He takes my hand, his eyes glowing, and softly kisses my palm. “Is that a yes?”
“Founder help me. Yes.”
Chapter 15
The Revenant
A week later I’m quietly sliding between the trees that parallel the nine-foot-high stone wall surrounding Guild Master Cosimo Vitorio’s estate. The bell in the city center clock tower tolls half past midnight. So far, everything is going to plan. Cosimo and his entourage returned from Hap two days ago, and I used the time to allow everyone to settle back into their routines and to prepare my assault. As luck would have it, the timing also coincides with the end of the moon’s cycle, leaving the night sky pitch black except for the explosion of silvery stars. It’s a good omen.
This property is one of the larger estates in the city, with the front of the house situated close to the street and a sprawling back garden that ends at the edge of Lake Shadh. The estate is guarded by off-duty Onyx Guild Protectors and a handful of Shades. The guards and the ever-present eyes of Uguisu’s rival spies cluster at the front of the property making that a problematic entry point. Access from the sides is equally challenging because of the high walls and poor visibility into the grounds. Which leaves the reargate at the private docks as the most viable option to gain undetected access. Not that the garden is unwatched, but it provides the highest chance to avoid discovery. I duck under a low-hanging branch and follow the treeline to the water.
It would be easier, and perhaps wiser, to kill Cosimo elsewhere. There were any number of possible options while he was traveling, but I ruled them all out. It needs to happen here, in his home, his fortress, where he believes he’s safest, so I can send the proper message through the organization. Beware. You’re not safe, even in your sanctuaries.
The creaking of El Susurro, Cosimo’s private cutter, and the gentle lapping of waves against docks carry on the night breeze. I slow my approach and stop a few paces inside the treeline. El Susurro groans as it tugs against the ropes holding it firmly in place. It’s a ship built for speed and a small crew, with a hull shallow enough to navigate the lake without issue. It usually functions as a way to ferry Cosimo and guests to and from larger ships anchored further out, but I have no doubt it would also be a fast means of escape if needed. There are very few frivolous things in an Onyx Guild Master’s estate.
I move closer, watching the two Protectors on the pier quietly exchange words. One offers the other a flask, and I use the distraction to slip onto the dock, using El Susurro for cover.
Crouching by the bow of the ship, I’m able to spy through the rear gate which is a dozen or so feet in front of me. As vantage points go, it’s not ideal, but it’s the best Ican do to observe the guard rotations. I spent many nights skulking around these docks before Cosimo traveled to Hap, so it doesn’t take long to verify that the same patterns hold now. The two guards move back and forth along the main dock, keeping an eye on the lake as well as the rear gate, but only as far as the torchlight can illuminate. They aren’t slacking on the job, per se, but they aren’t as vigilant as they should be, and I plan to take full advantage of that.
A pair of Protectors appears at regular intervals on the other side of the gate, tugging on the iron bars a few times to make sure the lock is secure before cursorily glancing out at the dock. Then they turn and move on to cover the rest of the property. It isn’t a rigid pattern, but the variations are acceptable enough to give me confidence that I can get onto the grounds unseen. Once inside, I’ll have to improvise.
Most of the estate is swathed in darkness, broken only by the occasional patch of light from lanterns placed intermittently along the outer walls. The three-story sandstone villa is barely an inky shadow in the moonless night. The house is dark, save for the faint flicker of a candle illuminating someone’s path from the main floor to the upper levels. It’s most likely a servant, finally allowed to retire for the evening. Cosimo lives alone, with no emotional attachments to distract him or be used as leverage, and no family to pull him away from his work and call him to bed. The faint glow in the second-floor corner window confirms Cosimo is still in his study.
The dock guards approach the gate as the next set of Protectors perform their cursory check. There’s a briefexchange, which culminates in a momentary burst of laughter that carries across the water before the two groups separate and continue their rotations. After waiting to allow them all to move further away, I dart to the gate, keeping low and close to the wall. I activate my sigil and press my palm to the lock. It opens with a loud clunk, and I pull on the gate, wincing as the hinges squeak. Once on the other side, I castSilenceand push the gate closed, breathing only after the latch arm drops into place. I send more power to my cloaking spell and disappear into the shadows of the perimeter wall while I get my bearings and wait for guards to investigate.
It doesn’t take long. A dim figure, barely visible in the darkness, approaches my hiding spot. The lone Protector stops at the gate and peers into the night, tugging on the iron bars to check that the lock is secure. They slowly turn in a circle, examining the grounds before scratching their head and sighing. As they turn away from me, I step out of the shadow and clamp a hand over their mouth, swiftly plunging my dagger through their back and into their heart. I hold tightly until the struggling stops, then pull the body into the shadow where I’ve been hiding, carefully tucking them away so they won’t be easily found.
The crunch of gravel under heavy boot soles is as good as a beacon, announcing the arrival of the second guard and telling me exactly where they are. If I wasn’t here to kill Cosimo, I’d have several things to say about his shoddy security. For now, I’ll be grateful for it. As the Protector nears my location, I move onto the path and slash out with my short knife, slitting their throat. The gurgling is brief,and thankfully quiet, before they drop onto the gravel with a thud. I don’t worry about the pool of blood. The stone and sand pathway will soak up the liquid, and the stain won’t be seen until the sun begins to rise. I’ll be long gone by then.
I heft the body over my shoulder and dump it next to the other one before moving rapidly down the central walkway. Lined with chest-high hedges, the path is just wide enough for two people to walk abreast without bumping shoulders. If I stay low, I’ll only need to avoid the pools of light cast from the lanterns and anyone approaching from my front or back.
Unlike the two dead guards, I concentrate on the careful placement of my feet, trying to minimize the sounds of my steps while listening for approaching Protectors. There’s movement near the outer wall and further ahead to the left, but for the moment, my way is clear. I dart down the thirty yards of path to the central fountain. It’s a crossroads for the lower garden, where all paths meet and branch out in a symmetrical pattern. The cover is minimal, and I’m sure Protectors will be passing through this spot soon. Glancing around, I search for someplace I can hide and pick them off one at a time. There aren’t any decent vantage points, so I move behind a large statue at the south end of the fountain and crouch down, listening.
Almost immediately, a pair of guards walks toward me from the direction of the house. Their footfalls are rhythmic, both appear alert but relaxed, seeming unaware of my presence. At the edge of the fountain, they separate, each following the opposite curve around the low wall. I waituntil the last possible moment, then hurl a dagger at the guard on my left, barely waiting for the knife blade to lodge deep in their eye socket before pivoting to my right and slamming another dagger into the second guard’s neck, just behind their jaw, severing their carotid artery. It’s far messier than I prefer, but unavoidable under the current circumstances. I duck behind the statue, ears straining to detect any additional movement in the area. For several long minutes, the bubbling of the fountain and the call and answer of night birds in the trees are all I hear, so I retrieve my daggers, gather both bodies, and slide them into the water without another sound.
I spare a few extra seconds to rinse my hands and knives before making my way to the granite steps that lead to the upper section of the lawn. Creeping along the right staircase, I stop at the top and scan the area. There isn’t any movement in the immediate vicinity, but there is a small marble alcove a few yards to the right. I dash across the grass and duck inside, taking a moment to breathe. The crunching of boots on the path has me pressing further into the darkness, but the pair of Protectors moves by me without incident, not even bothering to check such an obvious hiding spot. For this alone, Cosimo deserves to die.
I wait until I can’t hear them before carefully peering out of my hiding spot. The house is about twenty yards away, with very little cover between where I am and the steps that lead to the rear door. With a brief murmur for the Founder to watch over me, I bolt across the last stretch of grass and press myself into the shadows along the house.I inhale deeply through my nose and exhale quietly, listening for anyone raising an alarm.
There’s nothing but silence.
Cautiously, I climb the spiral steps to the second-floor patio outside Cosimo’s study and surreptitiously peer through the wood-and-glass–paned double doors. Cosimo is seated at an ornately carved black desk on the far side of the room. His head is tilted against the top of the wingback leather chair, lips slightly parted. He’s asleep or already dead. Either works for me, though I’ll be disappointed if I don’t get to kill him myself. I owe him a painful death. As quietly as possible, I press my palm against the lock and turn the brass handle, opening the door enough to squeeze through. I expect the tingle of the magical ward and would be shocked if there hadn’t been one. Just as they had at the Vault, the onyx inked runes on my armor and skin allow me to pass through unaffected. The door silently closes behind me, and I slip further into the study.
Stopping behind the desk chair, I glance down at Cosimo. A pulse beats in his neck, so he’s sleeping, utterly unaware of his imminent death. I thought I’d feel more. I’ve been expecting rage, or glee, or something more intense than this empty nothingness as I look at his wrinkled, pale face. I consider waking him, eviscerating him verbally and physically, with righteous indignation. But it won’t bring Kas back, and it carries more risk than it’s worth. Instead, I slip the glass vial from the inner pocket of my cloak, hands steady as ever as I uncork it and pour a few drops into his open mouth. He begins to cough, and I walk around the desk to face him. The coughing quickly becomes chokingas my special blend of poisons begins to work. Cosimo tries to sit up, fighting for air.
I drop the cloaking spell and pull off my hood. His shock and confusion give me a brief moment of satisfaction that lingers as his old eyes grow wide with understanding. “Good evening, Cosimo.” He tries to lift a hand, possibly to cast a spell or summon help, but his arm only trembles with the effort. “As much as I’d love to drag this out and make you suffer for Kas’s death, we don’t have that kind of time.” His lips turn blue as his lungs seize with the paralyzing effect of the belladonna. “Don’t worry. The others will join you very soon.” He tries to scream but no sound comes out as the abrin from the rosary pea causes his insides to boil into mush. His larynx and vocal cords are too damaged now. I allow myself a moment to savor the horror on his face. His arms drop like leaden weights into his lap, and he slips sideways as his body shuts down.
When the last of the life spark drains from former Guild Master Cosimo Vitorio, a bit of the weight lifts from my heart. There’s nothing more to do here, and the risk increases the longer I stay. It’s time to lay low for a while and let what will surely be a panicked frenzy among Cosimo’s cronies, and the Onyx Guild, die down. There haven’t been any shouts of alarm, and while sunrise is still hours away, only luck has kept the bodies of the guards from being discovered.
I pull up my hood, re-castCloaking, and scan the room. There’s probably a translocation circle somewhere in the house, but I don’t have time to search for it. I could go back out the doors I came through, but that’s a last resort.There’s a door that leads into a formal sitting room and another that opens into a library. But, at best, those would lead me to the front door, and right into the waiting arms of the guards. There has to be another way out. In a guild master’s home, especially for the head of the Onyx Guild, it only makes sense to have an emergency escape from the place you spend most of your time. I’m betting my life that there’s another way out of this study.
Carefully, knowing there may be devices that trigger any number of fatal defenses, I work my way around the room, casting a spell to detect both magical and mundane traps while searching for a release mechanism of some kind. It takes longer than I’d like, but ultimately, I find what I’m looking for. The floor to ceiling portrait of El Susurro tips me off. Why have a portrait of something you can easily see with a glance out the window? I run my fingers along the outside of the frame but find nothing. Activating my sigil, I try again, pressing my fingertips under the edge of the frame one more time. There’s a soft click, and the entire painting swings inward, revealing a small space between the walls. I spare one last look at Cosimo’s pale corpse and catch movement outside. Two figures are sprinting across the lawn toward the house, shouting the alarm. So I step into the empty space and swing the painting into place.
I consider castingLight,but if this passageway empties out where I believe it does, it’ll leave me blind and at a disadvantage. So I move down the narrow passage, keeping my hands to either side, feeling my way in the dark. The tingle of my tattoos indicates when I pass through the ward again, giving me a bit of perspective on my currentlocation. My fingers graze over a line of evenly spaced runes set into the walls, which begin to give off a faint glow. They light up several feet in front of me, indicating which way to go without compromising my vision. I pick up the pace as the narrow path widens into a small tunnel.
The runes come to an end and fade away, leaving the faint outline of a small door set into the stone. With no handle or visible way to open it, I set my palm against the rough surface, and my sigil flares to life. There’s a soft snick, and the portal swings out slightly. The lapping of the waves and the scent of lake water confirm my suspicions. I peer through the gap at the retreating back of a guard as they walk further down the dock. They must have been left to watch the ship while everyone else ran for the house. Slipping through the opening, I catch up to them, hauling them against me with one arm as my other brings the blade of my dagger across their throat. They gurgle as their knees hit the dock. I nudge them sideways, and they slide into the water. There’s no need to bother with stealth now.
I barrel down the dock, boots pounding against the wooden slats, practically tripping over the remaining guard who is hiding behind the ship. Before they can register what’s happening, both of my blades cut through the guard’s armor and pierce their chest with little resistance. Gasping, they drop to the dock like a sack of stones. I drag them to the edge and place my boot on their chest, giving them a shove while holding tightly to my blades to keep them from following the body into the lake. I rinse my knives in the water and run to El Susurro. With no timeto untie the mooring ropes, I slash one and pull the others free as I climb aboard, castingForceto shove the ship away from the dock. There are shouts of alarm from the estate grounds, but I ignore them as the ship drifts. Scrambling to set the foresail, I raise the sheet, and the canvas cracks open with a sharp snap as it fills with a blast of wind. The cutter lurches forward, gathering speed as I guide the ship out into the lake, wishing I had the skills for weather spells so I could move more swiftly. The iron gate at the dock screeches open and guards pour out, but luck is with me. I unfurl the mainsail, and as if it heard my thoughts, the wind picks up, filling the black fabric, speeding the ship’s progress, and leaving the docks far behind.
