Night guild 2, p.15
Night Guild 2, page 15
He had the air of a man who desired to get through an unpleasant task quickly.
He appeared to be setting himself up in the entrance of the inn, which was closed to customers for the moment. Gelden was dressed in a long robe of very dark blue, and he put his hood up and pulled the cloak around himself as if he did not want to be known. Then he retreated back into the darkened doorway and began to wait.
The light got brighter, and Ronan had to gather more shadows from a nearby building to maintain his complete invisibility from Gelden’s view. Just as Ronan was beginning to wonder if Mordon had gotten wind of the disaster that had befallen the ship and his companions and had chosen not to come, he appeared.
The gray-clad man came hurrying in from the right, glancing from side to side like a man who feared pursuit. He got to the door of the Broken Pearl tavern and looked around, not seeing Gelden at first. Then, the tall Malachite Temple servant made a quiet hissing noise between his teeth.
Mordon jumped, then looked around and saw the servant.
“Oh, thank Mala you have come,” he said. “I was not sure if you would.”
“You doubt the word of the High Vizier of the Temple?” Gelden asked sharply. “Surely even you heathens of the Silent Brotherhood know that the word of the High Vizier is sacred. He will not break it even to the likes of you.”
“The likes of me?” Mordon said, sounding offended. “What do you mean by that, servant?”
“I think you know exactly what I mean,” Gilden said, coldly. “Here, take this bag of money. I have been given the job of bringing it to you, and I will do it, but I have no more desire to be seen with you than my master did. Take this, the High Vizier’s promised help, and then get on your way and trouble us no more.”
Mordon glared at Gelden and for a moment it seemed that he might be about to strike him, but then he thought the better of it and reached out his hand. Gelden passed over a heavy leather bag, and as he did so, there was a promising clink of metal coins.
“Your master is indeed generous,” Mordon said quietly, feeling the weight of the bag. “Perhaps he is right to wish to distance himself from the Silent Brotherhood. For my part I will never cease to be grateful to him for his help on this day.”
“As I think my master said to you already, he will be best pleased if he never has to hear of you or your order again. If you wish to thank him, make sure that happens.”
“Very well,” Mordon said. “It will be as your master desires.”
Gelden said not another word, but turned sharply on his heel and strode away, his soft footfalls leading away into the darkness.
“Now,” Mordon said under his breath, “I have the chance to return to the Silent Brotherhood, a rich man, and to avenge my fallen companions. The Brotherhood shall know of the treachery we have endured, and they shall know that the dragon eggs have fallen into the hands of our enemies. I may die for my failure, but if I do it will be a well-deserved fate, for I have failed in my mission. If I’m spared, this gold will help me to establish my own dynasty within the Brotherhood. By the God Mala, I accept my destiny.”
It’s a good thing that you accept your destiny, Mordon, Ronan thought. It’s going to come upon you quicker than you expected.
Chapter 10
With one single, fluid movement, Ronan pulled his blow pipe from his equipment belt. He slipped a quick acting poison dart down the tip, pressed it to his lips, and blew with the short, sharp, puff of air that he had been trained to use.
The dart made a faint whining noise as it cut through the air, and the Silent Brotherhood assassin turned his head quickly when he heard the sound. But it was too late for him. The dart slammed into the side of his cheek, delivering its deadly poison load almost instantaneously.
Mordon tumbled forward two steps and then crashed silently to the ground. He twitched, twice, and then lay completely still.
Diana and Eric leapt from their hiding places and ran up to the felled assassin, shadow knives in their hands, but there was no need for them to act. He was dead, killed instantly by the swift and terrible poison that the Night Guild assassins used in the blowpipe darts.
Eric reached a finger out to touch the man’s neck, to feel for a pulse. He held it there for a moment and then shook his head, looking up at his companions.
There was no need for words.
At that moment, two things happened. First, Ronan felt a sudden heat at his waist, as if he were standing too close to a flame. He dropped his hand to his equipment belt and felt to his surprise that the heat was coming from the pouch where he had stashed the spirit trapped in the crystal.
Heat was pouring from the pouch, and a bright pale yellow glow shone out from the equipment belt.
“What in the name of the Night God is that?” Diana asked.
Moving quickly, Ronan flipped the pouch open and pulled the crystal out. It lay in the palm of his hand, glowing brightly. The heat had eased a little, but it was still unnaturally warm.
“Put it away,” Eric urged. “We do not need a bright light drawing attention to us right now.”
Ronan saw the sense in that, but at the same time he felt roiling power coming from inside the crystal. It was as if the spirit that was trapped in there was thrashing around, beating itself against the external confines of its prison.
Then, as the three assassins were looking at the glowing crystal, the spirit of Mordon himself rose up out of his fallen corpse.
None of the assassins were expecting this. They all knew that the spirit would come out of the body, but none of them expected to be able to see it.
Mordon’s spirit did not look like the man he had been in life. In spirit, he looked like a much younger man, and he looked much more innocent and much less threatening than he had done while he had been alive. He looked rather confused, and gazed around at the three assassins, his mouth moving as if he was trying to speak, but he could make no noise.
Ronan held a hand out to the spirit and spoke. “This is just what has happened to you,” he said. “You must follow us now, and we will bring you to a place where you can find peace.”
It was long known that the spirits of those who died at the hands of the Night Guild followed their assassins back to the guild itself. Back there the spirits could be helped by the members of the Guild of the Dead, and eventually they would find their way to the Garden of Ragged Ghosts, where they could spend as long as they needed, gardening in the beautiful grounds. This was a peaceful way for the spirits to spend the time in between death and leaving the world to move onto the next realm.
Eric and Diana both looked at Ronan. “I did not expect to be able to see him,” Diana said in a quiet voice.
“There is no time for any of this,” Eric said, sounding frustrated. “We need to hide this body and get out of here before we attract unwanted attention.”
Ronan nodded once. His investigation of the trapped caryx spirit would have to wait.
He stuck the glowing crystal back into his belt pouch, feeling the heat emanating from it, but also aware that it was essential for him to ignore it until they got rid of the Silent Brotherhood assassin's body.
Together, the three of them dragged Mordon’s corpse into the darkness of the alleyway nearby. Ronan stopped and removed the dart from the Silent Brotherhood assassin’s cheek. He held it up close to his face, examining it for damage. It was not damaged and so he slipped it back into the pouch on his equipment belt where he kept the darts for his blowpipe. The darts were valuable commodity and if they were not damaged in an assassination, it was the duty of the members of the Night Guild to retrieve them and reuse them at a later date.
They pushed some empty crates over the body to hide it from immediate view, and then Eric made sure to pick up the bag of gold that Gelden had given to Mordon.
The spirit of Mordon watched all of this taking place with an interested but impassive expression.
“What is happening with the crystal where the caryx spirit is trapped?” Diana asked as the three assassins walked quickly away from the scene of the murder.
“The crystal is very hot,” Ronan said, “and I can feel the spirit moving around inside. I do not know what is happening, but I want to try to communicate with the spirit.”
“Is that possible?” Eric asked, sounding interested now that the immediate threat of discovery had been dealt with. “I did not think you would be able to communicate with the spirit through the walls of the crystal.”
“I do not know if I am going to be able to or not,” Ronan said, “but I feel that the spirit is both angry and distressed, and so it makes sense to me to try.”
They had got a good way from the scene of Mordon’s killing, and so Ronan pulled out the glowing crystal and looked at it.
Inside, he could see without doubt that something was moving. It reminded him of when he had seen the dragon egg glowing with an internal light, and the shape of the creature outlined inside.
“I want to get to somewhere I can concentrate,” Ronan said. “Let’s go up that alleyway, there may be somewhere private that I can sit down quietly for a minute while you two keep watch.”
“Very well,” Eric said, “but afterward we must find ourselves a ship to get back to the Twelve Isles. We must report to the Night Guild and plan our next course of action.”
Diana laid a hand on Eric’s arm, and gave him a small smile. Clearly, she agreed with Ronan’s course of action, but did not want Eric to feel that his opinion was being overlooked. “You should take a quick look, Ronan,” she said. “But then we simply must be getting on to finding a ship and getting back. I agree with Eric; my heart tells me that it is essential for us to return to the Twelve Isles as soon as possible.”
They hurried up an alleyway, each one of them with their stealth fields working hard, but the city was waking up, and there were now too many people about now for them to sit down and undertake a careful examination of the spirit trapped in a crystal.
Ronan looked around, and then spied a tall warehouse building nearby. It had a shallow, overhanging roof, and the walls of the building were made of rough wood planks that would be easy to climb.
“That one,” he said. “I will climb up onto the roof and spend a moment up there in private.”
“Go on, then,” Eric said. “But please, do not be too long. We should get out of here quickly.”
Eager as he was to go with what his friends thought—his own heart, indeed, was also telling him that he should be getting back to the guild as quickly as possible—he knew that he could not go further without attempting some dialogue with the crystal-trapped spirit.
He clambered up the outside of the warehouse, moving swiftly and silently, until he reached the overhanging roof.
Here, he gripped the edge of the roof and swung himself up, feeling the flimsy wood of the side of the roof buckling a little under his weight. Using the momentum of the swing, he leapt up and ran a few steps along the roof, before lying flat on top of it.
He quickly looked around to make sure that nobody had seen him climb, and that his hiding place was not too clearly visible from any of the surrounding buildings. Satisfied of the temporary privacy of his hiding place, he took the crystal from its pocket and sat cross-legged on the rooftop, gazing down at the glowing crystal in his hand.
Now that he had leisure to look at it closely, he was left in no doubt that he could see the spirit inside moving around angrily. The spirit’s movement seemed to be generating the heat that emanated from the crystal, and the light and heat was getting stronger again now that he was staring at it.
Ronan put his face close to the crystal and spoke. “Spirit, can you hear me?” he said.
He felt somewhat ridiculous even as he tried, because it seemed obvious to him that the words spoken with his mouth would not get through the crystal. After all, this was a spirit from who knew what era and place. Would it even speak his language?
He looked up and found the ghost of Mordon regarding him quietly from the corner of the roof. That was certainly an unsettling sight, but he would have to get used to it. He dismissed the spirit’s presence for now, and re-focused his attention on the crystal.
His mind went back to the revelation that had come to him while he was escaping from the Malachite Temple. He wondered if there was anything that he could do in the same vein to combine spells, or use his magic in some new and creative way to get through to the crystal. He ran through the different abilities that he had access to, and after a moment he felt a rush of excitement as a new idea struck him.
When he and Diana and Eric wanted to communicate with each other silently, across distance, they were able to transfer their thoughts to one another, communicating in ideas and concepts rather than in simple words. Perhaps he could try something similar with this crystal spirit?
If anything was going to work, that would be it.
He emptied his mind, pushing aside all his other concerns, and focused all of his attention on the crystal.
Trapped spirit, he said in his mind, focusing the thought on the crystal and sending it in the same way that he would if he was trying to send the thought to Diana or Eric, can you hear me?
The effect was instantaneous. The light emanating from the crystal dimmed.
The heat cooled, and the frantic movement from inside of the crystal eased. This seemed to be working.
Trapped spirit, he tried again. I mean you no harm. I have freed you from the caryx and from the control of those who would have used you as their slave. I wish to help you, but I do not know how to do it yet. I will take you to somebody who may be able to help you better. Will you agree to lie quietly so that I can take you to him?
There was a long silence, but Ronan could tell that the spirit in the crystal had heard him, and was digesting his thoughts. Then, coming from inside the crystal, there came a distinct sending.
The thought that came from the trapped spirit was faint, and it was not easy to understand. It made Ronan think of somebody who had not spoken for a long time, remembering their language, and remembering how to communicate their ideas with the voice.
Trapped, I have been trapped for so long I have almost forgotten what it was not to be their slave, the voice said. It sounded like the voice of a woman. They are all gone?
I personally have killed them, I and my friends, Ronan confirmed, and he put all of the strength of certainty and reassurance that he could into that thought.
Then you have my thanks, the spirit replied. I will certainly go with you quietly, and wait. But there is something that I know that you don’t.
Ronan detected almost a sense of mischief coming from the spirit.
What is it? What is it that you know that I don’t? he asked.
I cannot tell you, the spirit replied immediately. It would not work if I told you. I understand things now, however. Take me with you, and when the time comes you will discover what it is that you can do.
Ronan withdrew his thought connection from the spirit, and sat back, gazing at the crystal, which was now quiet and still. He looked up at Mordon’s ghost, and wondered for a moment if he would be able to communicate with that spirit using the same technique. He had spoken to the spirit immediately after it had risen out of the body, and it had seemed to understand him well enough, but his instinct told him that trying to communicate with it in a more deep way would be the wrong thing to do. He dismissed the idea.
After all, he thought to himself, I am no member of the Guild of the Dead, to try to communicate with the spirits. Those are mysteries that are rightly hidden from me.
If nothing else, now was not the time for experimentation. Diana and Eric were right. The priority now was to get themselves back to the Twelve Isles, and for that they would need a ship.
He pocketed the crystal and shimmied down the side of the building. Mordon’s ghost flowed down next to him, keeping an eye on him, but also staying a respectable distance away.
“Did you have any success?” Eric asked as soon as Ronan reached his companions.
“Yes,” Ronan said. “I managed to communicate with the spirit. I used the thought transference magic that we use to communicate across distances. It was able to understand me that way. I convinced it to lie quietly until we can get it back to the Twelve Isles and ask Guildsman Seth for his assistance.”
Eric looked impressed.
“The spirit seemed to think that things were not so simple,” Ronan continued, “and that there was some other purpose I would find for it. Whatever that may be, I do not know, but for now, let us get ourselves back home. Our business in Port Fero and Viam City is complete.”
In the end, it proved very easy to get themselves back on a ship to the Twelve Isles. Boats ran back and forth between the Twelve Isles and Port Fero most days, unless there was a serious amount of bad weather to stop them. Eric handled the transaction, finding a different captain and a different ship from the one that they had used to travel here. This time, they wore different robes. The had traveled out in the guise of priests of Anaxis, a god who was well known and commonly worshiped to both in Viam City and in the Twelve Isles, but this time they disguised themselves as traders, wearing the green robes of one of the Twelve Isles merchant guilds.
Eric paid for their passage, and no one paid them any attention as they boarded. They were listening to the gossip on the docks while they waited to leave when they heard of the discovery of Mordon’s body. Of course, there was no chance that it could have remained hidden for long, and the gossip was that it was very unusual for a body to be found in the street like this.
Ronan was reassured, however, to hear that the general conclusion that had been reached was that the gray-clad assassin had died of natural causes. The small dart that Ronan had fired from his blowpipe left no kind of a wound for anybody to see. Even if somebody picked up on the small puncture in the man’s cheek, nobody would associate that with his death.
Some people were saying that it was a bad omen, to have the ship Kraken’s Revenge burn up and sink in the repair dock, and also to have a body found in the street all on the same night, but most of the residents of Port Fero seemed to be fairly practical and unsuperstitious people. Unlike the people of the Twelve Isles, the residents of this port city did not seem inclined to take these two events—even happening so soon after each other—as too much of a bad omen.
