Never trust neogi, whatever you may do
Never stare beholder down; they’ll likely
frown at you
Never shout at scro, never wrestle giff
Chapter
Twenty-Six
There was a low hiss as one of the Asperusa serving girls
poured another pitcher of hot water into the bath.
Elias Timoth leaned back, luxuriating in the play of the
water and sighing contentedly. The girl
was clothed in a diaphanous satin robe, worn open, which was so thin it left
nothing to the imagination, even on the parts of her body it covered. As she straightened it fell back, revealing
the bare skin beneath. His eyes traced
the lines of her body, admiring the shadows that played across her pale smooth
skin. She smiled at him shyly when she
noticed he was looking. “Thank you, my
lovely,” he said.
The bath was a huge rectangular pool of blue water in the
center of the chamber, mist rising above it and into the air. It was ringed on all sides with thick
marbled columns, and directly overhead was a domed glass ‘skylight’ beyond
which distant stars appeared to twinkle and play. (It was an illusion, of course.
Here, in the center of Syrrus B, there were no stars.)
The bath chamber was extravagant, tiled with marble
flooring that was worked with exotic designs.
The columns that ringed the pool and supported the skylight were not
alone; indeed, the room was filled with them, giving bathers the vague
impression of being in the center of a forest of stone. It was lit by magical glowing gems within
the bathing pool itself, which cast light upwards from beneath the water’s
surface, painting the room an eerie, undulating blue.
The serving girl stepped back, departing to retrieve more
hot water. Timoth watched the supple
muscles of her body as she went, and smiled again. Perhaps he would call her to him when she returned.
The moment she left, a stranger stepped from behind one
of the columns. “Good day,” he said as
calmly as if he were someone who had come by appointment, “You are Elias
Timoth.” It was not a question.
Timoth gave a violent start of surprise, half jerking out
of the water. His eyes narrowed and a
tight frown twisted his lips. “Who are
you?” he demanded with a flash of irritation.
“How did you get in here?”
The man inclined his head in a slight bow. “Twilight Jack, at your service.” He stepped to the edge of the pool. “You have heard of me?”
Timoth sank back down into the water. His eyes took on a hooded, considering
look. “Yes, I’ve heard of you. Quite a bit, just lately. You’re an assassin.”
Jack
nodded. “You don’t seem frightened,” he
pointed out.
Timoth sneered.
“I’m not a fool. There are
plenty of people who would pay to see me dead.
But you’re not just any assassin; I’ve heard about you. If you had come here to kill me I would
already be dead. So you must have come
for another reason.”
“Fair enough.
I’ve come to make you a proposition.”
Timoth quirked his eyebrow. “I make it a rule never to conduct business in my bath.”
“There are exceptions to every rule.”
Timoth considered.
“I could call my guards,” he pointed out. “One shout from me will bring them running.”
Jack shrugged.
“If you want to see them die.
Personally, I’d rather you didn’t.
I dislike killing unnecessarily, especially when it’s men who are only
doing what they’ve been paid to do.”
The thin, half-amused smile reappeared on Timoth’s
face. “You think I’ll let them live?”
he asked. “After they let you into my
most private chambers? They’ve proven
their uselessness. I don’t extend mercy
to men who’ve failed me. They die
whether you do it or not.”
Again Jack shrugged.
“It’s your decision,” he said simply, “but I would prefer you didn’t
make me a part of it. I would look on
it as an irritation, and be less inclined to do business with you.”
Timoth was surprised.
“You really think you could do it, don’t you? Most men in your position would have threatened me, not my guards.”
“If it makes you feel better,” said Jack, “I could kill
you before they entered the room. It would
be counterproductive to my purpose, so I won’t. But I could. Now that the
threat has been delivered, can we get to the reason that brings me here?”
“You know,” said Timoth softly, almost talking to
himself, “I’m almost tempted to call them, just to see if you’re as good as you
think you are. And it would be a
fitting death for them. Poetic. But...” His voice trailed off. “Very well then,” he said at last, leaning
back in the water. “Make your
proposition.”
“I need to get off-planet. I want you to tell me how to do it.”
Timoth chuckled.
“I thought that might be the case.
After all, the Duchess has half the able-bodied men in the city out
combing the streets for you and your companions, and the bounty Blackthorne has
offered has got the other half of them scrambling to find you as well.”
“It’s a pretty large bounty,” Jack agreed amiably. “Even a man in your position might be
tempted by it. I wouldn’t be surprised
if you were entertaining the notion of selling me out for it.”
“I am,” admitted Timoth nonchalantly, “but I’m willing to
hear your proposal. It may be that I
can profit from both ends on this one.
I help you; I help them. Maybe
you get out, maybe you don’t. I love
these win-win situations. But I’m
getting ahead of myself. Why come to
me, assassin? I have nothing to do with
spelljamming, or shipping of any kind.”
“You’re the broker for the Blue Man,” said Jack, “and a
wealthy and powerful man in your own right.
Don’t tell me you don’t know a way off-planet. I know men like you, and you wouldn’t be caught unprepared if
things went sour. You’ve had an escape
route from the moment you set up business here.”
Timoth stroked his chin.
“Maybe you’re right and maybe you’re not. Maybe I know a little something that could help you. Let’s say I do. What have you got to offer?
All I’ve heard about so far is what you want from me.”
“Selithera Duchesca.”
A slight flash of surprise crossed Timoth’s face, quickly
replaced by a guarded look. “What?”
“Your daughter,” said Jack. “I’ve got her. Give me
what I want and you can have her back.
Cross me and the girl dies.”
A crafty look came onto Timoth’s eyes. “I don’t think I know her,” he said, a thin
smile of amusement creeping onto his lips.
“Let me refresh your memory. She’s about nineteen.
Thin. Blue eyes. Very pretty. In fact, she doesn’t look a thing like you. And when I found her, she was being held
hostage by some of Trytius’s men.”
“Oh, her.” Timoth
shrugged apologetically. “I have so
many bastard children, you know. It’s
difficult to keep track. I’m sorry, if
that’s all the leverage you’ve got, I’m not interested in doing business.”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Not interested?”
Timoth uttered a short bark of laughter. “Look around you, assassin. What do you see? Luxury of the highest order.
And why? Because I am a very
important man. I measure that importance
by the number of women I bed. I would
venture to say that I have more pleasure slaves than any other man alive. I even have a Reigar girl - did you know
that?” He grinned lecherously. “She’s my favorite. Not because she’s the best, mind, but
because she’s the rarest. You begin to
understand? So naturally enough, as
collecting women is my hobby, I have sired more than a few bastards. The Storyteller even gave me a verse not
long ago. But, unfortunately for you,
that’s all they are to me - bastards.
“So you see the weakness of your position. In order for us to do business, you have to
have something I want. And I don’t give
a tinker’s damn about the girl, daughter or not.”
“You mistake my resolve,” said Jack, his eyes narrowing,
“if you think that I am anything less than deadly serious regarding my
threat. Refuse us aid and the girl
dies.”
Timoth’s smile only widened. “You think I’m bluffing?
Go ahead; kill her. I admit that
it’s a bit distasteful shedding the blood of an innocent, but you are a fool if
you believe it will cause me even a moment’s guilt.”
Jack was quiet, considering. Timoth seemed to be serious - more than that, the man seemed to
be daring him to carry out his threat.
But why? If Trytius was holding
the girl, there must have been a reason.
And then it hit him.
“You want her
dead,” he said, reasoning it out.
“Trytius didn’t kidnap her from you.
He was holding her as a bargaining chip of some kind, protecting her
from you.”
Timoth’s smile faded slightly. “Don’t be absurd. I told
you: the girl is nothing to me. Destroy
her or not, as you please.”
But Jack had seen the slight disappointment that crossed
the man’s face, and he knew he was right.
“I know what you told me. I also
know you are lying. You want her
dead. But why? What could a nineteen year old girl hold
over a man like you?”
Timoth’s smile had vanished completely, replaced by an
angry scowl. “The girl is nothing to
me,” he repeated, more forcefully.
“Slay her or not, as you please, but don’t insult me by calling me a
liar. As for your desire to get
off-planet, you have stated your terms and I find that you have nothing to
offer me. So I think perhaps this
audience is over.”
Jack had been speaking half to himself. Now he faced Timoth fully. “I don’t know what she holds over you, why
you consider her a threat. But I can
find out, I promise you that.”
A flush of anger played over Timoth’s face. “I think I should call my guards after all,”
he said. “Perhaps then-”
“No need to be rude,” chided Jack. “We can still deal. You want the girl dead? I am an assassin by trade, and in the
perfect position to make her disappear forever. All I ask is for a way off-planet.”
Timoth stared at him for a moment, then slowly closed his
mouth. “You’re serious, aren’t
you? A minute ago you were saying that
you didn’t want to kill my guardsmen because they were just doing their
job. But you’d murder an innocent girl
just to get what you want? You are cold
blooded, assassin.”
Jack shrugged.
“Business is business. Do we
have a deal?”
Timoth was silent a moment, eyeing Jack warily, as if
uncertain of a trap. “What if I said
yes? How would I know that you’d fulfilled
your part of the bargain?”
Jack looked bored.
“You find a way to get us off-planet, and I’ll kill the girl. I’ve never reneged on a contract yet. And I might add that compared to my normal
rates, you’re getting quite a bargain.”
Timoth shook his head.
“No deal. Kill the girl first,
then I’ll help you.”
“Do you take me for a fool? The girl dies when we’re off planet. No sooner.”
Timoth leaned back.
“Unacceptable. I want to see the
body.”
Jack was quiet.
“Suppose,” he said at last, “we reached a compromise. I deliver her to you the moment we
depart. The girl is dead, it’s too late
for you to back out of your promise, and everyone is happy.”
Timoth considered.
“The idea has merit. Yes, I
think perhaps we can come to an understanding.”
“Good.” Then Jack
gave him a warning look. “A small piece
of advice for you, though. You will be
tempted to sell me out. Don’t. Don’t even consider it. If you betray me - or anyone with me - you
will live to regret it. I will consider
our deal off, and not only will the girl live, but I will put you on my
‘unfavored person’ list.” A thin,
dangerous smile appeared on his face.
“You don’t want to be on that list, Timoth.”
* * *
Reanyn approached the abandoned building cautiously. For the past half hour he had traveled
through the blackness of the outer city without a light, relying solely on his
infravision to guide him. It made for
slower going than he would have preferred, but Blackthorne had already managed
to take him by surprise once, and Reanyn wasn’t about to be caught unaware a
second time. It wasn’t likely that
Blackthorne would have posted men out here to search for him, but it was
possible.
He didn’t remember much of the battle - he had been
unconscious for most of it - but Nym had described what had happened. Even so, he was surprised at the
devastation.
Where the building had stood before, there was now only a
series of blasted chunks of mortar and stone, some of it smashed to
powder. There were only two walls still
standing, each pitted and scarred, with ragged holes torn out of them. The remnants of the building and the ground
surrounding it were both scorched and blackened as if by some tremendous heat -
in some places the stone had been melted until it was smooth as glass.
And we lived
through this? he thought, half in wonder.
He had seen worse, of course, but the thought that he had been
unconscious and helpless while Blackthorne and his men had destroyed this
place... He felt a twinge of self-anger
that he had allowed himself to be ambushed, then immediately shook it off. Anger was the most dangerous emotion; the
skilled warrior never succumbed to it.
And he had come for a different reason.
After an exhaustive search within the inhabited part of Syrrus B he had
failed to find the fal (though more than once he had run across Blackthorne’s
men who were working to find the creature as well. Twice he had been spotted by them and nearly come into open
confrontation.)
More important, he had failed to discover even the
slightest trace that the fal had ever returned to the city proper. And for a creature as recognizable and
distinctive as the fal, that could mean only one thing: it had never returned. And if it had not returned to the city
proper, that meant it could be anywhere out in the ruins.
So Reanyn had returned to the site where the fal had last
been seen. It seemed extremely unlikely
that the creature would come back here, but it was a place to start, and
perhaps there would be some sign of which way it had fled. Reanyn was a better than average tracker (in
his work, he had to be) and would have been fairly confident he could track any
average person, even over ground as rough as this. But the fal was not a creature he was familiar with. Its means of locomotion, the tracks it would
leave behind - these were unknowns. And
that could make the task daunting.
He was not encouraged by the scene before him. As damaged as the building was, it was
incredibly unlikely that the fal would have returned here for shelter. And as damaged as the grounds were, it would
be difficult to find any trace of which way the fal had gone.
There were
tracks - even from here he could see them.
Too many tracks. Blackthorne had
brought fifty fighting men with him.
Likely they had trampled the entire area, and hidden any signs the fal
might have left.
Suddenly he froze, head cocked to one side, listening.
Voices.
Human. Probably thirty or forty
yards to his left, and pitched low. He
peered into the darkness in that direction and was rewarded a moment later by
the tiniest flicker of light - likely a torch reflected off rock. There was too much rubble between where he
stood and where the voices were to see anything, but he could guess what it
was. Blackthorne had posted men here
after all, just in case Reanyn or any of his party returned.
His mouth turned down into a frown. Blackthorne was thorough, there was no
faulting him on that, but why would he post men here? Surely he didn’t believe that Reanyn would walk into the same
trap twice. It was a waste of manpower.
Then, suddenly, he realized what he was hearing. The voices were pitched low, but they were
taunting, cruel, triumphant.
Triumphant? That implied that
they had found something. And if they haven’t found me, thought
Reanyn, what else would they be looking
for?
He slipped forward, darting stealthily through the rubble
in the direction of the sounds. Moments
later he caught sight of the men who were speaking.
There were about fifteen of them, all human, all armed. They were roughened and coarse men, unwashed
and unshaven, and the armor they bore was ragged and piecemeal. Reanyn had seen their type before, many
times. Mercenaries. That wasn’t
surprising; nearly all of Blackthorne’s men were hired killers.
The leader was a big swarthy man with an eye patch and a
crooked jaw. He loomed over the others,
arms crossed, a skeptical expression on his face. Another, shorter wiry man stood to his right, licking his lips
nervously and peering anxiously over the shoulder of a third man, who was
crouched on the ground, bent over a soft patch of dirt.
“So, I was right, Digger?” said the wiry man, his voice
both whiny and excited. “I knew I saw
it, damn ugly thing.”
The one who was crouched on the ground looked up, his
face breaking into a leering, cracked-tooth grin. “I reckon you did. This
track’s good.” He straightened. “Fresh too, by the looks of it.”
The tall one spoke at last. “Looks like we got ourselves a bonus, boys. Spread out, it can’t have got far. And pair up.
We don’t know what that thing can do.”
“It’s a piking Seeker,” grumbled one of the other
men. “Ain’t never heard of a Seeker
that was worth a damn in a fight.”
The leader casually seized him by his jerkin with one hand and dragged him forward. “I said pair up, Callo. That means pair up. Unless you don’t think I’m in charge?” He eyed the smaller man closely, then, when the smaller man refused to meet his gaze, he shoved, sending him sprawling backwards. “Fine then. Anybody else want to discuss it? No? Then pair up and spread out.”
Reanyn melted back into the shadows as the mercenaries
formed themselves into groups of two and split into different directions. One of the groups headed straight back
towards where he was hiding, but Reanyn had no trouble escaping detection. The lead man held a brightly burning torch
up high before his face. Not only did
the light partially blind the man to the surrounding darkness, but as he swung
it back and forth it served to deepen the shadows between the rocks and
boulders. The man behind held a cocked
crossbow at the ready, but marched stolidly along behind his companion,
scarcely looking right or left.
Reanyn merely
stepped back into a narrow opening between two large rocks and dropped into a
crouch. The first man passed without so
much as glancing in his direction. The
second peered into the darkness, his gaze passing directly over the place
Reanyn stood, but saw nothing. His
crossbow was cocked and ready, but aimed casually at the first man’s back.
If all of the
mercenaries are fools like these, thought Reanyn, they will find nothing.
But not all of them would be fools. One of them, at least, was able to spot a
recent track on rocky soil. If Reanyn
wanted to avoid them, it would not be difficult. But if he wanted to find whatever it was they were looking for,
he would have to act quickly.
And he was fairly certain they were searching for the
fal.
As soon as the two had fumbled past him, Reanyn struck
out, darting through the shadows in the direction they had come from.
It took him scant minutes to backtrack their trail to the
place where they had found the fal’s tracks, but to his dismay he discovered
that the ground here was no less rocky than anywhere else. He looked for several minutes, but couldn’t
find tracks even of the men who had just been standing here, much less the
trail sign of the fal.
Perhaps I should follow them, he mused. If their tracker is good enough to pick
up a trail on terrain like this, he’s better than me anyway.
There was an excited shout some distance away, one of the
mercenaries calling out to his companions, and Reanyn cocked his head to
listen, worried. If one of them had
already discovered the fal, they might kill the poor creature before he had
time to stop them –
“Concern is appreciated, manling,” came a sibilant
soft-spoken voice to his left, “but hardly warranted.”
Reanyn flinched into a half crouch, ducking away from the
sound and whirling.
There, in the shadows beside a crumbling mound of stone,
was the fal.
The creature ducked its head to the side as if startled
by Reanyn’s sudden movement.
“Apologies. This one did not
intend to surprise you, manling.”
Sheepishly, Reanyn stood back up, annoyed at himself
again. He could count on his fingers the
number of times he had been caught completely unawares, and now it had happened
twice in as many days. “Where did you
come from?” he asked quietly. “How did
you sneak up on me?”
“This one has searched for a way to reach you for many
hours,” said the fal. “This one has
been frustrated in its efforts.”
“You were looking for me?”
“This one has a message to deliver to you,” said the
fal. “A message from one Jarren
Windhook, who has been taken.”
There was another shout just then, closer to hand, one of
the mercenaries calling to his comrades.
Reanyn glanced in the direction of the shout. “They’re getting closer.”
“They will find nothing, for they hear and see only what
this one shows them. Their minds are
not strong.”
There was a beat, and then Reanyn understood. “You’re a mindbender.”
“This one possesses certain psionic talents,” corrected
the fal. “This one does not know the
way of bending minds. This is why
reaching you before now was impossible.”
“Impossible? You
mean because you couldn’t enter the city without being spotted? But you could easily have… Wait.
The stargem. Of course, that’s
what you mean.”
“Indeed,” said the fal.
“Screaming sounder. It makes
much noise; hurts and causes confusion.
This one was unable to approach undetected as a result. But now you have come, manling, and this one
may perform duty for friend Jarren Windhook.”
“What duty?” asked Reanyn, “What message? Windhook was taken by Blackthorne; how could
he have given any message to you?”
“Message was given to this one before friend Jarren
Windhook was taken by angry manlings.
This one was instructed to hold it in trust for Seeker friends.”
“Why give it to me, then?” Reanyn asked, shaking his
head. “I am no Seeker.”
“Seeker friend,” the fal repeated simply. One of its tentacles moved as it spoke,
reaching up into its toothy maw and wriggling about. A moment later it emerged, bringing out a small packet of brown
paper that it thrust at Reanyn. “Here
is message.”
Reanyn took it gingerly.
It was glistening and wet, covered by some vaguely slimy secretion. “… thanks.”
The fal bobbed its head once. “Now this one must go.
Duty is performed.”
“Where will you go?” asked Reanyn as it turned away. “Now that you are hunted, you cannot return
to the city.”
“This one has already sent the mindcall to elder
teachers,” it answered without turning.
“Harbor no fear; this one will be safe and well. Experimental interaction with manling
community is now terminated. Good day
to you, Reanyn Al’nuoth.”
As it faded into the darkness a far off motion caught
Reanyn’s eyes. A pair of lights, slowly
ascending into the black sky. A ship
lifting, lanterns fore and aft, he mused.
One of Blackthorne’s, no doubt.
He watched until the twin lights flickered out of existence as the ship
entered the tunnel far above, then turned his attention to the message the fal
had given him.
Reanyn turned the brown packet of paper over in his
hands. Blank on both sides, but
sealed. He wiped the mucous secretion
off and tore it open.
* * *
The hole was set into the rock, a shaft that fell away
into darkness. It was roughly circular,
and at its widest point was about twenty feet across. There was a small pile of fan-shaped devices laying scattered a
few feet from the near rim. They were
made of cloth and wood, and each was about the size of a large dinner plate.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Jack, looking at it.
Elias Timoth was flanked on either side by two of his
giff guardsmen, each armed with muskets.
One of them also held a lantern, the only illumination in the little
cave where they stood. “I said it was
an escape route,” Timoth said, shrugging.
“I didn’t say it was pretty.”
“You don’t honestly expect me to make a leap of faith
into that.”
Timoth shrugged again. “You could climb down, if you wanted, but it would take a lot
longer. And the walls are a little
slick.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. Anything could be waiting for me down there;
blades set into the walls, an umber hulk or two at the bottom… even solid
ground would be fatal, if the drop is long enough.”
“I told you before: there is no bottom. It’s a tunnel that bores straight through
the asteroid. There’s a larger cave on
the other side where my escape vessel waits, fully outfitted. The gravity field reverses itself about
halfway down; all you have to do is jump.”
“So you say.”
Timoth sighed and shook his head sadly. “Such a lack of trust. Very well then, perhaps a demonstration is
in order. Trooper Duric.”
One of the two giff straightened. “Sir!”
“Kindly give the good assassin a demonstration.”
The giff grinned hugely.
“Yes, sir!” He handed his musket
to the other giff, took two steps briskly forward and bent over the pile of
fans, picked up one with each hand, and trotted to the edge of the pit.
Jack watched in bemusement as the ungainly creature
squatted down once… twice… a third time, stretching. Then it leaped into the air, diving straight into the pit.
“AAARRRROOOOoooooo!” it howled joyfully, plunging down into
the blackness. The cry faded with
distance as the creature fell, finally vanishing altogether.
Jack stepped to the edge, peering down. There was no sign of the giff.
He nudged one of the fans with his boot. “What are these for?”
“Steering,” said Timoth.
“The gravity plane’s about two hundred fifty feet down. By the time you pass it you’ll be falling at
a pretty good rate. If you were to clip
the tunnel wall you’d lose more than just a little skin.”
Jack didn’t answer.
“Well, now you’ve seen it demonstrated. Do we have a deal, assassin?”
“Your guardsman hasn’t come back up yet,” said Jack.
But at just that moment there came the distant noise of
the giff’s cry, which built and built.
Far below a tiny speck resolved itself out of the darkness, growing and
growing as the giff hurtled upwards.
Jack stepped back from the edge as the giff shot up out
of the hole.
The giff rose about ten feet into the air above the pit
before his upward motion reached its peak.
Arms fluttering ungainly, he fell downwards again, landing in a sprawl
just a few feet beyond the rim of the pit.
“That’s the most difficult part, I’m told,” said Timoth
as the giff picked himself up, still grinning hugely. “Keeping from falling back through the hole.”
Jack looked at him.
“How did you find out about this?
Don’t tell me you decided to go cave spelunking for kicks and just
stumbled across it.”
Timoth laughed.
“Hardly that. In addition to my
other duties, I serve as a part time judge within the Syrrus B legal system.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a legal system on Syrrus B.”
“It’s a matter of a opinion,” Timoth allowed
amiably. “But due to the strength of my
patron, there are certain provinces of the city that fall under my…
jurisdiction.”
“Meaning that because the Blue Man has substantial
holdings and enforcers you can exercise authority over commoners.”
Timoth nodded.
“Something like that. Anyway,
there was a once an unfortunate gnome who tried to steal from one of the Blue
Man’s warehouses. The poor wretch was
caught and brought before me. I
sentenced him to death, as you may expect, but he offered up the secret of this
tunnel in exchange for his life.”
“You executed him anyway, I assume.”
Timoth shrugged.
“The sentence had already been delivered; what was I to do? It’s not that I don’t keep my bargains,
mind. I simply never made one with
him. Justice has to be served.”
“Of course,” said Jack dryly. “And keeping the tunnel a secret never entered your mind.”
“It was a side benefit, I admit. But the tunnel exists and so does the
ship. You asked for an escape route and
I’ve provided one. Do we have a deal?”
“Possibly,” said Jack, stepping to the edge of the hole. “But I haven’t seen for myself yet.” He bent down to pick up two of the fans.