Places To Be, People To Kill

MONEY'S WORTH by Bradley H. Sinor

Bradley H. Sinor has seen many of his short stories published in the last few years in numerous anthologies, such as Knight Fantastic, Dracula in London, Bubbas of The Apocalypse, Merlin, Men Writing SF As Women, Haunted Holidays, On Crusade: More Tales of The Knights Templar, International House of Bubbas, Gateways, and All Hell Breaking Loose. Three collections of his short fiction are available: Dark and Stormy Nights, In The Shadows, and Playing With Secrets (which also features two stories by his wife, Susan Sinor). His nonfiction appeared in a variety of magazines. His latest essays can be found in Stepping Through The Stargate and The Cherryh Odessey. His Web site is located at www.zettesworld.com/Sinor/index.htm.

I HAD MY hand on the dagger before I was fully awake. Sleeping with a knife under your pillow isn’t the most comfortable thing to do, though you can get used to it. I’d rather be uncomfortable than wake to a sword at my throat.

When I had leased the villa last month, the caretaker had apologized profusely about the number of things that needed fixing; after all, the place had been empty for nearly two years.

One of the problems he had mentioned was the hinges on the master bedroom door; they squeaked and needed replacing. He had sworn by any number of local gods that he would have it fixed quickly.

It hadn’t been. Right then, I didn’t have a problem with those squeaky hinges. They had been enough to awaken me.

There were two intruders, small hunkered forms clinging far too closely together as they came across the floor. When they sprang, I threw my blanket over them as I rolled over the other side of the bed.

“So what enemies have tried to ambush me?” I demanded, my voice as melodramatic as possible, since I already knew the identities of these intruders. I threw the blanket aside and fought hard to suppress a grin at the scene in front of me, a jumble of legs, arms, and tangled hair, mixed in with gasps and giggling. “Is it some demon or perhaps an advance scout for the Kelmigie Horde? Whatever foul creature it is I will crush it under my heel and serve the remnants to the dogs!”

“No!” The bundle of arms and legs separated into two forms and scrambled madly toward the far side of the bed.

Kellian was eight; his sister Jayce was two years younger, but nearly as tall. Their red hair came from my side of the family. Their chaotic nature was a legacy from both their father and myself.

“It’s us, Mother,” Kellian yelled.

“Really it is,” his sister added.

“I don’t know! Those could be very good disguises. You could be dwarfs from the deep mines. I’d best beat you severely, just in case.”

Jayce turned to her brother. “I told you this was a bad idea, that Mommy would be mad and punish us.”

I wasn’t mad; I was actually quite pleased with the two of them. They had been at each other’s throats for the last several days, over some incident that they had both forgotten by now. That they had made peace and decided to attack me was a good sign.

“Mother, we were just playing! We thought it would be fun to play Kyber assassins!” Kellian proclaimed.

Kyber assassins? It didn’t surprise me the least bit.

There were half a hundred tall tales about the Guild, told by children and adults to frighten each other, most all of them far, far from the truth.

Nothing in my possession had the Guild name on it; only a seal, hidden away in a compartment in one of my trunks even bore the emblem.

“All right! I believe you aren’t dwarves wearing a disguise spell to make me think you are my children. I will let you off, this time, young Kybers.” I picked up a piece of fruit from the table next to my bed, and broke it into several smaller sections. “But only if you help me eat this. Do you agree to my terms?”

“Yes!”

Six weeks ago I had announced that I was taking an extended holiday, officially to escape the seasonal heat in the capital, as were as many others who could afford to move to the mountains or the sea for a few months. Actually, I just I needed some time away from not just the Kyber Guild but the various businesses I ran as a part of my “everyday” identity.

I had chosen Yallon’s Bay because it was several days’ travel from the capital, far enough away for some privacy but close enough not to be completely out of touch.

Of course, this was not the first time I had come to Yallon’s Bay; that had been a decade and a half before with my beloved Micah.

Here, he was remembered as one of the five thousand men lost in the Battle of Summer Falls. I had no intention of disillusioning anyone about that tale; besides, who would want to know that he had died in an attempt to assassinate General Zyon, one of our officers who had defected to the other side. I preferred to let our “friends” think of Micah as a dead war hero and myself as a rich, respectable widow.

The down side of Yallon’s Bay was a number of social obligations that I would cheerfully have ignored; however, attending them was part of my public persona.

“Lady Danya, it is most gratifying to see you again,” Lord Junius had said as I arrived at his home for what had been billed as a small gathering. Conservatively, I estimated that, excluding servants, there were well over fifty other guests: human, dwarves, and elves, along with a smattering of other races.

“Danya, are you all right?”

I turned to look at Cyma Tamu, her thin face furrowed as if she was uncertain of what she wanted to hear me answer. She was an inquisitive sort, but Cyma did have the good sense to know there were some questions that were best left unasked.

I realized that I had been staring out at the bay, studying the ships. There were three new ones that had arrived on the morning tide. They were small, compared to the large merchant ships more common near the capital. But Yallon’s Bay was off the major trade routes and too shallow to take the really large vessels.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Cyma,” I said. “It was just seeing the bay right now, something about the way the light is falling on it reminded me of the first time that Micah and I came here.”

I let a long sigh write a look of nostalgia on my face. Let Cyma take whatever interpretations of it that came to her mind; she was very good at that. Truth be told, Micah and I had first come here seeking a hideout. A mission for the Guild had gone wrong, and we needed to be someplace where no one knew us.

That had been a good time. For a moment I let myself miss Micah more than I had in a long time.

“Now, Danya, you must accept the fact that Micah is gone. Remember always, he died a hero of the Empire; that is something that you and the children can be proud of. While I didn’t know him, I have the feeling that he wouldn’t want you to lose yourself mourning for him forever. You are still young and very beautiful.”

I smiled. “Beautiful, hardly; but thank you, Cyma.”

“You are definitely beautiful, don’t deny it,” she laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, someone can’t take his eyes off you.”

“Indeed?” I asked, searching my memory for any recent arrivals that I was not aware of.

“Oh, yes.” Cyma gestured toward a tall man, dressed in silken finery, at the far end of the room. Even at this distance I could see the marks of elven blood in him-silver-streaked hair, long fingers, and a narrow face.

“Interesting” I said.

“He’s been asking about you,” Cyma said, a slight purr in her words.

“Does he not have the courage to come and face me himself?”

“Who knows what will happen. This gathering has at least several more hours of life in it. Then there is the rest of the night.” The suggestive purr was back in Cyma’s voice.

“Indeed.” I admit I was a bit intrigued. I looked back to where he was standing, but the man was nowhere in sight.

An hour later I found myself back at the balcony, having made a half transit of the room, speaking with a number of my neighbors, letting them see the “me” that I wanted known around the town. It would be a bit longer before I could withdraw and return home without committing a social faux pas.

I caught sight of the stranger only twice, always at a distance. It seemed an odd little dance the two of us were doing.

The sun had begun to disappear over the horizon, letting dusk streak itself across the waters of the bay as the three-quarter moon appeared in the sky. The full moon would come in a day or so.

“Is the wind from the south, Lady Sable?” It was my admirer stepping up beside me. His words were pitched low, intended for me alone.

“Pardon me, m’lord?”

“Is the wind from the south, Lady Sable?”

I was a little taken aback. No one should have known my Guild name, let alone that phrase, in Yallon’s Bay.

“Ask about the weather and it will change in a blink.”

Sign, countersign.

“How do you know me?” I demanded.

“The Widow told me,” he said. “After the proper payments, of course. I hope I get my money’s worth.”

I wanted to turn and walk away. This man knew far too much about me for my liking.

“Very well, but this is not the place to talk. There are too many ears attached to wagging tongues,” I said.

It wasn’t that I really wanted to hear what he had to say, or, frankly, gave a damn. I just didn’t want anyone else hearing it.

Besides, I was not happy at his being here at all, I had been very specific about my wishes. Of course, knowing The Widow, enough money would make her forget my degree. She knew I could say no; that’s an option all of us have, and the Guild would still have the money, since the introduction fee was nonrefundable.

“Fear not, I’ve laid a minor glamour around us. All anyone will hear will be whispers that no one can quite make out and none will approach, thinking it a near romantic tryst.” He reached up and took my hand. He didn’t lean forward and kiss it, just did a slight bow.

“You are prepared.”

“I try.”

“I need you to kill someone, and it must be soon.”

No big surprise there. “First, there are some niceties to be observed, m’lord,” I told him. “The courtesy of your name would be a good start, though I suspect I could find it out easily from any one of a dozen people around us.”

“My name is not necessary. The only name you need is that of she who I want you to kill.”

“On the contrary, it is very necessary. You have sought me out, at some great expense if I know The Widow. Obviously you know who and what I am.”

“A killer,” he said with a certainty in his voice. “As are all the Kyber Guild.”

“Understand this,” I said. “I know of five ways to kill you, where you stand, without even breaking a sweat or staining my clothing with blood. Three of them would look like you had just died a natural death. So shall we start again?”

I could see him thinking, wondering just how far to take my challenge to him, wondering perhaps just how far I would go right now.

“Very well. I am Rathbin of the House of de Costa.” I vaguely knew the family name, one of the lesser elven houses, too much human blood for the High Houses to give them more than the briefest acknowledgment, too much elf blood to “fit in” as more than a token among the higher born human clans.

“See, that didn’t hurt at all,” I said.

De Costa scanned the garden just below us. He gestured toward the far end where I could see a woman, dressed in a fur-edged cape.

“That is her, your target. Her name is Layra. She is my sister.”

On more than one occasion I had heard my children threaten to kill each other, but the next moment they would be laughing and playing together. De Costa was taking sibling rivalry a good ways further along the track than normal.

“I must decline your offer.”

De Costa’s face went paler than it had been, then ran red with anger. ‘What! You can’t! She must die by your hand!”

“Not by my hand. Do it yourself if you are that adamant. I decline. I’m on holiday; there is no argument that will persuade me otherwise”

He grabbed me, his face a grim mask of hate, long finger tightening around my arm. “It must be you!”

With my free hand, I slapped him hard and then drove my knee into his groin. That was more than enough to get him to let go of me. I stepped away and saw him draw back, my unexpected attack being quite effective.

In spite of the glamour that de Costa had cast, that little exchange caught more than a few people’s attention.

Cyma came running up. “Are you all right?”

“Lord de Costa just needs to learn that when I say no, I mean no.”

I left Cyma doing what she did so well, drawing the wrong conclusion.

Over the next two days I saw de Costa a half dozen times, always silently staring with the same grim face. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if he wanted his sister dead; I just couldn’t figure out why he insisted that I had to be the one to do it.

That was why, two hours after sunset, on the third night since the party, I was sitting concealed in the branches of a tree just outside of his house.

I had plumbed certain local sources to find out what I could about the man. It turned out not to be much. He had come from the south, but no one knew exactly where, arriving in Yallon’s Bay a month before, having purchased the house through an agent earlier in the year. That proved he had money, but I knew that since even a chat with The Widow can cost an arm and a leg, not to mention your firstborn.

What bothered me was that there was even less to discover about his sister than about de Costa, save that she lived only a mile from her brother. There was endless speculation, but no hard facts.

I had taken to my bed early in the afternoon, complaining of a sour stomach, leaving instructions that I was not to be disturbed. If anyone looked into my bedroom, they would see a figure enshrouded in heavy blankets.

De Costa had spent most of the evening in the house’s library, studying a number of documents and books that looked very old. Just before midnight he finally blew out the last candle and left the room. I remained on my perch for a slow count of a thousand before dropping onto the balcony outside his window.

Once inside, I lit a small candle and put it into the metal holder I had brought; the shutters could be opened one at a time to direct the light where I wanted and to keep it to a minimum.

I sat down and began to study what he had left behind. The books were old and had the smell of ages on them. One of them left the palm of my hand tingling after I touched it. I could make out only a single word embossed on the cover, Aubic.

There were also loose papers, written in a clear concise hand, spread over the desktop; most were business dealings, nothing personal.

“I think you might find something interesting in the lower right-hand drawer, Lady Sable.” A section of the bookcase on the far side of the room had swung open. De Costa stood there, a much too satisfied look on his face.

Damn it! I would have read the riot act to any first-year apprentice who didn’t check for hidden doors when they invaded a room.

“Good evening, Lord de Costa. I get the feeling that you were expecting me. I presume that you’ve got a spell on the chair to keep me from getting up.”

“Actually, no,” he said leaning against the bookcase frame. “But before you decide to bolt or to use any number of those skills that I know you possess, I think you really should look at what is in the drawer.”

I rose up slightly, just to test his words and could feel no restraints, sorcerous or otherwise. It would only be the matter of a few seconds to get me out of the window. Opening the drawer, I found a wooden casket. The wood was smooth, almost silky, to the touch. The hinge and latches were almost impossible to find; whoever had made it had been a master craftsman. I doubted that there would be any sort of contact poison. That seemed to be a far cry from what de Costa had in mind.

Inside was a silver blade laying on a red silk piece of cloth. Two glyphs were emblazed on the blade; I recognized one of them as a Dakarian Moon, the other I did not know but even the sight of it sent a shiver down my spine.

“A Moon Dagger?”

Moon Daggers were few and far between; no more than a dozen were even rumored to exist. They were said to have been forged from sky metal by a dwarven smith nearly a hundred years ago for an order of sorcerers that had been destroyed in the Three Sabers War.

I personally knew where six of them were; safely buried under several tons of rock in the ruins of the Fulgrham Temple. If this happened to be one of those, then there was a lot more to de Costa than I thought.

“I searched for more than a decade after I first learned of them,” he said. “Then one day I saw it lying on a fishmonger’s table. He accepted a rather large payment and never knew what he had.”

“Some people have all the luck.”

“I want you to use it this very night.”

“On you perhaps?”

“I’m sure that would please you to no end. Before you try, I would suggest that you look at what else is inside that casket.” He moved over to a bookcase and picked up a small statuette, running one hand across its surface.

I lifted the cloth and found a pair of small hand mirrors. De Costa nodded, indicating that this was what I was looking for. Hefting one of them I stared deep into it and felt my heart drop out from me.

Instead of my own reflection I saw my daughter. She was asleep. In the other one I saw my son. Both children were seemingly undisturbed. A small dark spot hovered over each, gradually shifting form into that of a dagger, identical to the one lying in front of me.

“Those are echoes of the Moon Dagger. I assure you that neither of those fine young people will come to any harm; they will simply sleep the night away,” said de Costa. “Provided you do as I have requested. The spell that I am weaving will require the heart blood of the house of de Costa. You have two hours to plunge that blade into my sister’s heart. If you don’t, those blades in the mirror will plunge into your children’s hearts.”

“You slimy bastard.” It took all my concentration to control myself. Losing my temper would not save my children. “I should use this on you.”

“I wouldn’t. I crafted the spell so that should anything happen to me, then the knives do their work,” he said casually. “As for my sister, with her defenses, I can’t enter her sanctum, nor she mine, without an invitation. Trust me; neither of us is going to be issuing the other one of those. Now, be on your way, the moon is full. I need her blood spilled with the dagger while the moon is full.”

He picked up the two mirrors and looked into their surfaces, smiling.

Given the minimal amount of time involved, there was no way to plan a quiet way into the house of de Costa’s sister, so I opted for something simple and straightforward-I went in the front door.

It wasn’t barred and there was no sign of any guards. Given the siblings’ magical interests, that didn’t surprise me, any more than the distinct feeling that I was being watched from the moment I crossed the threshold.

If I believed de Costa, then his sister would be asleep in the master bedroom, toward the rear of the house. He seemed to think that I should be able to waltz right in, carve her like a goose and wander away at my leisure. I, on the other hand, had my doubts about that plan.

“Why don’t we have a drink and talk about it?”

I had barely stepped into her bedroom when Layra de Costa spoke. Like her brother, she seemed able to turn up when no one expected her.

It took a moment for me to locate her, sitting in a large thronelike chair just to the right of the bed.

“I’m not going to insult you by assuming that you don’t know why I’m here.” I said.

“Lady Sable, you’re quite direct. I like that.” That she knew my Guild name made me wonder just how many people had paid The Widow for information about me.

I suppose I expected Layra de Costa to make some sort of magical gesture and conjure up a globe of light or some such thing like that. Instead, I heard the very distinctive sound of flint being struck, followed by sparks and a shard of wood glowing as its tip burst into flame.

She held it out to the wicks of several candles nearby; the light was enough for me to see her face. Layra de Costa wore green, so dark it was almost black. Her silver-streaked hair spilled loosely over her shoulders. I could see the resemblance to her brother.

“Half brother, actually; our father, shall we say, got around a bit and had a taste for human women. In our cases, two different human women,” she said.

“Interesting, you can read minds.” That would be all I’d need in someone I had come to kill.

“Not actually; it just seemed a logical thing that you might wonder,” she said.

Simple and straightforward, I liked that. I reminded myself that no matter how much I might like her; there was the matter of those two ghostly daggers hanging over my children.

“Did he at least provide you with a reason that he wants me dead?” Layra said, pouring two glasses of wine and passing one to me.

I waited until she had taken a sip before lifting my own, not that I drank from it, but there are ways of appearing to.

“Nothing specific, something about tapping the power of your late father, though he did give me some damn good motivation to follow through on his wishes.” I held my hand on the pommel of the Moon Dagger, its metal now ice cold to the touch, letting her see the weapon.

“Did you see a very old book, with the word Aubic on the cover?”

I nodded and mentioned the fact that touching it had left my hand tingling.

“Our father’s grimoire; then it is obvious that my dear brother has broken the seal and found the spells that were the source of our late father’s power. From what our parent said, it would require the blood of our family to do such a casting,” she said.

“Wouldn’t your father have had to have a Moon Dagger to do it in the first place?”

Layra reached down to the side of her chair and brought out a blade identical to the one I held.

“He had one,” she said.

“It figures,” I muttered, then I let fly with the Moon Dagger.

I probably should have been a lot more discreet, given the large bag I was carrying, when I went back to de Costa’s villa. I wasn’t in the mood for subtlety; I just wanted to make sure my children were not within reach of his slimy fingers one minute more than they had to be.

De Costa was behind his desk when I entered. “Welcome, Lady Sable, welcome,” he said. “I trust all went well and as I requested.”

“It did, and I have brought you proof of my deed.” I laid the bag down on the floor, near the bookcase with the sliding panel. Very carefully I untied the ropes at the top and pulled it open. In the dim light Layra’s face was pale as her head rolled lifelessly to one side.

“Unnecessary; her blood on the Moon Dagger would have been sufficient. If you felt you had to bring proof, I would have been happy with just her head,” he said. “Oh, sweet sister, I’ve never been more pleased to see you.” For a moment it was as if the two of them were alone in the room.

De Costa came around the desk and toward the body. I stepped in between him and his goal.

“Hold it right there. You get her, and I frankly don’t care what you do with her,” I said. “But only when you fulfill your end of the bargain by taking those ghost daggers from my children’s throats!”

I watched his jaw tighten as he stared at me, unblinking. I already knew that he wasn’t used to people telling him what to do, and didn’t like it when it happened, but I didn’t care. I was prepared to do some serious damage to him if that was what was necessary to keep the children safe.

“Very well, Lady Sable,” he said at last, his voice as casual as if talking about the time of day rather than children’s lives. “You did as I asked and my word is my bond.”

De Costa went back to the desk and picked up the casket that the Moon dagger had been in. I could see the two mirrors from where I stood and I felt a tug at my heart seeing the vague forms in them that were my son and daughter.

Holding the mirrors in one hand, he smashed them down against the corner of the desk. Shards of glass flew everywhere. For a moment I felt like I could see the forms of the blades over the pieces of glass, then they dissipated.

I wanted that to be the end of it. But what you want and what happens are often two different things.

“As promised, both of your little darlings are safe,” he announced.

“One thing,” I said.

“Our bargain is completed. Your Guild will have its fee, and you have your children. What more is there to say?”

“There is more,” I continued, ignoring his attitude. “Why me when there are any numbers of street thugs, mercenaries, even other Kybers you could have hired? Why did you insist on me?”

De Costa laughed: it was a sickening cackle. “The night I acquired the Moon Dagger I had a vision: my sister, dead, the hand that had wielded the blade was yours. You were a key pivot point to achieving my destiny,” he said. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

I nodded and stepped to one side. I’ve dealt with any number of magic users over the years. The necromancers like him left me repulsed. Kneeling beside her, the man moved the cloth farther away from her head, and then gently ran his fingers along her hair.

“Not that you weren’t planning to do this to me, Layra. You shall bring our father’s power to his rightful heir, me.”

De Costa grabbed the bag and began to rip it down the center, revealing Layra’s blood-stained blouse right over her heart. I caught myself wondering if the man knew where that was; he certainly didn’t seem to have one.

Even with his back to me I could tell when he realized that something was wrong.

“The dagger, where is it?” He screeched in a voice that was almost feminine. “I will need it to finish this night’s work.”

“Oh, is this what you want?” I asked innocently, holding the blade up.

“I think not, brother,” said Layra. Her eyes were open, a look of pure hatred on her face. Since she couldn’t enter the house without an invitation, I gave her one. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust de Costa fully to keep his side of the bargain, but it pays to have a backup plan.

Layra brought out the other Moon Dagger. Her aim was good; as close as she was to her brother, it would have been hard to miss. The blade drove easily through cloth, flesh, and bone and into de Costa’s heart.

I could tell when the shock passed and pain swallowed Rathbin de Costa. Blood began to run around the edges of the blade, spewing out after a few moments to strike Layra, the furniture and even me. He trembled and then collapsed backward.

Layra struggled out of the bag and to her feet. She stared at her brother for a time and then began to chant. I couldn’t understand the words; there are more dialects of elfish than there are grains of sand in the desert.

Any possibility that it might be a mourning chant passed quickly. I could feel the magic stirring in the air around me. I realized she was doing exactly what her brother had planned. I had the feeling that this was not a good thing. Apparently, she had known more than she had let on.

Vague images formed in the air above the body, most of them things that I did not want to even put a name to. But when I saw Killian and Jayce there, I knew what I had to do.

I stepped up behind Layra, threw my arm around her neck and brought the Moon Dagger around. This time it did not strike into the chair to one side of her, as it had earlier, but drove directly up under her rib cage and into her heart.

“I could ha…”

That was all she got out before the light faded from her eyes. I let go of her, and she fell down into the arms of her brother.

“I guess you got your money’s worth,” I told the dead sorcerer.