The assassin curled his lip disdainfully. “Did you wake me just to gloat, princeling? Or did you have some purpose when you came here?”
“My mother is dead,” Relam said flatly. “She was murdered. I want to know who did it and why.”
“Not us,” the assassin hissed. “No, not us.”
“I gathered that,” Relam muttered. “Seeing as you’ve been locked up in here. Could it have been the same man who hired you and your comrades?”
“Could have been,” the assassin murmured, slumping back against the wall. “He was very determined, he was. He does not fail. He told us as much. One way or another, he will eventually succeed in his quest.”
“To kill the royal family?”
“To replace them,” the prisoner replied. “He wants to take over.”
“He expects to just inherit the throne if the line is broken? Is that it?”
“Not inherit,” the prisoner snorted. “Seize it.”
“Interesting,” Relam muttered. “You’re very afraid of him, aren’t you?”
“You should be too.”
“And you don’t know who he is?”
The prisoner hesitated, then shook his head.
“Not even a guess?”
The assassin looked away, not meeting Relam’s gaze.
Relam knelt in front of the man. “If you don’t tell me everything you know or suspect, I will release you from here to fend for yourself.”
“You can’t!” the prisoner protested, shrinking back into the wall as far as he could. “You wouldn’t!”
“I’m desperate too,” Relam growled. “I’m not planning on dying, or watching my father die. Now tell me everything. Start at the beginning.”
“I never saw his face,” the prisoner said quickly, his desperation giving him focus and making him more lucid. “I only heard his voice.” The assassin shuddered. “He spoke in a hiss, like a snake.”
Relam felt gooseflesh rising on his arms and the back of his neck. “Go on,” he whispered.
“I don’t think it was his real voice,” the assassin continued. “I think he was trying to disguise it. Which leads me to believe that normally he thinks his voice would be recognizable. So, a high-profile person. Maybe of the nobility.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“Mizzran.”
“When?”
“A month before the job,” the assassin replied, shrugging. “That timing is pretty standard, gives us some time to do reconnaissance on the targets and decide how to attack.”
“I see,” Relam said, thinking. How could he find out what nobles that had been at the banquet had traveled to Mizzran nearly sixteen months prior?
“Anything else?” Relam asked.
“He warned us what would happen if we betrayed him or failed him,” the assassin added, shuddering. “Though I’m not sure how he expected us to betray him, seeing as we don’t really know who he is.”
“Yes,” Relam muttered. “And therein lies the problem. Was there anyone else involved? Someone who paid you or fed you information or something?”
“There was a man that helped us scout the palace,” the assassin said. “Gave us a map. He was a quiet type, all cloaked up, short and round. Not a fighter.”
“A spy?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met many round spies,” the assassin said, shrugging. “Most underworld types tend to be in reasonably good shape.”
“Interesting,” Relam muttered. “No name?”
“Not that he gave us. We were to refer to him only as ‘scout’.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“Not far from here, just on the other side of the river,” the assassin said helpfully. “Damned if I remember the street though. West side is a maze.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Relam said, waving aside the last observation. “Is that everything you can tell me?”
“Other than the fact that I am most certainly dead if you put me outside these walls, yes,” the assassin confirmed, looking around fearfully.
“Good. Then you stay,” Relam told him. “Under guard and protected.”
“Thank you,” the prisoner sobbed, breaking down into a whining mess. “This life isn’t much but it’s all I have left. And if he is caught-”
“You’ll still be left here to rot,” Relam told him firmly. “You tried to kill me and my parents.”
“But if my information helps-”
“Good night,” Relam said, backing out of the cell. “Rest, keep your strength up. I’ll be back some time to see if you remember anything else.”
The prisoner sighed and rolled over, putting his back towards the entrance. Relam shut the cell door and locked it, moving on to the cell of the second prisoner. He peeked inside to make sure the man wasn’t waiting to ambush him and frowned. The second remaining assassin was curled in a tight little ball, shivering uncontrollably, teeth chattering together.
“Guards,” Relam said quickly. “Fetch blankets and see what you can do to warm this tower. These prisoners are freezing and we need them alive.”
The palace guards on duty stumbled down the stairs, muttering to themselves. Relam watched the prisoner in the second cell for a moment, then turned away.
“He won’t be much use,” the prince observed to Wil and Galen, who had remained behind. “But I got some new information out of the other one.”
“Anything likely to help us catch the master of the assassins?” Wil asked eagerly.
“No,” Relam replied. “At least, not right now. We have more clues, but no answer.”
The guards returned, arms piled with blankets and a stack of firewood. “Building is stone,” the first grunted. “So, we figure there’s no harm in lighting a fire indoors.”
“Should be fine,” Relam agreed. “Build it between the cells, that way they can both reach the warmth if they want.”
One of the guards shoved blankets through the bars, which the two prisoners snatched up eagerly. The other guard busied himself making a fire, piling tinder and kindling in an organized heap. A few sparks from his flint and steel kindled a tiny, orange flame, which steadily grew into a cheerful fire.
“Much better,” Relam muttered. “I think we’ll
