They listen to me. They trust me. I kept this guild together after James’s death. I kept our dealings going. I kept our coffers from emptying and our territory from becoming nothing more than a single penniless street.”
“That was me,” Veliana shouted, not caring if others might hear from behind the door. “I’m the one who bloodied her hands. I’m the one who gave them stability.”
“But do they know that?” he asked. He stepped closer to her, a smile growing on his face. It was the drugs, she thought. It had to be the drugs. Ignoring the daggers, he gently ran a hand along the wicked scar across her beautiful face, cutting from forehead to chin, discoloring her right eye from a dazzling violet to a red orb of blood.
“They won’t follow you,” he said again. “You’re damaged beauty. You’re dangerous, and they respect that, but they won’t submit to it. They listen now only because the specter of my authority hangs over you. Just like it did with James. You need me, just as I need you. More, even. Never forget that.”
She bit her tongue and fought down a thousand fantasies of plunging her daggers deep into his throat. Garrick walked back to his cushion, retrieved his pipe, and began the laborious process of filling it anew.
“I don’t care how powerful that freak is,” he said, meaning Deathmask. “I want him killed by tomorrow night, no matter how you do it. He’s clearly trouble, and in someone’s pocket. Cut his throat before he can accomplish whatever task he was sent here for. Deathmask? What a stupid name.”
“If you say so,” she said, nodding her head. “I’ll be in my quarters. I trust you’ll handle the matter of the Hawk Guild in an appropriate manner?”
Garrick smiled as she headed for the door.
“Dear Veliana, there are a thousand promises and lies between us all. You aren’t aware of half of them. Trust me. We’ll be fine.”
She left without giving him the dignity of a response.
3
H aern slept beside the shop of a baker he’d befriended. Besides gaining an occasional scrap of bread, it let him take in the warm smells while he slept. He kept himself wrapped in blankets, never bothering to hide his face. His blond hair was matted to the sides of his head, much of his skin covered with dirt. He’d always been a clean, meticulous child. More than anything since his self-imposed exile from the Spider Guild, that bothered him the most. He knew there were ways he could wash up, obtain cleaner clothes, but it’d never work. What homeless, coinless man lived on the side of the street, yet kept a clean face and hands?
He had a small bowl before him, not expecting any alms but feeling his heart warm when he received them. It was mainly there for looks. Every guild in the city of Veldaren wanted him dead, and he wouldn’t draw needless attention to himself by neglecting the minor details.
Just before nightfall, he stirred. The baker had gone home for the day, so he picked the familiar lock and slipped inside. He stole two slices of bread, dumped his bowl’s coins across the counter to pay for the meal, and then left. He ate as he walked south along the main road, turning off after half a mile and heading directly into the territory of the Serpent Guild. He added a limp and ran through his persona for dealing with the Serpents. He let his lower jaw hang a little, and muttered a few random words, practicing his lisp. His name was Berg. He was often drunk. Like all his personae, he worked odd jobs, whatever paid him coin, and that gave him excuse to know things he shouldn’t know.
Like how the Watcher had intercepted a shipment of gold from the Serpent Guild bearing the Gemcroft sigil.
His contact was a one-eyed ruffian originally from the far west nation of Mordan. He leaned beside the entrance of an inn, smoking a long pipe. His name was Mensk.
“What you want, Berg?” Mensk asked. He looked him over with his one eye, and he didn’t hide his shudder at Haern’s stink.
“I overheard something,” Haern said with a lisp. “Something worth at least a silver.”
Mensk’s eyes narrowed.
“Nothing you could have heard is worth that much. Five coppers if I decide it’s useful, one otherwise, and none if I’ve heard it already.”
“Six coppers,” Haern said, knowing he wouldn’t get it but also knowing that his persona would at least make the attempt.
“Five,” Mensk said, frowning. “Now spit it out before I lower it.”
“I was drinking by the east wall last night, and I saw something, something strange. There were some of your guild, you Serpents, by the wall. They were lifting something over…a crate, valuable, yes?”
By now he had Mensk’s attention. The thief had drawn his dagger and held it behind his back. So on edge… clearly the shipment’s secrecy was beyond important.
“It might be,” Mensk said. “That all you saw?”
Haern shook his head.
“No, oh no. I wouldn’t have come here for just that. Why tell you your own business? No, what I saw was the Watcher. He killed them, all but a few!”
“We know who killed them,” Mensk said. He shifted a little, placing his right foot a few inches back. He was preparing for a stab. Haern kept his breathing steady, not letting a shred of fear show in his eyes. Oblivious…he had to act oblivious…
“But did you know the one who killed them was a Hawk?” he asked.
There. He saw the momentary pause in Mensk’s eyes and knew he had him.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh no,” Haern said, stepping out of stabbing range. He exaggerated his lisp further to pretend excitement. “This gets me seven coppers, or I go to someone else who’ll pay.”
“Here’s six,” Mensk said, tossing them to the dirt. “Now tell me what you know!”
Haern flung himself to the ground and began scooping up the coins, all the while rambling.
“I saw him skulking along the rooftop. I wanted to shout warning, I did, but it was too fast, you know? One moment I see him, and I’m wondering what some damn fool is doing on the roof, and then he’s whirling and cutting. Gods, never seen so much blood.”
“The Hawks?” Mensk asked, prodding him along.
“Oh, well, I saw him pull out a pendant just before he attacked. Now it was dark and far away, but I swear the moon was bright enough. It had a feather on it, just one feather, plus I think an eye. That’s their new symbol, right, symbol for the Hawks? Thanks for the coppers, Mensk!”
He stood and stepped back. With the added distance, he knew Mensk wouldn’t come after him, not when he could just turn and run. A bit of disappointment came over the thief’s face, which pleased him immensely. He’d told such lies before, always to various guilds. With the distance and the dark, his proof was meager, but that was the point. A thousand tiny lies and misdirections would add up to a far greater proof than a single disprovable accusation. He wanted the guilds at each other’s throats, always convinced the Watcher was one of their own. Mensk would pass along what he’d heard, storing it away with all the other tales he’d whispered over the years.
“Get out of here,” Mensk said. “And I should only pay you three for something that worthless.”
“If I’m right, you know I should get a hundred silver,” Haern said as he limped along. “But I like you Serpents. Always treated me fair, helped find me roofs to put over my head. I sure hope that Watcher didn’t disrupt anything important. Would hate for him to put you in a bad bind…”
“I said get out,” Mensk said, revealing his dagger. “Those shipments’ll continue no matter what that bastard does. Now get your ass out of my sight before I decide to take back my coin.”
Haern fled, and once he reached the main merchant road, he abandoned the limp and started trudging north. In the light of the stars, he pondered over what he’d learned. Every time he sold information, he always managed to sneak out with a little bit more. That shipment of gold hadn’t been a one-time deal. Obviously they were important, and the Serpent Guild wanted them to continue. Originally he’d thought them just lucky robbers of the Gemcroft mines, but now…
