assassin. A killer as well-prepared as Handsome wouldn’t allow himself to be boxed into a location with just one way in and out.
I’ve just got one shot at capturing him, so I have to do it right. If he didn’t find every one of Handsome’s bolt-holes, the assassin could disappear for real.
Taking a deep breath, he drew a dagger in his right hand and stepped through the hole in the wall.
The opening led into a passage roughly twenty paces long but barely wide enough for him to squeeze his shoulders through. The stone walls scraped against the sides of his arms, forcing him to twist to move without a sound.
The passage ended at another opening, in another equally dead-ended alley. Kodyn scanned his surroundings before stepping out into the muddy, rubble-strewn lane, trying to decide which way Handsome would have gone.
After all the precautions the assassin had taken before entering the passage, it seemed unlikely that it would be used to double back on his trail again. That could only mean it led deeper into the alley, toward the north.
Heart pounding, Kodyn felt his way along the wall, the twinge in his ankle forgotten in his excitement. His fingers felt the rough surface, searching for any indication of how Handsome had escaped. Sure enough, just five steps farther down the lane, Kodyn found the next secret opening. He hurried down the passage as quickly as he could manage in the awkward twisted position. This time, however, instead of opening onto another alley, the stone passage ended at a set of stone steps carved into the blank wall.
Kodyn scrambled up the stairs but slowed as he reached the top. Poking his head out of the opening in the ceiling, he scanned the rooftops. His heart leapt as he caught sight of a flash of dull-colored cloth a few dozen paces away, two roofs over.
Got you! A fierce grin broadened his lips. You can’t escape me now, Handsome.
He climbed onto the sloping roof, ducking behind the concealment of a taller building just west of his current position. His eyes roamed the rooftops ahead, in the direction he’d seen the movement, until he once again spotted the retreating figure of the assassin. Handsome had abandoned his caution and now moved at a steady pace across the sea of thatching and crumbling stone walls.
Kodyn grinned. If he thinks he can outrun me, he’s in for a rude awakening. He’d spent every day of his last seven years running the rooftops of Praamis.
To his surprise, he found hints of a construction that resembled the Hawk’s Highway. Narrow wooden planks and rope bridges spanned the gaps too wide to jump, and the thatched roofs had been repaired, even shored up with solid beams. Kodyn no longer needed to worry about staying within view of Handsome—he could simply follow the clearly marked rooftop pathway.
All the same, he still kept an eye on Handsome. He had to find concealment to avoid being spotted, only breaking cover when certain the assassin was out of sight. It made for a nerve-wracking journey, but he’d spent many hours playing hide-and-seek with his fellow Hawk apprentices. Though he hadn’t always won the games, few of his fellow Hawks could best him.
The sun had risen high above the eastern cliff now, and Kodyn could feel the day growing warm. The exertion and tension of following Handsome across the rooftops soon had him sweating profusely.
The golden sandstone wall separating the Slave’s Tier from the Artisan’s Tier loomed ahead of him. Kodyn had a sneaking suspicion that Handsome was heading directly to the wall—an assumption confirmed five minutes later when the assassin disappeared from sight. When Kodyn reached the wall, he found another narrow opening that led to a vertical shaft. Within, a wooden ladder had been hammered into the stone, making for easy climbing.
No wonder no one’s been able to find him! Kodyn had to give the assassin credit for his ingenuity. It would take an experienced third-story thief just to follow him across the rooftops or even to think of all his various bolt-holes.
Kodyn climbed the ladder at a steady pace, his ears attuned for even the slightest sound. Only the pounding of his racing heart and the scuff of his boots on stone echoed around him. The shaft ran vertically for thirty paces, to well above the level of the Cultivator’s Tier. Two-thirds of the way to the top, Kodyn reached another exit that let onto the rooftop of a three-story house.
He paused, uncertain of what to do. Handsome might have simply used this to get from one tier to the next—similar to how the Gatherers used the Serenii tunnels—but daylight at the top of the shaft beckoned to him.
Maybe that’s his lair up there, Kodyn thought. Even if he’s not here, I can find where he hides out, and it’ll be easy to bring the Indomitables to snatch him up. To be fair, he doubted anything would be easy with an assassin as capable as Handsome had proven himself to be.
Kodyn hesitated just a moment before continuing the upward climb. His
gut instincts had kept him alive on the Hawk’s Highway, in the sewer tunnels, and on the streets of Praamis. If they told him to go up, he’d listen to them.
His intuition proved correct. When he peered cautiously over the top lip of the shaft, he found himself staring at an empty chamber carved into the stone wall. He’d found Handsome’s secret lair.
Relief flooded him to find the assassin gone. One look at the crossbow hanging over the entrance told him that he’d found the right place—a place he wasn’t likely to escape if Handsome had been at home.
Kodyn couldn’t help marveling at the craftsmanship of Handsome’s weapon of choice. The stock was made of solid oak, oiled to protect it from water and wear. Twin steel arms were bent by a braided Odarian steel cable that ran through a system of pulley wheels that Kodyn had never seen before. Yet, he’d spent enough time working with Jarl and the Pathfinders to recognize the potential power those pulleys offered.
Kodyn whistled softly. That explains how he made the shot that killed Councilor Angrak!
Praamian crossbows had a range between three hundred fifty and four hundred paces at the outside. A proficient archer could punch a bolt through a steel breastplate at three hundred paces. It took an expert crossbowman to achieve any sort of accuracy over three hundred fifty paces.
The distance from Handsome’s rooftop perch and Councilor Angrak’s position had been closer to four hundred fifty paces. The height of the assassin’s position had factored into the added range, but the steel arms and the strange pulley system had to be the only reason he’d been able to make a shot that most men on Einan would deem impossible.
Kodyn resisted the urge to lift down the crossbow and feel its power for himself. The last thing I need is for Handsome to return and find anything amiss. Clever thieves and assassins tended to set traps that, even if they didn’t disable an intruder, would alert them that someone had entered their secure location. I’d bet all the gold in Aegeos that Handsome would pull a vanishing act if he knew I’d found him. Given his skill at disguise, I’ve little doubt he’ll disappear for real.
Heirs of Destiny Box Set Page 94