Venedi, Seventh of Sund'im, 445 A'A'diel
"We are well and truly fucked by the gods!"
Varrus didn't respond to Cassio's epithet. His attention was consumed by the corpse sprawled upon blood-soaked furs. The cold grip of doom clutched at his bowels as a roaring sound filled his ears. Tan'os Ensther, the Vise of Reyza, lay assassinated in his bed.
Captain Varrus Sigolian, a veteran of countless campaigns, felt his blood turn to ice. Fate was a cruel bitch. In a matter of seconds, his daydreams of lemon groves had become phantasms of the gallows.
Cassio leaned his bulk against one of the bedposts and rubbed his brow. He glared at Varrus. "The opportunity of a lifetime, you said. No one would be harmed; it would just be a simple robbery. You swore this Jars was only a burglar! What happened?"
Varrus reeled with disbelief, replaying every caution taken in a jumble of memories. He had been diligent, used several reliable sources, spent more than adequate coin and had been careful to cover his tracks. It was only after he had convinced himself that Jars was the right man for the job that he had agreed to the plan. "I checked him out thoroughly! He is just a burglar!" The protestation rang hollow; the proof of his failure lay upon the bed.
Cassio thrust his finger toward the remains of their employer. "Does that look like a porch climber's handiwork to you? The Vise lies murdered, in his chamber—on our watch! We are dead!"
Acid churned in Varrus' belly. A dozen scenarios played out in his mind. None of the outcomes made him feel any less sick. The heavy-timbered walls of the bedchamber seemed to loom inward, coinciding with the tightness in his chest. Cassio was right. They were dead men.
"What is the matter with you? Say something." Cassio shoved his palm into Varrus' shoulder, jarring him from his dire thoughts. "What in Ven's name are we going to do now?"
"Do? There is nothing that can be done. The Vise is dead. No one can change that, not even one of the soulbound."
"We can run. It won't be the first time we have had to retreat from unpleasant business. We could disappear into the jungle, or steal a boat."
The idea of flight was tantalizing, yet fleeing into the jungles surrounding Reyza without resources was suicidal. They would be dead within days. As for stealing a boat, any ship they might hope to commandeer could never outrun the Thrommish fleet.
"There is no escape for us this time, old friend." Varrus shook his head. He hadn't survived a lifetime of campaigns dwelling on fortune's fickle nature; it was time for action, not self-pity. Setting his jaw, he leveled his eyes into Cassio's angry stare. "If we are to see Calantia again, we will have to think and do so quickly."
"Thinking is what got us into this mess!" Cassio spat. "We were fools to believe we could pull this off."
Before Varrus could reply, Brath's voice rang out through the dark halls, startling the two men. "Uncle! Come quickly. Avaren is gone. The thief is dead!"
Varrus and Cassio looked at each other, hope flaring in their eyes.
"If she still lives—"
"We may have a chance!"
The two men rushed to Avaren Ensther's bedroom. Cassio glared at Varrus as he stepped over the lifeless body of their comrade, Spireo.
Inside the room they found Brath standing over the corpse of a man clad in black leather.
"Did you kill him?" asked Varrus.
Brath shook his head. "No, I found him like this."
"Mejtress Avaren? Where is she?" Varrus looked around the room.
"She is gone. I think he may have raped her." The words spilled with breathless abandon from Brath's mouth. "We have to find her."
Captain Varrus leaned down toward the corpse for a better view of the dead man's face.
"Fuck me with a poker!" Varrus rose up to face Cassio and Brath. "This isn't Jars."
"Well, who in the Seven Hells is he?" Cassio stormed, his hands balling into fists. "You said Jars worked alone."
"He does. He did."
"Listen to me," Brath snapped.
The two men broke off glaring at each other to face the younger man.
Brath stooped over the dead man's corpse, careful to avoid his blood. "He was done in by his own daggers." He pointed to the matched handles of the daggers and the empty sheaths on the man's belt. "Maybe Avaren killed him, or he had a falling out with the thief you hired. Look here," Brath said, pointing to the wire garrote wrapped around the dead man's fingers. "Maybe he tried to strangle her?"
Cassio rubbed the stubble that darkened his broad chin. "If she was being garroted, how could she have stabbed him with his own daggers?"
"Forget that, for now." Varrus was frustrated. He barked to his nephew, "Brath, see if there is anything to identify this man. Anything we might use to cover our asses."
Brath complied with his uncle's orders and searched the dead man. The contents of the man's belt pouches revealed little. Brath found several vials, small hacksaws, spiked knuckles, wire and a handful of Reyzan sequins. Brath was about to rise when a metallic glint protruding from the man's boot caught his eye. Brath pulled a stiletto from its hidden sheath, then held the dagger up to examine it in the moonlight streaming in from the balcony door. The blade was stained with blood and a dark, greasy smear. Brath dared a hesitant sniff at the substance. A faint but bitter scent burned in his nostrils.
"Poison!" Brath exclaimed, rising to his feet.
"Be quiet. Another outburst like that will attract the cloister guards. We need every second to figure this out." Varrus glowered at his nephew's lack of discipline before turning his attention to Cassio. "It occurs to me that if we find the girl before anyone else does, we might get out of this with our necks intact."
Cassio considered the expression on his friend's face, then nodded. "Aye, we might even be heroes if we rescue the Vise's daughter and kill the assassin."
Brath strode toward the door, the envenomed dagger clenched in his fist. "We have to find Avaren. She could be wounded or worse."
The two veterans followed the youth.
"Yes, Brath," said Cassio, "let us rescue your princess and save our own asses as well."
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