Stephen Deas - The King's assassin

‘There’s going to be more. Berren?’

Berren paused. ‘Master?’ Even now the word came out with a will of its own. He could have punched himself.

‘I can’t do this without you. You’re right about Meridian. He’s here. I know a way to get close. But I have to deal with Aimes and so I need you. You have to do it. You have to get rid of Meridian.’

‘Me? No. You’ve got Hain for that.’ Berren turned away.

‘Hain?’ Syannis almost howled. ‘You think Hain could do something like this? No. But you could. There’s going to be a war, you see. A bloody one. Me and Talon against all the soldiers you saw in that castle. A lot of people will die. People like Tarn. Your friends. Kill Meridian, maybe you could stop it.’

Berren took a deep breath. ‘You want to stop it, don’t fight it,’ he said. ‘Let it go.’

‘You always wanted to learn swords. I gave that to you. What was it for?’

‘I don’t know any more,’ said Berren quietly. ‘It wasn’t for what happened in Deephaven, I know that.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Tasahre not to be dead, that’s what I want.’ To go back in time and make things different. Nothing that Master Sy could give. Yet he still didn’t walk away.

‘I gave you everything. Do I have to beg?’

‘It would help.’ I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t my war and I shouldn’t be fighting it. I should go home back to Deephaven. But back to what? Come on, there must be something. Some reason!

The next thing he knew, Syannis was in front of him down on his knees. The tension in his face was obvious, obvious how much he loathed what he was doing, but he was doing it anyway. ‘Please, Berren. Please help me. Just Meridian. Then do what you like.’

Berren bit his lip. This wasn’t the Master Sy he knew. Maybe what he’d done in Deephaven had changed him after all — maybe he really was sorry. ‘I’ll tell you what I want then,’ he said slowly. ‘There was a. . what’s your name for it? Bonds-maid? In the castle. She belongs to Princess Gelisya. I had to whip her, and all because she stood up for what she thought was right. I want her to go free. Not to be mine. Just to go free.’ There and then it was the only thing he could think of.

‘Very well. When she’s mine to give, she’s yours. I promise.’

‘No, I don’t want you to give her to me. I just want you to let her go.’

Syannis shrugged. ‘If that’s really what you want.’

‘It is. But you’d better do it. There’ll be hell between us if you don’t.’ Why did she matter so much? He barely knew her, but then this wasn’t about her at all. She was a symbol, that’s what. A way to redeem himself for Tasahre. And perhaps to redeem the thief-taker too. It was a strangely fierce thing inside him, a reason. A purpose. It had been a long time since he’d had one of those. He offered Master Sy his hand. ‘You’re not my master any more.’

‘I know.’

‘Fine then.’ He couldn’t look at the thief-taker. So fallen from what he’d been. An idol almost. Everything he’d aspired to be once, long ago as a foolish boy. And still the closest thing he’d ever had to a father. ‘Right then. Let’s go kill your king.’

‘Regent,’ murmured Syannis. ‘Not my king.’

They walked on down the road from the castle and into the town. The night-time streets were quiet and the market square was almost empty. A couple of soldiers lounged against a wall, pointedly ignoring a man taking a piss against someone’s door. Syannis led the way past them, along a narrow street between small houses jammed up together along the side of the river, until the road became a track and the houses became huts, and then the track narrowed even more to a path, steep and uneven, and the huts came to an end. Before long they were clambering between rocks, while the river hissed and splashed beside them. They took a moment to clean the worst of the muck off their hands and clothes. A half-moon was rising.

‘Doesn’t anyone ever keep watch down here?’ muttered Berren.

‘Tethis doesn’t have walls. No reason to watch the river. Well, none except the one that only Talon and Hain and I know about.’ Ahead of them, a hooting call broke the quiet. Syannis stopped. ‘That’s Hain.’

Berren thought it sounded like a night bird, but since he’d been born and raised in a city, he supposed he didn’t know too much about birds. Apart from seagulls , he thought sourly. Syannis set off again. Long grass and brambles tore at Berren’s boots as he followed. The second time they stopped, Berren looked up. The top of the slope was maybe a dozen men standing on each others’ shoulders above him, steep enough that a man would need his wits and both his hands free to climb it. He could just about make out the low castle wall that overlooked the gorge. The river was below them now, rushing and hissing. Its foam glinted in the moonlight. Another bird call hooted out, and this time they were close. Syannis eased his way between two tall thorn bushes and Berren followed. Behind the bushes was a hollow. It was so dark that Berren didn’t see Hain until the thief-taker’s squire spoke.

‘All here,’ breathed Hain.

‘You found it then?’

‘I could find it with my eyes closed.’

‘Lamp?’

Hain reached down and lifted something. A dim light lit the floor of the hollow. Berren could see their boots. He could see that the hollow turned into a small hole in the side of the gorge. Large enough to crawl through. A cave.

‘Muffle it!’ hissed Syannis, and the light went out.

‘Everything’s inside.’

‘Berren, follow me. Hands and knees into the cave. Hain, you take the rear.’ In the darkness Berren barely saw Syannis drop to a crawl. He did as he was told and followed into the hillside. He couldn’t see a thing, but then after a yard or two he felt space grow around him. Master Sy’s hand fumbled at his shoulder and pulled him up, and then Hain was in as well. He unshuttered the lantern, and Berren could see the cave. It wasn’t a big one, but large enough for half a dozen men to hide inside. At the far end was another tunnel, vanishing into darkness, old and rough hewn, and barring the tunnel was an iron grille. From the looks of it, it had rusted fast years ago.

His feet touched something. He looked down. On the floor were their swords and their armour, everything they’d left outside the city in the morning.

‘You must be joking,’ he said.

Syannis jingled a set of keys. ‘Don’t get dressed, lad, not yet. Just pick up your stuff and carry it.’

‘You’re not going to get through that!’ Berren picked up his sword. He waited, watching.

The thief-taker jingled his keys again. ‘It’s been a dozen years and more since I was last inside these walls,’ he murmured. ‘Let’s hope the locks are still the same as they were and that they haven’t rusted as solid as they appear.’ He put a key in the lock. It turned easily and the grille opened without a sound. ‘Oh, look! Fancy that!’

‘But that doesn’t look like it’s been used for years!’ Berren squinted at the gate as he passed through. The rust was ancient. The lock should have welded itself solid by now. His head snapped up, peering into the darkness of the tunnel ahead. ‘If they still use it, why isn’t it guarded?’

‘They don’t,’ hissed Syannis. ‘They don’t know it’s there.’

‘Well someone must-’

‘Me, you dolt! Me and Hain! What do you think I’ve been doing for the last two months? While you and Talon were living the lives of princes in Kalda, I was here, squatting in flophouses, camping in the woods, digging holes for my own shit and eating bark! Turning those lancers so they were taking my coin instead of Meridian’s. And while I was at that, Hain was here, hours and hours, night after night, picking at that lock, working it loose again for the day we’d need it. And no, Meridian really doesn’t know it’s here. You’ll see why in a moment.’