The Assassin's Twisted Path Page 8

  “Oh.” A strange sensation filled Edar’s aching heart. No one loves me. Maybe no one ever had. Was Roark even his friend or was he here for his own Great Work? I want to see Mama. But the image that rose in his mind was not of the former apothecary, but of the farmer.

  Roark embraced him about the shoulders. “Are you alright? I’ll stay beside you and help you with whatever you need.”

  “Until the Guild calls,” Edar said bitterly.

  “Well, I need to work, but not today,” Roark said. “And we’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Well, first, I need to figure out how to wake that girl and get her out of here. What if mama sees her!”

  “Edar, your mother is dead.”

  “What, yes, yes.” Edar shook his head. He was a grown man. He had lived over a century. What was wrong with him? He cleared his throat. “Roark, you must ensure I don’t wander off to my parents’ house. I mean Thomas’s parents’ house. He misses his mother. I guess we have those things in common. Or perhaps it is my memory of my own mother that woke him. He’s still here.”

  “Perhaps we should work on a new salve?”

  “New salve?”

  “For the rash? Remember Port Welliver burned. You know how to create salves and remedies, Thomas doesn’t. Be more you.”

  Edar no longer cared about the salve or the sickness, but he nodded. It was something to do. “Yes, good idea.” Crossing the room to his safe, he asked, “Roark, do you know how much I owe her? Or the going rate for such activities?”

  Roark shook his head. “In Fairdhel, such things are discussed in advance. Um, try a half-sovereign, and if it’s not enough maybe a full one. Increase by a tenth.”

  Edar slipped back into his room. The girl still slept. He shook her shoulder. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Can I offer you breakfast? My associate and I need to get to work.”

  He held out a half-sovereign and knew he’d already overpaid by the excitement that spread over her face. She took it and quickly dressed. He watched her, mostly looking for the rash which he didn’t see. Thank the Gods, I just got this new body. I’ll need to be more careful.

  “I hope you enjoyed it?” he asked her.

  “I always enjoy a tumble,” she said.

  A sour feeling lined Edar’s throat, he stopped her at the door. He gave her another half.

  “Did you want something else?” she asked sweetly.

  “No, but listen, a new disease is coming to Port Denwort. Be safe out there. Or stop doing what you’re doing if you can.”

  “Ha, so you’re one of those.” She snatched the half-crown out of his hand and slammed the door as she left.

  •

  Chapter 17

  Port Denwort in the Realm of Dynion

  Edar and Roark concocted seven new salves. The day had been uneventful until Edar excused himself. Minutes later, Roark heard a crash from Edar’s room. He hurried inside to find Edar on the floor, punching his mirror which dented the polished brass until it was unusable.

  “What are you doing?”

  Edar looked at him with rage in his eyes. He grabbed his stool and hurtled it towards Roark who backed into the hallway before it crashed into the door jam and broke into pieces.

  “He’s taking me over!” Edar grabbed a grooming blade off his dressing table. He cut his bare chest. “He wants me out.”

  Roark grabbed Edar’s wrist and disarmed him. The knife clattered against the wooden floor.

  Roark grabbed an undertunic off the floor and pressed it to the wound, ignoring the perspiration and stench of chemicals.

  “Help me.”

  “Let’s get you back in the kitchen. It’ll be alright. We’ll find the answer.”

  “You may have to kill me,” Edar whispered. “Thomas gently knocks on each brain cell as he gains control of my body.”

  “No, I won’t. We’ll get through this.” Roark lifted Edar from below his arm and half-dragged him back to the kitchen.

  “You’re a guild assassin. Killing is what you do. If I lose control, I might hurt someone: Byronia for example or maybe even Alana.”

  “No, you won’t. I know you won’t. I’ve seen her future.”

  “Will you look into my future?”

  “Yes, but not until you are better, my friend. It takes much out of me and right now you need me at my best.”

  Edar nodded. “It’s been so many years since I had someone to rely upon. Thank you for staying.”

  A rush of protectiveness filled Roark’s heart, and he suddenly wondered why he was so adamant before about not wanting a child. Maybe he did want one. Not now, but who was to say what would happen in five years. Edar and his experiments would go on. Maybe by then, Roark would have a consort.

  In Edar’s current form, he might take a wife. They would have someone to take care of and to take care of them and any children.

  The quartz dug into his flesh: Do not look into the future; stay here and tell Edar that this is what you saw. Give him hope.

  •

  Chapter 18

  Port Denwort in the Realm of Dynion

  Trying to find a solution, Roark paced in Edar’s mother’s room. Every piece of furniture had turned foreign and cruel. Roark penned a letter to Alana to ask for help, but couldn’t send it. Alana would hate me if she knew what we did to Thomas. I betrayed my friendship with Kian and Eohan by taking the boy’s body and giving it to Edar. How could I do this? How could I? There has to be another way. This is not the Work. This is the opposite. This is slavery of the worst kind.

  He walked to Mayor Kleidmacher’s house.

  “Edar’s symptoms have taken a turn for the worse,” he said to the footman.

  The footman hurried inside to deliver the message.

  “The mayor has more pressing matters,” The footman said, “but agrees to see you for a few minutes.”

  The mayor met Roark in the hallway instead of the parlor. He noted the grandson with a pretty girl a few years younger beside him on the divan inside. By her hair, she was still a maiden, perhaps the grandson’s betrothed. Thinking of the mayor’s old hands upon that sweet-looking girl, he inwardly vowed, I will not be part of this.

  The quartz shocked him. What does it matter who the human mayor is? These aren’t even your people.

  Roark wondered why he cared about some young couple he didn’t even know, but Edar’s symptom’s remained in the forefront of his mind. He quickly informed the mayor of their lack of progress.

  Mayor Kleidmacher cocked his head to the side and glanced over his shoulder. “Keep me informed, Lord Roark. I do not take broken favors lightly.”

  Once out of the house, Roark went to the mayor’s stables, saddled his dear mare and led Jaci from the stables down the dirty streets of Port Denwort to the Golden Sea. She was not happy about the downgraded residence, but it wasn’t the worse place she’d slept, and the stablehands were Guild trained.

  Roark kicked a pebble as he shuffled into the public house. Who do I work for? Corwin, Mayor Kleidmacher, Edar? I work for myself. This is my journey.

  Under his shirt, the quartz vibrated. He pulled it from his tunic and gazed within its depths. More ancient than he even in its current form, the pendant knew what he had done, but didn’t care.

  “You lived before the Schism.”

  And I’ll live long after. The old man told you to learn. Why do you think that is?

  The quartz’s knowledge flooded his mind.

  “Because of the Eighth Realm beings are coming,” Roark said. “Edar’s transmutation is only to learn what they do.”

  Byronia came beside him. “Roark, what are you doing?”

  Roark quickly slipped the chain under his tunic. “Considering all that happened last night.”

  She put up her fingers, and the barkeep poured two pints of mead. The barkeep led them to a private room before he realized they weren’t in the main room anymore.

  She sat down on the long bench and gestured for him to sit beside he
r as the barkeep set down their mead and left.

  “What’s going on? Are you lost in a vision?”

  “No, I mean I don’t know, but Edar’s dying.”

  Byronia pursed her lips and held his hand tightly. “It isn’t your fault you were doing as he asked.”

  “But Thomas didn’t ask for this, and he is angry.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Byronia sighed. “Nor did I, nor did you. I’m taking the hair to the Guild House. Come with me. Leave this madness.”

  Roark shook his head. “I can’t leave Edar. Will you tell your uncle all that we learned over the past nights? I’d rather not see him right now.”

  “If it pleases you.” She reached out and touched his hand. “We’ll live long beyond this day. I believe we both have foreseen that.”

  Roark blinked and met her sapphire eyes. “Did Corwin ever hit you?”

  She shrugged. “A few slaps across the head when I was an apprentice. Mostly as long as I respected his position he didn’t care what I did or how quickly I learned. And he grabbed me once as an adult and threatened me. That frightened me, but he didn’t hurt me.”

  He rubbed the quartz under his shirt. This time it did not or could not offer advice. “What I’m trying to ask is: you don’t fear him beating our daughter or anything like that?”

  “You saw her?”

  Roark nodded.

  “Of course not. Corwin will love her, but his mistakes will be on her shoulders. If she dies, he will kill himself, which will begin the chain reaction through the Guild Houses and Seven Realms will crumble.”

  “He kills her?”

  Byronia’s eyes grew distant. “He is only responsible through inadvertence, but he is a House Master first and foremost. If I leave her to his care, she will stand alone, and the curse’s madness will creep into her. But her father won’t let her stand alone. If she does not fall, she is or will be the War Ender to save us. I have already gone beyond the Seven Realms; your work is important or will be. Why is speaking about visions so maddening? I looked at all the paths. So many paths … ”

  “I’m not sure I want to be a father.”

  “Then why did you ask me for a child?”

  “I ask you?”

  “Yes.” She shook her head and her eyes settled upon him. “At least you did in the vision, but maybe by having this conversation we changed the future, and I ask you. Now would you like me to move Jaci? I already moved Joy. If you fear for her safety, the Golden Sea won’t protect her if it comes from the mayor. Guild trained staff, indeed.”

  •

  Chapter 19

  Port Denwort in the Realm of Dynion

  Thomas awoke under strange sheets in a strange room, everything was too neat and well-kept for him to be at the farm. The young man shivered as if a spider skittered up his back. He rubbed his hands on his arms as acid roiled in his stomach. He burped. Dryness coated his mouth, and sour wine lingered on his tongue. Homesick for the taste of his mother’s chicken soup, Thomas slipped out of bed and went to the window.

  In the reflection, he could almost detect the monster trapped in his body. The old lich clung to him and slowly eroded his soul, but he couldn’t see where it was or the damage it was causing. He must escape before madness descended again.

  Ma had wept at our parting. He thought of his father who used to lift him on his shoulders and exclaim that his entire allotment would one day be Thomas’s. He missed his younger sister’s songs and his brother’s games. The three worked the farm with their parents, played together and bickered until the accident. He knew he couldn’t go back, but he had to let his sister know he forgave her for taking all that was once his. And hoped she forgave him for taking what was hers. If he could only find peace before the monster came back.

  He sat in the soft bed. Beside him, still sleeping was not his little brother, but an elfkin with red hair. They were about the same age, but Thomas feared him as an enemy. He didn’t know how or why, he just feared him.

  He crept out of bed and crossed the room to the window. It was still night. Thomas’s hands trembled as he undid the latch. He swung open the window wide and jumped down into the herb garden trampling a lavender bush.

  Glancing around, he decided he must be in a townhome’s garden. No one in the country did so little with land. The only animals were mice and nightbirds. He crept past the rosebushes to the garden fence when the elfkin tackled him from behind.

  Thomas spat out dirt from his mouth and cried, “Let me go!”

  “Edar, wake up!”

  Thomas jerked upwards and tried to rise, but was surprised by the elfkin’s strength. The elfkin pulled him to his feet and gripped Thomas’s arm behind his back and squeezed. He shoved two fingers into Thomas’s armpit, forcing the other boy to move or crumple with agony. “Why do you do this?”

  “Edar, you are unwell.”

  “My name’s Thomas! Let me go.”

  The elfkin shoved him through the garden door and into the kitchen where Thomas was sprawled onto the kitchen floor. “Thomas, then, you are unwell. I am Roark. I am your friend.”

  “Get away from me.” Scrambling across the room, Thomas grabbed a cup off the shelf and threw it at him. Roark dodged it, caught him again and opened the cellar door.

  Thomas cried out in terror as his feet hit the stairs. “No, don’t take me down there.”

  Blackness was below him. He elbowed backward, he pulled and pushed, but the elfkin was too strong. Roark slapped him across the face.

  “Edar. Wake up. Damn you, Edar.” Each step, they were lower into the earth. The cellar door was more distant, escape more unlikely. Thomas’s feet hit the stone ground.

  Ignoring the agony, Thomas ripped his arms away. The intense pain radiated from his shoulders to his entire torso and down his legs. He made it to the steps. Roark had hold of him again, twisted him around and knocked him onto a metal table.

  Thomas screamed as leather straps went over his wrists. He kicked upwards hard but connected with nothing. Roark had one leg down, and then the next. Another strap went over his chest.

  The light came on. Unspeakable atrocities lined the wall in jars and beside him, Roark crumpled to his knees and muttered, “What have I done?”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  Roark didn’t answer.

  “Let me go; let me see my mother.”

  Roark looked up then with a pained stare. “Your mother?”

  Thomas nodded. He had a single moment of hope that the elfkin might release him until he felt the monster behind his eyes, growing stronger. Devouring him, his memories until all he could see was his mother crying. “My mother misses me. No. No. No.”

  Edar broke through Thomas’s frightened and bitter mind and retook the body. He wasn’t surprised to find himself strapped to his own gurney, Roark’s blue eyes looking down on him in concern. “Are you alright?”

  “It seems Thomas wasn’t contrite enough, or two grown souls can’t be in the same body. Find me another.”

  “But … ”

  “Go now, I don’t know how long I can keep control.”

  Roark unlatched him and scurried up the stairs. His footfalls pounding against the wood. He slammed the door to the cellar behind him, Edar winced at the thundering sounds. He slipped off the gurney and went to make himself a bath.

  •

  It was not yet dawn as Roark wandered through the shop-lined streets. Above the shops were the homes of merchants. The wealthiest had multiple floors reaching to the sky, the poorest only an apartment over their shop. He could slip in and steal one even before they knew he did it, but these people were protected by Mayor Kleidmacher. If he was caught killing out of contract, the Guild would be informed. He would be crucified.

  He had seen the fear in Thomas’s eyes. He had seen the love he had for his family. That is why the spell ultimately failed.

  Huddled between allies and under the docks in numbers for safety and warmth, urchins still slept. Some looked healthy enough
for Edar. Some might be healthy enough in a month with good food and warm clothing. No one would miss an orphaned, homeless child, even one of their own number, but Roark couldn’t attack a defenseless child. I became an assassin so I would not be responsible for the loss of innocents. He turned away.

  As the sun rose, all around him people woke to morning chores. Slaves were running errands for their masters and mistresses as the shopkeepers opened their shops. These people were innocent, just like the laundress had been when the Vodnik Lord found her. He had become the Vodnik lord.

  The quartz pendant quivered against his flesh and pulsed energy into him. Stop overreacting.

  “Stop overreacting,” he muttered to himself.

  In the alleys, several rentboys and girls were chattering about the night’s take. Roark found a rentboy who hadn’t left the corner yet who looked to be about eighteen with tanned skin. His hair was brown but looked golden in the morning light as did his eyes. He was a few fingers taller than Roark, perhaps he might grow a few fingers more with proper nutrition. His limbs were slender, but he might have some muscles if he worked at it. And since his clothing was sparse, Roark could see no sign of the rash. He would do.

  “Do you service men?” Roark asked.

  “I service anyone willing to pay,” the rentboy said in the casual tired tone of one who hadn’t slept all night.

  “Ever go to a private residence? My master … would … pay … ”

  The words caught in Roark’s throat. He turned around and walked away. He couldn’t do it. The quartz shocked his bare flesh, but Roark couldn’t steal another innocent life. He failed.

  •

  Chapter 20

  Port Denwort in the Realm of Dynion

  “No one would do?” Edar asked, his voice strained as he mixed a pottage on the stove. The rich fragrance of garlic, lavender, basil over vegetables filled the room and made Roark’s empty stomach growl.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t find someone ridden with guilt or anyone who hated life. I thought about bringing you an urchin, but that would bring its own problems. Who would come to a child for remedies?” Roark leaned his elbow on the table to prop up his head. A short nap would get him through the day, but first, he needed food.