the dead.
“Daddy came home and saw me eating,” she said. “He thought I killed mommy. He was finally free, and he came home wanting mommy, but mommy was gone. He told me there was stuff I could do for him, though, stuff mommy used to do.”
Another image, the rough man tearing at his clothes, sank Qurrah’s stomach. Hatred burned in his heart.
“What happened to him?” he asked.
Tessanna crawled closer and whispered as if telling a great secret.
“He liked humping me. He drank all the time, probably because if he wasn’t drinking he’d realize how bad it was to take your thirteen-year-old daughter to bed. I did it, though. Maybe I liked it. It feels awfully good inside you.” She laughed at Qurrah’s blush. “He never even bothered to tell me he loved me. He hated me. I knew it, so he never lied. I think sometime over those two years he broke my mind.”
Again that insane laugh. Qurrah’s heart tore at the sound. Part of it was adorable. The other part was pure madness, and it frightened him beyond words. She continued, her voice dropping into an even quieter whisper.
“One night I had a plan. I made it seem like I wanted it, even liked it. Aren’t I such a horrible liar? He got really, really drunk that night. When he was done with me, he drank even more, and fell asleep in a chair. I took some rope and I tied his hands and feet. He couldn’t get out. I tied his neck, too. I didn’t want him moving, because that would ruin the fun.”
“Fun?” Qurrah asked. “Torture is what that man deserved.”
“Torture is fun,” she said. She didn’t smile that time. Qurrah considered fleeing then, but he didn’t. He wanted to hear the end of the story.
“I crushed some glass into tiny pieces and shoved them in his mouth. He woke up choking, but I didn’t stop. I sewed his mouth shut. I had practiced, but with flesh you have to be forceful. Once he couldn’t spit out the glass, the real fun started. Lots of fun. Two years worth of fun.”
She looked to the ground, her face suddenly blushing.
“I kissed his neck just before he tried swallowing the glass. I’m not sure why.”
“He died choking on his own blood,” Qurrah said more than asked. The final image took its turn before his eyes, that of the rough man vomiting intestines filled with shards of glass.
“Shhhh,” Tessanna said through clenched teeth. “It’s a secret.” She leaned back, smiling into her hand. “And don’t you tell anybody.”
“I promise I will not,” Qurrah said. He stood and stretched his arms. “I must go. Will you be fine spending a few more days here?”
“Will you come visit me?” she asked. She curled her legs to her chest and peered over her knees. Qurrah would have done anything she asked, she was so beautiful.
“Of course. Every day. I promise.”
She lowered her head, as if in hiding.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” Qurrah asked.
“You know what. If you don’t, you’re dumber than I thought.”
The half-orc chuckled, glad to hear the edge of sarcasm. She seemed sanest when she was being sarcastic. He bid her farewell and returned to the tower.
6
W hy do I have to be stuck with the orcs?” Brug grumbled in the quietest tone he could manage, which was not very quiet at all. They hid near where the assassination was to take place, and Tarlak had just outlined the groups. Naturally, the wizard was to be alone with Aurelia.
“Because you’re so short,” Tarlak said. “And all short people must suffer. It is the Eschaton way.” Tarlak’s grin faded when he realized Brug was not amused. “Listen, Haern stays on his own, because he works best that way. Delysia remains safe until it is all over and done, and she can heal whoever needs it. Aurelia and I will sneak in through the roof, and that leaves you three watching from the streets.”
“How come I can’t be with Aurelia?” Brug whined. “She needs a melee fighter in case something goes wrong.”
“It appears you have competition, brother,” Qurrah said, an amused expression on his face.
“Bah,” Harruq said. “With the mage or the short guy? Either way, I’m not too worried.” Both turned and glared. He grinned back. “Hello! Aurry’s going without you, so one of you better go.”
He pointed to the elf, who was twenty feet in the air and climbing, courtesy of a levitation spell. Tarlak patted Brug on the head. “Looks like you can’t follow. Good luck. Save our asses if we screw up.”
He cast a spell, his feet bumped an inch off the ground, and then he followed Aurelia. Harruq put his hand on Brug’s shoulder as the three stared.
“A shame,” he said. “Look on the bright side, though. You can almost see up Aurry’s dress from here.”
Brug’s face turned beet red. “One day,” he snarled. “Just…one day…you’ll see.”
T arlak landed on the roof, beside Aurelia.
“Gorgeous night,” he said. “A perfect time to spend with a beautiful woman.”
“Hope you have enough coin on you,” she said.
“I said with, not on,” Tarlak corrected. Aurelia shrugged.
“Whatever. I take it the three mummers are guarding the southern entrance?”
Tarlak nodded.
“Haern should be watching the other, which leaves the roof to us.”
“Time to vanish,” Aurelia said.
The two faded from view as they cast their invisibility spells. The roof was flat and bare, leaving them no other options for hiding. With all ways into the building covered, there was nothing to do but wait. Twenty minutes later, a lone man appeared, circled the building, and then dashed away.
“A scout,” Tarlak explained. Aurelia glanced down the alley, and from her vantage point, noticed Harruq’s shoulders peeking out from behind a few conveniently placed crates.
“I think Haern needs to teach Harruq a thing or two about stealth,” she said. Tarlak laughed.
“Stealth? If he isn’t screaming and wrecking stuff before the fight, I’ll be thrilled.”
She tried to jab him with her finger but missed. “Next time I see you, you are getting such a hard poking.”
“Be gentle, I am a delicate creature.”
Tarlak suddenly stiffened. The elf could not see his posture change, but the abrupt silence quieted her as well.
“The Shadow Guild,” the wizard whispered a moment later. Down the street walked a man, flanked by ruffians dressed in black leather. Blue scarves covered their faces. The man wore a suit of polished leather armor with silver runes shining across his sleeves and neck. His scarred face showed the price of his position. They marched to the northern door, opened it, and went inside.
“Odd,” Tarlak murmured. “No checking. No searches.”
“More come from the south,” Aurelia said. Another group, this time adorned in pure gray clothes and armor, the black spider emblazoned on their clothing, traveled up the street. In their center walked a young man, his face covered by a hood pulled low.
“They look so much like Haern,” she said.
“He was to be their prized assassin,” Tarlak whispered. “Reared from birth to be silent and unseen. The Spider Guild planned complete conquest of the other guilds, and then dominion over Veldaren’s streets.”
Aurelia observed their silent movements shrouded by their long gray cloaks. They did not move like men. She shivered. “What stopped them?”
“They underestimated Haern. They thought his mind enslaved to their dogma. A certain red-headed girl saved him.”
