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By Michele aka Ygraul Verdemorte |
Chapter 40. North Slayer |
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ost in the shuffle during the fire, Crescent Blade had vanished and no one seemed to miss her. Everything had gone according to plan and she awakened now in a strange room, her singed clothes piled on an ornate black lacquered chair beside her bed. Its stench tainted the lavender scented air. At the end of any job she preferred to rent a lavish room at one of the inns in Kaineng city center, perhaps spending a day at the public bath house to wash away the aftermath of a difficult job and any lingering doubts she might have had. That morning she resolved to bathe and pray for guidance at the local temple. Then she would retrieve hear gear and the documents she had hidden away after killing the summoner. She had to get to the bottom of the mystery. If possible, she needed to report any corruption she had found to Master Tan and she debated reporting to him first before recovering the evidence. She was having serious doubts about her handler, Shao Li. Crescent Blade suspected he was ordering her under his own authority, not that of the Ministry of Air. Misuse of imperial assassins was punishable by death and she would not put her own soul at risk for one evil man. She had plenty of coin on hand thanks to a late night visit to her Xunlai agent. With it she ordered a breakfast of tea and a sweet bun and provided sufficient funds and a large tip to obtain new clothing. Soon after finishing breakfast, she had a new gown, albeit, much too large for her lean frame but nothing that a tight sash and careful gathering of the fabric could not fix. The thick cotton was patterned with plum blossoms and little birds and lined with a quilted woolen shell. She suspected it had once belonged to the innkeeper’s eldest daughter. As she prepared to leave her room, abandoning the soiled dress that had been gifted to her by Crystal Palm, she received a heavy blue wool cape with a hood to shield her from the icy wind driving off the ocean and whistling harshly between the tall city buildings. At the bath house while soaking, she recalled Master Bei’s stricken face, his gentle brown eyes transfixed with horror and betrayal. A sob caught in her throat but she managed somehow to force her sadness down. Some jobs were more difficult than others, but this one would haunt her for a very long time. She needed to know if she had done the right thing. Her code taught her to trust the bureaucrats, the men and women who worked long hours over blinding amounts of paperwork to keep law and order in the great city and provide for the welfare and monies needed to make civilization possible. Master Tan was the supervisor of her department, a kind man who seemed to understand the delicacy of an assassin’s role and had often listened to her concerns with an open heart. There had been times during this job when she had considered going to him and telling him how wrong this one felt but something had held her back, and it was not simply the fear of being uncovered. Perhaps she feared to run into Shao Li. What could Master Bei have possibly done to offend anyone? Why invest so much time and energy to kill him while people like the summoner were free on the streets? Her training told her she should take the documents to Master Tan and let him handle the matter. If there were internal issues at the ministry, he would handle it discreetly. Normally, Crescent Blade trusted him to do the right thing, but now she hesitated. An assassin did not get very far if they did not learn to trust their instincts. By the time she was dressed and had presented herself at the door of Lyssa’s shrine, she had made up her mind. Master Tan would not know that she had looked at the documents first. What harm could that be? She simply would not tell him that part. For once, just for once, perhaps she would have the whole picture, not just the little dagger-bright slice given to her. The job was done. What harm was there now in knowing too much? It was not as if anyone was in a position to capture her and torture the truth from her. Prayer did not soothe her and she contemplated seeking Dwayna’s winged embrace. But she would not find Kalydri there and she decided against further delays. Gods protect the little monk. She was Crescent Blade’s only true friend now and the way ahead was dangerous. Crescent Blade left the crowded city center and meandered slowly toward the run down side of town on the southern end of Wajjun Bazaar. As she neared the smoldering wreckage of Crystal Palm she saw that it was now largely abandoned. They had fled to the island in Kryta, as well they should. She envied them their escape route. There would be none for her. Eventually she arrived at the summoner’s lair, the place that had nearly made her vomit in disgust when first Threnody had lead her into its midst. Master Bei’s men had burned it to the ground, at least the part where he had done his dirty work. They had no doubt searched it for clues first. A man of such power and evil seldom worked so openly without assistance. She brushed past the wreckage in the yard and used it to climb up the wall of the neighboring building, a dilapidated tenement with massive holes in its roof and floors. There were squatters living in its lower levels but no one came up stairs for it was far too dangerous and anything of value had long since been scavenged. Amid a pile of moldering carpet she uncovered the leather satchel containing the hastily gathered papers. Retreating to the gape of the window, she drew the scrolls and sheaves into its grim gray light and scanned the documents. The spidery script was full of self importance and recorded the many attempts the summoner had made on Master Bei’s life in the service of his master. He signed his name with a single character, Jiao. He wrote about collector demons and psychic snares, a slain child used to disguise a demon whose name she could not understand. Many of the texts were in a looping foreign script she had never before seen and eluded her attempts to translate. Her blood ran cold when she found a tally of children he had stolen off the streets and given to his master’s use. Fifty-three. It sickened her and her hands shook as she read his accounts and finally had to put them aside or risk losing her meager breakfast. She fanned the pile of papers until she spied one that was clearly not penned by the wicked man. It was on golden paper of the finest quality, linen and stamped with the seal of the Ministry of Air. It was crumpled and she saw it was a half completed legal document that had been spoiled by a large ink blot. On its flip side, however, was written the following in a Shao Li’s hasty script. Jiao, You will desist from attempting to stop the north wind. Your methods are too obvious and will only draw his wrath. Though the east and west winds blow our way, he has friends in the south. If you wish to impress me, bring me three for our lord at the full moon. Let the professionals do their jobs. I have assigned one to the task. I was expecting you here at the appointed time. Contact me. Tan Her mouth went dry. Bei meant north and he could only be referring to Zhou. The message was clear and yet cryptic enough that it could not incriminate her superior if Jiao were too careless to destroy it. Tan and Shao Li were the same person. And she had very nearly gone to make her confession to Tan. She silently thanked the gods for guiding her out of a potential snare. Shaking with rage, she thrust the papers back into the satchel and hid them once more. Her next job was clear.
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