“What drives you, Victor?” Antonil asked as Victor put his back to him and walked down the street. “What madness would have you risk so much for so little?”
Victor waved goodbye, and did not answer. Unguarded, he walked down the street, but he never felt alone. His men were everywhere, always watching, always searching. They saluted as they passed him by, and each time, he smiled back. Just a small smile and a meeting of the eyes. He wanted each to think he’d put special interest in them, watching closely for signs of greatness. For the most part, it was true. And when he received that night’s report, listing the dead under his command, he’d recognize every name, remember every face. Steeling himself against the pain did little to help.
King Edwin had not offered them a place to stay, just as Victor had expected. The man was a coward, and Victor was lucky enough to have the King go along with his plan, however distantly. But the castle was not a safe place anyway. It was too big, too grandiose, with all the windows, high ceilings, and lengthy halls filled with a million shadows. For most of his men, they’d be staying in inns scattered about the town. Victor had carefully chosen his home, though, and secured it before ever going to Edwin. Eyes watched him from rooftops, but it didn’t matter if they saw where he slept. The constant surveillance only showed how frightened they were of him.
“Evening,” Victor said to the two men stationed before the entrance of what would be his home for the foreseeable future. It had once been a tavern, shuttered for months until Victor bought it. Every single window was boarded up. All doors were nailed shut, and then bricked. There was but one entrance, and it was to be guarded at all times. Upon his arrival, he’d filled its stores with food and drink, carefully packed away. He would search no food for glass, require no taster for poison. Everything watched, everything controlled, just as he liked.
The outside soldiers banged on the door a few times, then called out Victor’s name. Moments later, it was unbarred and opened by the interior guards. Victor nodded, pleased with their attention to detail, and then stepped inside. The interior was dimly lit, and while it had a vacant feel, it was still being meticulously cleaned. Servants moved about, and upon seeing him, they quickly bowed and asked if he had any needs.
“Wine, if possible,” he said, unbuckling his sword. “And something light to eat. Bring it to my room when ready.”
The servants bowed again. Victor climbed the stairs as they hurried into the kitchen. Another of his precautions: the servants were all male, and had been in his service before coming to Veldaren. They stayed within the tavern, leaving only when they must. He’d even implemented rules with the guards that all servants were to strip naked, hand over their clothes, and then redress once on the other side of the door. A severe measure, but he could not be too careful. The fate of the entire city rested on his survival. He couldn’t risk a servant accepting a hefty bribe.
His room was sparse, his only luxury a bookshelf full of carefully bound writings. The mixture was eclectic, from philosophers to kings to children’s fables. He drifted his fingers over the spines, pondering what to read that night, when he heard the door close behind him.
“Well, aren’t you a careful bastard?”
Victor’s heart caught in his throat. He’d tossed his sword onto the bed upon entering, and he thought to leap for it. Instead, he turned, and stood proud and tall while confronting his no-doubt murderer.
“Not careful enough,” he said, meeting his intruder’s eyes. He was a dark-skinned man, with darker hair that grew down to his shoulders. His gray clothes were clearly that of the guilds, but more noticeable were his eyes. One was a deep brown, the other a bloody red.
“Have you come to kill me, thief?” he asked.
The intruder chuckled.
“I could, but that wouldn’t be interesting, would it? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Deathmask, leader of the Ash Guild, and I’ve come with a proposal.”
Victor felt his muscles relax, but only a little. The intruder didn’t seem particularly dangerous, and he carried no visible weapons. He leaned with his back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
“A proposal?” he asked, thinking to stall. He took a single step toward the man, shifting himself closer to his weapon.
“Two proposals, actually,” Deathmask said. “First proposal is that you don’t do anything stupid like calling for guards, or grabbing that sword of yours. Once I hear an answer to that one, we can move on to proposal number two.”
Victor felt his heart skip a beat, and he stepped away from the bed, toward his bookcase.
“So be it,” he said, clenching his fists at his sides. “I am listening.”
“Excellent. Now, to make sure we both understand each other…you do know who I am, right?”
Victor nodded. He’d done extensive research on the various guilds before coming to Veldaren, learning what he could about their leaders, their habits, vices, and weaknesses. As for the Ash Guild…
“You’re the one guild that made the least sense,” Victor said. “Run by a man called eccentric at best, insane at worst. Four years ago you usurped control from Garrick Lowe, killing or disbanding nearly the entire guild. Estimates vary, but all claimed you now have less than ten members. One man suggested there were only four of you, but that is ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Deathmask asked, grinning. “No, that’s true. There are just the four of us. Smaller than the rest of the guilds, sure, but I’ve found having a few dangerous, intelligent people is far better than a guild full of mouthbreathers.”
Victor’s mind clicked, and he shook his head in disbelief.
“And easier to split the rather handsome sum the Trifect pays for protection, correct?”
Deathmask shrugged.
“That, too.”
Victor shifted closer to his weapon, then relaxed. If Deathmask hadn’t killed him yet, he wasn’t going to…at least, not until he had an answer to his proposition.
“Why are you here?” Victor asked.
“I could ask the same of you,” Deathmask said, tapping his fingers together. “A long-vanished lord returns with a miniature army, with the sole aim to clear out the guilds? Preposterous. But I do not care, because that is not how I operate, Victor. Why you do what you do is irrelevant to me. All that matters is that things go as I desire, and right now…I’d like to help you.”
“Help me?” Victor lifted an eyebrow. “How?”
“I can give you names, locations, shipping dates…or I could bring you bodies. Either is fine with me.”
Victor shook his head.
“This won’t protect you, Deathmask. I offer no clemency, not to anyone. I will not accept the help of the very criminals I have come to eradicate.”
“You mistake me,” Deathmask said, stepping closer. A fire burned bright in his mismatched eyes. “I seek no pardon, no clemency, for I won’t need it. Tell me, of all the men who wilted before your inquisition, how many have spoken my name? How many pointed their finger at the Ash Guild? Have we drugs, or slaves, or bribes?”
Victor had not studied the entire lists, but he’d gone over them as the day wore on, and listened in on several confessions. Try as he might, he could think of nothing, and told Deathmask so.
“Exactly,” said the thief. “And you will find nothing. I am your ally in this, not your enemy. Let me help you. Long as you abide by the law, and the agreements we have signed, your little game here will not affect me, not adversely. The destruction of the other guilds is something that would greatly amuse me, though.”
His words were honey, but his eyes were death. Victor shook his head.
“You may pretend, you may feign innocence, but I am no fool. You are murderers, thieves, butchers. I will not taint all that I do with your presence. Not if I am to succeed.”
“I’m a dangerous man to have as an enemy, Victor.”
Victor stood tall and spread his shoulders wide, as if daring the man to strike.
“Kill me, then,” he said. “I’ll die eventually, but it won’t be as a hypocrite.”
They stared, matching wills, but then Deathmask broke into a smile.
“You fascinate me,” he said. “You won’t die tonight, not by me, anyway.” He turned to the corner of the room, put his hand against it. Shadows swelled, thickening as if into a liquid. The guildmaster looked back. His smile had hardened. “Those who loudest profess the law tend to have the greatest crimes to hide. I wonder just what secrets you have buried deep in the dark soil.”
The darkness swelled, began to swirl. With a mocking bow, Deathmask vanished through it. Just like that,
