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You will find a full color picture of Kian and Constantine on my art page. Kian is almost naked, and he is sporting some great abs.
"The Assassin's Apprentice" is told in first person present tense and has been heavily edited.
Chapter Ten
I sleep uneasily on my lumpy mattress and by the time dawn arrives I feel tired, but my body tingles with excitement. I climb onto the roof and for the better part of an hour, I watch first sunrise--that time of the day when the principal of Wynwrayth's three suns appears above the horizon. The sky above Clothol fills with clouds, washed out as if the finger of god has come along and spread them thin with a fan-shaped paintbrush. The light reflects for a few minutes off their underbellies, coloring the sky with glowing red gold.
Down in the street below my window lattice, the dirty pavement is covered in mud and leaves. Worms lie about near the storm drains, their pink bodies soaking up the last of the cool night air. I spot a glow coming from the bakery downstairs, and I smell fresh cinnamon and bread. The imagery of hot rising dough makes me salivate.
I stand and stretch my arms and legs out. Dressed in only my priapus and sweaty boots, I jump down into the sandy courtyard and start my corkscrews. It's the first time I've exercised when Constantine isn't here. It feels strange at first but quickly becomes liberating.
I grasp onto a bar above the sand and lift my body up and turn my legs over and over until I ache. Then I rest and try again. I do three reps in this manner before I move onto my squat/jumps and the two hundred push-ups I do with one hand. I use a bench to do the flag. Then I work with the free weights that I keep in one corner of the room, doing curls until the veins on my biceps pop out of my skin.
Once I finish, I wipe my dripping body down with a towel, making sure to get at my armpits so they won't smell. I rinse my hair out with a water bowl, and I grasp a clean pair of khaki-colored trousers and slip them on. I throw on a white linen shirt and don a brown muslin tunic over this. Finally, I change into a pair of soft leather boots. I tie a length of rope around my waist, and put on a pair of kid leather gloves. I run my fingers quickly through my blond hair to get it to lay the way I want. Lastly, I thrust my head into my mask, put the cloak about my shoulders, and exit the dojo at the top of the stairs.
I step into the hallway, the soles of my boots treading lightly on the wooden planks beneath me. I close the door to the stairwell slowly and walk ten paces down the hall to the sleeping porch where I know I'll find Talen along with a roomful of other young men. The door is made of cheap wood and is pockmarked with small holes, scratches, and chips in the varnish.
I try the knob with my left hand and find it locked.
Blast, I left the lockpicks in my room upstairs.
I retrieve them and once back at the door, I select two long and slender instruments made from dull black metal. I fish around in the keyhole, feeling the tumblers. At last, I find the one I want and scrape my tool across its surface. I hear a faint click and try the knob. The door opens. Satisfied, I withdraw my implements and place them in the left front pocket of my trousers. Inside, I locate Talen lying on his bed. It's cold in the room because the boys sleep with the windows open. It probably cuts down on the smell, as most bathe only once a month. He's got his area cordoned off by hanging blankets to afford some privacy. From everywhere around me erupts the sound of snoring, and I wrinkle my nose at the musk floating in the air.
I'm thankful my boyfriend is a quiet sleeper.
"Talen," I whisper, "are you awake?"
I slide behind the curtain; my eyes adjust to the gloom. He's lying on top of his blanket wearing a sweat-stained shirt. He opens his right eye and quickly shuts it tight, pulling his pillow over his face. Just seeing him like this makes me hard in the priapus. I realize I'm hoping he'll want to wash my cock and balls clean with his tongue. Subconsciously, it's probably why I didn't wipe my groin down with the towel.
I'm such a bastard, but I think he'll relish the taste of my sweat IF things go that far.
And I sure hope they do. There's nothing like a blow job in the morning.
I crawl onto his bed and crouch over him. I start poking him with my finger. "Go to breakfast with me," I say with as much innocence as I can muster.
"I'm not hungry," he answers. His voice is muffled by the thick pillow covering his head.
I straddle his midsection with my legs, purposefully placing my groin only a few inches from his face. I make sure to lean back a little so the ambient light can outline the bulge in my pants, but not so much that it's obvious what I'm doing. Talen pulls his head out from under the pillow and looks up at me with his beautiful eyes half covered with sleepy lids.
"What the hell are you doing here anyways? What time is it?" He looks over at his window and the sunlight streaming through the panes startles him. Then the sight of me just inches from his mouth dawns on him. "Kian," he starts to say before his eyes settle near my belt. He puts his arms around me, and I playfully wrestle with him for a moment. I almost lose my balance and end up with my body tangled up with his legs and the single blanket he uses as a cover when he sleeps.
"All right, all right" I say, feigning breathlessness, "you win."
"I can't believe you're here," he states, lifting my mask. "Is Constantine ill?"
"I'm done," I tell him. "I've graduated."
Talen's eyes twinkle. "You've graduated?"
"In a manner of speaking, I suppose. I'm going to be leader in the guild war with Ladika this year. And I'm going to pick a team, and you're my first choice." I rub his nose gently with a finger.
"I suppose you want a graduation present."
I nod. "Yes, I very much do."
Talen kisses me then, and I hungrily lap at his mouth which always smells minty to me. Then I feel his fingers run over my trousers, and he quickly unties my belt, and slips my erect penis into his palm. I almost giggle as the wetness of it drips from his fingers and makes for a slippery mess. But without complaint, he hungrily slips it between his lips, eagerly slurping and sucking.
Gods that feels good.
I quietly allow him to blow me, and it feels so good that he makes my toes curl and my muscles tense.
It's harder than I think to stay quiet, with him going up and down between my legs, and I bite my lip several times to prevent a sound. When I cum in his mouth, it flows from my engorged glans in thick ropy spurts that go on for almost ten seconds. Somehow, Talen swallows it all watching me as he does so. Then we kiss some more, and he gently puts my cock away in my pants.
"Tethyr's teeth I love the taste of your semen," he whispers, burying his nose in my palm.
"Thanks," I say, blushing. And I kiss him tenderly and hold him for a few minutes. When we break, Talen moves to the edge of his bed and reaches for a black shirt.
"The guild war...that means Constantine isn't going. Has he left...has he left for good?"
I slip my head back into my mask before anyone wakes. In the years since I've joined the guild, I only recognize a quarter of the faces I see. There's plenty who have no memory of what I look like, and that's a good thing, according to Constantine. With each passing day there is fewer and fewer who can recall my appearance.
"Yes, he's left. But I don't think it's for good. As a matter of fact I know it's not for good."
Talen slips the black shirt over his head and smooths his chocolate-colored hair back with his long fingers. I note some are still stained with my drying semen. "Did he say anything about it? Did he tell you if there's going to be killing this year...and...if he did...who's supposed to die?" He grabs a hold of my hands. "C'mon Kian, I'm your best friend. You've got to tell me. It's a matter of principle."
I think about this for a second.
Talen's completely right--sharing anything with your best friend still qualifies as keeping a secret. "Constantine told me he's going to some place called the Mirimar. I don't know exactly where that is but he's meeting with assassins from all over the world to discuss important stuff. I'm supposed to go to Ladika, kill their guild assassin, and make sure that our people return alive. But, I'm also supposed to retrieve something for him. It's supposed to provide more information on a sword he's obsessing about--a magical blade called "Bloodbane"IF you believe in that kind of thing."
"I've never heard of anything called 'Bloodbane', but I know where the Mirimar is. It's a jungle...mmm...and it's where parrots come from. " He purses his lips together. "It's south from us, I think. And you have to take a boat to reach it."
I steal a kiss from the side of his mouth. I guess the mask just isn't meant to stay on.
"You're incorrigible," he whines but kisses me back. "Are you randy again? I just blew you for fucks sake."
"I'm fine...really. Talen, what's a parrot?" I don't mind asking him because Talen never makes me feel stupid.
He pushes me pack onto his mattress, and I let him, loving the way his body feels on my chest. It's like a real-life security blanket that smells wonderful.
He beams. "A parrot....geeshhh," he ruffles my hair. "A parrot's a talking bird. Haven't you seen any of the hats that the noblewomen wear? You know...the ones that are made from white wicker and have the wonderful blue and green plumes streaming from them. Those are parrot feathers. Parrots are great companions, and you can teach them to talk. At least, that's what I've heard."
"I know you can teach crows to talk. I've seen that. But crows are ugly birds."
"Parrots are beautiful, Kian. But they don't like cold. They live south where there isn't any snow at any time of the year." Talen sits up and adjusts his shirt. Then he selects a pair of black trousers and slips his bare legs into them, fastening the button at the top. They're loose fitting on his narrow frame and he, like me, tightens a rope about his waist as a means of holding them up. Then he slides his feet into his boots and walks over to the wash basin to wet his hands and splash cold water on his face.
I leap to my feet and hand him a towel so that he can dry himself. Once again, he combs his hair back with his fingers, making minor adjustments. "I don't know why girls take so long getting ready," he states quietly to his reflection in a mirror and then looks askew at me with those bold blue peepers that I so dearly love.
Talen sets his towel on the only chair in the room, and I open the door for him. In the hall, the Daymaster of the guild, Marcel, surprises us. He looks out the corner of his eye, and when he sees me he opens his mouth to speak.
"Oh, there you are. Good morning, Kian."
I make certain my mask is on properly and step into the hall. Behind me, Talen closes the door to the sleeping porch and locks it.
"Good morrow to you too, sir," I say.
"Kian, come and take a walk with me," Marcel invites. "I've some business that I need to discuss with you. Your friend," he says, seeing Talen standing there looking awkward, "Is welcome to tag along. I assume he's already aware of most of this anyway."
Talen just nods, not minding that Marcel is talking about him as if he weren't here.
Both of us fall in, and Marcel takes us to the end of the hall. Light from a glass window sheds daylight onto the well-worn planks of the floor. "Constantine recently left my office," he begins, "but not before delivering the unfortunate news of his departure. And, it seems, in the worst possible time. He did, however, have much praise for you. And, he suggested to me that you should take his place in the guild war this year. You come with high recommendations, young man. Can you do everything that your master is convinced that you can do? Or am I to believe my instinct and to appoint another, more qualified person, to this mission as a replacement for our resident Nightshade?"
I look at Talen for reassurance, but I can tell from his posture that he doesn't want me to drag him into our conversation. Meanwhile, the Daymaster leads us to a narrow and steep stairwell consisting of five oak steps, heavily worn, and unpolished.
He descends, I follow, and Talen trails behind me.
We find ourselves in a narrow hall with three offices. The first one on the left belongs to Marcel. There are two other doors, both of them shut, and with black iron sconces next to each. They are filled with glowing coal which provides the light. There's an old, moth-eaten rug on the floor. It's covered with gold letters and meticulous needlework that in its day must have looked impressive.
Someday, I hope to learn my letters. It's frustrating not being able to read.
In front of me, Marcel rounds a large desk and takes his seat in a big stuffed leather chair. He invites Talen and I to sit in two uncomfortable wicker ones that have cushions on the seats made from threadbare red satin with a single button occupying the center.
On his desk is a rosewood humidor with tiny brass handles. He opens it, revealing a pocket chamber containing twenty individually wrapped smoking cigars. He offers one to me and to Talen before selecting one for himself. I tuck mine away, but Talen (cheerfully examining his prize) snips the end off of it with his knife and allows the Daymaster to light it with a small box containing a dancing red flame.
My lover takes two great puffs from it and sits back in his wicker chair, letting the aroma of the smoke fill his mouth before expelling it into the air, which quickly grows thick with a grayish- white cloud. I love watching him smoke. I guess I like seeing him happy.
I start the conversation. "Who's qualified to replace me?"
Marcel removes his own cigar from his mouth and holds it in his hands. The end he's been sucking on is wet and discolored from being in his mouth.
"Swift" he declares. "Swift is much more qualified. He's not an assassin-not any more. But he's been on two previous guild wars, and" he pauses to place the cigar between his lips, "he knows Ladika well. Swift has been on every single mission and every single job that we've run against Ladika in the last ten years. He's dependable, he's intelligent, and he's familiar with the obstacles you'll face. I'd have already picked him if you weren't Constantine's personal student. That, my boy, is what makes all the decision-making so terribly difficult."
I shake my head.
"Please, Marcel...I mean...please sir, I know I can do this. I've never been to Ladika, but I've been training for three years of my life. I-I'm as good as Constantine. Maybe you don't believe that BUT I do. I've confidence in myself, and I'll pick a team of people that'll make up for what I don't know." I grip the edge of the desk with white knuckles. "I'll find someone that knows Ladika as well as Swift does. I'll take his advice, and I'll listen to the people that are on my team. But let me take them there, sir. Please. It's a chance for me to prove myself to you and to everyone else. I want to show I haven't been wasting my time with one thumb up my ass."
He grins.
Talen yanks his cigar from his lips. "I know Ladika, Marcel," he says. "I go there all the time to visit friends. It's not a big city, and Kian already invited me so I'm in on the team. Besides, we work great together...best friends and everything."
Marcel arches his left eyebrow and sucks on his cigar some more. The smoke in the room is beginning to sting my eyes. "That's exactly what I want to hear, Kian," he says. Marcel eases back into his chair. "You'll be in charge. But I want you to take a special someone with you...aside from young Talen that is."
Marcel opens a drawer with his left hand, and I can hear paper scraping against paper. He pulls out two sheets of parchment. They're both yellow with age and detailed in a faded black ink. The scrawlings appear brown because of the poor light within the room. I think that he expects me to read, but I can't. I think for a brief moment that I should maybe mention this to him.
But I'm so ashamed. Instead I say nothing.
Talen watches my eyes curiously, and I wonder if he knows.
"The top page, there," he indicates with his right finger, is a map of the port city of Ladika. It's fairly accurate and where it seems to be lacking, young Talen there should be able to make up for that. The second sheet of parchment is a letter from the Nightmaster, Benet, who wrote this to a mole that we have in the city. A mole," he explains, "is a person that we have on our payroll but who is working for the other guild. As of last month, he was still loyal to us. His name, I think, is Wriln, but I'm not absolutely positive of that. As I come to understand it, Wriln used to work for Lyran quite closely as the head of the Beggars Guild. When he was replaced, Wriln was shuttled off to some other duty in the commerce section of Ladika. He's quite bitter about his demotion to a common footpad, and this made the opportunity for us to approach him on a strictly professional basis. He accepted our money of course and has ever since provided us with much needed intelligence. He no longer has access to sensitive guild agendas and issues, but he's provided our thieves with safe egress from our rival city on more than one occasion.
"Wriln lives under the city, somewhere in Old Ladika, which are those ruins you see on the west side. More than ten years ago, there was a huge earthquake that leveled everything up and down the coast for two-hundred leagues. It's the same one that destroyed Atlantea. The Ladikans decided that it'd be easier to build their city to the east of the old one rather than going to the expense of refurbishing buildings which needed a lot of structural support. Ironically, the funds for the new city were provided by Phyros, the most successful whore in Ladika. She had enough money from her customers to pay for the new city out of her own pocket."
"She must have been quite a lady," Talen states, admiringly.
"I don't think lady quite describes her, my boy," Marcel says. "The ruins are an overgrown mess, but they're home to our kind of people, Kian. Lyran, as you've probably surmised, is the single man with the most power in the thieves' quarter, and his HQ's located somewhere in the ruins. I'd advise you to stay clear of the place unless you can't avoid it."
I set the papers down on his desk and cross my right leg over my left, settling back into the wicker chair. "What does Wriln look like?"
Marcel takes another toke off his cigar. "I don't know. However, Wriln loves music and entertainment and likes to drink. There's a tavern in Ladika called Black-eyed Jack's. It's a rough and tumble kind of place that frequents sailors and whores. From what I hear, they've got three minstrels every night that perform a play called Margaritte. On the weekends, they have a jongleur by the name of Kestain. If you go there, I'd say there's a damned good chance that somebody knows who he is and can point him out to you."
I nod, looking once again at the yellowed papers he's handed me.
"Who did you want to go with us?" Talen asks Marcel.
"Ahh. Almost forgot. His name's Logren. He's a half giant mute who works for the Shipbuilder's Guild. He's a personal friend and very strong. He won't follow you when you perform your duty, which is primarily what I'm concerned with. After all, he's not a stealthy creature. But his strength will prove useful to you, and he's a regular to the city gates and taverns of Ladika, which provides Clothol with ship-building supplies like pitch, twine, and nails. Because the locals are used to seeing him, he won't cause a stir."
Talen looks at me skeptically.
"You recommend him?" I ask Marcel. "I'm quite physically strong, you know--"
"Not like Logren," Marcel counters. "Yes, I recommend him. He'll make your job easier. I guarantee it."
"All right," I answer, trying to imagine how someone could have muscles bigger than the ones I've made in three years of exercise and eating meat all the time. "He'll be on my team."
"This is going to be a big heist," Marcel said. "Once you get to Ladika, how you go about seizing the jewels is entirely up to you. I do know that they'll be in small pouches and carefully guarded by well-trained men from the iron brotherhood. Once you catch up to Wriln, he should be able to give you more details: where they're being stored, how they're being guarded, and the number of guards on the premises and that kind of thing."
He looks at me then and drills the lit end of his cigar into a ceramic ash tray, which is decorated with pictures of black jackals. "Who else will you be taking along?"
"I haven't decided on that yet," I say. "Ambrell, I think...and maybe Elliot." I look at Talen. "Would Nicki want to go?"
He shakes his head. "She's going to have my baby anytime now, and she's big as a house. The milk is great to suck from her nipples, but I've kind of gotten sick of her moodiness. And the sex has been awful."
Marcel laughs. "You shouldn't have knocked her up then. You find another girl to stick your cock into?" He looks at me, "Talen's always had any girl he's desired that's walked through the doors of this place. How many kids you got now? Three?"
"I've had a lot of pussy," he admits, then shrugs. But he can't avoid locking eyes with me for at least a few seconds. "I broke it off with her, and she's pissed as hell. But whatever I make, Marcel, can be split with her. I want my child to have a home here."
The Daymaster nods and says nothing, looking to me to continue.
I blink, trying to overcome the shock of Talen having kids. "I-I've to ask the both of them then is all."
"And what about Swift?" Marcel asks me.
"Do you recommend him?"
"I do."
I hope that when I wince it doesn't show all that badly. "I'll ask him as well...as per your recommendation."
Talen grins and jumps to his feet. After I thank Marcel once again for letting me lead the team into Ladika, I stand and join Talen at the door where the both of us exit. At the last minute, I remember to take the two pieces of parchment that I'd placed on the edge of his desk only moments before. Once I retrieve them, I walk out of the room considering my options. I can assume that Lyran is going to be watching for thieves to arrive in his city, and this means he'll have his men at the gates watching for us.
Talen takes the lead up the narrow stairwell, and I follow his footsteps down the hall past the sleeping porch and to the main stairwell that goes to the mess hall where thieves from all over the house are collecting for morning slop. I want to ask him about his kids, but there just isn't a convenient time to do so.
Talen and I walk over to Ambrell's table.
She's saved spots for us.
Ambrell looks great today. Her hair is scooped under a bright green cap, and her expression is light and carefree. She's wearing a tight-fitting green jerkin with a white shirt underneath this, and she's added two or three shiny buttons to the front of it. I sit on the bench across from her and Talen takes a seat next to me. Gage, who works the kitchens in the morning, brings us newcomers a bowl of steamed porridge with cinnamon and butter. There's also a slice of fresh bread, and he collects a copper shilling from each one of us at the table.
"Mmm...," Ambrell says, sniffing her bowl. "I love the smell of cinnamon." She closes her eyes, and I smile at my own bowl behind the mask because I like the smell of cinnamon too.
I lift up the bottom and take a bite of my bread and nod when Talen proffers an empty wooden mug and a pitcher filled with cold water. Seeing my acknowledgement, he fills it to the brim, spilling a little on the table and then does so for Ambrell's mug and his own in turn.
I swallow and look around at the room while stirring my steaming bowl of porridge. I notice Elliot walk into the room. His hair which is red like fresh smelted copper looks rather windblown and messy today. And he's wearing a red shirt which seems to make the freckles on his face less noticeable.
I stand up with the backs of my knees against the bench and call out to him. He's about to sit down at another table, but I catch him in time. He strides over with the gait of someone going through puberty in a hard way.
"Kian?" he asks. "Whoah...it's been years since I've seen you at breakfast. How've you been man? And where the hell have you been hiding out at? And why the mask? Did you get your face messed up?"
I hold out my hand, and he pulls me into his arms to give me a hug. He ruffles the back of my shirt with his hand. "Can I join you guys?" he asks. "Hi Ambrell," he says and then gives her a wave from his left hand.
"Hi Elliot," she returns. Ambrell has always had a nice smile and she smiles now, just moments before she spoons more porridge into her mouth. Her eyes drift back and forth, first looking at me and then back at Elliot. I put my hands in my pocket and nod for him to sit down next to her.
"No, my face isn't messed up," I answer. "Talen can verify this."
Talen gives a thumbs up.
"I just wear it because Constantine told me to. I'm hiding my identity."
"Oh," Elliot nods. "That's probably smart."
"I-I want to ask you something. Actually, I want to ask both you and Ambrell the same thing so this works out great."
Ambrell sets down her wooden mug. "Something bothering you, 'hon?" She continues to stir her porridge around in the ceramic bowl directly in front of her.
I take my seat and wait for Gage to slip up to our table with Elliot's bowl of porridge. Talen offers to fill Elliot's cup with water, and he accepts so Talen empties the last of the pitcher's contents into his wooden mug. "Not bothering me, Ambrell. More like...hmm, a business proposition." Both of them look intrigued, so I start to explain.
"I've been working with Marcel on the details of a secret trip to Ladika to recover some jewels. Now, before you two make up your mind, I can assure you that I can lead this assignment. But I'm going to need good people to go along. Ambrell, you have a lot of experience with covert operations and Elliot...well...you've the gift of glibness. You're also really sharp and this isn't a kind of assignment that accepts mistakes easily. It's dangerous. You may even get killed--"
"Kian," Ambrell interrupts, "I'd be happy to go on any assignment with you, and I'm sure Elliot feels the same way. But word is that Ladika is closed down because of plague right now. Is it wise to go into the city?"
"Plague?" Talen queries. His expression shifts to one of horror. "Marcel didn't mention any plague."
"N-no he didn't," I echo.
"He might not have known about it," Ambrell says. "I just found out myself. I've a friend that lives in Ladika, and I just heard from her today. Her letter describes houses being burned. Additionally, the necromancy guild is burying people in mass graves outside the city."
I watch Elliot blow on a spoonful of porridge. Then he quietly tastes it, swallowing it down with a contented expression lifting the corners of his lips.
"I need to get started on this assignment tonight, plague or no plague. Elliot?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I count you in?"
The carrot top shrugs his shoulders. "Hell yes. Anything to get out of this place, even if the place we're going to isn't much better." He looks around for a second. "These walls start closin' in on you after a while. Makes you feel like a caged rat."
I relax a bit and finish eating the rest of my porridge, which is now cool enough that there's no threat of my burning the inside of my mouth. Swift, who I've ignored up 'til now, stands up from a table on the other side of the room and walks over with a self-assured cockiness I'd recognize anywhere. He's wearing a pale blue shirt, and I can see that he's armed with at least two knives. He's wearing shiny black leather pants that look good on him, and he struts right up to where I'm sitting and kneels down so that his eyes are even with everyone else's.
As much as I find him a threat, I can't necessarily dislike him.
"Good morning," he says. "Planning without me."
"This is my duty," I utter without hesitation.
"So I've been told. Marcel must have a lot of faith in you, Kian. I know if I was Daymaster, I'd never have left something this important to someone as green around the ears as you are."
"Well you aren't Daymaster."
"Noted."
"Are you trying to say that you're better than me?" I ask.
"I'm better at this kind of thing than you are, Kian. And y'all," he nods with his head, "KNOW that I'm better, so if you're smart, you'll just let me plan the whole thing before someone dies."
"That's enough, Swift," I say. "If you want to come along, that's fine. But you just remember that I'm only letting you come along 'cause Marcel recommended you."
Swift locks eyes with me. I see he isn't going to say anything more, especially since no one at the table has jumped to his defense. "All right. This is your fish to fry. But if people start to die, I take over."
"If anyone dies," I say, "it's because they're our enemy, and I want them to die. You got that?"
"Easy, Kian," Talen says. He interlaces his fingers in my hand. "Dial it back a notch."
"Kian," Ambrell interjects, "when are we leaving?"
I swallow hard, jerking my eyes away from Swift. "We'll meet in the courtyard an hour after last sunset. I'll have everything ready to go by then."
"Right," Ambrell acknowledges. She stands up and wipes her mouth with a cloth napkin. "I've some things to prepare before then."
Elliot looks up at Swift and quietly excuses himself. "I'll see you tonight, chum. I'll be ready."
"Thanks Elliot..." I murmur.
"No problem." He nods to Swift and Talen, saying their names once and walks off and up the stairs to the sleeping rooms.
"Well..." Swift begins, "I guess I'll see you tonight as well. Glad we could talk, Kian" He nods to Talen. He doesn't leave right away but lingers, floating from table to table, talking to the guys in the mess hall and occasionally pointing over to Talen and I at my table.
"Don't be upset Kian," Talen cautions. "C'mon, he's just sizin' you up...that's all. Swift is all hot air. He's probably just a little envious of you too. A lot of the guys in this guild are."
"Envious?" I state with incredulity. "I don't know anyone. How could they be envious?"
"Okay, I caveat that you probably don't know that many people. But they know you. The day you showed up, every girl here wanted to bone you. That's rubbed him wrong for years. And now, all the guys are afraid of you...they think you're some kind of killer. And nearly all of them want to be in your shoes...if not for the girls...then for those answers to those questions everybody is asking themselves when they go to bed."
"Questions? What kinds of questions?"
"Mostly what you can do. For example, have you ever killed anyone? Or, if you've killed someone, how'd you go about doing it. Or, could I take him in a fight or would he smoke me like a bad cigar? Those kind of questions."
I laugh. 'You're not serious."
"Look around you. Guys like to measure their dicks against one another. I'm perfectly serious Kian. Look at the way everyone seems to step real careful when you're around. I don't 'cause I know you. I know I could kick your ass in a fight and that makes it possible for me to sleep at night."
I smile. "Yeah right."
Talen doesn't smile...but his eyes do all the talking.
He could only kick my ass because he knows I'd die first than see even a bruise on his skin. Talen has a peculiar ability to express himself through those eyes of his, and I wish I had that same ability.
"How do you suppose we should get into the city?" I ask.
Talen leans back on the bench. "Well, Ladika has three gates into the city. Normally, these would be open for anyone to come and go as they please. If there's a plague, well, that makes things a lot harder. They'll close the city to anyone that doesn't have a government permit. They also won't be letting people out of the city. Government quarantine will keep everyone there until this whole thing blows over."
I suddenly have an idea. "I could buy corpses."
Talen's face grows ashen. "Corpses...as in dead bodies? What the hell are you thinking?"
"No...just follow my idea for a minute. If I buy us a wagon load of cadavers we can dump them in the mass graves outside the city. The guards at the city gate will think we're carrying the stricken and diseased out for proper disposal. They'll let us in with an empty cart and once inside, we do as we please."
"It might work," Talen says approvingly. "But the idea of riding fourteen hours in a cart with dead bodies is a bit repugnant. Can't you think of anything else?"
"Not unless you can come up with forged documents."
"No. Not this soon I can't. Maybe if I had a week or two to hunt them down."
"All right," I say. "Then it's going to be the corpses. Where's a good place to buy them in the city?"
Talen puts finger to chin while he's thinking.
"Go to the Necromancy Guild. It's near the cemetery on the north side of Clothol. You'll recognize it because it's an oval building with twisted towers on the grounds outside. The towers have a crest with a skull on it. It's an absolutely dreary place."
"Can you get us a wagon and some horses to pull it?" I ask him.
Talen nods. "That's the easy part. I can have that by noon."
"Excellent. See you after noon then."
I stand up and pick up my half-empty bowl of porridge and hand it to Gage who's busy bussing the tables.
I walk to the Necromancy guild, and I have very little trouble finding the place.
The grounds of the Necromancy guild are barren of life, and everything seems gray and colorless, probably compounded by the fact that the sky is overcast and threatening rain. The main building has a sign out front with words I cannot read. But there's also a picture of a skull with a hole in it.
I don't need to be literate to understand THAT message. Brains are removed here.
I uneasily poke my head inside the door, and I see blank-faced men with numbers tattooed into their foreheads. They ferry dead bodies to furnace rooms on magically floating platforms. These men have grayish skin, and their eyes are an unwholesome yellow. They speak not, ignoring me as if I don't exist, and move with a shambling gait. After a moment, it dawns on me. These things are not living.
They are instead, zombies.
Remarkable.
I shudder and continue to watch from the doorway. A figure dressed in black with greasy shanks that drift about the shoulders glides across the cold marble floor to greet me. This figure is living--I'm certain of it. But from his complexion, he looks to be at Death's door.
"Welcome to the Mortuary," the figure says. "What services may I provide?"
I look at him carefully through the eyeholes of my mask. I discern shallow cheekbones and a yellowing to his half-lidded eyes.
"I want to buy five corpses," I declare. "Fresh ones if possible. They're for the Clothol College of Medicine."
"Five medical cadavers?! What an unusual request, considering that the school has already picked up their orders for the semester," the figure states. "Medical-grade cadavers can be difficult to come by. If you're looking for some not earmarked in this manner, I might be able to help you. But let's not split hairs, shall we? No one from the college comes to us wearing a mask. Are you planning to feed ghouls? We have specially prepared bodies for these purposes."
"I'm not sure," I say, not really knowing what a ghoul is. "I won't need any specially prepared bodies...just fresh ones...five of them."
The strange looking man accepts my proposal. "Very well. Five fresh bodies will cost you a gold lion a piece. Five gold total...payable now." He holds out his hand for me to deliver the coins to him. I swallow in repugnance as I pay him the sum from my change pouch. His hand is skeletal, and the skin is as sallow and unhealthy as they come. I can't imagine him touching me.
I know my skin would crawl right off my bones.
"I'll pick them up tonight. Could you wrap them in burial linen? Nothing extravagant."
"As you wish," the man says. His thin lips and wry smile make his mouth look long and overly large for his face. "We pride ourselves in our service."
I leave the Mortuary with a supernatural chill settling into my bones. To make matters worse, rain starts to fall out of the sky in heavy droplets. It's going to be a cold and miserable evening.
I gather my cloak about me, which is wet and shiny from the rain, and I descend the hill on which the Mortuary stands. On my left is a band of green grass running parallel to the cobblestone road. Areas of this grassy stretch are choked with thistle and razorvine. The whole of the crawling mass of it grows up and over a high granite wall marking the boundary between the city proper and the cemetery. I pass by a gate made from twisted black iron when I'm forced to stop, my eyes drawn to a girl standing before a gravestone.
Quite clearly, she's sad despite the falling rain.
Her eyes are violet, like the heart of the ocean that sometimes haunts my dreams, and she has raven hair, black like a murder of crows, with a sparkling highlight of auburn making that wondrous hair of hers look marbleized. She is slender and beautiful with fair-colored skin and high cheek bones. I can see around her throat a band of gold which cascades down the front of her sweater of midnight blue like a rivulet of liquid sunshine amidst a tumultuous sea of expensive wool. She's wearing shiny leather boots and pants made from black suede. She wears a midnight blue cloak with the hood pulled up to keep the rain out of her face. And the whole time she gazes with sad eyes at the headstone before her.
I can't pull my eyes away, and she eventually notices me. Those gorgeous peepers lock onto mine for the briefest of moments, and a smile breaks the despondent composure of her face. Even though she's inconsolable, I feel warmed.
Despite my feelings for Talen, my pulse quickens. I can't help what I feel.
I turn away, blinking, and then risk a look back but she's still standing there. I'm such a bastard, but maybe my heart is big enough to accommodate two lovers. Wait...why am I even thinking this? Had she looked at me? Or had I dreamt the whole thing?
I place my hands in my pockets and continue on my way, following the cobblestone path, sometimes walking in the grass, and sometimes jumping into puddles. I walk to the bottom of Cemetery Hill and into the busy streets of the City of Dreams.
It's probably best, I reason. I've got a good thing with Talen, and I don't need distractions. Not now when I'm embarking on a new career. And I won't see her again anyway. And even if I do, she looks like a noble. I used to be a prince, but my people and my kingdom lie on the bottom of the Sea of Rwn. What chance have I in proving myself to the likes of her?
But Tethyr's teeth our kids would be beautiful. I've always wanted kids. I could be a good father...
I pinch my eyes closed. "Concentrate damn you."
I walk into the alley that leads to the thieves' quarter of the city, and my mind continues to spin with regard to the girl I've seen. I nod to three boys my own age who are sitting on top of a wall made from castle rock. They are in turn watching Talen play with a small sack of cloth that he bounces from foot to foot. I stop for a moment to watch him too. He takes the sack and tosses it up, stalling it with the side of his foot and then, he catches it with his mouth and lets it roll down his mid-section only to kick it up again and again.
Talen signals to me as I approach, wiping the sweat from his brow with his left hand. He finishes a particularly difficult maneuver where he sails the sack around his back to catch it on the side of his other foot. He smiles at me and says, "good afternoon."
"I saw a girl," I say to him, taking a seat on the stone steps in front of the guild house. The steps are wet from rain, but I don't care. Talen drops his sack in a puddle and looks dismayed.
"I'll have to let it dry out now," he says. "So chum, tell me about this girl. Was she pretty?"
"Yes."
"Are you in love?"
"I don't know. You can't just fall in love can you? I mean...I don't even know her name. I saw her only once, and it seems to me like she was sad."
"I've fallen in love almost instantly. Where did you see her?" Talen asks.
"On Cemetery Hill. I think she was paying her respects to a grave."
"Ahh," Talen says, voice soft. "Could be that she was a ghost. I saw a ghost once."
"What? A ghost...no...I don't think so. She was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Definitely not a ghost."
"Does this change things between us?" he whispers.
"No. Absolutely not," I say rapidly. "I just want you to know the truth. I'll never lie to you."
He nods. "I appreciate that. I got us the wagon and the horses," he declares. "They're around back in a building the guild uses as a storage shed."
"I should have introduced myself to her. Do you think I made a mistake?"
Talen shrugs and carefully whispers in my ear, "Difficult to say. But you're asking a boy whose heart belongs to you. I'm glad you didn't introduce yourself, because I don't want to share you. But I will if I have to just like you've shared me with Nicki." He sighs. "Is she the kind of girl that could return love to a cutthroat?"
I think about this for a minute. "N-no I don't think she could at that." My own words are very disheartening to me. "I'm going to get some rest before tonight."
"May I join you?"
I nod, and Talen follows me to Constantine's dojo where we end up not getting as much rest as I'd hoped--Talen especially so.
I know he'll have difficulty walking tonight, but that's not my problem.
I shall post Chapter Eleven soon. Merry Christmas.