DAVID COE - Seeds of Betrayal

“There was no partner before him. I worked with Jedrek for almost seventeen years.”

Dario felt his face reddening. It wasn’t the first time he had created trouble for himself by saying something stupid, but it might well have been the most inopportune. Not only had the man sitting before him promised to make him rich, he was also a paid killer. Either way Dario looked at it, this was not a man he wanted to make angry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away.

“It doesn’t matter,” the assassin said, his voice flat. After a brief pause, he went on. “The last thing you should know is that the gold we’re talking about comes from the Qirsi.”

“What do you mean?” Dario asked, looking at the man again. A moment later it hit him, and his eyes widened. “You mean the conspiracy?”

“Yes.”

Dario sat back again, shaking his head. No wonder Cadel had made so much gold.

“It’s an assassin’s dream,” the younger man said. “Steady work, good pay, jobs scattered throughout the Forelands so that you have to keep moving. What more could you want?”

Cadel smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

“Hasn’t it turned out that way?”

“I guess. I’ve made a good deal of gold, I’ve had jobs in Eibithar, Aneira, Caerisse, and Sanbira. So all you say is true.”

“Then why do you sound like you’re trying to warn me away from this?”

“Have you spent much time with the Qirsi?” Cadel asked, his eyes locked on Dario’s.

“Not really.”

“Neither had I. It never occurred to me that their appearance and their magic would bother me so, but they do.”

Dario started to say something, but Cadel raised a hand, stopping him.

“It’s not just that,” he said. “I used to think that this profession gave me freedom. As long as I had some gold in my pocket, I could work when and where I chose. Now that I work for the Qirsi, that’s gone. They tell me what to do, which jobs to take, how the kills are supposed to be done. They pay me well, better than anyone else ever has. But their gold has a price.”

He wasn’t certain that he understood all that the assassin was trying to tell him, but the solution seemed obvious. “So stop killing for them.”

Cadel shook his head, looking away. “I can’t, at least not yet. They know too much about me. If I try to free myself of them, they’ll reveal me to every house in every kingdom in the Forelands.”

“Can’t you threaten to do the same?”

The assassin stared at him again, looking like a man who had just had his innermost thoughts laid bare. “I’ve thought of that,” he said. “In time, that may be my way out. But if I tried it now, they’d hunt me down and slit my throat.”

Dario exhaled through his teeth. “I see.”

“Are you certain you want to work with me?”

“Not as certain as I was a few moments ago,” he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “But gold is gold, and the Red Boar doesn’t pay its musicians enough to keep me here.”

Cadel extended a hand. “Then I suppose we’re partners.”

Dario stared at the assassin’s hand briefly before taking it with his own.

“The first thing we should do,” Cadel said, releasing his hand, “is rehearse some pieces. They don’t have to be perfect at first, but we should have at least four or five songs that we can perform reasonably well.”

“All right.”

“If you’d like, I can pay you a bit now, and take it out of your share later. You can buy yourself a new instrument. That one looks like it’s been through a war.”

“It has,” Dario said, not bothering to mask his anger. “It was my father’s, and it was nearly destroyed in the attack on my home village that took his life.”

Cadel’s brow furrowed. “It would seem that it’s my turn to apologize,” he said quietly. “Your lute certainly has a good sound, and as for the rest, I intended no offense.”

The lutenist gave a single nod. “It’s all right.”

Another performer, a piper, began to play at the front of the tavern.

The assassin stood. “Why don’t we go somewhere we can play, and you can show me just how fine an instrument it is.”

Dario looked up at the man, and after a moment he grinned. “Very well. I just need to collect my pay from the tavern keeper.”

He stood, picking up his lute, and they began making their way among the tables toward the bar. But after taking only a few steps, Cadel stopped, his face hardening as he began to shake his head.

“Not so soon,” he whispered. “They can’t want me again so soon.”

Following the direction of his gaze, Dario saw a Qirsi woman standing by the bar, speaking with the owner of the tavern. She looked vaguely familiar to him, though he couldn’t say why. There could be little doubt as to why she had come, however. As Dario watched, the tavern keeper nodded and pointed toward Cadel. The white-hair looked at them, recognition in her bright yellow eyes. She said something to the man, handing him a gold coin. Then she started in their direction.

She didn’t need a message from Fetnalla to tell her that she should have seen to the matter already, though Evanthya wasn’t surprised when such a message arrived at Castle Dantrielle that morning. Fetnalla had penned it herself-Evanthya would have known her hand anywhere-but the note itself was so brief as to seem almost cold. “Any news yet?” it asked. And then, simply, “Write me soon.” Only the signature offered the slightest hint of what lay behind it. “Your Fetnalla.”

They had signed their notes this way for years. Such a small thing, yet it was all they dared. This at least could be passed off as an error made in haste, rather than as a declaration of their love.

Deep as that love went, however, Evanthya could tell that Fetnalla was cross with her. The note itself had been intended as a rebuke, a reminder of how much time had slipped by since Chago’s funeral. She could delay no longer, especially with Tebeo preparing to ride later that day to Solkara for the king’s funeral.

After her daily audience with her duke, Evanthya made her excuses to the underministers, changed out of her ministerial robes, and left the castle, hurrying through the north end of the city to the marketplace. As much as she had dreaded doing this, she had not been completely idle since leaving Fetnalla in Orvinti. For years she had heard rumors of a tavern in Dantrielle that was frequented by assassins, brigands, and thieves. Most cities had such places, but the one in Dantrielle had long been said to be the most crowded in the kingdom, the one to which the most renowned men of this kind flocked. She now knew that it was called the Red Boar, and that it could be found just off the southern edge of the marketplace. She knew, as well, the name of one particular man whose talents matched her needs perfectly. The information had cost her nearly half a turn’s wage, and had required that she tell the most appalling lies not only to her duke, but also to several guards, the other ministers, and one of the stableboys, who was now convinced that she had a secret lover on the far side of the city to whom she paid frequent late-night visits.

As it turned out, the Red Boar was more difficult to find than she had been led to believe. It was located on a narrow street near the south city gate, with a single small sign that she overlooked several times as she walked up and down the lane. It didn’t help that the tavern looked fairly respectable from outside; she had expected that its appearance would match its reputation.

Once inside, however, the first minister was not disappointed. She had little trouble believing that the men crowding around the bar and laughing raucously from nearly every table were killers and rogues. Many of them stared at her as she approached the bar-she was the only Qirsi in the tavern-but they left her alone. The tavern keeper seemed reluctant at first to speak with her, but when she showed him a ten-qinde round, he gladly pointed out the man she sought.