Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1) (34 page)

They expected most of the guild to be awake, as a large portion of the guild's business occurred at night. It was more than likely that many of the Assassins would be out working, either gathering new contracts, or completing old ones. Those that remained would probably be taking their leisure, feeling safe within the walls of their guild.
Who would dare attack an entire guild of Assassins
... The few members that had tasks to complete during the day would be asleep, but Victor knew that any of those that slept too soundly would be dead shortly. A short scuffle broke out in the room to the bottom right of the stairwell, but it ended quickly, and Victor didn't think anyone had been alerted by the short noise.

Moving through the halls like a ghost, Victor knew that much of his remaining undetected was as much due to his size as it was his skill. He had felt more than a few loose boards that had a larger person stepped on them they would have creaked in protest. It appeared that the largest room on the second floor was the one nearest the stairwell. Victor guessed that it was either a room where a lot of men bunked, or the quarters for the Grand Master, either way he was not going to go anywhere near it again. The next two largest rooms he also left alone as the ornate doorways marked them as most likely being the other Master Assassin's chambers. As he neared the end of the hallway he found a ladder with a hatch at the top of it. Having seen no one out and about on the second floor he decided that it was worth his consideration.

Victor opened his pouch, taking out the tools that Nim had given him in order to bypass locks and traps. Probing around the small portal he found two traps that would trigger from the outside if someone were to attempt entry from above. He disabled those so they wouldn't bother him on his way back, and easily unlocked the locking mechanism, as it wasn't meant to keep people from going out. Lifting the hatch, Victor poked his head slowly through the hole, finding the roof.

Great, you found the roof. Nim's going to be really glad to have this information. “Hey Nim! I found the roof.”
Victor was cursing to himself as he walked up to a structure that took up a large portion of the center of the roof. Walking all the way around the stout structure he could see no visible point of entry.
Hmm, maybe I shouldn't be so quick to dismiss this
.

He began a stone by stone search, looking for any loose stones, indents, keyholes, or other such mechanisms that might reveal a hidden door. Several minutes passed before he located the indent he had been looking for. Victor probed around the area carefully in order to make sure there were no surprises waiting for the person who dared to push the button. Not finding anything untoward he was just about to push the button when he noticed the slits under his feet. Cursing himself quietly for a fool Victor stepped back gingerly from the portion of wall he had been inspecting. Taking out his dagger he probed along the area where the floor met the wall and found the catch for the trap. His first attempt at disabling the device ended horribly with the trap going off and a needle thin set of spikes coming out of the floor about six inches. He noticed in the moonlight that the tips were definitely coated with something that he was sure held its own nasty surprises.
I wonder if that's the stuff that got Megan?
The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it, and a solitary tear escaped before he could regain control.

Looking into his toolkit he pulled out a set of pliers that he used for making his own traps, and gripped one of the needles from the trap before it reset. It was nearly a full minute before the mechanism triggered again and slowly lowered back into the roof. The needle he had gripped came free fairly easily, and he placed it into his match case point down for later examination. Taking a deep breath Victor moved back into position to work on the trap. It took him several tries, but he was able to release the mechanism. After his recent close call he was not feeling especially lucky, so he decided to use his dagger to press the button.

*****

Nim had only been slightly surprised when Zander had offered his assistance tonight. They had traveled together for a time in his youth. Nim had been sixteen, ready to take on the world, and Zander had been twenty seven, trying to prove to the Tetriarch and the Arch Magus that he was someone worth watching. Zander had definitely proved himself, and Nim had learned quite a few tricks from the man he had chanced upon on the road to Asylum nearly twenty years back.

Still, this wasn't his fight, and it wasn't in the man's character to go out of his way, especially if it meant he might miss the first fight of the war, to help a friend. Nim had to consider the fact that there were probably other reasons for the man's assistance. Did someone order him to keep an eye on me? Maybe it's a political favor, but for who? A small voice in his head suggested that maybe the man had liked the girls, and he was here for the same reasons that Nim and Victor were... The cynical part that controlled the rest of his mind quickly through the idea out. It could be that he just didn't like having a guild of assassins working under his nose, willing to strike at the manor of one of the King's advisers.
I suppose it doesn't really matter why he came, I'm just glad he's here.

Had anyone seen the two men work their way through the bottom floor of the guild they might have described the actions of the men as poetry in motion. It was a dark poetry, filled with silence, blood, and death, but there were no wasted movements to their actions. The only sounds that intruded upon this silence were the intake of air right before someone is about to call an alarm, the sound of one of Nim's daggers slicing through the air before taking out the targets jugular(and usually a second to the heart for good measure), and the last breath escaping from the lips of the dying.

Nim knew that Zander was most well known for the amazingly destructive forces that he could shape together on the battlefield, and for most that would be a reason to respect the man. The Knights however seemed to respect the man for his combat prowess, preferring to regale their comrades with stories of his many splendid victories with nothing but his bare hands. Ignoring the fact that just as much energy was used making his body into a killing machine as would be used in a usually more useful explosion, but that's a soldier for you. Nim had gone to watch Zander give hand to hand lessons to the troops on many a fine afternoon, his pleasure or dissatisfaction only apparent to those who recognize each little tick in his face as a carefully controlled emotion. When not in combat or training, Zander was a fairly agreeable fellow who smiled regularly, but once he became serious it was very difficult to break his calm demeanor. There were occasional moments, during real fights, that Nim had seen those rigid features twist into an almost feral grin however, and that was usually very bad news for whomever Zander was dealing with at the time. Watching his old companion now however, there was no smile. Here was Zander Halcyon, Battlesorcerer of the Protectorate, doing his duty to the crown by snapping the necks of a few rats that had somehow infested his city, with about as much effort as most men would snap a chicken bone.

There had been more men sleeping than Nim thought their should have been. If the guild master had studied Nim at all, he should have expected a measured response. Nim had heard about the leader of this particular guild, not by name, but by an overlap in business, and by reputation. He had stolen more than a few contracts from Nim over the years, and may even have been responsible for several chance meetings with unfriendly fellows over the years. All of which bothered Nim little, he understood that it was just business, but this time was different. This time it was personal.

Ahh....
Nim suddenly realized why the Guild Master was not expecting an attack.
It's because he assumed all of his assassins would have committed suicide before they could be tortured for information.
Nim grinned at the man's stupidity.

Still, he knew that no man who could rise through the ranks of assassins, in a city like Safeharbor, could be an easy target. Moving through the kitchen, he realized that it had been much too easy. Looking over at Zander he found himself meeting his friends eyes. Zander lifted an eyebrow, and then looked towards the ceiling, obviously having had the same thought that Nim had.
They will be waiting for us on the second floor.
Nim nodded, and then tipped his head to the side indicating that he was going to check out the last of the rooms on this floor before they proceeded upstairs.

Opening the door, ready to throw a dagger if needed, Nim found himself face to face with... the pantry. His mind recognizing no threat his first thought was to how well organized the space was.
Well, the master of the kitchen has an orderly mind at least.
Looking around he found a bag of flour, half used, that he thought might come in handy upstairs. As Nim exited the pantry he saw Zander begin to shrink back down to his normal size, his muscles regaining their natural form instead of the bulging corded muscles that reminded Nim of Adrian Theromvore. Nim thought that now that Zander's warrior transformation had worn off, or the man had more than likely canceled it, the man was more dangerous than ever to whomever was upstairs. Though his warrior form gave him increased strength and constitution, it made it more difficult to do any quick shaping. Now he would be able to bring forth his many battle spells with a thought.

Retracing their steps, making sure that they had not missed anyone and that no one had yet stumbled upon the ample evidence of intrusion, both men stopped stopped at the bottom of the stairs preparing for what they both felt was coming.

“Where's Victor?” Zander whispered, leaning in so that he was only a hairsbreadth from Nim's ear.

“He's around here somewhere.” Nim replied just as quietly. “If I know the lad he's probably found a golden treasure or killed everyone just to prove he's a better model than us old farts.”

Both men had spent time with Victor, and it usually didn't take long with the boy before you felt like you should follow him, or stab him on principle. For the two men, Victor was a spotlight on their youths, reminding them of what it was like to grow up in a land like Terroval. Things were usually a little easier in the cities, but Terroval was a harsh land, and it fostered a harsh people. Only the strong would survive to see that sunrise each morning. Whatever other thoughts they had about the boy they each kept them to themselves, it was apparent that both of them had a healthy respect for the boy, and that was more important to each than anything that could have been said.

“Shall we continue.” Nim stated more than asked.

“Yes, of course, let me find out where the boy is first.” Zander closed his eyes, connecting with the billions of molecules in the area, trying to locate Victor's unique pattern. Locating the boy somewhere above them, Zander constructed a corridor of molecules so that he could send a signal directly to Victor's brain.
Victor where are you?

On the roof, playin' around.
Came Victor's reply.

“It appears the lad is on the roof. He says he's playing around.” Zander mused.

Nim groaned. “That could mean anything. I suppose we better get up there.”

As the two men began to move silently up the stairs, the twin doors near the top opened, making both of them stop cold in their tracks, their bodies ready for fight or flight.

“Ah, guests, won't you come in.”

Zander crooked an eyebrow at Nim who simply shrugged and continued his trip up the stairs, one hand behind his back. Zander was only a step behind as he began to pull in potential particles, preparing them to accept his will at a moments notice.

Nearing the top of the stairs Nim had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as the room came into view. The walls were a dark red, and there was gold on every surface.
They might as well have hung a sign that says Evil Lair here.
There were three men visible inside the room. Two men in robes stood beside the desk, while the third sat comfortably behind the desk.

The man on Nim's right had a shaved head, a gaunt face, and wore loose fitting robes the color of blood.
Blood Mage, or some fool pretending to be one either way, he'll be the first to die.

The man opposite the Mage was a sickly looking fellow in black robes holding a crystal bowl in his hand. He seemed transfixed upon the bowl and didn't seem to care that two men stood at the threshold of the room.
I'll bet he's a priest of Thom. He could be more dangerous than the Mage.

The man that sat behind the desk was perhaps more than likely the most dangerous man in the room.
Well, on that side of the room at least.
No longer a young man, he wore all the signs of a hard fought life, and his face was beginning show signs of his age. His bare arms made it quickly apparent that he had not been lax in his physical training however. The man's muscles were toned to a degree that is usually saved for a dancer, or an acrobat. His body and face carried the scars of many battles, and part of his left ear was missing, most likely from the same cut that nearly took his eye. His hair was graying and appeared to be set back into a ponytail. This was a warrior of a very specialized sort, an assassin, bred for one thing, killing.

“Welcome gentlemen.” The assassin said, his voice almost believably cheery. “To what do I owe this unexpected intrusion upon my home and place of business?”

Always ready to entertain Nim took on the same mock cheerful tone and replied. “Well, it appears that you may have displaced a few of those in your employ last night. I just wanted to let you know that they have decided that they can no longer be in your service, or the service of anyone else as a matter of fact.” Nim grin grew into a smirk by the second line.

“Ah, so it was you who disposed of my men. I knew I should have been more strict in their training, a mistake I will not make again. Am I to assume than that I speak with the illustrious Nim Mithriannil?”