Chapter Eight
Sighing, the lord shuffled through the papers on his desk absentmindedly.
Moistening his lips, he re-read the letter before him before snarling in rage and hurling it into the roaring fireplace. Pushing his chair from his desk sharply, he strode over to the wall cabinet and withdrew a highly priced bottle of the country's finest wine. Pouring himself a glass, he downed it and began to pour himself another, muttering angrily, when a voice spoke, "I'd like one, if you will."
The lord jerked and hurriedly pivoted towards the voice.
Lounging comfortably in his own leather chair was a figure, cloaked head to toe in satin black. Ruby embroidery was the only repast from the flowing robes of coal. Two booted feet rested mockingly on his desk, and piercing pale blue eyes stared right through him.
Gulping, the lord swiftly retrieved another glass and offered it hastily to his guest. A cruel smirk crossed the master's face as he calmly accepted the wine. "You know who I am?" he asked calmly, his tone low and stony.
The lord swallowed in terror and nodded quickly. Moistening his lips, he jerkily inclined his head in submission, careful to keep his eyes always aware of the master's position, thinking himself fast enough to scream for help if the master were to strike.
Sniffing in disdain, the master took his boots off the oak desk and rose fluidly to his feet, the obsidian robes cascading off his body like water at the movement.
"You know why I am here," the master began as he drifted over to the bookshelf.
The lord nodded again, fear etched on his features. For any who knew of the lord, seeing him terrified of a single man, reduced to a fragment of his former confident self, it would seem almost comedic before they began to wonder at who could inspire such trepidation in one of the lands most powerful mages.
"I understand that you wish my-" the master paused and raised an eyebrow, the scar pulling his face into a lopsided smile- "personal services."
Bowing again, lowering himself to a position he rarely used, the lord spoke smoothly, "Yes, if that is possible."
"It is considered treachery to want the death of one's own royals," the master said mildly as he scanned the bookshelf. Finding nothing of interest, he strode to the lord's chair and sprawled himself on it as the lord looked about him in shock, hoping there had been none to hear the conversation.
"I consider myself a more…capable…. candidate for the throne than those upon it now. If they must be removed to reach my goals, then so be it." The lord spoke calmly, having already made the decision to rid his people of their royals and place himself on the throne.
A crimson apple appeared in the master's hand, and he slowly sank his teeth into the pale flesh. "And the fact they are your blood would cause you no distress?'
The lord cleared his throat. "I would have thought that since I called for your services, I was willing to do whatever that I must to get my hands on the throne."
The master's eyes narrowed, and he slowly crunched the apple as an icy silence descended upon the room, quiet but for the occasional cracks from the fireplace.
Leaning towards the lord, the master hissed, "Our services cost a great deal, though they are custom created to suit client needs."
The Lord inclined his head." When I am on the throne, gold and jewels will adorn my bed."
Blue eyes narrowed, and the lord began to sweat. "We only accept payments before, not after. Nor do we refund your expenses if you decide you do not wish to continue with our services, though we can-" the master paused and grinned evilly, "for a price."
The lord swallowed and frowned. "I will not leave this country under the sovereignty of this king, and your services will be required until the job is finished."
The master nodded slowly, sparks flaring in his icy eyes. "As this task requires subtlety and skill, more than a simple assassination, a slave will have to stay in the field for an extended amount of time."
Pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his shirt, the master began to read,with a flick of his wrist the paper flattened and the lord's seal could easily be seen. A serpent with bared fangs coiled tightly around a skull with a single gem dangling from a thread of wire. "La lalalala ...request...Death to be sudden and without any loose ends, entire royal family assassinated. The king will know death is coming for him in the form of shadows. No suspicion in my direction and guarantee that there will be no witnesses."
The master looked up at the Lord. "This will be child's play, though it will take a while to set up."
The lord nodded and cleared his throat. "Whatever you feel needs to be done."
Wetting his lips, the master continued, "I will position an agent within the royal household to gain information, along with others in various noble houses'."
The lord nodded and began to rock his glass. "How much is this going to cost me?"
The master looked at him appraisingly for a few moments before a cruel gleam came to his eyes. Stepping forward, he leaned down to whisper a price into the lord's ear. The lord's eyes widened in horror and he backed away in anguish.
"No!" he gasped. "I cannot pay that!"
The master shrugged his broad shoulders calmly. "I have no need for what measly state your treasury is in. Gold can be taken, diamonds can be made, and land can be conquered. You have naught to offer me in the way of wealth."
The lord paled and hung his head in his hands as he started to shake. "I can't-" he cleared his throat as tears threatened to spill. "I can't pay that."
The master sighed. "If you cannot pay for our services, then you cannot have them; you will have to find another way to murder your monarchs."
The master straightened and drew his cloak around his face, effectively hiding hid features. "And let's face it, you can always make more."
Striding over to the window, he opened it with a thought, so that it swung silently open into the night.
"Wa-wait!" the lord called after him. The master slowly turned and raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes slowly igniting.
"I'll, I'll pay," the lord gulped and looked down, ashamed.
A cruel smile twisted the masters' face. "I will take my payment within the next few months, and no trace will be left."
The lord sighed and grimaced as though in pain before slowly sinking into his chair.
The master slowly slipped out the window cat-like before calling back to the lord, "You will be on the throne before the termination of the new year."
The lord thumped his head on the desk thinking over the pros and cons of what he had just agreed to. True, he was now guaranteed the death of his royals but the price he had to pay... Suddenly feeling sick, he made his way to the liquor and began to drink as though he were dying of thirst.
In the darkness, a raven launched itself into the stars, an ominous foreshadowing of the shadows to come.
Peering into the papers, the man sighed and shook his head. Re-ordering them into order of importance, he rounded a corner and narrowly missed crashing into a messenger. He swiftly apologised before quickly moving on, for he was already late. He was walking past another hallway when he heard a noise. Pausing, he glanced into the cobwebbed doorway. The noise repeated, and the man slowly turned and stared hesitantly into the dim light.
A long pale hand snaked out of the darkness and silenced his scream for help.
He was dragged back into a secluded corner and a blade caressed his throat.
"If you wish to continue your fruitless existence, you will stay your tongue," a threatening voice informed him. The man nodded and the gloved hand was removed from his mouth.
"Do not speak," the voice ordered. "Do not ask questions. You are now an informant."
The man frowned and opened his mouth to speak.
"No," the voiced interrupted angrily. "You do not speak; you listen."
"You have a beautiful wife," the voice remarked. "How did you manage to seduce her? And your child, too precious for one such as you." The voice paused, and goose bumps graced the servant's neck. "Perhaps they would be more accustomed to life with the Black God?"
The blade was slowly withdrawn, and the servant stepped away and turned to face the speaker. A black hood covered his face, but a layer of soft fresh subtly powdered what skin that was visible. The hood carried down over muscled shoulders and down a long body to end at knee height, split to allow for easy movement. A leather harness looped over one shoulder split into two and joined by a clasp at the wearer's chest. On the leather was a pouch with the hilts of small throwing knives peaking over his shoulder. A crude curved blade, a sliver of the blackest steel hung from a smooth belt of black, blending into the attire. Plain obsidian leggings fell from beneath the cloak and met shinny coal boots. The boots themselves were fashioned for sturdiness and strength, and a few steps allowed the servant to see the gleaming pommel of a knife hidden inside the boot, tucked between the wearer's ankle and the leather.
"I am but a simple messenger for my master." He pointed to himself. "This is nothing personal but you will do what I ask. If you don't," he stressed, "your wife and child will pay for your disobedience."
The servant nodded, wide-eyed in fear as the messenger continued, "You will be approached, when the time is right, by one of my comrades. You will do exactly what they want or your family will join the Black God ahead of schedule. Should you complete your tasks well, you will be rewarded."
The messenger nodded to him and then slid out of the hallway, moving smoothly from wall to wall and to the beams of the room, remaining unseen. Staring after the departing warrior, the servant began to sweat; he had just come face to face with a warrior from Tahakén and had lived. Sending a swift oath to the sky, he swore to do as the warrior asked, for his threats were valid. A warrior of Tahakén killed without mercy, without remorse, and without effort.
Leaning casually against the alley wall, the cloaked figure watched eagerly as a large woman q'uickly waddled past. Straightening from his slouch, he moved out of the alleyways shadows and followed her discreetly at a distance. He moved through the crowds smoothly, as though they were statues and he was the wind.
He had been watching this woman and others for many moons, debating which would suit his purposes best. He had chosen this one for many reasons. One, she was in debt, owing a considerable amount of gold to the local Rogue. Two, she had access to all parts of the castle should she wish. Three, she was the core of all gossip. If something was happening, she knew about it. Her one great fault the man noticed distastefully was that she didn't know when to keep her mouth shut.
As he moved, the warrior saw faces, and ran names and all known information about them through a special vault in his mind. All of his comrades were, facts could be taken and adapted at the lightest notice. It was one of their main assets, that and killing whoever, wherever.
Today the cook, head cook of the palace, would commence her daily ritual starting at the bakery, where she would purchase three honey scones. Then she would go talk with her sister in the tavern the Back Horse. She would sip tea imported from the Copper Isles before making her way to her brother's house where she would begin a meal for the entire family. It was a deal, the man had found out, which allowed the cook to save money to repay her debt, stay with her brother's family, and cook for them in exchange for a place to stay.
The warrior had to catch her before she entered the house. Quickening his pace, the warrior began to push the crowds out of the way, none to gently.
Ignoring the shouts and looks of displeasure, he kept up his pace, throwing those who wouldn't move out of the way. Walking past the cook, choosing to ignore how she shied away from him but kept going in the same direction, he walked a step before her and then as they rounded a corner, he struck.
Lashing out with a gloved hand, he forced the cook into an alleyway, stifling her scream with his glove. Picking her struggling form up, he opened a door within the shadows and threw her in, closing the door behind him. Quickly walking back to the alleyway entrance and continuing to the inn near the cook's brother's residence where he had booked a room.
He made a lot of noise, an action that disgusted him, as he entered the inn, ordering several rounds of ale for the patrons drinking and ordering himself a meal. For a few hours, he was forced to be the centre of attention, a position he loathed and engaged in small talk with the drunken fools who came over to slur thanks to him.
When the stars began to twinkle in the sky, the warrior bade goodbye and then stumbled up the steps to his room. He kicked the door shut and straightened, wiping the drool from his mouth in repulsion. Locking the door securely and picking a hair from his head, he stuck it to the corner to the door using saliva. Now if anyone entered the room he would know.
Striding over to the window, he un-clasped the catch and opened the window, allowing the crisp air to flood into the room. Perching on the windowsill, he took a deep breath and watched as plumes of mist expelled into the air. Pushing himself off the wooden shelf, he dropped to the ground with a gentle thud, rolling to soften his landing. Standing tall, he walked calmly into the darkness, his vision as sharp as an owl.
Opening the door to the alleyway, he narrowly missed the wooden stool being flung straight at him. Snarling, he folded his arms as the cook threw herself at him, assaulting him with everything she could. Rubbing his teeth, he allowed the blows to land, standing carefree as the blows pummelled his body.
Finally, exhausted, the cook crumpled to the floor and sat sobbing into her hands. "What is it you want?"
In response, the warrior reached into his cloak slowly. The cook cringed in fear and recoiled as he withdrew his hand. Tossing a small pouch, the man suddenly whipped out his blade and sent the sword spiralling towards the sack. The cook was paralyzed in fear and could only watch as the flash of silver erupted before her.
The sharp edge cut through the pouch with ease, sending an avalanche of gold coins spilling onto the dirt floor. Re-sheathing his blade, the warrior nodded to the cook, who could only look in awe and desire at the riches before her.
"You will find the exact amount needed to repay your debt to the local Rogue," he said as he stepped back into the night.
The cook looked after him, and then after deciding he had gone hastily grabbed for the coins. Swiftly, she tucked the gold into her clothes and quickly left the alleyway room. She jumped when the shadows spoke and the figure materialised out of the darkness.
"It is my master's hope that you will do a small favour for him in exchange for your debt clearance."
The cook nodded, wide-eyed. "What do want me to do?"
The warrior's satisfaction was evident in his voice as he replied, "Pass on information. We know you are privy to a lot of rumours. All we request is that you pass that information to us."
The woman nodded, thinking this was an easy deal. She would have to do very little and she received so much in exchange. "How would you like me to give the information on?"
"You will be approached," the warrior informed her, "by a comrade and you will pass the information on to them."
The cook nodded, pleased she would not be required to do all that much. "I can do that."
The man nodded to her as he exited the alleyway. "This is discreet," he said, gesturing to himself and the cook. "No one is to know of our deal. Also," he added as the cook nodded, "you will receive pay once our task is complete. Then you will be expected to forget all of your dealings with us. Otherwise, we will remove you from the equation."
The cook gulped, for once reduced to silence. She understood, if she talked, she would be silenced by any means.
The warrior made sure he was understood before turning into the cobblestoned street and vanishing, smoothly into the fading night.
Authors Note: Merry Christmas everyone, I know its late but hey. Who cares.
Review, as always. I need the encouragement, truly I do.
Waterdancer: It should please you to know I now have a Beta Reader! I sent them this chap but since it is Christmas I thought Id give it to you all unedited, I apologise for any mistakes you may and probably will find.
Lynn Smith: No, Raku is all mine.
Maddie Claire: Thankyou! Yeah I know my capters are short, I am working on that. Alanna "might" forgive Jon, or maybe not...Probably not. More murderous thoughts to come in the years ahead... Raku will be playing bigger part, a much bigger part, but not yet. I know, dialogue needs some work. Im still new to writing and am still trying to find a balance so ant ideas would be appreciated.
READ THIS:
Okay, in the next few chapters I will skip back and forwards with a small POV of Alanna(maybe, if she agrees to let me write about her). The next chapters will be... fillers (kind of) to fill in time. Approximately six months or so. But the chapters have information that will make the chapters in say 10 or so time a lot easier to get through and easier to understand. Thanks for reading! Happy holidays.