The Discovery of an Assassin

by Brian Keller

  The Kinsman

  The Discovery of an Assassin

  by

  Brian Keller

  Copyright Brian Keller 2019

  This book a work of fiction. All characters within this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold, given away, or re-distributed in any manner.

  Content may not be copied or reproduced in any way without the expressed permission of the author/publisher.

  To obtain permission, make comments or critiques the author may be reached at

  Kinsman Series – Cooper’s Page on Facebook

  or through the Author Page on Kindle

  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

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 1

  “I sure wouldn’t want to be a Dreg’s kid, but at least they have easier access to the Trade Quarter”, thought Cooper as he observed the South Bridge between the Waterfront and Trade Quarter. He knew why the bridge was called the South Bridge, even though it was actually the West Bridge. The name referred to the direction people traveled across it, mostly. There were two bridges spanning the Whitefoam River between the Waterfront and Trade Quarter and although both bridges could easily handle two wagons abreast, it was ‘strongly encouraged’ to observe the traffic pattern. Two city guardsmen stood watch at each end of each bridge but they were not there to control the direction of travel, though that was how they spent most of their time. Merchants in the city were particular about ensuring the efficient flow of coin and they believed smooth traffic meant smooth commerce. As Cooper was watching the carts and wagons he was aware that the guards actually stood watch because of him. Well, not him specifically, but those like him. Individuals whose only business was relocating money or valuables from the marketplace into their pockets without an actual exchange taking place…. In other words, Thieves.

  Skaivin was Cooper’s House Father. He owned a small shack in Batter’s Field that housed Cooper and his ‘siblings’. Skaivin provided some meager food and his dilapidated shelter provided more protection from sun and rain than from wind. For this he charged daily dues of 4 coppers. Skaiven had to pay House tribute to the Guild or risk being wiped out and that money had to come from somewhere. Daily dues were paid more for belonging somewhere than for food and shelter. Skaiven’s kids wouldn’t steal from each other or harm one another, but other kids would. But then other kids could also be victims themselves; and a kid with no family, with no House, usually got beaten and robbed by other kids. The only beatings in the House came from Skaiven, if anyone couldn’t pay their dues. Some of the kids in the House clung to each other for support, but Cooper just didn’t feel any connection to any of them, except maybe for a younger boy named Cecil. Cecil was a small, blond haired boy with a pinched face. To Cooper, Cecil always looked like he’d just taken a big bite from a lemon but was too hungry to spit it out. He guessed that was why none of the other kids had much to do with him. Several of the kids got fairly regular beatings, which means they weren’t what Skaiven called ‘earners’. Cooper didn’t need all the fingers of one hand to count the beatings he received, and his first beating was ‘obligatory’, so it shouldn’t count. Everyone got an introductory thrashing from Skaiven. It was his way of setting the tone and guaranteeing obedience from his kids. Cooper had passed the occasional copper over to Cecil when the kid was one short of being able to pay his dues. Cecil was always very grateful, but something about Cooper discouraged Cecil from trying to make friends. Cecil earned his dues by begging rather than theft. Cooper supposed that was safer, albeit a less reliable source of income. Still, Cecil would give Cooper a half-eaten slice of bread or a fresh apple from time to time in an attempt to ‘keep the scales level’ between them. Cooper had learned in less than a year that it wasn’t worth making friends with kids in the House. Not many of them stayed healthy for long and those that did would try to take advantage of any kindness. Cooper supposed Cecil was the closest thing he had to a friend, within the House anyway.

  Getting to the Trade Quarter was a daily challenge but it was necessary. There wasn’t much money to be made within Batter’s Field for someone like Cooper. Tavern owners saw him coming and would throw either rocks or something rotten if they saw him casing the customers. Patrons that got fleeced wouldn’t have coin to spend on drink or women. Shop owners felt the same way, and if any Batter’s Field kid stole from a shop keeper north of the river, chances are they’d be spotted and identified, then that House would likely get a visit from the Guard. Those kids usually got put out on the street and then, belonging to no House, became victims. Shop keepers south of the river, in the Trade Quarter, didn’t know one kid from another and surely had no inkling of what House they lived in.

  It wasn’t difficult to swim across the Whitefoam River. In the heat of the summer Cooper would swim across on his way home just to cool off. It was about ten or so feet deep and fifty feet across. Getting in was as simple as jumping, the current wasn’t too swift but it definitely flowed. The banks of the river where it coursed through the town were made of stone brought in from the quarries. The river had worn the stone smooth over the years, but the surface of the water was only a couple feet from the top of the channel walls during the dry season and closer to the top the rest of the year. Most people in this coastal city could swim, but considering the fact that it felt like winter was approaching a little sooner than expected discouraged that thought. Cooper wasn’t malnourished, but swimming across the Whitefoam this time of year would surely lead to sickness. Sickness like that would mean a slow, certain death for a Batter’s Field Kid. Skaiven wouldn’t pay for medicine, coin only flowed one direction in his House.

  This morning, Cooper was worried that he was too late, but minutes later he spotted the cart belonging to Chesim’s family approaching the South Bridge. Chesim was a fisherman’s son and they lived in the Waterfront District. Several fisher families worked out a deal with the boy’s dad to take their morning catch to market. It helped the family make a little extra money but those families had so many mouths to feed, money was always scarce. Before Cooper’s mother died, she had made a little money repairing nets for fisher families. He and Chesim quickly became friends and had remained friends ever since. Chesim’s little sister, Eva, had gotten sick a few months ago and Cooper had stolen enough coin to pay for a healer to treat her. Chesim’s family’s cart was Cooper’s usual way across the south bridge.

  The young thief approached the cart at a jog. Chesim’s face lit up upon seeing Cooper, and he waved energetically while tugging on his father’s sleeve. Chesim’s father, Faril, was medium height and whipcord lean with heavily callused hands and shoulder length brown hair. He seemed to perpetually have at least three days’ growth of whiskers on his face. In response to his son’s sleeve tug, he grunted but didn’t p
ause or shift the cart, but when he glanced and saw Cooper he greeted him with a grin and a nod of his head. He then announced with a wink, “Mornin’ Cooper, if it were any other Batter’s Field kid come a’runnin’, I’d either charge you an escort fee to cross the bridge, or dump you in the Whitefoam”. Without missing a beat Cooper replied with a grin, “If you dropped me in for a swim, I’d make sure you’d have to spend all of tomorrow morning untangling your nets!”. Faril had to set the cart down to laugh. He took this opportunity to wipe his brow. “Y’know, I actually believe you would! Come along then.”, he replied between chuckles. Not caring which of them answered, Cooper asked, “How is Eva?”. Chesim replied with a wide smile, “She’s doing great and will blush a pretty shade of rosy when I tell her you asked about her”. It seems that Eva had developed a slight crush for her ‘savior’. Chesim asked, “How is Cecil?”. There had been a couple days in the last month when Cecil had followed along behind Cooper to join Faril’s cart to cross the bridge. Cecil was the only other kid from Skaiven’s House that Chesim had met. Cooper considered his reply for a moment and said, “Cecil still has two good hands to collect alms so I suppose he’s doing well enough”. Chesim gave him an odd look from the corner of his eye but said no more.

  It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that Eva’s eyes had settled on Cooper. He was promising to become a handsome young lad. If he remembered correctly, he was nine years old and should be ten this spring. He was a bit shorter than other boys his age but was already developing some muscle. He had an unruly mass of dark hair and was just beginning to show that he’d have a certain strength of jaw, but it was his eyes that set him apart. His eyes were dark as pitch. He understood that this feature tended to unsettle people so he rarely looked anyone directly in the eye, which caused many to just assume he was timid.

  The guards on the bridge knew the family and the cart, seeing it each day, so allowed it to pass unmolested. As they crossed the bridge, Cooper and Chesim exchanged challenges and dares ranging from racing and leaping from boat to boat across the Wharf City to spending the night in the ruins north of Batter’s Field. At this last dare, Faril grumbled, “Don’t you boys even joke ‘bout that. Nuthin’ good ever comes from talk like that.”. They finished crossing the bridge in silence. Once the cart was positioned in the marketplace, Cooper helped by hanging the placard announcing Fresh Fish. Cooper’s mother had taught him to read, so he at least knew which way to hang the sign. He clasped Chesim’s hand, waved to Faril and turned to face the Trade Quarter. Time to collect some coin.

  There were stories about a House that had been shut down years ago by the Guild, the kids had grown old enough to believe they could protect themselves and stand on their own. They stopped paying tribute and within a week they were just gone. It was almost as if they’d packed up and moved away, except they hadn’t. After that, it was said that all House Fathers started setting aside a little savings as a buffer, to make sure they could always afford tribute to the Guild. Cooper thought this was wise. He had started building a small collection of coins of his own, it usually amounted to no more than a few coppers a week but after several months he had eight coppers and four silver coins. Each silver was worth ten coppers, if it hadn’t been shaved. Two of his silver coins were a little light.

  Each day Cooper started in a different area of the Trade Quarter than where he’d been the day before. He didn’t have proper shoes, more like leather socks with double layer soles. He first started by taking off his shoes and tucking them into the strap around his waist he called a belt. He moved amongst the vendor stalls, mostly looking at the ground and shuffling his feet. It was rare to find a dropped coin, but it did happen from time to time. Recovering a dropped coin involved much less risk than theft. Worst case, someone nearby would see him pick it up and try to claim it, but no one could call him a thief for picking it up. He’d started practicing picking up coins with his toes and shuffling away to recover the coin. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. When it didn’t work, the coin often made a noise as he either scraped it or kicked it which sometimes caused someone nearby to take notice.

  Today, Cooper started near the south of the Trade Quarter. He liked to look at the tall towers of the college nearby, but he disliked being so close to The Dregs. The South Warren is what the Tax Collectors called it, pretty much everyone else just called it The Dregs. The flow of waste through the city ended there. Batter’s Field was poverty-stricken but The Dregs was pure squalor. No one ended up there by mistake and no one stayed there unless they had no other options. Cooper would see some of the Dregs Kids from time to time and would make an effort to avoid them. Partly this was a kind of professional courtesy, the south end of the Trade Quarter was unofficially their hunting ground. Cooper only came this far south in order to maintain a certain level of anonymity, and because he liked looking at the shops. The shops in the southern Trade Quarter offered items that could be found nowhere else in the city, maybe nowhere else in the world as far as Cooper knew. Some of these shops dealt in specialty items for the nearby college. There were apothecaries, candle makers, glass blowers, and other seemingly magical shops. A tailor announcing his cloth was fire-proof had a store right next to a silversmith claiming he had mystical tokens from faraway lands.

  He never seemed to tire of looking at the towers of the college and imagining what went on in those spires. Everyone knew that students in the college were learning to control magic, the elemental forces: Fire, Earth, Air, Water, and Nature that worked to bind everything together or pull everything apart. Almost everyone had some magical ability but it was a rare thing for anyone to be able to display significant, consistent effects. Cooper knew that young adults ‘came of age’ in a phenomenon referred to as Manifestation of Talent, or simply the Manifestation. Some people displayed an affinity for one element, or even two. It was very rare for anyone to Manifest affinity for more than two. Even then there were degrees of Talent, most could barely display any ability with even one element, others could not only display them but could even blend them to great effect. One of the most gifted smiths in the Kingdom could blend Earth and Fire Talents and produce weapons with almost Legendary properties. There were even fairy tale stories of ancient wizards that could throw fire, but he had never heard of any actual mage doing that.

  Cooper could vaguely remember a time when his father had a shop in this part of the city. He remembered his mother telling him that his father had strong affinity for Nature Magic, but that Talents were not passed along family lines in any discernable way. He was much too young then to recall exactly where the shop was, but he could remember his father pulling his spokeshave, scraping paper thin curls from the pieces of wood he was working. He could remember his father’s deft, precise movements but he couldn’t really remember what his father looked like. He also couldn’t remember what happened to make that all come to an end. His mother simply told him that his father had died, and she didn’t wish to speak more about it. Cooper knew that when he was a baby, his family lived in Miller’s Flat, or The Flats but after his father’s death his mother moved them to Batter’s Field.

  Cooper felt a nudge that woke him from his daydream and his hand quickly darted to his belt but he realized almost immediately that he wasn’t being robbed. He was being accosted. One large boy, probably five years older than he was, accompanied by two more boys only slightly smaller, had pushed him almost headlong into a stall of glassware while muttering something like, “Stay away from the Warrens, gutter trash”. With some wild waving of arms for balance and then just simply throwing himself to one side Cooper managed to avoid landing full force into a shelf full of glass bottles and vials. He was unable to avoid all the wares and watched helplessly as a round bottle with a narrow neck tipped and fell from the shelf. Everything seemed to slow down but unfortunately that slowing effect included him. He was able to scramble to a crouched position and start to take a half step in time to watch the bottle shatter into countless shards of glass. He was unabl
e to stop his step and winced as he felt a few shards of glass cut into the bottom of his foot. It did nothing to help that the shopkeeper moved with unexpected speed, Cooper couldn’t sense whether the man had an affinity for Fire or Air, either one could contribute speed to one’s movements. Regardless, the man had him by the scruff of the collar before the boy could even pick his foot up off the broken glass. He had no difficulty identifying that the shopkeeper enjoyed garlic with his breakfast since the man pulled Cooper up to his face as he growled, “You will pay me two silvers for that flask, or I’ll call the guard”. Cooper replied with his eyebrows raised, “I’ll pay you one and a half for it, if you put me down away from the broken shards….?” Cooper was loathe to part with any of his savings, but he really didn’t see another way out. His foot was cut, and unless he was mistaken he still had a couple pieces of glass in it, the shopkeeper could Manifest speed, and he was dangling about two feet off the ground. The man was shocked, “do you even have a silver and a half?!” He had been already looking for a guardsman. Cooper closed his eyes, and nodded. The man put Cooper down abruptly but away from the shards of glass. He did not let go of him, however. The shopkeeper was still looking around for a guard, in case Cooper was lying, and Cooper took this opportunity to finger through his coins. He had done this enough to know them by feel. He quickly and quietly palmed a shaved silver and five coppers, then reached down with his other hand and started working the broken glass out of his foot. The shopkeeper turned back to Cooper with an air of righteous indignation and put his hand out for the coins. Cooper kept his eyes on his injury but placed the coins in the shopkeeper’s hand. The shopkeeper was seemingly dumbstruck, so surprised he even released his grip on Cooper. Apparently the last thing he expected was for this boy to be telling the truth. Cooper had managed to pull out the slivers of glass and get his shoes on before the shopkeeper managed to find his voice and slipped away before the man could say anything about the shaved silver coin.