Rich Wulf - Voyage of the Mourning Dawn

“She caught you?” Seren said, impressed.

Jamus smirked. “I could rationalize the matter and say that I was young and inexperienced,” he said, “but that’s not entirely true. Every man has his match, Seren. I underestimated Fiona Keenig. She took the pouch back and promised not to press charges if I snuck back into the private room and listened in on the conversation there. So I did. More jobs followed, spying on her clients or reporting the information to her other contacts.”

“So she was a spy after all?” Seren asked.

“Of course,” Jamus said, “but she wasn’t a Cyran spy. She was King Boranel’s agent, counter-intelligence, charged with defending the city against foreign infiltrators. The entire investigation had been a ruse. My life became a great deal more interesting after I met Fiona. I worked for her for over twenty years. It was only a few months before you came here that this place closed for good.”

“What happened?” Seren asked.

“The Day of Mourning happened,” Jamus said. “A wave of smoke and flame wiped out the nation of Cyre in a single night. Fiona loved Breland and was loyal to the king, but she had family in Cyre. The day she learned what happened, she closed the Buzzard and set out to find her brothers. That was four years ago, and no one has seen her since. This place has a great deal of memories for me …” Jamus looked around wistfully and laughed. “Also several emergency exits, built by the original smugglers who lived here. The perfect den for a spy. The perfect rendezvous point for a thief. No one else seemed to want the Buzzard, so I guess I’ve sort of adopted it.”

Seren was silent a long moment. “What does any of this have to do with our meeting tonight?” Seren asked.

“There weren’t many people who knew I worked for Fiona,” Jamus said. “So when she vanished, I returned to being the two-bit thief the city always believed I was. A few weeks ago, I was given a better offer by someone who knows about my past. I’ve been offered- we’ve been offered-a chance to do something worthwhile again. The payment and escape from this damned city is just a bonus.”

“So we’re spies now?” Seren asked. It came out a bit more shrilly than she intended, and she saw Jamus flinch at her outburst.

“Seren, you left home to become something more than you were,” he said patiently. “You can’t tell me that you can look at your life now and say you have no complaints?”

Seren did not answer.

“I thought as much,” Jamus said. “You’re a talented girl, Seren, but you are not a normal person. Normal people do not climb on rooftops and pilfer other people’s pockets. There are, however, ways to put those talents to use. Ways to help people. We’ve been given that chance.”

“By whom?” Seren asked. “Why won’t you tell me who we work for?”

“Knowledge and security are very rare companions in this line of work, Seren,” Jamus said. “I can’t tell you, for your own good and for our employer’s. You just have to trust me, Seren.”

“You say trust is born from mutual benefit,” Seren said. “I have mercenaries following me through the streets already. How does this benefit me, Jamus?”

“Seren,” Jamus said plaintively, but before he could say anything more he was interrupted by the protesting squeals of the wooden steps. He looked past Seren, his expression sharp and focused.

“They’re early,” Seren whispered.

Jamus remained silent, his expression worried.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” she asked.

“No, it’s not,” Jamus said, rising from his chair. “Early is never good.”

“So let’s get out of here,” Seren said. She knelt and flipped a recessed latch on the floor. A small trap door in the floor led to a series of crawlspaces through which they could access any of the other rooms in the inn and make their way back to the street.

“Wait,” Jamus said.

Seren looked up at him curiously.

“There’s more to this, Seren, a great deal more,” he said, settling back into his seat and watching the door. “Remember when I said the most difficult part still remained? Well, this is it. Run if you must, Seren. I’ll understand, but I would prefer if you stood with me.”

The doorknob turned. Seren stood quickly, but left the trap door unlatched. Two gruff-looking soldiers in light armor stepped inside. One held a lantern high, eyes searching the room for any sign of a hidden ambush. Seren could see the crest on his breastplate, a golden crown on a field of green. The soldier’s eyes fixed on Seren for a brief instant, then moved on, disregarding her as a threat. Downstairs, she could hear more heavy footsteps. Who were they?

Seren stood, slipping her shoes back on and moving to the edge of the shadows behind Jamus. One hand moved into her cloak, resting easily on the hilt of the dagger tucked in the back of her belt. Jamus was as uneasy as she had ever seen him, though she doubted a stranger would see the signs, a faint uneasiness around the eyes. To see her normally unflappable teacher so nervous gave Seren an incredible sense of dread. Yet she said nothing, only stood beside her teacher. If they hadn’t attacked yet, then this was to be a negotiation. A focused front was required for all negotiations. Disagreement would make a client nervous. Doubt would convince them they had the advantage. Confidence was everything.

“Clear,” the man grumbled. “Only two of them, Captain.”

“Just as promised,” said an elegantly deep voice. “You are a man of your word, Jamus Roland. At least thus far.”

A tall, whisper-thin man slid through the door. A cloak, so deep purple it was almost black, hung from his shoulders so that he seemed little more than a shroud topped by a floating head. His hair and eyes were ghostly white. His face was smooth, pale gray, nearly featureless save for the raw pink burn scars that covered his left cheek. Seren flinched when she saw him.

“Does my appearance upset your associate?” the man asked, looking at Seren with a crooked smile.

“Seren means no offense, Captain Marth,” Jamus said.

“I understand,” he said. “No doubt she simply has never seen a changeling honest enough to wear his true face? A lie may put her more at ease.” The man’s features blurred. His face was now lean and handsome, with rich black hair spilling out of his hood around his shoulders. “Is this more pleasing, Seren?”

Seren nodded politely. Marth ignored her and moved to the table, cloak parting to produce a pale white hand with long, almost skeletal fingers. His fingertips brushed the table near the muddy sack. “This is what I seek?”

“It is, Captain,” Jamus said.

“Excellent,” Marth said, gesturing at one of his soldiers.

The man produced a thick pouch and spilled its contents on the table. The white gleam of five platinum coins, each stamped with the image of a dragon, reflected the candlelight. Seren’s eyes widened. She had never dreamed of seeing so much money in one place.

“Is that enough?” Marth asked.

“The money isn’t the part of the reward that interests me,” Jamus answered. He pushed the muddy bag back across the table.

Marth smiled and reached out again. His eyes met Seren’s, and she was taken aback by the strange intensity of his milky white eyes. He smiled, only faintly, and then slid the book from its container. His other hand appeared, producing a strange jeweled hand lens of frosted purple glass. Marth held it over one eye as he scanned through the pages.

After nearly a minute of study, his shoulders slumped and he released a deep sigh. He opened the book carefully on the table, tucking the lens into his pocket. Before Seren could even react, one of the soldiers lunged forward and seized her arm, twisting it behind her back painfully, away from her weapon. She cried out and stomped hard on the man’s foot with her heel. The bodyguard did not react, but only drew a short sword and held it to her waist. Jamus rose halfway from his seat, but Marth held out a cautioning hand.