Rules of Ascension: Book One of Winds of the Forelands (5 page)

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Authors: David B. Coe

BOOK: Rules of Ascension: Book One of Winds of the Forelands
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“I believe we agreed upon four qinde each,” he said as he stopped in front of them.
Cadel gave a small laugh, but when he spoke his voice carried just a hint of steel. “And I’m certain it was eight.”
The man looked up. He was quite heavy, with white, wispy hair and yellowed teeth. He walked with an exaggerated limp. This was not a man who was looking for a fight.
He merely nodded. “Of course, I’d forgotten. Eight it is. And worth every qinde.”
He handed them each their coins and then smiled, his breath smelling of ale and pipe smoke. “If you’re back for next year’s Revel, I hope you’ll sing for us again. At the same wage, naturally.”
“If we’re back,” Cadel said, “we’d be delighted.”
The four singers left the inn by way of a rear door that let out into a grassy area near the west wall of Thorald City. Immediately, Jedrek and Kalida moved off a short distance to say their goodbyes, leaving Cadel alone with Anesse.
The woman stared after her sister for a moment before facing Cadel, a wry grin on her lips.
“Well,” she said, “if there’s any truth to the old legends, we’ll probably see each other again at Kalida and Honok’s joining.”
Cadel hesitated and Anesse began to laugh.
“Don’t worry,” she told him with obvious amusement. “Kalida doesn’t believe in the legends any more than your friend seems to.” Her smile changed, deepened. “I do, however, and I should tell you that I still was tempted to seek out your chambers last night.”
“I almost wish you had.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Almost?”
“I take the moon legends seriously, too. Even if you had come, I’m not certain what would have happened.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “But what about now? I don’t think Kalida and Honok would mind a few hours together before evening. And we have nothing to fear today from the legends.”
He was tempted by her offer. Who wouldn’t have been? But he had to meet someone before sundown, and on days such as these he did not allow himself any distractions. Except for music, of course, which actually served to sharpen his mind. Besides, he needed to speak with Jedrek.
“I wish I could. But Honok and I must rehearse for this evening. We’re visiting friends, but like all our friends, they’ll expect us to sing, and we have nothing prepared.”
“If I didn’t know better, Corbin, I’d say you were putting me off.”
He felt himself growing tense and he tried not to let it show. “I’m sorry if it seems that way. I meant what I said before: I hope the goddess will bring us together again. But I’m afraid this isn’t our time.”
Anesse shrugged and smiled. “Very well. Until next time then.” She glanced back toward where Jedrek and her sister had been and, seeing that they were gone, looked at Cadel again, a question in her green eyes. “Where did they go?”
“I think they went around to the side of the inn for some privacy,” he said. No doubt Jedrek had her pressed up against the building wall by now.
Anesse frowned. “Kal?” she called.
For several moments there was no reply.
“Just a minute,” her sister finally answered, her voice breathless and muffled.
The woman faced him again, looking uncomfortable, and they stood that way for a few more minutes, waiting for Jedrek and Kalida to return.
He’s gone too far this time
, Cadel thought, his anger at Jedrek building as they waited. He and Jedrek had been together for a long time, but in recent turns Jedrek had started acting strangely, taking risks where once he never would have thought of doing so. Perhaps it was the inevitable result of success, or a natural response to so many years of caution. Whatever the reason, it had to stop before one of them got killed.
When at last Jedrek and the woman returned to the grassy area behind the inn, their hair and clothes disheveled, Cadel was ready to throttle him. Kalida, her color high, refused to meet her sister’s gaze, but Jedrek seemed far too pleased with himself. He grinned at Cadel sheepishly and gave a slight shrug, as if the gesture alone could excuse his behavior. At least he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
“Goodbye, Anesse,” Cadel said, as he and Jedrek turned to leave. “Gods keep you safe.”
He didn’t look back, but he sensed that she was smiling.
“And you, Corbin,” she said.
For some time as they walked, neither of them said a thing, and even when Cadel did begin to speak, he kept his tone low and casual, so as not to draw the attention of passersby.
“I’ve half a mind to kill you here in Thorald, and leave your body for the duke’s men to find tomorrow morning.”
Jedrek faltered in midstride for just an instant before resuming his normal gait. The smile had vanished from his lean face. He swallowed, then whispered, “Why?”
Cadel looked at him sidelong. “You have to ask why?” He shook his head. “Perhaps I should kill you,” he muttered. They walked a few paces in silence. “You understand your job, right? You know what I expect of you?”
“I’ve been doing this for fourteen years,” Jedrek said, sounding defensive. “I ought to know my role by now.”
“Yes, you ought to!” Cadel said, his voice rising. He glanced around quickly. Two or three of the street vendors were eyeing him, but no one else seemed to have paid any attention. “You ought to,” he repeated in a lower voice. “I need you to guard my back, Jed. I need you to keep anything unexpected from ruining my plans. You’ve saved my life more times than I care to count, and I need to know that you’re capable of doing it again should the need arise. And here we are in Thorald, the heart of Eibithar, on the verge of completing the most lucrative job we’ve ever had, and you’re acting like a rutting pig.”
Jedrek didn’t say anything for some time. When he finally did respond, he sounded contrite. “You’re right. It won’t happen again. I swear.”
“It better not, or I will kill you. This is a young man’s profession. We all get too old for it eventually. I’d hate to think that your time had come already.”
Jedrek halted and grabbed Cadel by the arm so that they were facing each other. “I’m not too old!” he said, his dark eyes boring into Cadel’s.
Cadel grinned. “I’m glad to hear it. And I’m glad to see that I can still get a rise out of you.”
Jedrek glared at him for another moment before giving in to a smile and shaking his head.
“You bastard,” he said, as they started walking again.
They reached the inn a short time later. Cadel had arranged to meet with their employer just after the ringing of the prior’s bells, which would come within the hour. He had agreed to come alone—his employers often asked this of him—and he gave Jedrek leave to wander the city and enjoy the Revel for a time while he changed clothes and kept his appointment.
He climbed the stairs and walked down the narrow corridor to their room. But as he approached the door, he saw that it was slightly ajar.
Instantly his dagger was in his hand, its worn stone hilt feeling
cold and smooth against his fingers. He crept forward, each step as delicate as a kiss, and, laying his free hand gently on the door, prepared to fling it open and launch himself at the intruder.
“It’s all right,” a woman’s voice called. “I’d have thought you’d be expecting me.”
Exhaling, he straightened and pushed the door open.
He had never met the Qirsi woman he saw reclining casually on his bed, though he knew her name, and her title. Enid ja Kovar, first minister to the duke of Thorald. He also knew that she was right. He should have expected her.
“W
e were to meet by the upper river gate,” Cadel said, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.”Why the change?”
Still reclining on his bed, the woman smiled at the sight of his dagger. “Was that intended for me? I hope not. It wouldn’t be prudent to kill the duke’s minister.”
He returned the blade to the sheath within his tunic. “Why did you change our plans?” he asked again.
She sat up and gave a small shrug. “You have a reputation as a dangerous man, Cadel. I prefer to meet with dangerous men on my own terms, at places and times of my own choosing.”
“You hired me because of my reputation. It strikes me as strange that you’d suddenly find yourself afraid of me.”
The smile sprung back to her lips, though her pale yellow eyes remained grim. “I never said I was afraid of you. If you deal with the Qirsi for any length of time, you’ll find that we’re not easily frightened.”
He shuddered at the thought. He had no desire to deal with the Qirsi for any longer than was absolutely necessary. It was not just that he found their powers daunting, though certainly that was much of it. But more than that, he didn’t even like to look at them. With their white hair and pallid skin they looked more like wraiths than people, as if they had been sent from the Underrealm by Bian himself to walk among the Eandi.
They had first come to the Forelands nearly nine hundred years
before, crossing the Border Range from the Southlands intent upon conquering the northern tribes with their magic and their bright blades. Instead they were defeated, the survivors of their invasion scattered throughout the kingdoms. Yet somehow, no doubt owing to their powers, they quickly assumed positions of great importance in every court in the Forelands. To this day, they wielded tremendous influence in all the seven realms, advising kings and queens, dukes and thanes.
Enid laughed gently. “You don’t relish the notion of doing business with the Qirsi for an extended time. You should. We have access to gold, we live in every realm in the Forelands, and we don’t tend to live very long, a trait that should be especially attractive to a man of your talents.”
“I work for gold,” Cadel told her, keeping his tone neutral. “I don’t work for one set of people to the exclusion of others.”
“I realize that. I just hope that you’ll consider working for us in the future, when we have need. Everyone knows that Cadel Nistaad of Caerisse is the best assassin money can buy.”
Cadel stiffened at the sound of his surname. Even Jedrek didn’t know it. He had done everything in his power to leave it behind when he left his home in southern Caerisse sixteen years ago, even going so far as to stage his own death and have his family informed that he had gone to the Underrealm. An assassin couldn’t afford to have a past or a name, at least not one that could be traced. So he had thought to eliminate his. Up until now, he felt certain that he had succeeded, that nobody knew.
“How—?” He stopped himself, not wishing to let her see that she had unsettled him.
“How did I know your full name?” She opened her hands. “I know a great deal about you. Your father is a minor noble in southern Caerisse, a viscount I believe, who’s more interested in his vineyards and horses than he is in politics. Your mother is the daughter of a northern marquess who had hoped she would marry better. Her first pregnancy—as it turned out, her only one—dashed all hopes of that and forced the marriage. You left your home at the age of sixteen, without ever having your Fating. The reason for your departure isn’t clear, though there seems to have been a girl involved, as well as a rival for her affections who turned up dead.”
He crossed to the room’s lone window and stared down at the lane below. “How can you know all this?”
“I’m first minister to the duke of Thorald. And I’m Qirsi. I have resources at my disposal the likes of which you can’t even imagine. Never forget that, Cadel.”
As if to prove her point, she produced a leather pouch that jingled much as the innkeeper’s had, and held it out to him. He took it reluctantly. It was heavy with coins. He stared at her briefly, then pulled it open and poured the contents into his hand. There must have been twenty gold pieces. Two hundred qinde.
“This is more than we agreed,” he said quietly, returning the coins to the pouch.
“You see? Sometimes a change in plans can work to your advantage.” She watched him, as if waiting for a reaction. When he gave none, she went on. “Consider the extra gold an incentive. As I was saying, we may wish to hire you again.”
He looked down at the pouch, feeling the weight of the coins in his hand. But it was the threat implied by her chilling knowledge of his youth that occupied his mind. An incentive, she had said. And, in case that didn’t work, she had shown him the cudgel as well.
“What about tonight?” he asked, his eyes still on the money bag.
“He rides tonight, after the banquet. He’ll be in the North Wood.”
“The wood?” Cadel said, meeting her gaze.
“He honors his father, who died there several years back. A hunting accident, I believe.”
“Do you know where in the wood he’ll be?”
She nodded. “His father died near the Sanctuary of Kebb, on the north edge of the wood just east of Thorald River. Do you know it?”
“Yes.”
“I assume he’ll be there.”
“And that’s where you want it done?”
She smiled at that, her small, sharp teeth as white as her hair. “It seems fitting, doesn’t it? It was good enough for the father, it will do for the son.”
Cadel offered no response, and after a moment she continued. “I want this to look like the work of thieves. The boy’s uncle pointed out today that the Revel brings with it a collection of miscreants and lawbreakers. He’ll readily believe that one of them is responsible.”
“All right.”
“That means you can’t be seen leaving the city; you can’t use any of the gates.”
It was Cadel’s turn to smile. “That’s not a problem.”
“You’ll have to be careful getting back in, as well. You should be seen here tomorrow. It might arouse suspicion if you were to just disappear.”
He held up the pouch of gold. “You’ve paid me a great deal, First Minister, because you know I’m the best. Let me worry about the fine points. I won’t be seen leaving or entering the city, and I have no intention of disappearing. In fact, I expect to be singing ‘The Dirge of Kings’ at the young lord’s funeral.”
“I’ll look forward to that, Cadel. I hear you sing quite beautifully.”
He bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the compliment. “Is there anything more that we need to discuss, First Minister?”
“No,” she said. “Leave me.”
He hesitated. “But this is my room.”
“Yes. But no one should see me leave. Not even you.”
“I need to change my clothes.”
“Please,” she said with a raised eyebrow and a coy grin, “be my guest.”
Again he shuddered, as though from a chill wind. But the first minister showed no sign of relenting. In the end, Cadel stood in the far corner of the room, his back to her, changing out of the tunic and trousers in which he had performed, and into simple, dark clothes far better suited to what he was to do that night. When he was finished, he walked to the door wordlessly and put his hand on the knob. Then he stopped himself and faced her again.
“Why do you want him dead?” he asked.
He had never asked this of an employer before, but neither had he ever been asked to kill a future king.
She regarded him for some time, as if trying to decide whether or not to answer. At last she gave a small shrug. “We sense an opportunity, a chance to gain control of events here in the Forelands. We don’t want it to slip away.”
“With so many Qirsi in the courts, I would have thought that you already control everything you need.”
She smiled, as if indulging him. “We don’t control everything. Sometimes events show us the way. The deaths in Galdasten, for instance. An accident of history, the act of a madman. The same is true of the incident that claimed the boy’s father. Another accident, or perhaps an act of the gods. But these events created the opportunity
I mentioned a moment ago. And with your help we’re going to turn this opportunity to our advantage.”
He nodded, profoundly relieved to learn that at least some of what happened in the Forelands lay beyond the reach of Qirsi magic. Still, he couldn’t help feeling that by killing on their behalf, he made it easier for the white-hairs to turn subsequent events to their purposes.
He turned and pulled the door open, but before he could leave, the Qirsi woman called his name.
He looked at her once more and waited.
“What is it about the Qirsi that bothers you so much? Our magic? The way we look?”
“Yes, both of those,” he said. “But mostly it’s that you don’t belong here. Your place is in the Southlands. The Forelands were meant to be ours.”
She nodded. “I see.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, that’s all. Do well tonight, Cadel, and in time the gold in that pouch will seem a pittance.”
He felt his jaw tense, but he bowed his head once more, then left her and went in search of Jedrek. Gold is gold, he told himself as he walked. It doesn’t matter from where it comes. Certainly that was what Jed would say.
Cadel found Jedrek in the city marketplace, haggling with a peddler over the price of a Sanbiri blade.
“Leave it, Honok,” Cadel said as he approached the vendor’s table. “You can’t afford it anyway.”
Jedrek glanced at him sourly, before facing the merchant again. “I could if this Wethy goat would be reasonable.”
“Twelve qinde is as reasonable as I intend to be,” the peddler said in a raspy voice.
“It may be worth twelve qinde in Wethyrn, old man, but it’s worth half that anyplace else.”
“We’ll give you ten for it,” Cadel said. “Final offer.”
The merchant eyed him warily for a few moments. “Done,” he finally said.
Careful to keep the money from the Qirsi woman hidden, Cadel pulled out two five-qinde pieces and handed them to the man. The merchant took the money and made a point of handing the dagger to Cadel rather than Jedrek.
“Thank you, good sir,” he said to Cadel, a toothless grin on his wizened face. Then he cast a dark look at Jedrek. “It’s always a pleasure to do business with a gentleman.”
Cadel nodded once, before walking away. Jedrek hurried after him, holding his hand out for the blade. But for several moments Cadel held on to it, examining the bright steel and the polished wood handle. It was actually a fine piece of work. Sanbiri blades were the best in the Forelands, except perhaps for those made in Uulrann, which were exceedingly hard to find. At last he handed the dagger to Jedrek.
“Thanks,” Jedrek said, taking time to look at it as well. “You can take the ten qinde out of my share.”
“I will,” Cadel said. “It’s a good blade.” He paused, before adding, “Better than a musician needs.”
Jedrek shot him a look. “Then why did you buy it for me?”
“The damage had been done. Better we should get out of there quickly, without a fuss, than have you argue with the goat until sundown.”
Jedrek shook his head, a sullen look on his lean face. “So now I’m not even allowed to buy a dagger? Is that what you’re saying? Come on Ca—” He stopped himself. “Corbin, I mean. You’re not being reasonable. We just gave a great performance, and we did nothing to hide the fact that we were paid very well for it. Can’t I enjoy that?”
He had a point.
“You told me earlier that I was growing careless,” Jedrek went on, obviously struggling to keep his voice low. “I think it’s just as possible that you’re trying to be too careful. You’re the one who’s acting like an old man, not me.”
Cadel had to resist an urge to strike him. But he also had to admit that Jedrek was right. It was one thing to be prudent; it was something else entirely to act out of fear. In many ways that was as dangerous as taking no precautions at all. Wasn’t it possible that by trying too hard not to stand out, they could draw attention to themselves? Yes, the dagger was an extravagance. But wandering musicians needed to protect themselves from thieves, and fresh from their performances, Jedrek could be expected to celebrate a bit.
Cadel’s meeting with the first minister had left him shaken, but he had no right to take that out on Jedrek.
“You’re right,” Cadel said. “Enjoy it. It’s a fine dagger. Nicer than mine, to be honest.”
Jedrek stared at him for several moments, as if not quite sure whether to believe what Cadel was saying. Finally he grinned. “I know it’s nicer. That’s why I wanted it.” He slipped the blade into his tunic. “So where’s your meeting?” he asked a moment later, as they continued to walk.
“I’ve already had it.”
“What?”
“Our employer was waiting for me in our room.”

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