Stephen Deas: The Thief-Taker's Blade

“I've brought you a promise. We'll go home, Kasmin. One day, we'll go home. We'll go, and you'll have your revenge. Every bit of it. You come to me, the moment you're ready.” Kasmin laughed again and they both raised a glass to that, even if neither of them believed it. When Syannis went home, he was quite sure he'd never see his old friend and guardian again.

Yet fate moves with strange twists and oft steps sideways when it seems it must step forward. He did see Kasmin again, when almost a year had passed since the night of the curse-ship. Kasmin, on his doorstep, sober, clean, somehow free of his ghosts, or at least the most of them.

“I bought a tavern,” he said.

Syannis didn't believe him. Or rather, couldn't, because it simply wasn't possible for someone like Kasmin.

“The Barrow of Beer. Up near the market. It's a hole, but it's not nothing. I won't say it stops me from being a drunk, but at least now I drink with my friends and they pay me for the privilege.”

They sat down together and they talked for a long time. About the way things were and they way they had used to be, once long ago. Not about the way they might be again, though. Never that, not any more.

“Where did you get the money, old bones?” Syannis asked, when he couldn't bear the not knowing any longer. Because he was, above all else, a thief-taker now.

Kasmin looked at him long and hard, a face full of fractured trust. He sniffed. “You remember the ship?” he asked.

Syannis nodded. Of course. How could any of them ever forget?

“There were two knives in that casket. I know you still got one. I sold mine. Got a tavern for it.”

“Who'd you sell it to, old bones?”

“Your death-mage. Kuy.” He let that hang there, between them. Kasmin hated Kuy. Always had. Always said it was the magicians who'd brought ruin on their kingdom. Syannis, he had other thoughts, but on that one thing, nothing could make Kasmin see it another way. Now Syannis could see it all. Kuy had waited until Kasmin had nothing left. Waited from him to be as weak as he could possibly be, made his move and got what he wanted.

“Tavern for a knife. That sounds like a bargain well struck.” For one side, at least.

Enough to buy a kingdom? More, even, than that.

“Need some money though. To make it work. Not much. A couple of emperors, that should-“

Syannis held up a hand. Stopped him. He went to where he hid his coin and brought back five. Everything he had, and he gave it to Kasmin. “Don't spend it all at once.”

Kasmin nodded. “Thank you, my prince.”

“Least I could do.” There was a truth to that. If you went back far enough, the thief-taker owed Kasmin more than money. “Just make it work, old bones. Find some peace if you can.”

Kasmin grunted. “Kuy said you'd be going home one day. Said that knife you've got will kill you. Said I should tell you that. You know what I said? I said he should go stuff a spike up his arse.” He almost smiled. Almost. “I'll say one thing, though. Since then, since I gave him that knife, I don't see their faces any more.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Just don't. Don't see them at all. Glad to be rid of it, really.”

His dead family. Syannis bit his lip.

“Better that way.” Kasmin sniffed again, took a deep breath and stood up. “Think I should go now.” He reached inside his shirt. “Thought you should have this, too.” he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed to Syannis. “No use to me any more. Might be to you. Might not. Don't know.”

He paused at the door. Nodded a farewell. Syannis looked at the paper in his hand. “What is it?”

“Last page of that book from the ship I reckon.” Kasmin shrugged. “You come down to the Barrow one night. When you're not working. First ale's on the house, right.”

For any who find this, the captain is dead. I did not mean to kill him. I did not mean for it to kill him, but it grows beyond my power. I told him, gods know how many times I told him, we must put ashore. We must go to a place where its casket can be made pure. Deephaven, it is the only choice. Gods, holy sun, why did you send me here to this? I did your holy work and now I have a power that is against everything I swore, against everything I believe. Why have you done this to me? What have I done? Ah, they come. .

There. It is done. I am become vile. Two men lie dead by my hand, by the cursed hand of the sorcerer I am become. But what could I do? They would have torn me to pieces. I do not mind death, do not fear it, but not this way, for they would have unleashed a terror they cannot control. I cannot control. Gods. Even to let a tiny part of that power run through me to commit this villainy, that was hard enough, hard enough to hold back the trickle that would have become a torrent. Deephaven. It is the only place. The only port close enough where priests dwell who might banish this demon. This is what becomes of consorting with pirates, adventurers and freebooters. I am become the darkness within another. Gods help me.

Deephaven. I have told them Deephaven. All sail. All speed. Whatever means can be found.

I have killed another one. I did not mean to. I confine myself to this room. They fear and hate me as I fear and hate myself. Yet I must eat, must drink, or I will wither and it will rip through us all.

The blue moon. When the sun sets and the blue moon rises, then I will lose this battle. When the blue moon sets, then it will become wholly of this world once more. In my flesh, it will be reborn. It has told me this. It gathers its strength for that time. It tells me. Mocks me. Already, whenever I am weak, I become it. But I do not go quietly into the darkness. Three days. In three days this will come to pass. In three days we must be in Deephaven or all will die. At least the crew know proper fear now. I pity them, but I can no longer stop myself. With planks and nails, I have barricaded myself inside this cabin, and when it was done, I threw the hammer through the window and into the sea. I have little hope it will contain the demon when it comes, but for now, it contains me. No more will die until I can no longer resist.

The sun sets. We race for the shore, but I see the horizon through my window. We are too late for me. Let them find a priest who can slay this creature before the night is through. Please, oh mighty sun.

What hope is there? The sun dips to the sea. It is too late. Oh gods. It comes.