Chapter 53. Failure

rescent Blade spent the next three days awaiting word from Ama Svenka. She dared not make a move against Master Tan until she could be sure Master Bei was safe. That evening she huddled in her padded gown and coat as a bitter wind flowed over the city from the sea. She drew up her hood as snow kissed her strawberry blonde crown and waited by the Xunlai Agents at Kaineng City Center while listening for the tolling of the clock tower.

Crescent Blade had taken a huge risk the day she had tricked her Crystal Palm guardians and lost them in order to seek clandestine help. Fortunately, her unusual behavior and subsequent cover story about seeing someone she thought to be her long lost aunt had averted suspicion. During the hours of her guardian’s fruitless search, she had slipped off to the lower city in search of her old teacher Margha Charu. They had met at Shing Jea during Margha’s brief tenure as an espionage instructor. Her natural charisma and loveliness blended with her mesmeric talents in an enviable way, crossing invisible barriers of trust that simple shadow walking could never penetrate.

The one benefit of Margha, aside from their friendship, was that she did not work for the imperial court. In fact, she had openly revealed her hatred for the Celestial Ministry on many occasions and had offered Crescent Blade a position in her network of spies. Flattering though it was to receive such an invitation from a treasured teacher, she had refused. An imperial assassin made a life long pledge to serve the Emperor, she could not simply quit. Possibly she would have felt more temptation had she known who Margha actually worked for.

One thing she did know was that Margha collected contacts the same way misers gathered gold. Margha had mentioned once in passing that some people did not deserve to die and it was better to make them disappear without a trace. It was with this in mind that she had slipped her guardians on that fateful day and had arrived at her mentor’s door. After much wrangling with the servants, Margha had dismissed them and welcomed her inside.

The rice wine flowed freely and they had talked for hours about the three years since they had last met. It was so easy to talk to the beautiful mesmer and, upon reflection, she feared she may have said too much once she was basking in the warmth of the rice wine’s heady afterglow. She had spoken of Master Bei and how good and noble he was and that he did not deserve to be struck down. Margha had listened and nodded sagely, offering to contact an old friend on Crescent Blade’s behalf and to be ready to meet Ama Svenka in the city center in three day’s time at precisely eight bells in the evening. Her powers of persuasion were truly phenomenal to be so confident Ama would agree to the meeting without having first talked to her.

And that was how it had started and strangely, how it also ended. At precisely eight bells, Ama Svenka materialized once more out of thin air with a faint flash of eldritch light, an indication she had journeyed by sigil. Her gleaming silver hair was neatly fashioned into a matronly bun and her gentle face was painted creamy white in the style of a Kurzick courtesan. With her simple fur stole and rich forest green velvet traveling cloak thrown over her thin figure, she epitomized the image of a helpful aunt or grandmother. Her charming son, a young ranger with lustrous black hair and warm brown eyes, was standing protectively behind her. He was fine boned and handsome with golden skin, almond eyes and a sleek frame. She noted the gleaming black recurve bow unstrung across his back and the formfitting cut of his ornate fur-trimmed leathers. Crescent Blade was attracted to him and it did not help matters that they must be close to the same age.

He was smiling at her slyly as Ama Svenka approached and offered Crescent Blade a gentle embrace. It annoyed her that she still did not know his name.

“So good to see you again, my darling. No need to worry now, I have been successful in finding our mutual friend a new life. Your payment was most welcome, it will go far toward my work.”

“I hope I get to visit you one day,” Crescent Blade said, wondering what Ama’s orphanage was like, “Our friend was also fond of orphans.”

“So I have heard,” Ama said, smiling broadly, her rosy lips parting to reveal a winning smile, “Send your friends my regards and an apology. They took good care of him and he was able to endure the process with no deleterious effects. I am afraid they misunderstood my purposes and I had to be a little harsh.”

Crescent Blade wondered if Kalydri and Angelo would ever talk to her again. She had asked Ama to take Master Bei directly and transport him by sigil but the woman had refused in light of the fact that the precise day and moment of the capture was as yet unknown. Instead, Ama had enthusiastically taken care of almost everything from the ox cart to the collar. It had cost Crescent Blade greatly, however, and she was now almost penniless. After what she planned to do tonight, she would no longer be able to collect the princely rewards for her work. If she lived, she might end up begging Margha for a job after all.

“My work is done,” Ama Svenka said pleasantly, “It was good doing business with you.”

Crescent Blade bowed deeply to her and the woman and her son returned the gesture before waving farewell and melding into the milling crowd. Now she could finish her final task secure in the knowledge that Master Bei was safe.

Returning to her rented room for the final time, she donned her black and red leathers, slowly placing each blade in its sheath and stealing herself for the battle to come. She refilled the poison wells in a pair of daggers and gently slid them into their shoulder scabbards. Long suspecting that Master Tan was himself a mesmer, she made sure the charm he had given her was fastened securely at her throat. It was nearly midnight when she finally emerged from the room swathed in her padded gown. Only her mask was missing, but this time there was no need to hide her face.

The icy streets were empty as she rushed head down toward the ornate ramparts of the palace grounds. Making no sound, Crescent Blade moved like a shadow past shuttered shops and pools of light shafting through upper floor windows. After many long breathless minutes she climbed the steps toward Raisu and heard the familiar call to halt from one of the imperial guards.

From the depths of her jacket she drew out her papers and the seal showing she was a member of the Celestial Ministry. The guard gazed upon her face in the bright glare of the torchlight and held up a palm-sized disk of jade before her. It glowed faintly, showing that she had indeed taken the vow of servitude to the Emperor and thus dwelt within. After tonight it would burn with the red blaze of a traitor. She swallowed at that thought as she moved through the gate and drifted toward the cluster of buildings she had once called home.

For a moment she hesitated at the top of the steps leading into the spymaster’s quarters. The long structure was enshrouded in the shadows of the buildings looming over it on either side, hidden away as if ashamed it existed. It had been her home for the last three years. She had earned enough acclaim to have her own room and use of the training facilities and equipment at need. She wanted for nothing and was free to come and go without question, unlike many of the younger spies and assassins.

Time to move on, she told herself, pinching open the door latch and stepping into the amber glow of the lantern-lit entry hall. The night clerk was at the desk facing the door and the walls were graced with scrolls of serene landscapes and brushwork animals. Anyone who stumbled into this building by accident would never suspect it housed imperial spies and killers. It was simply another branch of the Celestial Ministry, one of hundreds of little departments whose functions were obscure to the rest of the world.

“Miss Lhan!” said Dai, rising from his stool to greet her. It had been weeks since she had set foot here and he knew all of them. It was his job. She bowed respectfully to him and he returned the gesture, lower in his bow to acknowledge that he was but a clerk and she was one of the most prized assassins under that roof.

“Could you please rouse Shou Li? I need to talk to him.”

“Of course,” he replied, bowing once more.

He followed as she passed through a door into a narrow corridor. Her mouth was dry with anxiety but she reassured herself that Master Tan could not possibly know what she planned that evening. Nor could he know that she knew he and the Shou Li were one and the same. She moved past the familiar door to her private room and continued on toward the secluded chamber where she always met with her handler. Dai collected a lantern and slid the sandalwood screen aside for her, placing its light inside as she took up her familiar place on the matted floor before the low table. He would no doubt awaken one of the kitchen staff first to procure tea for her. Sighing, she placed her hands upon her folded lap and waited, not looking up when the tea arrived as predicted.

Time crawled by and she felt drowsy now that her initial anxiety had worn off. The normal sights and sounds of her old domain were strangely comforting as she waited. Then she heard soft footfalls and saw Master Tan’s shrouded silhouette move across the screen before he gently pulled it aside and entered, sealing them inside before taking his seat before her.

He was clad in is usual black flowing gown and vile mask. His penetrating brown eyes gazed back at her and she met them boldly, unafraid now. He was simply another man, mortal like all the others. Her training had taught her how to kill his kind, and she had done so flawlessly. Until Zhou.

“You are not even worthy to breathe the same air as Master Bei,” she silently screamed at Master Tan, hating him for his deception and ruthlessness, for the way he had carelessly endangered her soul and used her. He had no honor.

“Report,” he said grimly in the voice he used to portray his false persona.

“Master Bei is dead.”

“Where has his guild gone?”

“I did not concern myself with that. It would have drawn suspicion if I had asked such questions.”

She waited for her chance to strike. Silencing him was her first order of business. After that, she could take him down quickly. All he had to do was look away for a moment and he was dead.

“Perhaps I have a question you can answer,” he said coldly, “Where is Master Bei?”

She swallowed as his eyes bored into her. He knew.

How?

“I killed him,” she stammered, “He is dead.”

“Where is his body?”

“I set fire to his room so that I could shadow step away during the confusion and not be detected.”

“Stop lying to me,” Master Tan snarled at her, “Where is he hiding?”

He rose and magenta energies swirled around him. Terrified, Crescent Blade leapt to her feet and made a desperate attempt to enshroud him in the silencing hex. To her horror, the spell fizzled harmlessly and she cried out in pain as his protective magic punished her attempt.

“How dare you even consider hexing me,” he shouted, loud enough to draw the guards. It was her last chance. Once they arrived, she was as good as dead. Throwing aside her gown, she seized the poisoned daggers from her shoulder sheathes and flew at him, her eyes blazing with hatred and determination. With a mocking laugh, he uttered a single syllable and she felt the frigid prickling of a hex settle over her. Undeterred, she lashed out at him, releasing the poison with a flick of her thumbs and plunging the blades unerringly into his breast.

“Die!” she screamed into his face as the hex struck and she reeled back blind and agonized. Her breath rasping in her throat, she swept at him again, only to fall over as another hex punished her and she missed. Gods! Angry tears blazed from her sightless eyes as she staggered to her feet only to be grasped around the arms and shoved against the wall by a pair of guards. She blinked frantically as light returned only to see Master Tan’s hideously masked face before her. Though his gown was gleaming with his blood and his breath rattled in his throat, he grasped the charm at her throat and unbuckled it, casting it carelessly aside.

“Before I have you executed, you will answer my questions. And you will suffer for daring to disobey me.”

Sobbing, she struggled uselessly against the pair of burly guards as they dragged her cursing and screaming into the corridor. A monk rushed past her in the corridor to go to Master Tan’s aid. He would live. She had failed.