“And other things, as well,” Deathmask said, grin growing. “But then let me remove your ignorance. There is a guild in Mordeina known as the Suns. Over the past few years they’ve spread their influence, first into Ker, then Omn, and now they’ve set their eye on Neldar. They’re coming here, into Veldaren, so they might strike at the heart of this nation, and then branch out like a disease.”
Victor frowned, not liking what he was hearing.
“Are you afraid of losing some profit, thief?” he asked.
“Don’t be naive. Veldaren is already spiraling out of control, and the Suns will destroy it completely. They won’t rest until every guild, mine included, is wiped out.”
“So far I don’t see much reason to hate them.”
A bit of amusement left Deathmask’s eyes.
“Enough, Victor. You know as well as I that the guilds here are weak, and can be controlled. But not the Suns. This is not some distant threat, nor someone that will bow to the Trifect or pay heed to the Watcher. They’ve come to conquer…and they’re already here.”
Information he’d received the day before suddenly clicked, and Victor felt a pit grow in his stomach.
“The cheap crimleaf,” he said. “I’d heard of the bottoming out of prices. The new dealer…that’s them, isn’t it?”
“Not just crimleaf,” Deathmask said. “Other leaves, and powders far worse. Have your men not found the bodies all across the southern district? War’s begun, so far silent but for the Bloodcrafts. Each day their numbers grow, members of all guilds sensing the coming tide and abandoning their old allegiances for the new.”
Victor shifted, leaning more of his weight against the wall. He tried to think, to understand what it meant. Slowly he was bleeding the guilds dry of both members and coin. It might succeed, too, but only a fool would think someone else wouldn’t try to fill the void. If the Suns were as dangerous as Deathmask claimed…
He looked up at the thief.
“What do you want of me?” he asked.
Deathmask pulled a cloth from his pocket and tied it across his face.
“Help me,” he said, his other hand pulling out a handful of ash. “Swallow your pride, and send your soldiers flooding into the Suns’ newly acquired territory under my direction. We’ll crush them here, now, before they gain more than a foothold.”
With a wave of a hand, the ash scattered about his face, then hovered there, hiding his features.
“The city is mine, Victor, but I am a kinder lord than the Suns will ever be. Do not doubt your decision, not in this.”
Victor closed his eyes, thought of the carnage he’d seen the day prior while being protected by the Eschaton.
“You say the Bloodcrafts have been hired to protect the Suns?” he asked.
“It seems that way. If not for them, I’d have already crushed their initial push.”
Victor shook his head. Anyone who would bring in such dangerous beings just to protect their drug trade was someone he couldn’t allow to gain prominence in Veldaren.
“I’ll help you,” he said. “But know that I will watch you closely, and do this only for the good of the city.”
“The good of the city,” Deathmask chuckled. “How quaint.”
He whistled, and the rest of his guild appeared from further up the street, approaching in their similar colors.
“Ready your men,” Deathmask said. “It’s time for a slaughter.”
Victor left without a word, trying to not think about the company he kept, or of the bloodshed to commence. The peace at the end was all that mattered, he told himself. The final victory. The safe streets and unviolated homes.
“Milord?” asked Sef at his arrival.
“Prepare our men to move out,” he said.
“Milord, something troubles you, I can tell. What…”
“I said prepare them to move out!”
Sef took a step back, then bowed low.
“Forgive me,” he said.
Victor sighed, put a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“No,” he said. “You’ve done much for me, and now I must ask for more. Prepare them all. A new threat has entered our city, and we must crush it while we still have the chance.”
Sef tensed as the Ash Guild came around the corner of the tavern, weapons drawn and shimmering with magic. Victor shook his head and motioned for his soldiers to stand down.
“I do this with a heavy heart,” he said, pointing to Deathmask. “But it must be done. Follow this man’s lead. Once more into the underworld we go.”
Beneath the ash and cloth, Deathmask’s smile grew and grew.
28
Haern spent the day following the Bloodcrafts’ ambush in disguise, acting like any other hungry, tired commoner as he bounced from tavern to tavern. Someone as new and strange as the Bloodcrafts would have left a trail, he knew, and it did not take long to find it. Many were frightened to speak of them, but when Haern flashed a little silver, all of their tongues opened. At last he found what he’d dared not hope for: the tavern in which they stayed, and even the rooms in which they slept. The innkeeper had been terrified to say their names, but his son had been a different matter. Three silver coins, and the young man had joined Haern in an alley, pointed up to some windows, and then ran back inside before his father noticed.
“I’ve found you,” Haern whispered, hurrying back to the Eschaton Tower.
He revealed what he’d learned to the rest as they gathered in the lower floor of the tower.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Tarlak said, shaking his head. “That Nicholas guy alone nearly killed all of us, and it took everything we had to chase them off during their last ambush. Now you want to go charging into a fight with them head on?”
Haern shrugged.
“If we’re going to fight, I’d rather us be the ones doing the ambushing. Or would you rather wait for them to come to our tower while we sleep, or assault me when I’m alone upon the rooftops?”
“They’ve made their intentions clear,” Delysia said, taking her brother’s hand. “They’ll kill us no matter what it takes. You saw the bodies. How many innocents they killed.”
“I say we do it,” Brug said, hopping up from his chair. “I’ll get my armor.”
“You’re with this insane scheme, too?” Tarlak asked.
Brug shrugged.
“What? I killed one of them already. Nothing says I can’t do it again.”
Haern grinned at his friend.
“That’s more like it,” he said. “So what will it be, Tarlak? Ready for us to go on the offensive for once?”
Tarlak lifted his hat and scratched the back of his head.
“That means I’ll have to face that one lady throwing all the fire, won’t I?”
“Probably.”
“Fine.” A devilish grin spread over his face, removing his pout. “But this time, I’m coming prepared. Come on, Brug, I’ll need your help with this.”
Over the day they prepared, and then before nightfall, they hurried back. Haern felt confident the Bloodcrafts were like most thieves, sleeping in the day and going out at night. And if not, well, then they’d catch them sleeping. Hardly the most honorable kill, thought Haern, but he’d dealt worse punishments than that.
The tavern was at the corner of Iron, a major trade route heading north to south through Veldaren, and Raven, a far smaller dirt road that jutted off into the remnants of homes, most shuttered down as the wealth had
