tightening from lack of motion after so much exertion, and he did his best to stretch in the cramped quarters.
“You can spend the night here if you wish,” Matthew said as the day neared its end. “I’d be a sad man to banish a guest just as the sun sets.”
“Thank you,” Haern said. He shifted further away from the fire so the children could take a turn. He wrapped his blankets around his body and closed his eyes. For the first time in his entire life, he found himself in a true home, with a real family. The children bickered, but there was a harmless familiarity to it. He thought of his own childhood, never spent with someone his own age, only the parade of tutors and mentors, training him to read, to write, to move, to kill. Had he ever curled up on the floor beside a fire, surrounded by a family that would never wish him harm? Had he ever been inside a house that felt at peace? Had he ever…
He slept, and his dreams were dull, calm, and he did not remember them when he woke.
6
I t was Veliana’s third attempt at killing Deathmask, and the first she was personally involved in. She lay atop the roof to their headquarters, a crossbow in hand.
“What if you miss?” asked Garrick, who stood behind her so he couldn’t be seen from the street.
“Then Rick will take him down,” Veliana said. She pointed to the building on the opposite side of the street. A man in gray lay atop it, a crossbow beside him.
“I can’t believe he’s not dead yet,” said Garrick as he took a chunk of Crimleaf from his pocket and began chewing. “Are our men truly so incompetent?”
Veliana rolled her eyes. The first attempt to kill Deathmask had been a simple stabbing in the night. She’d selected one of their lower ranking thugs for the deed. They’d found the thug’s body rotting beside Deathmask’s bed in the morning. How he’d died, no one knew. Deathmask hadn’t shown the slightest irritation at the attempt, either. Veliana held in a chuckle. Shit, the guy had tossed her a wink on the way to breakfast.
Their second attempt was actually three separate instances of poisoning his food. He hadn’t eaten any of it. During the third, Veliana caught him casting a spell over his meal, no doubt detecting the poison. That same day, both their cooks died vomiting blood. Garrick ranted and assumed they had mishandled the poison. Veliana knew differently.
“We’ve given him a simple task,” Veliana said, sighting the crossbow for their door. “He’s to collect protection money from a handful of vendors a few blocks over. When he exits the door, he should see Rick preparing to fire. In fact, I’m counting on it. He’s too damn clever not to notice. Maybe he’ll run, or cast a spell, or pretend he doesn’t see. It won’t matter. That’s when I put an arrow through his back.”
“So confident,” Garrick said. “Remember, if this fails, I make the next plan. This was your last shot to get things done safe and clean.”
“I figured you’d like things safe,” she muttered.
“What?” he asked.
“I said we should reconsider. He’s clearly skilled. What if he isn’t here on someone else’s payroll? What if he really wants a position in our guild?”
Garrick chuckled. “If he’s that good, why choose ours? We’re far from the most powerful. Others would have made more sense. Or why not become a mercenary? The pay would be better, and then he could kill our kind all he wants. I’m sure the Trifect would love to have him on their…”
“Quiet,” Veliana hissed.
The door opened, and out stepped Deathmask. He wore his red robes and the dark gray cloak of their guild. As always when he went out in public, he’d tied a gray cloth around his face, hiding all but his eyes and hair. His back was to her. She glanced at Rick, who shot her a thumbs up. When she looked back down, Deathmask was staring up at her. Slowly he shook his head, as if berating a child.
“Fuck,” Veliana whispered. She pulled back from the ledge as Garrick asked her what was going on. “He’s spotted me.”
“Then Rick should…”
He stopped as they both watched Rick tumble over the edge of the building, blood gushing from his mouth and ears. When his body hit the ground, Veliana let out an involuntary gasp. Rick hadn’t even fired, his crossbow lying useless atop the flat roof. Deathmask laughed, and he called out from the quiet street.
“I’m disappointed, Vel! Only the one?”
He walked west, and both remained silent as they watched him. Veliana hadn’t seen what he’d done to Rick, but she knew now that he was far beyond any normal thief or trickster. Only a spell could have done what she’d just seen, a dark and powerful one. She was playing a game against an opponent she knew nothing about. Such was a sure path toward losing.
“That son of a bitch,” Garrick said. “He’s toying with us. He knows we want him dead, and he doesn’t care! If we don’t do something soon, I’ll be a mockery to the rest of the guild.”
“Of course you will,” Veliana said as she stood. “You’re trying to kill someone you accepted into our guild, all without any proof or reason. That is what will upset them, not that you can’t kill him.”
She thought Garrick would explode, but instead he gave her an amused grin.
“You failed, Vel, so now I choose the attempt. Enough of poison and cowardly arrows. It’s time you bloodied your hands.”
“So long as you don’t have to bloody yours,” she said, offering him a mock bow. Her sarcasm hid her fear. She couldn’t back down, not when Garrick was starting to develop a spine, but did she really want to mess with Deathmask?
She hung from the edge of the roof, dropped down to a windowsill, and then used it to fall to the street. A closer look confirmed what she’d already realized: Deathmask was equal to her in skill, if not superior. She found a thin razor embedded deep in Rick’s neck. No doubt Deathmask’s spell had required some sort of physical contact, and he’d thrown the razor as a way of carrying that spell. A simple but foolproof ambush, but it was her man that lay dead.
Laughter floated down. She flipped Garrick the finger, knowing he stood at the roof’s edge watching her. So be it. No matter what Garrick thought, the Ash Guild was hers, and she would remind him of that fact. No doubt he viewed her coming attempt as a win-win, for either she or Deathmask would die. There had to be another way. More importantly, she had to think of a replacement for him, and soon.
“Bury him somewhere,” she said to her guards at the door as she marched inside to think.
*
A ny deviation from Deathmask’s normal routine would immediately alert him, so Veliana played it patient. Two days after the third failed attempt she had one of her lower ranked members tell him he was to stay up late working as a guard. She hoped the tedium might dull his senses for when she struck. Despite him spotting her before, she took to the rooftop and waited. Four hours before dawn, when her own eyes started to droop, she decided it was time. She drank a mixture she’d prepared earlier in the day, a combination of strong tea and herbs. A few minutes later, she felt the mixture kick in. Her head ached, but her drowsiness was gone.
She drew her daggers and crept to the rooftop’s edge. No arrows or crossbows this time. If he really was a skilled spellcaster, her only chance was at close range, where she could disrupt the intricate movements needed to cast. She looked down, saw him standing several feet away from the building.
Damn it, she thought. Won’t be a straight drop. He can’t possibly know I’m coming, can he?
But of course he could. He might be able to read her mind for all she knew. Now was the time. He was mortal. He was fallible. She was the better. She had to prove that not just to Garrick, but to herself.
She leapt from the roof, silent as a ghost, her daggers aimed for his neck, her knees bent and ready to absorb the impact of their collision. She felt exhilaration soar through her, the wind blowing her hair as she fell. In that half-second, she saw him turn, saw him step aside. She twisted, suddenly panicking. He’d known. Somehow he’d known.
Rolling with the landing helped reduce the pain, but not by much. Her legs throbbed, though most of her weight slammed against her shoulder. She heard a pop and felt her right hand go numb. It no longer held her dagger. She tumbled along, then forced herself out of the roll. Turning around, she expected her death, some sort of
