An Assassin's Tool Read online

  An Assassin’s Tool

  Trevor Darby

  Copyright © 2015 by Trevor Darby

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Trevor Darby

  Visit my website at www.thebagwantsflour.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: January 2015

  Urban Homestead Books, LLC

  I had just said hello when Kaber was hit in the proverbial third eye. The embedded dagger flashed brightly with a purple dark light and Kaber’s eyes rolled back. He fell to the ground like a sack of oats dropped by a careless longshoreman. Diving to my right, I performed a tuck and roll that would even have made the Great Taliesin stand up and applaud. As I dove, Ogma, my tawny owl, flew into the air. “Ware the unseen threat,” he screeched into my mind.

  Landing in a crouch, I spun and searched for the attacker. Pulling my black ebony wand out of my cloak pocket with my right hand, I pointed it in the general direction of the attack. In my left, I held my falcata. I was ready to fight fire with fire and steel with steel, but I saw nothing to fight. The crowded market square was full of unsuspecting, Knackless souls just beginning to react to the sudden violence. I wasn’t sure if the attack was meant for me or for Kaber but I sure didn’t want to share his fate. I kept searching the crowd.

  Off to my right, I could see Goll moving quickly away to the south end of the market square. With him would be my next tenner of nyepsium I so desperately needed to pass my Adept exams in four days. Kaber’s partner, Goll was assigned to hold the nyepsium while Kaber collected the funds. No one in their right mind would attack Goll. He stood nearly five hands taller than me, and I was considered tall. High pitched screaming began from those standing closest to Kaber as they realized a murder had been committed. I don’t understand why everyone screams in these situations. The damage is done. The victim, in dire need of a helpful scream a few moments ago, can’t possibly benefit from the high notes of terror.

  I looked over Kaber. He lay in the dust with a dual edged dagger stuck nearly four fingers into his forehead. Seeing no threat in the crowd, I stepped over and pulled the dagger out with some mild trepidation. A full-tang patterned steel blade with dark spells from the netherworld engraved on the metal, it had smooth sycamore handle scales with engraved Luna circles that spoke of the Death Mother. The handle was wrapped with black linen. An assassin’s tool that gave me shivers. No chance of revivification for Kaber then. I reached into his pockets, hoping there would be some nyepsium I could grab before the guard arrived. Finding none, I pocketed the dagger in my cloak. Kaber seemed to be staring at me, accusing me of failing to save him. I closed his eyes with my left hand.

  The high pitched whistles of the guard soon joined in with the rapidly growing screams of the crowd. I scanned the crowd again. There at the north end of the square I caught a glimpse of Eorich and a few of his friends. Not wanting him to see me, I quickly turned the other way. People jostled and pushed to get closer or farther from the corpse, depending on their personal preferences. I moved away from Kaber and toward Mulberry, the south road that led from the market to the Institute. Not ten feet from Kaber’s body, several guards passed me at run. I glanced away as they passed, hoping they wouldn’t stop and ask questions. The last place I needed to be was in an Inquisition about the murder of the only nyepsium dealer in Cae Gaer.

  Nyepsium isn’t exactly approved of here in Cae Gaer. Mostly ignored as if it wasn’t the Knack fuel for nearly a third of the Institute’s students and most likely that many of the professors as well, getting caught with it could have disastrous consequences for a student such as me. An expedited visit to the Magister, a quick snick of the axe and one handless mage would be sent home; useless for any real work. In nyepsium cases like this, the Institute didn’t even enforce the Agreement Price: a lifetime of service from any who failed to make Adept level within the allotted nine years. They just let the handless convict leave.

  I moved south onto Mulberry, hoping to catch Goll. I had a few pointed questions I wanted to ask him. As I walked the cobbled street in a near state of panic, I saw no sign of Goll. Two days, I thought, I have two days to find an alternate source of the nyep or else all my hard work of the last nine years was certain to go to waste and I would serve the rest of my days as a servant of the Institute, as per the Agreement.

  Reaching the Institute gates, I decided to first ask Barish for a nyepsium seed. My best friend for the past nine years, he was also an Imperfect, although we never talked about it. I have two nyepsium seeds in the leather pouch I carry around my neck left from my last tenner, which will get me through Mercher. Two more seeds would get me through my Adept Certifications on Gwener. Resolving on this strategy, I moved through the gates and into the main Dormitory. Up the stairs and down the first hall to the left, I walked quickly hoping to catch Barish in his room before he hears the news of Kaber. The news will quickly spread like wildfire through the ranks of the Imperfects as Kaber is the only nyepsium dealer in all of Cae Gaer.

  Reaching Barish’s black oak door, I knocked hard. Three times, as is my custom whenever I knock on Barish’s door. Once, a pause and then twice more in rapid succession, each knock with my left hand.

  “Come,” said Barish in his deep baritone. An extraordinary craftsman, Barish was a short, barrel-chested and exceptionally literal minded Hestman from the south. He and I had been fast friends since our first day here at the Institute. I had helped him understand a question and he had helped me build our first model for Professor Wengall’s class. The Hestman and the Savage-that is what our classmates called us. Just last week, Barish had helped me practice my fire rod battle spell. A technical prodigy beyond compare, Barish’s assistance helped me finally cast my first battle spell.

  I pushed open his door and stepped in.

  “Mathonwey,” he said with a smile forming on his face. “How good to see you.”

  He means it too. I’m not sure how he decided to become my friend, but I stand grateful to The Dagda that he did. Barish has always been good to me. I hope he comes through now.

  “Barish, I need a favor,” I said.

  He nodded. “What is it?” he asked.

  “I need two of your nyepsium seeds,” I said, trying to pace my words to sound as if this were the most natural request in the world.

  It isn’t, and Barish’s face shows his shock. “Mat,” he said.

  “I know,” I cut him off. “It’s just that I agreed to Adept Certification on Gwener and I only have two seeds left and four days to go.”

  “If it’s coin,” he started to ask

  I knew it. It just didn’t make any sense. Every one of us Imperfects, Imps as we were often called, took care of our own supply. We never talked about it, and we never shared. Kaber had kept the supply tight. He never sold anyone more than a tenner. If you tried to come early for a resupply he would give you a warning, point his finger at Goll to emphasize his words, and make you come back on the ninth day. If you came early twice, he cut you off. I had seen it happen back in my first year. The student who got cut off disappeared within a day of his last seed and had never been seen or heard from again.

  It wasn’t like this back home. In Lougher there were three suppliers. Baris
h had once told me this was because Lougher was a port. Inland towns, on the other hand, generally had only one source; and the sudden death of Cae Gaen’s source had caused it to join the ranks of towns without a single source. Things were going to get real interesting over the next ten days.

  “Mat,” said Barish.

  I shook myself out of my short reverie. The shock was beginning to kick in. “Barish, it’s not the coin.”

  “What is it, then?” he asked me as confusion played back and forth across his face like a wind caught in a courtyard.

  I fingered the dagger in my cloak pocket. I couldn’t lie to him. I had come here hoping he would give me two of his seeds, but it just wasn’t done that way. “Barish, Kaber has been killed,” I said in a low voice.

  He gasped.

  “I was in the market square, purchasing my next tenner. Right as I was about to hand Kaber my coin, a Luna cursed dagger hit him between the eyes. He didn’t have a chance,” I said.

  Barish stood up. He didn’t even come to my shoulder. I could tell from his face he was angry with me. “You knew this…. And you tried to get some of my seed?” he asked. “I just. . . “

  “Oh shut up with the histrionics,” I cut him off. “You would have done the same thing.” Ogma, sitting on my left shoulder, hooted softly.

  Barish stopped talking. After a moment of thought, he smiled. “You’re right, I would have. Too bad for you it didn’t work.”

  I gave him a tight, frustrated smile as I walked to the door. “I’ll see you later,” I said. “I need to find just two seeds so I can certify as Adept on Gwener. After that, I can worry about finding another source.”

  “Where are you going to get some?” he asked.

  I looked back at him. “I really don’t know.” With that, I left and went back to my room.

  I sat at my desk for a couple of minutes. Thinking. And then I realized what I could do. Old Professor Aeron would have a couple of seeds. One of the more open-minded faculty members, he had studied why the Nyepsium seed allowed certain individuals to wield the Knack as strongly as a Natural while other Imperfects who took the seed exhibited no reaction at all, known forever after to the world of magic as Knackless.

  Resolving on this stratagem, I stood up and hurried to his office. If I could think of Aeron as a solution to my lack of nyepsium, other Imp students would quickly be thinking the same thing.

  I headed up the stairs to where the faculty had offices and turned down the west corridor. I still wasn’t certain how offices were awarded to faculty, but this wing held many of those who were less traditional in their thinking.

  I knocked on his creamy yellow beech door with three right hand knocks followed by one left hand knock. I had worked closely with Aeron back when I was studying for my Apprentice level tests. He had spent many extra hours training me on potions, poisons and traps. His help got me past the Apprentice level tests back then. Even though we had grown apart over the past six years, I still had a warm spot in my heart for him.

  “Mat, come in,” called a tremulous voice from within. Several decades ago, Aeron had a run-in with a Kelpie and ever since then, his voice was weak. Not at all like the man. Aeron was tall, broad and strong. Almost like an oversized Hestman.

  I pushed open his door. Inside the dimly lit room, several candles guttered at the slight breeze that followed me into the room. From the corner, Balor, his marsh harrier screeched a greeting to Ogma and me. Ogma hooted softly by way of reply.

  Professor Aeron stood up. He reached over and offered me his right hand. I shook it and was reminded once again of the strength of this man.

  “What is the matter?” the professor asked.

  “Always right to the point,” I laughed. “That is one thing I have always loved about you.”

  Professor Aeron shook his huge, hoary head. “Don’t spread the butter, just get to the point.”

  I nodded. I gathered my thoughts and then began again, “I test for Adept in four days. High noon on Gwener with Professor Lisktell.”

  “I know this Mat,” he cut me off with a brusque wave of his hand. “We go over all the candidates every week in our faculty meeting. If there are concerns about candidates, this is where we discuss them. Should we have a concern about you?” he asked me.

  “No,” I answered quickly. A short pause as I collected my thoughts. Professor Aeron preferred conciseness in speech. “You know I am an Imp?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “It isn’t something normally discussed in refined company,” he said.

  “I. . .” I began.

  He cut me off with another wave of his hand. “But, I trust you Mathonwey. Tell me why we are discussing this.”

  All thought of lying to him vanished. I just couldn’t. “I have only two nyepsium seeds left and Gwener isn’t for four days. My supplier was just murdered in the market square by Mulberry. I need two extra seeds.”

  He looked at me. “What does this have to do with me?” he asked.

  “I thought you could spare me the seeds,” I pleaded.

  The Professor cleared his throat. “You realize, of course, that I am a Natural?” he asked.

  I nodded in the affirmative.

  “Then why do you ask me?”

  “I know that at one time you were studying the effects of Nyepsium on the Imperfects and why it gave some Imperfects the Knack and did nothing for the others. I thought perhaps you might have a small supply from which you could loan me one or two,” I said.

  “I have heard that among the Imps, as you call them, it is considered bad manners to ask for another’s supply?” he asked me.

  I nodded again.

  “Who was it that was killed?” he asked me.

  “Kaber.”

  “Kaber, you say?” he asked me in that strange lilting accent of his.

  “Yes. Why, did you know him?” I asked. I had always assumed Professor Aeron purchased his supply from Kaber, but now, with his question, I began to wonder if he had an alternate source.

  “Mmm,” mumbled the Professor. And with that, I could see that something had changed. “Well, go and borrow some nyepsium from a friend then,” he said with an abrupt firmness. Balor rustled softly in his corner and clicked his beak. A soft hint of warning in the sound.

  “I thought that is what I was doing right now,” I said with a hint of bitterness.

  The Professor stared at me. “Mat, don’t be caustic.”

  “I’ve already tried asking. Barish said no,” I replied. “Word is surely out by now that Kaber is dead and no one will be willing to share. Nyepsium was already in tight supply, and now that Kaber is dead it seems half the Institute’s students are going to be in serious trouble within nine days,” I said. Aeron didn’t seem to notice my bitter tone.

  “Why is that?” he asked me.

  “The past two years, Kaber would never sell any more than ten seeds to anyone. He called it a tenner. Always ten, never more, never less. That way he kept a tight leash on every user,” I said. “He said that supply was tight and he couldn’t spare more. I think he just did it to maximize profits.”

  “With no supply, there is certain to be chaos in the Institute,” mused Professor Aeron. “Maybe you could purchase some from someone who would be more helpful than that Hestman friend of yours.”

  “Good idea, Professor. Thank you,” I said with more than a hint of frustration.

  “You are most welcome,” he said. Professor Aeron had never understood sarcasm, and was unlikely to now just because I was angry.

  “With your leave?” I asked.

  Professor Aeron nodded somewhat distractedly. “What?” he asked. “Oh, yes, by my leave.”

  “There isn’t any chance you could spare me even just one seed?” I asked him once more. He had to have seen my desperation.

  He shook his head.

  With that, I left the room. My mouth tasted sour with frustration and fear. All my dreams were gone. There wo
uld be no Adept certification and I would spend the rest of my miserable life in service to the Academy.

  I walked the courtyard. Several groups of students were talking in high, urgent tones. Just as I had told Professor Aeron, word was out. It would be impossible to convince someone to share a couple seeds with me now. As I walked through the courtyard, I caught sight of Eorich. Insufferable prat that he was, he was certain not to have any nyepsium seed. He was a Natural and hadn’t stopped letting me know since our first year.

  “Mat,” he called.

  I groaned. “Honey not Vinegar,” whispered Ogma in my mind. Old reliable Ogma, always ready with a short, helpful and not particularly desired bit of advice.

  I groaned again. And then I walked over. “Yes, Eorich?” I asked.

  “I heard the dealer Kaber was killed today,” he said.

  “He was a trader,” I corrected him. “How did you hear the news?” I asked him, trying to show absolute disinterest. Sharing classes with others for nine years, you get to know a whole lot about them. Eorich was like garlic, even a little dose of him could be overpowering. He was insufferable, arrogant, and rich. I knew he was digging for something, because he was there in the market square when Kaber was killed. But I couldn’t figure out what he was playing at, so I just smiled.

  He smiled. “Mat,” he said as he patted me on the shoulder. Ogma hissed at him from my other shoulder. So much for the honey I thought.

  “I know you are an Imp. If you need a bit of the seed, I have some,” said Eorich.

  My heart leapt at the thought. Not wanting to give away the game, I waited a couple of moments before answering. “I do have a friend who just told me he was in need of resupply,” I lied. I was afraid if he knew it was me, he wouldn’t sell it.

  He nodded at me to continue.

  “Would you sell him a pair of seeds?” I asked.

  “Sure, tell him to meet me at ten tonight in the western fencing circle.”

  “How much?” I asked him, hating to do it, but needing to know what it was going to cost me.