Death Comes To All (Book 1) (26 page)

Obviously
their nimble fingers have other uses,
Roland realized.

"I'm
assuming from your vague description that the part of the body you
wish to remove hair from would require something that's gentle as
well? I think I know just the thing. I often have women come in who
want to remove hair from their eyebrows or a thin mustache, anything
that they think of as a blemish to their perceived perfection."

He
took a small jar off of one of the various shelves and handed it to
Roland. Inside was a white cream that gave off a faint almond scent.
Malik apparently noticed the smell too. He quickly grabbed the jar
and placed the lid back on, holding it as far away from himself as he
could.

"A
man who knows his poisons I see," the alchemist chuckled. "No
need to worry. It's not what you thought it was. Some of the women
I've sold this to complained about the original smell of the cream. I
found that by adding a little bit of almond extract I can hide the
chemical smell without diminishing its properties. Had it been what
you thought we would all be dead soon anyway, but you're perfectly
safe.

“
I'm
not going to ask where you gained your noxious knowledge from. Bad
for business and all that. You can use this cream on any part of your
body you want to remove hair from. Just let it sit for five minutes,
then wipe it off with a damp cloth. As long as you don't ingest it,
it's perfectly safe. It won't leave any marks and it's completely
painless."

"What
happens if he does ingest any?" Malik asked.

"I
wouldn't recommend it," the alchemist answered. "You'll be
vomiting for the better part of two days. It won't kill you or
anything, but you might wish it had."

"What
if I accidentally get any in my eyes?" Roland asked, thinking of
the hair that grew on the back of his eyelids. If it was safe enough
he would feel far better about using the cream than a razor. Tara had
yet to cut him, and he was fairly certain that she never would, but
it still made him nervous to have a blade that close to his eyes.

"That
was a consideration when I created it actually," the brindle
replied. "Women are often using it for eyebrow hair and such. It
shouldn't affect you at all in small amounts, such as rubbing your
eyes after using it without properly cleaning your hands. If it
starts to burn your eyes, then flush them with water. Any hair you
remove with this won't come back for two months. I charge twelve
silver for a jar of this size. I have one double this amount that you
can purchase for twenty silver. Like all my products it's guaranteed
for one month after purchase, so if you have any issues with it feel
free to bring it back and I'll give you a full refund."

"I'll
take the larger amount for twenty," Roland decided. "My
work will have me traveling a lot, so it might not be a bad idea to
keep a ready supply."

"I'll
go get you one of the larger jars then sir. Like most of my products
it's magically preserved, so you won't have to worry about it losing
its effectiveness. There are directions for use on the bottom of the
jar. Do you need me to read them to you?"

Roland
shook his head. He wasn't going to tell the man that he could read
himself. Most guards wouldn't have been able to. However, it was not
too unusual for someone like Malik, who for all intents appeared to
be a simple merchant, to be able to read. Even if he couldn't the man
had already told him how to use the cream, so there wasn't any point
in having him repeat the directions a second time.

Before
they left Malik offered to sell the man some of the herbs he still
had with him. In the unlikely event that someone should try to follow
where the two men had gone sometime later on, they would appear to be
nothing more than the merchant and guard they claimed they were. With
enough time someone might come to question how they had gotten into
the city in the first place, but by the time a curious individual
might have gotten that far they would have been long gone.

After
selling most of his remaining herbs to the shrewd alchemist, who paid
them slightly less than what he could have gotten elsewhere but
bought herbs that could only be used for poisons as well, the two men
left and headed straight back to the inn without further stops.
Roland was, for the most part, already lost in the large city.
Everything looked the same to him. Malik, however, had no trouble
finding his way. In no time at all they were back in front of the
Gatortooth Inn.

Tammie
was already hard at work when the two went inside, which surprised
Roland somewhat. He knew that she had worked until the bar closed
late the night before, and it was only early afternoon. She hadn't
been working when they had left that morning, though the inn had
already begun serving breakfast.

"Hey
you," she exclaimed happily when he came in. "I almost
didn't recognize you in that new outfit. And that sword! I've never
seen a blade that big before! It's very scary looking, but of course
I would imagine that scary is pretty much what you were going for."

"You're
starting early," he said awkwardly, not entirely certain what to
say to her. With the cream he had purchased at the alchemist he
wouldn't have any trouble spending time with her that night, he knew.
Still, even with that knowledge he found he was nervous around her.

"Just
started my shift about ten minutes ago," she informed him.
"You'll still be here later tonight, right?"

"As
far as I know," he answered.

"We're
just dropping off a few things that Roland bought today and then
heading back out," Malik cut in quickly. "Whether we can
stay or not depends on what happens with the merchant we have to go
and meet with next. Do you know if our companion has returned yet? We
were supposed to meet her here."

"I
haven't seen her, though I only just started. I can ask John if you
like. He's been here all day, and would have seen her if she came
in."

"That's
alright. If she's here she'll either be waiting in our room or here
in the barroom. She's clearly not in here, and if she's in our room
we'll know it soon enough. We only have time to drop these things off
right now. Come on Roland. Say goodbye to your lady friend for now."

"Until
tonight then," Tammie said before he could reply. The hidden
meaning in her statement was fairly obvious. She gave him a quick
kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.

The
two men went up to the room. It took an extra second before they
could get in, since Tara had the key with her. Malik had to pick the
lock before they could enter. It only took him a moment.

If
he hadn't become an assassin he could have certainly made a living as
a burglar,
Roland thought.

"Leave
your bag here," Malik instructed. "Tara will be back before
we return again."

"Where
do you think Trick might have gone to?" Roland asked, noticing
that the dragonling wasn't in the room as he was supposed to be.

"Right
there," Malik answered, pointing out the window. Sure enough,
there was Trick, curled up next to the chimney of a neighboring
building. The little creature appeared to be sleeping, however Roland
knew him well enough to know that if Malik called for him he would be
there in a moment's notice.

"Where
is it we're going?" He asked finally. The question had been
bothering him since Malik had mentioned it the night before.

He
certainly has something planned.

"To
correct something that should have been dealt with a long time ago,"
he answered vaguely, and refused to say anything else on the subject.
Without another word the two men headed back out into the city.

Chapter
Nine

Half
an hour later the two men were walking up to a huge building,
different from any of the places Roland had visited before. Unlike
the plain wood that the homes and merchants shops along all the main
roads were made of, this building appeared to be made of polished
grey marble. Roland would have believed that perhaps it was the
domicile of one of the rich members of the city, but it didn't have
the feel of a home to him.

Could
this be a government building of some sort?
he wondered.

"I'm
here to see Thorin Sloan," Malik said loudly to the guard who
stood by the door, baring their way. Gone was the carefree tone in
his voice that Roland had been used to hearing, as was the accent he
had been using since he had changed his appearance and became the
merchant Malik. Instead, his voice rang with the distinct sound of
superiority usually reserved for the rich and powerful; men that
expected to be given what they asked for without waiting. Roland, who
had never spent time with powerful people before, did not recognize
it for what it truly was, though by his reaction the guard at the
door certainly seemed to.

"No
one gets in to see Master Sloan without an appointment, and if you
had one he would have told me personally to expect you. Now get lost
before I give you a reason to wish you had." The guard fingered
the hilt of his sword eagerly to emphasize his point. The man wore
his blade with the air of someone who used it quite often. Roland
wasn’t concerned.

If
this guy thinks that he’s any sort of a match for Malik he’s
got another thing coming
.

"If
you know what's good for you, you'll tell that pathetic little weasel
that Raiste Goldstone is at his door and is calling on him,”
Malik replied as if he hadn’t heard the guard at all. “Or
perhaps you would prefer to tell Bloodheart himself why you didn't
think that I was important enough to announce?"

The
guard gulped noticeably. He seemed torn between his order to keep
away riffraff who might come to the door and the blatant threat
implied with the mention of Bloodheart's name. Finally he seemed to
come to a decision.

"Wait
here. I'll send someone to talk to Master Sloan, and we'll see if
he
thinks you're worth bothering with."

"He'll
see me," Malik assured the guard. "There's no way he
wouldn't."

The
guard said something to an unseen person just inside the doorway,
then resumed his post. Less than two minutes later the page returned,
coming out to talk to the guard in hushed, whispered tones. He was a
young boy, only perhaps nine or ten years of age, but he seemed to be
a capable enough lad. The boy whispered to him for several minutes,
after which the guard stiffened and came over to where they waited a
few feet away.

"I
apologize if I seemed rude," he said. "We have had people
come from time to time just looking to cause trouble, so I was given
orders to deal with anyone who was not welcome. It seems that the
master was not expecting you, but he will see you right away in his
study. I was asked to relieve you of your weapons. It's nothing
personal. Master Sloan has many enemies, and he doesn't allow armed
men to enter his offices. Follow the page, he'll show you the way."

Roland
moved to take Ocean's Hand off of his back, but Malik stopped him. "I
also have many enemies, so my guard and I will keep our weapons with
us. Your master will just have to deal with it."

The
guard seemed to be expecting this. The young page behind him
shrugged. "Very well. Follow him inside and he'll show you the
way."

The
inside of the building, which the guard had indicated was nothing
more than an office building, was like nothing Roland had ever seen.
He couldn't believe such a collection of riches could exist in one
place. The walls were of a smooth white plaster, with dozens of
murals and paintings hanging from every wall. Each step the group
took clicked loudly on the polished marble floors, magicked to shine
the dark red color of fresh blood. White marble statues, mostly of
nude women standing in a variety of provocative poses, dotted the
floors inside each empty room they passed. Not a single door in the
building that Roland could see was closed.

The
boy led them through twisting passageways, finally ending at the
first unopened door they had come across, made of a single, thick
slab of oak. Without knocking he opened the door and stepped inside.
Unlike the other rooms, this office had a thick, forest green carpet
extending from one wall to the other.

Roland
knew nothing at all about art, but he knew without being told that
the several paintings that covered the walls had to have cost a
fortune. At the far end of the room a small, thin framed man sat
behind a massive desk made of intricately carved cherry wood. The man
seemed to be looking over a small pile of papers that were spread
across the desk. He looked up at them as soon as they walked in.

"So
you're Raiste Goldstone you say?" the man asked quietly, his
beady eyes twinkling. "I had heard that you were dead. How is it
that you are still alive when all of the reports say otherwise?"

"My
father had his secrets," Malik replied. "Does it really
matter? I'm here now."

"I
don't suppose it really does. The real question is what are you doing
here now? What, may I ask, brings you so unexpectedly to me?"

"My
father might be dead, but as his son and legal heir, everything he
owned rightly belongs to me now. I've come to claim what is mine.
That includes this city, this building, and everything that slug
Bloodheart has taken. I understand that it will take him time to
gather what little belongs to him, so I will offer him one week to
get his things together and leave. After that time I will be forced
to take it from him."