Chapter 9
The Vault
I sit back on my heels and observe the guard on the roof as she moves around the corner and out of sight. It took a few weeks of investigation and monitoring of the place before I came up with a plan that wouldn’t immediately get me killed. Based on what I learned, this approach offers the best hope for getting into and out undetected. There are fewer torches on this side of the compound, and more outbuildings and trees to use as cover.
I count to thirty, and as expected, a different guard appears from the rear of the building. He walks to the side entrance, and gives a firm tug on the door handle to ensure it’s locked. Satisfied, he scans the yard before continuing on his route, disappearing into the darkness. A few more minutes pass, and a second rooftop guard comes into view. Thunder rolls in the distance. The guard spares a glance at the rumbling sky and pulls his cloak around himself, moving on.
The wind picks up, though the storm hasn’t yet made landfall. If I time things properly and have luck on my side,I’ll be inside the building before it starts to rain and leaving when the downpour is in full swing. There’s no counting on that, though. Weather off Lake Shadh can be difficult to predict. Once the courtyard is free of guards, I strengthen my protection and cloaking spells and dash across the space between buildings, pressing myself into the shadows along the Vault wall. It’s only a few steps to the door, but before I can move, a guard unexpectedly rounds the corner from the opposite direction. I’m barely hidden, and though I don’t sense any dispelling magic, it’s still unnerving to be this close to someone while relying onCloakingto keep myself unobserved. With that in mind, I stay utterly still, keep my breathing slow and steady, and wait.
As the guard passes, I dart out and grab her from behind. Though she may be missed faster than I’d prefer, knocking her out and having her regain consciousness before I’m miles away could mean I’m discovered even sooner. In a split-second decision, I slap a hand over her mouth and plunge my dagger upward. The wickedly sharp edge cuts through the leather armor easily and continues slicing into her diaphragm, piercing her heart. She makes no sound as she slumps backward.
I drag the body into an out-of-the-way shadow, where it’s less likely to be found before daylight. Crouching down, I extract my dagger from the corpse, wiping the blood on a thin patch of grass, and wait for the usual rotation to proceed. When the next opening comes, I climb the few stairs to the side door and check for traps, easily detecting the spell that magically locks the door. I press the Guild sigil on my palm against the lock and feel thesatisfying click as the catch releases. The door swings open silently, and I step inside. There’s a slight prickling over my skin as I pass through the invisible wards. It’s the only sign that the onyx-inked runes on my armor and skin have successfully masked me from the magical alarm.
I move quickly, fairly certain there aren’t additional Shades lurking in the building. The non-magical traps would make it almost impossible to patrol in here without setting something off. I stop just past the magical barrier anyway and wait to see if anyone makes themselves known. When no one appears, I move cautiously toward the center of the room, constantly castingDetect Traps.
The main building is lined with massive bookcases filled with various tomes, scrolls, and artifacts. More are displayed in cases throughout the room. There are several large wooden tables with chairs, and four iron spiral staircases leading to an upper level. The demarcation between the work area and the foyer is a line of black onyx pedestals of varying heights, with busts of past Guild Masters set like macabre guardians on the platforms.
The scroll I want is most likely in the small alcove at the far left of the main floor, but I have to cross the open entryway to reach it. I examine one of the busts, careful not to touch anything. A magical dampening field buzzes along my skin. Fucking hells. It’s a nullification field. Once I pass through that, my spells and magical protections won’t help me. And these busts give me pause. The pressure to hurry is intense, but this isn’t a place to rush. I have great respect for the witches who built this place and all the dangers it holds.
Without putting myself in their direct path, I examine every angle of the carvings. There are tiny holes in the eyes, nose and mouth. I carefully move to a second bust, looking for the same holes. When I find them, I take a deep breath and exhale. Fuck. Definitely a trap. Vindicated for my caution, I rest on my heels and consider my next move. The holes might be decorative, but it’s more likely they’re apertures for the release of poison gas, and I need to avoid triggering them. But what’s the trigger? Without much hope of success, I castDetect Traps, focusing on the space in front of me. As expected, nothing happens.
Sighing, I reach into the pouch at my waist and carefully extract a vial of red liquid. For good measure, I pull out the vial of clear liquid as well, and down both quickly. I need to get across the entryway, and I trust my agility, but I can’t guarantee that I won’t trip whatever releases the gas that is obviously part of this particular trap. I also can’t predict what the poison is, but it’s likely to be one of the more deadly toxins that can be aerosolized, and that limits the options. Hopefully I haven’t guessed wrong.
Carefully, I lie on the smooth floor and cautiously inch forward, pulling myself between two of the columns. Keeping my head low to the ground, I put my entire weight on each tile as I progress. Part of my brain urges me to move faster, whispering that someone will find me soon. But didn’t I just prove that it’s better to be overly cautious and wrong than reckless and dead? As I settle over the third onyx square, there’s a slight click as the tile settles. With a hiss, a yellow cloud of gas oozes out of the eyes, noses, and mouths of the three closest statues. The air takes ona sulfuric scent, like rotten eggs, and I hold my breath as I haul myself forward. There’s still two-thirds of the floor to cross before I make it to the corner alcove. I don’t feel any pain, nausea, dizziness or fatigue, other than what I might expect trying not to die while crawling across a deadly floor trap. So my antidotes were most likely correct. Though I suppose it could be a slow-acting poison which kills me later. But I can’t dwell on those possibilities. I have a job to complete.
In spite of my precautions, I set off another set of the statues a few tiles further in, but the gas doesn’t seem to be affecting me, and the mistake provides a possible pattern to avoid further triggers.
This close to the floor, I spot an anomaly in the tiles. A few more slabs to the left, just off the center of the room, is a square that’s slightly raised from the others surrounding it. It’s not off by much, but it’s enough of an inconsistency that I skirt around it. Given the location, and the trap I’ve already set off, it could release another toxin, or who knows what. It could cause the bookcases to begin to move toward the center of the room, crushing me between the tomes. By the time I reach the other end of the entryway, I’m damp with sweat, and my arms and legs are beginning to fatigue, but I’ve made it alive. So far. I try not to consider how much time has passed or how I’ll get out of here without triggering anything else.
I make it past the last few squares of the onyx floor, and I’m only steps from my destination. Pushing myself to a standing position, I pause and examine the area in front of me. Not many within the cabal are aware of sanctionedcontracts taken out on members of the Shabah. If they knew thattheycould be targeted, there would be pandemonium within the ranks. So the protections on the room where those contracts are stored must be intense.
As I approach the doorway to the alcove, there’s a slight pressure against my skin that gets stronger the closer I get. There’s a bright flash of a Guild sigil on the wall and by pure instinct, I slap my palm against it, matching my sigil to it, before it fades. The pressure releases with a sigh and I quickly step inside the alcove, taking a moment to mentally regroup. Give me an opponent with a blade or sword and I’ll gladly take them apart. But I’ve had enough of these secretive attacks. It’s time to find what I need and get out of here.
The alcove is small and holds only a few cabinets. I head for the furthest one, scanning for magical and mundane traps, but there aren’t any, and the door appears to have a standard locking mechanism. Pulling out my tools, I carefully pick the lock and gently pull on the handle. Several dozen scrolls are piled on shelves, and I examine each one but don’t find any that mention Kas. I put the scrolls back and close the door, pressing until there’s a click of the lock re-engaging. Moving to the next cabinet, I start the lock picking process again as a loud thunderclap overhead rattles the windows, urging me on. The storm is close, if it hasn’t already arrived.
It takes the better part of half an hour to find the scroll I need. Far longer than I’d hoped. Now it’s time to make as quick an exit as I dare. I securely tuck the scroll into my cloak and carefully retrace my steps, mirroring everythingI’d done to get in. No sense making it painfully obvious that someone was here. They’ll find out soon enough when they discover the dead bodies.
When I get to the side door, I ease it open and peer into the darkness. Rain is falling steadily, which will help cover my exit, but the courtyard is turning into a muddy morass. It’ll slow my progress and possibly leave a trail. There’s no help for it, though. I send more magic into my cloaking spell and wait until a guard moves past, counting a few additional heartbeats for good measure, then slip outside. As quickly as I dare, I cross the courtyard and crouch down next to the wall of an outbuilding, waiting to see if I’ve been spotted.
No shout goes up, even though there are still several guards on the rooftops. Thankfully, the steady rain has them only half-heartedly paying attention. They’re more intent on hunkering down under cloaks, trying to avoid getting soaked. I pull my own cloak around my shoulders and creep toward the archway that opens to the main road. I’m almost through when I spot a guard heading straight for me. Lightning streaks across the night sky, striking a metal plate on the arch right above my head. The air fizzes with a massive electrical discharge, and I gasp as it rolls over me, snuffing out my magic like a candle. Fucking hells! It’s not painful, but itisdisconcerting and worrisome. It might be worse if I hadn’t grown accustomed to lower magical powers on Earth. But why didn’t I know this was a possibility? I can’t be the first person this has happened to. Not too many people get this close to lightning strikes, but someone else has to have experienced this before me. TheShabah should have warned us. Though my gut says if the Shabah knew about this, they’d use it to their advantage. Maybe they’re keeping it as a secret weapon. Does Kenji know anything about this? I crouch low and shake out my hands as a second strike lights up the sky. This time, without my cloaking spell, the nearby guard sees me.
Maybe the Founder is watching over me, or perhaps it’s pure luck, but as the guard unsheathes their sword and opens their mouth to shout the alarm, a crack of thunder booms directly overhead, and their words are lost to the storm. I draw my knives. The guard is too close and the road too muddy to make running an option. A head-on attack with daggers against a sword isn’t a viable plan either.
I hurl one of my knives at them, aiming for their shoulder. It won’t be a death blow, especially with the wind gusting as it is, but it will disable them enough to provide an opportunity to do further damage close up.
As the blade finds its mark, and the guard hesitates, I speed across the space between us, slashing upward with my dagger, slitting their throat. Yanking my blade from the body as it drops into the mud, I dash down the road, escaping into the storm. The other guards will eventually find them, but I’ll be long gone by then.
Between the weather and increased caution because of my lack of magic, it takes an hour to reach my inn. About halfway back, the onyx in my tattoos begins to tingle. Once I hit the more populated parts of the city, my magic is back to full strength. It’s something I definitely need tospeak with Kenji about later. As someone who can control weather, they would be the most logical person to ask. All witches are aware that using too much magic can result in burnout. No one ever mentioned a similar effect from lightning. And I wonder how we can use it to our benefit.
Entering through the back door, I take the rear stairs to my room, carefully checking the floor in front of my door for small bits of paper. None have fallen from where I set them, so I pull them free and enter my room. Closing the door quietly, I throw my rain-drenched cloak and gloves onto the chair, then toss the scroll on the table and kneel by the hearth to cast a flame spell onto the cold charcoal left from the last fire. Once the lumps rekindle, I add more wood and begin thawing myself out.
I hadn’t expected to make it out of the Vault alive. At the very least, I assumed I’d be injured. There were so many traps, magical and mundane, and so many things that could have gone wrong. But I survived. And found the contract. It’s almost surreal. Now I need to focus on the next phase of the plan.
Pushing to my feet, I glance at the parchment that hopefully holds all the answers I need. Most importantly, who was involved in Kas’s death, and why? I lean against the edge of the table and tug off my soaked boots, tossing them near the fire to dry before peeling off my armor and setting it aside. With care, I place my knives on the table to clean and sharpen later. There’s only so much patience I can manage right now, and with the answers possibly within my grasp, I can’t wait any longer. I snatch up the scroll and throw myself onto the bed to read.
As expected, the contract was between Onyx Guild Master Cosimo Vitorio and Lorenzo Medina. There are signatures of Guild Master Hans Keller from the Ruby Guild and Guild Master Alexey Rostova from the Diamond Guild, as well as four other lower-ranking members of the Onyx and Diamond Guilds as witnesses. My pulse thunders in my ears. Three powerful guild masters and the most senior House Representative in the Assembly all plotted to eliminate one Specter. Why these people? How do they relate to Kas? Why did he need to die? As I continue reading, my questions are answered, but my brain struggles to comprehend the new information. Kas was the son of Lorenzo Medina? Kas said he never knew who his father was. In Amagi, that isn’t a problem. There’s no stigma attached to being born to unmarried parents like there is in many cultures on Earth. Itisan interesting piece to the puzzle, though.
I scan the contract, searching for anything that tells me why he had to die, and when I find it, I stare at the words, then reread them. Then read them a third time, because none of it makes sense. According to the contract, Kas had political ambitions and allied himself with a coven who supported bringing refugee witches to Amagi, and advocated for allowing their non-magical family members to come with them. The whole story is unbelievable. Kas didn’t have a political bone in his body. He hated politics. He wasn’t against bringing refugees here, but he didn’t have a strong opinion one way or the other. He said picking a side interfered with his ability to complete his contracts. And that wasn’t wrong. It’s what a lot of the Shabahbelieve. And anyone who knew Kas would see this for the lie it is. Especially me. We’d been incredibly close. We’d shared everything. I would know if he’d changed his mind about any of that. Had Kas known who his father was? We never talked about it. Shades never talked about the families that were left behind. It was too painful. And as we grew, they became less and less important to our survival.
