So, it's been a while. When the rigours of life become too great to bear, it's easy to lose yourself in writing, whether it's your own or someone else's. As usual, the Night Angel Trilogy belongs to Brent Weeks.
The Art of Deception
Jason's vision was hampered by the darkness; nevertheless the outline of the guard did not escape him. It would take weeks for Varric to acquire the maps and other equipment necessary for his true mission here, as compensation he had agreed to aid the thieves in their illicit profession. As the guard disappeared from sight, Jason signalled 'move' and walked out from behind the pillar that had fulfilled its purpose as a hiding spot, shadowed by the blackened form of a dozen thieves. As he picked at the lock, he heard a giggled sigh from behind him. He sighed and turned to face the culprit, a petite female thief with short brunette hair named Tessa. She shooed him away from the lock, and picked it herself, shaking her head in amusement and smiling at him. "It's easier if you don't force it in… Oh shut up". Jason strode through the now-opened door, smiling to himself as he assessed the situation. As their target was of great importance to the lord of the port (Jason hadn't remembered his name), the myriad traps were of high quality. They were also unseen, but they must be there. Tessa laughed and waltzed past Jason, who pulled her back sharply. Before she could protest, he drew a goblet from a nearby table and threw it into her intended path. As it hit the floor, spikes shot upwards from the floor. Tessa looked at Jason in shock, who stared at the spikes in contempt. "How cliché. You lot, stay here. I'll find the disarming lever." As he vanished into the darkness, Tessa began to walk in the opposite direction. "Where are you going?" One of the men shot the question after her, who responded "To find the switch to turn the traps off…" she added with a smile "I don't have to obey his word just because he's a man." With that, she ran deeper down the first corridor and out of sight.
The lever creaked into place as Jason kicked it into the "off" setting. The rest of the traps had been as horribly predictable as the first. More spike traps, swinging blocks, pitfalls…. The only danger to him in this place was complacency rising from utter boredom. There had been no guards, and few inhabitants. The sporadic dwellers appeared to be maids and cleaners, and Jason had concluded that this building was a sort of trophy hall for the port's master, a museum of all his conquests, and it was one of these trophies that the thieves had come to "collect". It was a small, unassuming crimson jewel that Khalidor's fleets had stolen from a foreign civilisation, but the ruby was ultimately unimportant to Jason. A murderous itch had captured his attention, and his true purpose that Varric had asked him to carry out was not to steal the jewel. For his perceived wrongs, against the people of the city and those he had conquered, the lord of the port had to die, to slake both Jason's blood thirst and the need for vengeance shared by every inhabitant of the city. With a hiss of steel, he drew two daggers from their sheaths at his hip, and entered the main office. Glancing round the room, he quickly formulated a plan. He impaled the cheap plaster wall with a dagger and began to climb upwards. As he reached the rafters, he clambered across a beam until he was directly above the desk that lay in the centre of the room. He settled into a crouch, hanging above the room like a statue of the Reaper and waited for his victim.
After a few hours, a sudden commotion brought Jason's attention to the door, which burst open and a tall, thin man in naval uniform marched in. He was followed by a procession of guards, with a limp figure. Jason supressed a snarl. They had Tessa. "We found her after the ruby, sir. When the alarm was sounded, all the other thieves fled. This one is the only one we've got." The guard's bland monotone ground against Jason's nerves, as his mind raced with the new stimuli. A plan formed, and he tensed, waiting in the darkness to pounce. "Well, well, well…. A thief. Hardly Surprising. Take her to the dungeons and do with her what you will". The port master waved his hand dismissively an even from his lofty vantage point, Jason could see the carnal greed in the guards' eyes, each man looking at Tessa and each other. They hurriedly led, slamming the door behind them. As they departed, Jason took a breath, shifted his centre of gravity and dropped from the beam. He fell upon the man like the Dark Angel he had become to the common people, his daggers plunging into the back of the port's former master, who formed an undignified cushion for Jason's fall. The murder was quick, efficient and most importantly, silent. Jason crouched by the bloody, hollow shell of a man and took a set of rusty iron keys. He smiled and stood upright, and escaped the room, locking the door behind him. He strained his ears, and began to pursue the guards, and Tessa.
After traversing many dark corridors and a flight of worn, stone stairs, Jason tracked the guards to the dungeon. All forays with the guards had been over quickly and often before Jason had even been detected. The longest fight was when three guards had, by foul luck, discovered him searching the cells for Tessa. The first had lunged with his sword, but Jason knocked it aside and slashed his knife at the man's throat, finding its mark with slicing sound of metal tearing through flesh. Jason dodged the second's thrust with a quick roll, and brought his weapon across the back of the man's legs, hamstringing him. The last guard dropped his weapon and ran, but Jason was faster. He surged forward, and leapt off the stone wall, pouncing on the man like a lion on a gazelle, and sunk the knife into his jugular. The hard, stone floor quickly turned red with blood, and the killer stood to face the incapacitated guard, who had begun to crawl on ruined legs towards an imagined sanctuary. Jason quickly caught up, and yanked the man's head, exposing his throat. The guard whimpered, and babbled like a scared child. "Please, sir, don't kill me…. Take the thief, she's in the last cell on the right…" his prattling was cut short by Jason's blade whipping across his throat. He withdrew the keys and unlocked the cited door, lifting the unconscious figure within into his arms and made for the exit of the charnel house.
He stared into the dark room he had claimed for her. Jason had returned Tessa to the tavern in the thief-city below the port, demanding Varric get the best people to look after her. He had done what he could, but that had been little enough. While life and death were two sides of the same coin, it was not as easy as simply reversing what Jason knew of death. She had not woken since her capture, and Jason was, despite himself, worried. He heard a sound behind him, but recognised the stench of cheap ale and cheap women that was Varric's. Jason remained impassive as the guild master broke the silence. "It's not your fault lad…" Jason cut him off with a glare, and then returned his gaze to the immobile thief. "Then explain how I can't care for those I love." Varric raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realise you two were that close, lad. I know she liked you but… Well, you've changed; I didn't think you'd remained the romantic type." Jason scoffed and walked away from the makeshift ward, Varric in tow. "Don't let my friend Gwen hear that, she'll never let me live it down." His expression turned grave. "Besides, old friend, a lot has changed since I left the guild". Varric laid a gnarled hand on Jason's shoulder. "Deception, betrayal and treachery were always your forte, lad. With your skills, you could have been rich. Why did you leave the guild?" Jason turned, his eyes dark. "Those could have given me the world, but they took the only thing that truly mattered, and I couldn't get her back when I wanted her most."