Black smoke clawed its way through a thin layer of river fog to grasp at the early morning sun. For miles the inhabitants of Bond could see the belching imprint in the sky that marked the ruin of Belgad’s ships.
The bald man himself stood on the street of the Docks, staring up at the inky line of smoke rising above his small, ruined fleet. He faced the remains of his ships, husks of wooden hulls floating on the North River, with fists on hips and a crowd of riffraff at his back. A group of his personal guards kept the morning onlookers at bay while Belgad fumed.
He could hear the chatter amongst the masses. Some were wondering who would be stupid enough to do such a thing. Others were wondering who was so powerful as to do such a thing. Still others kept their mouths closed because they knew better than to draw out the rage that was building in the breast of the large man before them.
The cloppings of an approaching horse caused Belgad to turn.
Sergeant Gris dismounted at the edge of the masses, handing the reins of his steed to one of Belgad’s men.
“I heard as soon as I started my shift,” the sergeant said as he walked forward.
Belgad glared at the other fellow. “Out of your jurisdiction, isn’t it?”
Gris ignored the question. “Captain Chambers will speak with you later, but I wanted a word before his interview.”
Belgad was silent as he turned back to watch the remnants of his ships bouncing in the river’s flow.
“That fire at Trelvigor’s a week ago,” Gris said, counting off on gloved fingers, “then I hear some of your men were killed several nights ago, and now this. I’ll be blunt. What is happening?”
Belgad’s brow creased, framing his eyes in anger. He owed nothing to the sergeant, even as good a man as Gris was. Belgad was technically a knight, thus he had to answer only to the Western church. Besides, it was not in Belgad’s nature to confide in those outside his inner circle.
He grunted. “Nothing with which I can not deal.”
“That’s fine for you,” Gris said, “but word is spreading there is a street war brewing. If that’s the case, the guard doesn’t need it spilling over to innocent citizens.”
Belgad glared at the man again. “There are no innocent citizens.”
It took every ounce of inner strength Gris had not to step back from those brooding eyes and the menacing voice.
“There is no street war.” Belgad turned his gaze back to his burnt prizes. “There is only some fool with a thirst for vengeance.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“I have no idea,” Belgad lied, “but my own people are asking questions. Once they discover this devil, I will deal with him.”
“Lord Belgad, let me be of aid.” Gris tried a different approach. “My men could be of much service to you, and I know a man who is a fine tracker. ”
Belgad’s dark eyes were flat and steady on the blackened remains of his ships. “I have no need of your services, sergeant, and as a Knight of the Western Church, I can call upon my own authority in dealing with this matter.
“You may go now.”
Sergeant Gris knew he would get no further with the big man. Belgad did not act much like a knight, but a knight he was, and he had his own authority under the law of the land.
Gris nodded and backed away. “I’ll make Captain Chambers aware of the situation,” he said as he retraced his steps to his horse.
Belgad said nothing and did not bother to watch the sergeant climb into the saddle.
Soon after Gris rode off, the crowd began to thin. Many of the gawkers had to be to work or to breakfast. It didn’t pay, watching a rich man’s fortunes go up in smoke.
“Master Belgad.” The voice came from the crowd.
Belgad wouldn’t have moved if he had not recognized the speaker. He turned as Lalo the Finder eased between two armed guards and approached his employer.
“Fine of you to join me.” Belgad waved a hand toward the remains of his ships. “You see what a fine gift master Darkbow has left?”
The Finder frowned at the vision before him. “Are you sure it was him, lord?”
Belgad nodded. “I questioned Gossimer and Fortrude. They described him the same as Stilp.”
“Did this Darkbow speak with them?”
“A little, but his purpose is apparent. He wishes to ruin me.”
“And perhaps more than that.”
Belgad turned to stare at his man. “What do you mean?”
“This Darkbow has no qualms about killing. And he’s rather bent upon revenge against you. It seems likely to me he will eventually make an attempt on your life.”
Belgad’s eyes remained brooding. So what if his enemy wanted him dead? Plenty of men had wanted Belgad dead. He did not fear death, as was the custom among the men of his Dartague homeland, but that did not mean he would greet finality with open arms.
Belgad turned back to glare at his dead ships. “Cancel my meeting this afternoon with the economics forum.”
“What of Fortisquo?”
“I still want to meet with him. Fetch him yourself if you have to, but I want him in my hall before the day is done.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
***
Adara Corvus wasn’t sure what woke her. Perhaps it was the light steps of Fortisquo as he tip-toed away from the bed. Perhaps it was the jangling of his belts as he slipped into a pair of pants. Perhaps it was the soft metallic click of the bedroom door as he opened it and stepped through. Or perhaps it was simply that Adara no longer felt his warmth next to her in the bed.
No matter. The tall, slender form of the man with the goatee was gone, like many men in Adara’s life.
She opened her eyes and stretched, running a hand through the place Fortisquo had been sleeping only minutes before. Her eyes roamed the room and came to rest on the chair next to the bed. Two long, thin swords with stylish pommels leaned against the chair, while a pair of black boots sat crumpled in the seat.
Adara’s eyes darted to the bedroom door as she realized Fortisquo was not, in fact, leaving her. The man wouldn’t have gone anywhere except the privy without his weapon.
The door stood open an inch and Adara could hear soft voices beyond.
The curiosity was too much for her.
Gathering silky sheets around her slender body, Adara slunk from the bed, each toe of her feet settling gently on the thick rug beneath the bed. She was halfway to the door when she heard Fortisquo speaking with someone who expressed a feminine voice.
Jealousy did not build itself in Adara. She felt no man was worth the effort. But she did grow intrigued.
Stepping to the open door, Adara stared into the apartment’s entertaining room, which bore padded furniture and more expensive rugs on the floor.
“Where is he now?” Fortisquo reclined on a couch while lifting a glass of red wine to his lips.
To Adara’s surprise the person who sat in a chair across from Fortisquo turned out not to be a woman, but a man nearly as slender and tall as Fortisquo himself. His body was at an angle so Adara could not see his face, but still she could make out the man’s expensive blue robes and the traveling cloak that covered his shoulders. She could also see the stranger’s casual movements. Adara knew a man trained in the arts of diplomacy when she saw one.
“He is still at the Docks,” the newcomer said, motioning toward a window. “He is waiting to hear word you will meet with him this afternoon.”
Fortisquo set his glass on a table next to the couch. “I see no reason to meet with Lord Belgad.”
The robed man leaned forward as if to add gravity to his entreaty by closing the space with Adara’s lover. “He means you no disrespect and no harm.”
“In the past—”
“The past is of little concern,” the man interrupted. “Lord Belgad is only concerned with the present.”
Fortisquo's eyes sharpened. Adara recognized the look. It was the same stare Fortisquo gave an opponent at the start of a duel.
The stranger eased back in his seat. “Will you meet with him?”
Fortisquo shook his head. “No.”
“Lord Belgad does not enjoy disappointments.”
The slender fencing artist held his ground, saying nothing.
“Very well, then.” The robed man stood, his cloak and robes swaying about his feet. “I will inform Lord Belgad of your refusal. Let his reaction be upon your head.”
“Tell Lord Belgad I have already played my part in his play.” Fortisquo’s voice was cold.
The robed man opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. He stopped himself from saying more and exited the room.
Once he was alone again, Fortisquo drained the glass of its wine.
Adara silently turned to go back to the bed.
“How long have you been there?” It was Fortisquo’s voice from the entertaining room.
Adara thought to play quiet but realized that would not do. Fortisquo was an excellent fencer with superb senses. He was trained to notice small details and to take advantage of them. He would know if she were there or not, now that she had been detected.
She stepped back to the door and opened it so Fortisquo could see her body outlined beneath the silk sheets. “Since you asked about the whereabouts of some man,” she answered.
Fortisquo’s long fingers played with the glass in his hand, finally placing the object neatly in the center of the table in front of him. “You didn't hear much.”
Adara nodded.
“But, still ...” The fencing master hesitated, running his fingers across his lips.
Adara let the sheets fall from her body.
Fortisquo’s eyes widened.
The woman pursed her lips. “Still?”
“Dammit all!” Wearing a grin, Fortisquo jumped to his feet and marched toward her. “I suppose I can kill you after we make love!”
***
Of course Fortisquo had been joking when he’d threatened to slay Adara. He would no more kill a woman of her beauty than he would drop a bag of gold into a river. Both ideas would be repugnant to him. Besides, he knew he would have one hell of a fight on his hands. He would win. Of that he was sure. But he was positive he would not walk away unscathed from a duel with the slender female.
He grinned as he slid from the rumpled bed and into his pants. He could not imagine knowingly attacking Adara, but daydreaming about ways to conquer a formidable foe was another matter. Fortisquo didn’t get to be one of the best rapirists and assassins in West Ursia by daydreaming about women and sex all day long.
“Why are you smiling?” Adara asked from the bed. “What are you thinking?”
Fortisquo’s grin grew wider beneath his thin mustache as he pulled a silk white shirt over his head. “That’s a woman's question.”
Adara squinted one eye. “Then give a man’s answer.”
Fortisquo laughed and strapped on his sword belt. He placed one finger on his chin while staring upward as if in deep thought.
His playful eyes shifted back to her. “I don’t know.” Then he laughed.
A pillow smacked him in the face.
The swordmaster gripped the cushion, bringing it above his head to fling back, but the woman had already slid across the bed and was standing there naked with a thin sword, a rapier, in her hand.
Fortisquo chuckled as he saw the pointed end of the blade leveled at his eyes. “What are you planning to do with that?”
Adara gave a half bow, then stood in a fencing posture, her left hand behind her back and the right hand slightly extended with the rapier’s blade pointed at Fortisquo’s face. She stood on the balls of her feet as her right foot faced forward a couple of steps ahead of her left foot, which was turned outward slightly.
The fencing master tossed the pillow onto the bed. “Enough play, woman! I’m hungry!”
Adara took a step back. “You’ve already eaten this morning," she said with a squinted eye.
It was too much for Fortisquo. A hungry belly laugh erupted from him as he turned away and waved a hand at the woman.
Adara lowered her weapon. “Where are you going?”
Fortisquo shot a look back. “I’m going to have breakfast while you dress. We can’t spend all day in bed!”
Adara tossed the sword on the sheets. “I don’t know why not,” she said, pulling on her britches. “It wouldn’t be the first time we stayed in bed all day.”
She could hear Fortisquo chuckling again from the front room.
“That’s true, my dear.” His voice was followed by a chomping sound Adara decided was his teeth biting into one of the apples left from their dinner the night before.
She pulled a white shirt over her head. “Are you going to tell me why that man came to see you?”
There were more chomping sounds from the other room. “You’re sounding like a woman again.”
Adara’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at the door. That’s because I am a woman! Instead of shouting the words aloud, as she wanted, she thought it best to keep the peace until she had learned all Fortisquo had to teach her. “Anyone would be curious.”
There was another biting sound. “True. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell.”
Adara reached for her tall boots. This was one part of the day she detested. Without servants, pulling up thigh-high leather boots could take all morning.
“Well?” she said testily as she yanked on black leather.
“He works for an old associate of mine,” Fortisquo explained from the other room, “and he had a business proposition for me. I refused him.”
Adara huffed, ran out of air and halted her tug-of-war game with the boots. “Why did you do that?”
She heard Fortisquo’s familiar chuckling again before he spoke. “Because I am no longer in that line of work. This associate made sure of that years ago. He bought out all contracts for the guild where I was provost, effectively putting me out of business. I owe him no favors.”
Adara huffed again as the first boot slipped into place and she grabbed the other one. “I take it you don’t need the money?”
“The associate was kind enough to make sure I was well compensated before my forced retirement.”
“It sounds as if you got a good deal.” Adara tugged on the other boot. “You made out with some gold and don’t have to work.”
“Let’s just say I enjoyed my profession.”
Finally, Adara pulled up the last boot.. “You at least could have heard the fellow out.” She stood and stomped the boots into perfect fit, then appeared in the doorway.
Fortisquo stood in the center of the front room with the remains of a mostly eaten apple skewered on the end of his sword. He gulped down the last of the fruit in his mouth. “I am no longer in that line of work.”
“And what line of work would that be?”
“I killed people, and I was quite good at it. I headed the assassin’s guild for nearly five years.”
Adara’s jaw dropped.
Fortisquo slung his sword’s tip, sending the apple flying across the room to land in a corner on a fine rug. “I’m going to need more than this for breakfast.” He belched and dropped his sword into its sheath.
Adara stood motionless, her jaw still hanging.
Fortisquo snapped his fingers in front of the woman’s eyes. “Adara.”
She blinked and scowled. “I never knew you were a hired assassin.”
Fortisquo laughed again. “Would it have made a difference?”
Adara thought about it for a second. “Probably not. I guess it’s no different from what we do.”
“Don’t fool yourself,” Fortisquo said. “It’s quite different from what you and I do. An assassin kills anyone he has been paid to kill. A professional duelist only kills when necessary.”
The swordsman turned and headed toward the exit. “Are you coming, or do you wish me to send up food?”
Adara sighed. “I’m coming, I suppose.” She took several steps toward Fortisquo.
“Good.” The swordsman glanced back at Adara as he turned the brass knob on the door. “I’d hate to spend breakfast with the bartender again. The man can pour a decent ale but he can’t fry eggs worth —"
Fortisquo went silent and stared out the door.
Adara looked across the room to see two muscular figures in leather armor in the doorway. Each of the men carried a large crossbow with arrows pointed at Fortisquo’s chest. Behind the two in leather stood the man who had spoken with Fortisquo a half hour earlier.
“Master Belgad insists upon meeting with you,” Lalo the Finder said.
Fortisquo looked to Adara. “It seems we will be having breakfast with that associate after all, my dear.”
***
“Tell me your problems.” Fortisquo sat in a chair of iron bands on a second-floor verandah overlooking one of Belgad’s gardens. Next to him sat Adara. Across a table from them, Belgad lounged on a marble sofa layered with silk pillows and a pale Hiponese throw with edges of gold stitching. Behind the master of the manner stood Lalo the Finder, patiently quiet.
“Do you know of Trelvigor?” Belgad sat up straight. Now that Fortisquo was here, it was time for business, and Belgad never relaxed when it was time for business. One’s senses became dull when reclining.
The former assassin nodded to his former associate. “I passed the house a few days ago.”
“I’m having him tended in the central healing tower.” Belgad looked to Adara, then back to Fortisquo. “He’s expected to live, but will likely wear scars the rest of his days.”
Fortisquo eased back in the iron chair to become as comfortable as possible. “What do the wizard’s misfortunes have to do with you?”
“Possibly nothing,” Belgad said, “but events since look to be linked to the fire. A few nights ago two of my men were killed, another crippled and yet another wounded. They were attacked by a man calling himself Kron Darkbow.”
“Is the man insane?” The assassin seemed seriously doubtful of Darkbow’s sanity.
“It would seem so.” Belgad sat up straighter. “But he is also talented at lurking in the dark and causing me trouble. My men were ... on business when they were attacked, and these were experienced men in chain with weaponry. He took down two of them with a bow and proceeded to pummel the others.”
Until then, Adara had held little interest in the conversation. Upon hearing of the skills of this Darkbow, her interest rose along with her eyes. She stared at Belgad, following his every word.
The Dartague went on. “Last night he killed two more of my men at the Docks, and burnt my three ships down to the water’s line.”
“I wondered about that smoke to the north.” Fortisquo retrieved a strawberry from a copper bowl on the table and popped the fruit into his mouth.
“Darkbow again. He wounded another of my men, but allowed him and one more to go free.”
Fortisquo swallowed his breakfast. “Are you sure it was the same man in all these instances?”
Belgad brooded for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m not sure it was one man, but it would seem to be. The description of my men at the Docks matched the description from the other night. As for Trelvigor, I won’t know what happened in his home until he is able to speak again, which the healer tells me isn’t likely for at least two weeks.”
“Is there any evidence why this man wants to harm you?”
“None for sure, but it’s not as if I wouldn’t have enemies.”
Fortisquo stared off into the garden. Adara could tell his mind was at work behind his eyes.
Belgad leaned forward as if to impress his situation upon the others. “He is more than adept with a bow, and he carries a large sword on his back, though none of my men have seen him put it to action.”
Fortisquo looked back at the hulking northerner on the marble chair. “If he can use his fists, then he’s likely proficient with the sword.”
Adara nodded, thinking the same thing. A man who could fight well with one weapon could generally fight well with another. He might not be as experienced with a particular weapon, but if he understood close combat tactics he would soon learn the limits and reaches of whatever weapon he had in his hands, at least if he lived long enough to become familiar with the weapon.
Fortisquo picked up another strawberry. “Have all of these attacks been at night?”
“So far.” Belgad’s gaze narrowed as he followed the small red fruit to the assassin’s lips. “He dresses in black and uses the shadows. I’m sure you’re familiar with the type.”
Fortisquo grinned. Of course he was familiar with the type. He had even been that type.
“Stilp described him as a large man, but he also seems quick of foot and hand.”
“Strong, agile and experienced.” Fortisquo hesitated in eating further, the strawberry stopping halfway to his lips. “He also uses the darkness to his advantage and softens his foes from a distance before moving in, so he’s clever and stealthy. It’s a superb mixture of talent, skill and brains. I would like to meet this Darkbow.”
Belgad frowned. “I want him dead.”
“Your description of him has intrigued me, but it’s going to cost you.” The swordmaster bit into the fruit, his lips suddenly stained crimson.
“I’ll pay one thousand gold.”
Adara sucked in air. A thousand gold could purchase a small kingdom.
Fortisquo finished his strawberry and grinned. “I have little need for your funding.”
The corners of Belgad’s mouth drooped further. “I don’t have to hire you. I have plenty of men who would take on this man.”
“True, but you have no one with my talents. Admit it, you need my skills.”
“I want your skills,” Belgad said. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“Then what Belgad wants is going to cost more than a bag of coins.”
“Tell me your price.”
“The contracts from my guild. Sign them over to me.”
Belgad nearly rose from his seat to shout at the sword master’s face, but gritted his teeth to keep from doing so. It took him a moment to regain his composure. “I am not going to allow an assassin’s guild in this city again. You know my position on that matter.”
“You’ve always said killings are bad for business, but that’s not true if killing is your business.”
“Killing isn’t my business. Making money is. Blood in the streets means fewer people to spend their coin. Fewer people spending coin means I make less. I’ve come a long way since Dartague, my friend, and I do not foresee returning to those ways. I spared you ten years ago because we came to an amicable agreement. You have stood by our agreement since, but if I was wrong in my judgment of you, then I will have to have you removed.”
Adara eased a hand toward the rapier on her hip as she felt the tension rise on the verandah. She had seen no weapons on Belgad, or Lalo for that matter, but she had no doubts Belgad could take care of himself and there were likely numerous guards within shouting distance.
“There will be no need for that.” Fortisquo waved a hand at the Dartague. “I am retired. But it would do my ego good to have those contracts again.”
“I would rather not take the chance on your changing your mind at some future date.” Belgad’s voice was firm.
Fortisquo stood with slowness and walked to the edge of the verandah to stare at the greenery below.
“One thousand gold,” Belgad repeated.
Fortisquo continued to stare, his eyes following a yellow bird feeding from the long pink tube of a foreign plant he could not name.
Belgad forced himself to stand. “Fortisquo, I am not a man of patience.”
The swordsman turned slowly, a grin still stretched across his face. “A thousand gold will do fine. But there will have to be some arrangements.”
The big Dartague appeared confused. “What do you have in mind?”
“First, you are going to throw a party.” Fortisquo winked at Adara.