Chapter Seventeen
Dondon
Zazesspur was hot this
day.
Athos wandered the
streets in a haphazard sort of way. He had thought he would never
return here again - yet here he was.
There hadn't seemed
any reason to return to Port Calim. He felt rejection there, and
a hurt so painful it made his heart ache. He was even debating the
wisdom of trying to contact Artemis and Jitinder, and was wondering whether
it might be wiser not to go through with the meeting he had set up.
Also, there was a
certain amount of risk involved in any such visit which could not be discounted.
He had been attacked twice now by the black-clad men, and he had no doubt
that more attacks would follow. He wanted to know more of their purpose
before venturing again into the unknown.
Probably it had something
to do with the Viper. Perhaps they meant the master assassin harm
of some kind. Certainly they weren't friendly. He wondered
briefly whether the Viper was even aware of their existance.
How will you handle
that little addition to your game, Viper?
Athos shook his head.
The Viper had never asked him anything about his visits to the outside
world, and this puzzled him. It wasn't out of character for the man,
but neither was it in character. The master assassin was a difficult
man to anticipate, and Athos got the feeling he knew more about Athos'
visits than he let on.
He dismissed the subject
from his mind, catching sight of the person he suddenly realized he had
come to see.
"Hello Dondon."
The halfling looked
up. Today he was playing a blind beggar, but Athos knew full well
that Dondon could see him clearly enough through the bandage which was
wound around the top of his head.
"Athos?" he asked.
"Is that you? I can't see a bloody... wait a second."
A moment later the
cloth had been taken off, and a grinning Dondon stood facing him.
"Athos!" he said. "Where have you been?"
"I..." suddenly a
wave of shame engulfed him. "Attending to things," he said at last.
"Dondon, I can verify Drake's death. He was a member of the Entreri
squad."
Dondon was confused.
"The what?"
"The Entreri squad
- the group that the guild sent to kill the Viper."
"I see. I assume
they failed, then?"
Athos nodded.
"I thought you should know about Drake."
"Yes." The halfling
nodded. "Too bad. You didn't see it happen, did you?"
"I made it happen,"
Athos said softly.
Dondon gave him a
strange look, not certain how to reply.
"I took out every
member of the squad," Athos continued, sounding as if he were delivering
a confession. "They made it as far as the Viper's base of operations
before I stopped them."
"But..." The
halfling was perplexed. "But I thought you wanted them to... well,
to succeed."
"I did."
The halfling shook
his head, failing to understand. "Then why did you kill them?"
"Because I was afraid
of what the Viper would do if I didn't. I did want want them to succeed,
though - in both their missions."
"Both?" asked the
halfling, and it dawned on him. "They were sent to kill you as well,
then."
Athos nodded.
"I murdered them."
"Don't talk crazy,"
said Dondon. "You killed in self defense."
"No," said Athos.
"I killed them because they couldn't kill me."
Dondon shook his head.
"Look, I don't pretend to understand, but I trust you. You did what
you had to do. Don't let it weigh you down needlessly. I'm
you're friend, Athos."
Athos looked up at
him. "Thanks, Dondon. I'm glad you... I feel better, having
told you."
Dondon nodded sympathetically.
"So," said Athos,
forcing a little cheer into his tone, "how are things here in Zazesspur?
Pretty much the same, I would wager."
Dondon gave a hollow
chuckle. "Hardly. All the demons, daemons, and devils of the
lower planes could never have caused such a stir if they were let out upon
the city."
"Oh? Something's
happened, then?"
Dondon nodded.
"Two days ago the former guildmaster's head was delivered to the front
steps of the guildhouse, but I guess you'd already know that."
"Actually, no," said
Athos, "although I'm pretty certain I know who delivered it. What
kind of affair has it caused? An internal struggle? Are the
leaders battling for the now-vacant position Arkail held?"
"Just the opposite,"
said the halfling. "Tulmara assumed the position with no complaints.
The problem was that the head was delivered with the symbol of Set carved
into it, and Tulmara is now certain that they are allied with the Viper
somehow. I guess you would know the truth of that-"
"I don't even know
who this Set group is," said Athos. "I've never heard of them."
"Well, then," said
Dondon, I guess that means they aren't allied with the Viper."
"Not necessarily,"
said Athos, reflecting on how little he knew of the master assassin's movements.
"Who are they?"
"A powerful underground
religious group from Mulhorand. They worship Set - apparently he's
one of the older gods."
"They're here to convert?"
"Hardly. Whatever
their purposes here are, converting isn't one of them."
Athos considered.
"You must have heard something."
"No-one understands
their presence here," Dondon denied. "That's what makes them so suspicious.
They arrived about a year ago, and dug in. They've got some sort
of creatures with them that they let out at night. Big, nasty-looking
things, full of teeth. Fortunately, they don't let the creatures
prowl alone. They keep them leashed, and travel about in small groups
as if searching for someone."
Athos cocked his head,
an idea forming. "What do they look like, these patrols?"
"Well, the members
and underlings dress all in black, with red or yellow sashes. They
wear some sort of head wraps, leaving only their eyes uncovered."
Athos nodded.
So, these are the same ones that attacked me in Calimport, he thought,
or at least members of the same group. And if the Viper delivered
Arkail's head with the symbol of their cult on it, then he must be aware
of their presence, maybe even their purposes. But what do they want
with me?
A thought suddenly
occurred to him. Could this have something to do with his mysterious
heritage? "I'm interested," he said a moment later, "exactly how
did this group receive entrance to the city? Dressed like that, with
dangerous and exotic animals, I don't see how they got past the city gates."
"They only wear those
clothes at night, when they roam the streets. During the day they
disappear, or seem to. I don't know exactly how they got in the city,
but I can hazard a guess - small groups in plain clothing."
Athos considered.
"That seems likely. It's how I would do it, anyway. Who leads
them?"
Dondon smiled.
"That was the question everyone was wondering. I cracked it soon
after they entered the city. The man's name is Hamsetis."
"Hamsetis," Athos
repeated, rolling it around his mouth. "Strange name."
"A strange man," Dondon
conceded. "Short fellow, muscular, with dark skin. It seems
he isn't used to sneaking about, and although he was instructed by his
superiors to keep a low profile while within the city, he himself doesn't
seem to see the value of it. He was fairly easy to locate and identify."
"What are his orders?"
Dondon shrugged.
"I couldn't guess. That's the million-gold-piece question at the
moment. If you find out, be sure and let me know."
"I will. So,
what as the guild done in response to all of this?"
Dondon lowered his
voice. "Nothing yet, but there's a tension on the streets - like
when a storm is approaching. A war will explode between the two groups
soon, you mark my words. I only hope I can watch my back and keep
out of it. Tulmara has the full resources of the guild and this is
home ground to her, but from what I understand this Hamsetis is supposed
to be a formidable leader in battle. Some kind of general back in
Mulhorand, or something like that, and he's never yet lost an engagement."
Athos nodded.
"One more thing,"
said Dondon.
"Yes?"
"Shand has quit the
guild."
Athos was surprised.
"I told him to be careful in what he did!" he swore. "Now the guild
will want him dead!" They might even contract the Viper to slay him
- and that could mean that Athos would have to kill him.
"No doubt," said Dondon.
"But the move was hardly unexpected, after what they did to him."
"What did they do
to him?"
"I understand they
beat him so badly he couldn't move for two days."
Athos was silent for
a moment. "It was because of me, wasn't it?"
Dondon nodded.
"Because he talked to you, yes."
Athos cursed himself
silently. Would this always be his legacy to others?
* * *
He had some free time
on his hands after speaking with Dondon, so Athos began wandering the streets
in the hopes that he might run across Shand. He didn't put much stock
in the idea, however. If Shand was on the run from the guild, the
wisest action he could take would be to go into hiding and stay there.
Wandering the streets would be the last thing Shand would do.
Had he the time, he
was certain he could have tracked the boy down using the the techniques
the Viper had taught him. As it was, he didn't even bother to begin.
It was late in the
day when they found him. He was on the street of lanterns, one of
the major thoroughfares in the slum section of the city, when abruptly
the late afternoon traffic melted away, leaving the street virtually abandoned.
Interested, but not
alarmed, Athos stood his ground, waiting to see what was happening.
A moment later,
they appeared. A dozen or so members of the cult of Set, at the far
end of the street. Athos turned faced them for a moment, realizing
that they were after him and wondering how they could possibly have found
him. He measured the distance between them. He could escape.
But when he turned,
he found that there were a dozen more only twenty yards behind him.
"They only roam the
streets at night," he murmured, recalling Dondon's words. They were
certainly risking quite a bit appearing in daylight like this, and again
Athos wondered at their actions. Why did they want to capture him
so badly?
The last of the townspeople
disappeared from the street.
Silence hung heavy
for a moment, and neither the cult members in front of him or those behind
moved.
Athos looked around
furiously. There were no side alleys he could reach. The windows
and doors nearest him had been shut and barred. He looked up.
There was a three story climb before him on either side - and this only
at the wall's lowest point. He knew he could not scale it before
they would reach him.
He was forced to admit
that they had boxed him in quite effectively. Perhaps if he hadn't
been so preoccupied with his musings on Shand, he would have realized he
was being trailed. But now...
He shot forward, towards
the wall on his right, and the two groups of cult members rushed him, a
roar emanating from them as they sprang to the attack.
Apparently these members
had no compunctions about using weapons against him, because he saw more
than one sword out and waving in his direction.
He couldn't make it
up the wall in time; that was certain.
Making it to the wall,
he put his back to it and prepared to sell his freedom at dear cost.
The false scars on his arm and his side which held his wire lockpicks were
in place, and he hoped that they at least would ensure he would have one
hidden weapon left to him even if he were captured.
And they were upon
him.
He slew two with his
sword before it became useless in the crush. The cult members didn't
mind dying; they literally threw themselves on his blade in their determination
to take him.
He took out three
more with his dagger before it became embedded in a black-clad body and
was ripped from his grasp.
And then he was helpless,
crushed up against the wall and unable to move, strong hands holding him
immobile.
There was a pinprick
as one of the men jabbed his neck with something, and then the world became
a blur.
He realized dimly
that he was drugged, but found himself too distracted with trying
to make out the people in motion around him that he didn't care.
Another roar sounded
on the street, and suddenly a second force joined the fray, crashing headlong
into the rear flanks of the first.
This second force
was less organized, and comprised of ununiformed men and women in various
states of dress, and armed with whatever they could bring to bear.
The members of the Zazesspurian thieves' guild descended on the cult of
Set with an unmatched fury. Today they would take back their streets
and avenge their former guildmaster - or die trying.
The cult members,
surprised and confused, turned and met the charge, defending their prize.
Athos found himself
dragged to the side as two of the black-clad men tried to carry him away
from the fray, attempting to deliver him to their master while the others
covered their retreat.
A crossbow bolt took
down one of them almost immediately, and an instant later a wiry thief
cut down the second, who was having so much trouble carrying the limp Athos
without the aid of his dead companion that he never saw the other man coming.
Athos landed hard
on his back. At another time this would have been painful, but now
he was too interested in the amazing blueness of the sky. He lay
there, limp, his lips moving slightly as he tried to say the word 'blue'
over and over again.
A second thief didn't
seem him laying there, a fact that cost the thief his life as he tripped
over Athos' limp form and was easily dispatched by a nearby cult member.
Athos saw this, but
didn't mind. He was busy saying the word 'blue', though he couldn't
remember quite why.
He felt two small
hands grip him by the arms.
Dimly he was aware
of being dragged on the cobbled street. This was fascinating to him,
for while he was moving, the sky was not. He tried to puzzle out
how this could be.
Gradually the noise
of the fighting faded, and Athos found himself looking up at a small face.
"Shammmbldd," he slurred,
then giggled at the sound.
Shand put a hand over
Athos' mouth. "Quiet. The city guard will arrive soon.
You don't want them to find you anymore than you want one of the guild
or cult members to find you, trust me."
Athos only laughed
harder. He stopped abruptly, and licked the palm of Shand's hand,
admiring the taste and texture.
"Yuck!" said Shand,
jerking back his hand.
Again Athos giggled.
"You've been drugged!"
Athos only laughed
harder. "Shammmbldd," he said again, and closed his eyes for a moment.
* * *
When he opened them
again, roughly five hours had passed.
He sat up groggily,
his blurred vision making the room spin around him.
"Where am I?" he croaked.
It was twilight outside,
and the room he was in was dark, having only one small window set high
in one of the walls where the ceiling met it. Other than the light
from the window, there was only a weak lanter to illuminate the small room.
"Athos!" said Dondon,
crossing the small room towards him. "You're awake!"
"Awake," repeated
Athos slowly. His tongue felt like it was made out of cotton.
"Yes, I am. What happened? There was a battle..." His
voice trailed off as he tried to recapture the memory.
"A battle between
the cult of Set and the members of the thieves' guild of Zazesspur," put
in Dondon helpfully. "The cult drugged you before the battle really
began, and Shand was able to drag you to safety when the thieves attacked."
"Thieves?" asked Athos
slowly, shaking his head. His vision was still slightly blurred.
"Do they know where I am?"
Dondon shook his head.
"No, of course not. Shand risked his life in going against their
orders to retrieve you."
Athos locked gazes
with the halfling, memory starting to return. "Shand! Where
is he?"
"Gone. He took
you here when everything was settled, and left. He was afraid he'd
been seen by the guildmembers, so he didn't want to waste time in any one
place."
"Where?" asked Athos,
looking around at the small room.
"I don't know," answered
Dondon, misunderstanding. "I told him it would be a good idea to
leave the city."
Athos shook his head.
"I meant where am I?"
"Oh. This is
my basement."
"What happened?"
Dondon's brow wrinkled
in confusion. "To my basement?"
Athos shook his head
again. "The battle. How did the battle end?"
Dondon nodded.
"Oh. The guild members wiped out the cult people to a man, although
it cost them heavily. The whole affair was finished by the time the
city guard arrived. All they found were bodies. They're still
trying to puzzle it out."
Athos nodded.
"What time is it now?"
"It's seven and one-half
hours past noon."
* * *
Grimwalde was ecstatic.
He hadn't known as much about the Viper as he had thought he had, after
all. Apparently the man had an apprentice of which Grimwalde had
known nothing. If it weren't for the Zazesspurian guild, he still
wouldn't know about him.
It was good his mentor
had established a strong alliance with the guild.
As long as they thought
the older wizard was still around, they would help Grimwalde if he needed
it.
Of course, lately
he had been having trouble keeping up appearances. Soon he was sure
the guild would want to see Thenedain in person. Which would be impossible.
Thenedain was long
gone, dead and unmourned in some far lower plane hopefully. And that
smarmy Valle, the apprentice Thenedain had taken with him, was hopefully
dead too.
Oh well. He'd
just have to think of some way to stall them when the time came.
* * *
Pook shifted in his
padded seat uncomfortably, his hand stroking his corpulent chin thoughtfully
as he pondered what he had just learned.
He had been concerned
when he had learned of the nine men who had been seen by his man the night
the cult had attacked Athos. They represented an element of which
he was entirely ignorant. He had understood exactly what each of
the other people involved in the incident were doing there, but the nine
men had remained a mystery.
A systematic inquiry
search had led to the answer. An informant within the Zazessurian
guild had been able to tell them who the nine men were, and more importantly
what their purpose was.
An assassination group,
formed for the sole purpose of slaying the Viper.
Pook had immediately
sent out orders that they were to found and brought to him.
Apparently, though,
the group had vanished, and Pook was even more concerned.
He briefly considered
the possibility that his informants simply hadn't found the group he was
looking for, but with a wave he dismissed the thought. The streets
had eyes and ears, and they answered to Pook. If the men were within
the city, they would have been found. No, they were not here.
He had wanted to seek
an alliance witht hem, or at least find out how much they knew of the Viper.
They could have been useful to him, in much the same way as the cult of
Set would be.
Should he tell the
cult of the Entreri squad's existance?
He contemplated the
idea for a moment, then decided against it. It would be better if
the cult was kept ignorant of this Entreri group's existance.
Now he needed to know
more about where the small group had disappeared to.
How could he use this
information to better his position?
He would have to wait
and see.
* * *
Hamsetis smashed a
chair into the wall, then turned and broke an oaken table in half with
a strike from one of his bare fists.
He roared in anger.
If only he could have
been there!
If he had, the one
they sought would not have escaped so easily. So close!
But how could he have
known that the common thieves and beggars of Zazesspur would attack him?
What purpose did this serve? Who directed their efforts and why?
He would find the
one responsible and kill him.
He turned to the black-clad
servant before him. "Set is angry with our failure. We must
avenge ourselves!"
The man blanched,
but betrayed no fear. He was loyal, as were all of Hamsetis men,
and he knew that they had done the best they could. No doubt Hodkamset
or Nekiset would have ordered them executed for their failure, but he knew
the value of loyal men, and did not endorse the needless slaughter of good
men. That was why they followed him, and would continue to follow
him.
He reigned in his
anger. "You had better leave me alone right now," he said in a dangerous
voice, and with a quick bow his manservant departed. He knew his
master's rages well, and was prudent enough to avoid them when he could.
Hamsetis flung another
chair at the wall. It burst into kindling, one leg lodging itself
in the wall itself.
He raged on for a
few minutes more before calming down enough to think fairly clearly.
Hodkamset! The
high priest would not be pleased with this news. How was he going
to explain this to Hodkamset?