Space Assassins: The Complete Series 1-5, page 31
After they’d done their part and helped the Council claim their prize––in this case, a resource-rich world at the far end of the Bogadeh system––they had received their reward.
Death at the hands of their employers.
Of course, the Council made it seem like they had perished in noble combat, and with none to witness their true fate, no one knew how the Council reneged on their offer of an entire world for them to call their own, opting instead to unleash a deadly poison through their ranks, hidden in their casks of celebratory alcohol.
When the men were dead or dying, it was then child’s play to destroy their ships in such a way that made it seem to have been combat related.
But rumors got out. No facts, of course, but some rumors. And a widow of one of those brave men would always be given a certain respect, even by the roughest sort.
But that would be in the morning, and Demelza couldn’t let herself slip into the mindset that shifted her entire physical demeanor to inhabit that character. Not now. For now, she was Alanna, wild woman of abandon and no reservations. Tonight she would dance and frolic and leave a trail of damaged men and women behind.
And in the morning, she would be gone.
Chapter Forty-Two
While the others were enjoying, to varying degrees, their labors within the great expanse of the city and its mountaintop cousin, Hozark was on a more difficult path. One that took him through the filthy shantytown along the shoreline as he sought out their amphibious target.
He might very well still be on the surface. There were plenty of hidey-holes, nooks, and crannies where he could tuck away and stay out of sight while maintaining contact with whoever happened to be within his network on Kraam. But Hozark had a sense of the man. A feeling. This one was a wily one. This one was crafty.
Having the sea at his back would provide the water-loving Fakarian with a degree of comfort he would be unable to achieve within the city proper, and certainly not atop the high volcanic mountain looming above. Hozark had thought it a near impossibility that he would be found that far from the water. That was why he had sent Bud and Laskar there.
Yes, the unlikely duo might actually find him, and yes, he and Demelza might have to make a hasty ascent of the mountain, but there was more to this mission than just capturing the Council agent.
There was intelligence to gather, and those a little bit farther from the man’s normal haunts might be more inclined to loosen their lips. And Bud had proven himself rather talented at making new friends and prying loose information from them without their even realizing it.
The dampness of the shoreline was only slightly uncomfortable, largely due to the relatively warm temperature of the waters in this region of the planet. It was why the sealife was so plentiful, which in turn provided a steady food source for the hungry mouths come to rest and hide out on Kraam.
Unlike the main city’s marketplaces and bazaars, the water’s edge was populated by fishmongers and vendors of less savory wares than you might find in the city proper.
This was where the roughest men and women spent their time on the surface. But Hozark was following his instincts, and his instincts told him he needed to dig deeper still. Or, swim, as the case may be. For deep in his gut, the assassin was all but certain his prey was lurking beneath the warm waters, hiding out in one of the cavernous undersea townships.
And that was where the truly dangerous types congregated.
* * *
There were fourteen caverns surrounding the island. Fourteen places Tikoo could be hiding out. But Hozark immediately eliminated eight of them for being either too remote for the Council agent’s purposes, or not possessing more than one entry and egress.
Escape routes were a valuable tool of the assassination trade. Vital, in fact. But assassins were by no means the only craftsmen of nefarious skills who utilized them. And it was utterly unthinkable that a Council agent would corner himself in a sequestered cavern of his own free will.
That left six possible locations where the Fakarian might be hiding out. Hozark had picked up some chatter from locals on the surface before descending into the first of them. It seemed that four of the potential hideouts possessed multiple surface tunnels leading to their depths.
That degree of ease of access led the Ghalian to the conclusion that Tikoo would be hiding out in one of the remaining two. Yes, those two also possessed surface accessways that did not require one to pass through the waters around them, but from what he had sussed out, those routes were both dangerous as well as hidden. Precisely the sort of thing that would prevent most from venturing down below.
And it was precisely there that Hozark went.
The largest of the two was going to be his best bet, he reasoned. More people and a larger underwater tunnel for ships possessing the rather uncommon magic required for subaqueous travel to more easily arrive unseen. And a larger tunnel meant larger ships. Potentially Council vessels, even.
The easy water egress would also put Tikoo at ease. Having a water escape route so handy would give him a confidence that Hozark could exploit. Very few possessed the spells for this environment, nor the requisite training and skill to wield them underwater.
The issue was that spells were tied to spoken words, the combinations of the gibberish-sounding phrases slowly stumbled upon and refined over tens of thousands of years as the people of the diverse worlds scattered throughout the galaxy learned what they did by trial and error.
Somehow, the arcane combinations failed spectacularly, setting back that chain of knowledge for generations. But others were rapidly developed and shared, such as the spells for levitating items. It was the reason the wheel had never been invented. Being able to float items rather than roll them, the round device had simply never been needed.
In fact, to suggest something so crude as pulling or pushing any item of weight along on a wheeled contraption would draw laughter from one and all. It was simply so inelegant, unlike nice, clean magic.
An early issue, however, was that not all possessed innate magic within them. Casting and imbuing items with magical power had initially been confined to a smaller set of men and women who possessed the ability.
But the means to channel power and store it, allowing others to then tap into it, was found. It was highly inefficient at first, but over time, that too was refined until the konus was developed as a catch-all tool that pretty much everyone had these days, though of widely varying power.
But even with a konus on their wrist and a few spells in their tool bag, the power to protect oneself from the crushing weight of an ocean’s waters was incredibly specialized magic known only to a few, and capable of being cast and controlled while underwater by even fewer. For to cast, again, the spell had to be spoken. No easy task while submerged.
Amphibian races could create an air bubble, allowing the vocalization, but land-bound races had no such ability. It was what would give his amphibian prey a bit of overconfidence. And that, he could exploit.
Hozark had an ace up his sleeve that only a few could manage. He had trained under Master Garrusch in his early years. The man was incredibly knowledgeable in arcane spells, and had spent a long, long time practicing and experimenting with them over his decades as a Ghalian master.
And though he had died while Hozark was still young, Master Garrusch had taught several of those obscure spells to a pair of young aspirant Ghalian who had shared his thrill in practicing the arcane magic. A Wampeh named Hozark, and his sometime paramour, Samara, both of whom showed great aptitude for the unusual arts.
It was their drive for self-betterment that helped that pair rise to the top of their peers and graduate to full Ghalian early. And that knowledge from so long ago might very well come into play today, for Hozark knew the spell to craft a small air shell across his nose and mouth.
It was not enough to allow him to breathe underwater for any great length of time, but it was enough to allow spells to be enunciated, even while submerged. And with that little trick in his arsenal, he was the deadliest assassin under the seas.
But for now, he would stick to the above-water areas of the town in the cavern.
The streets were illuminated by the gleaming stalactites above, the minerals comprising them having absorbed background magic that seeped down from above and percolated up from the planet’s core over millennia. The glow they cast off provided ample illumination round the clock, though additional magic had been put in place to light the more heavily traveled pathways.
And the town itself was nice and cozy, the geothermal activity of the currently inactive volcano beneath them providing a comfortable degree of heating for the entire area, including the waters, which took up a full third of the vast cavern’s space.
Pens containing sea life for harvest were found at the far end of the watery area, while pirate vessels of various makes, carrying crews from myriad systems, floated lazily near the shore. The captains of those craft had studied long and spent much to possess the magic necessary to travel beneath the waters.
Hozark emerged from the water at the far edge of the docking area, silently stepping ashore and forcing himself dry with a carefully placed surge of magic. He had come by neither ship nor the tunnel system, and his arrival had gone entirely unnoted. Just as he wished.
He quickly altered his appearance. A Wampeh in a place such as this would raise suspicions quickly, even if he or she was not a Ghalian. It was simply not the sort of environment his people frequented. And one as cheerful and harmless as Alasnib the trader would not do so well in this place. Instead, he took on the guise of a swarthy pirate, similar in look to Demelza’s preferred visage.
Bronze skin and sandy hair completed the look, his own firm muscles already adding to the appearance of a man of action. And that he was, only not the type they expected.
And from what he’d managed to suss out in just his first few minutes within the cavernous township, the presence of a blue-green person residing nearby seemed to point to one thing. He had come to the right place. And things were about to get interesting.
Chapter Forty-Three
Hozark had caught wind of a blue-green-skinned individual from several lines of inquiry. Yes, he was on the right path, and the confirmation he had received––while utilizing a handful of relatively similar disguises to validate his findings––meant one thing. The time for the inevitable confrontation was almost at hand.
But Tikoo appeared to have friends in this place. The Fakarian was liberal with coin, and the resulting goodwill his generosity had generated would make merely snatching him off the streets impossible. It had been a clever use of funds, and one Hozark approved of, despite it forcing him to alter his plans.
He was getting close, though. And once he found the wily Fakarian, he would either get him drunk, or simply hit him with a spell that made it seem that way, then remove him to somewhere they could chat more privately. And what an interesting discussion that would be.
A flash of blue-green skin caught his eye far off down a roadway. He couldn’t be entirely certain in the unusual light of the cavern, but Hozark was willing to bet that was his man. He altered his course and made quick time in that direction.
His pursuit was a subtle one. One that used several disguises as he followed his quarry across the undersea township, always shifting to a different face as he drew nearer and nearer to his target. Finally, several minutes later, he saw the Fakarian step into a seedy pub.
Given, all of the pubs down there were seedy, but this one possessed an extra layer of seediness that made it feel even rougher than the others.
Hozark waited a few minutes, tucking into a dark alleyway, not to await a victim to mug, but to change back to his pirate disguise. The bronzed visage firmly in place, he then stepped back out onto the street, walked up to the pub, and waded right on into the establishment’s crowded entry, pushing his way toward an empty seat at one of the long communal tables.
He grabbed a passing bar wench and ordered a hearty seafood stew, then tore off a piece of the loaf of bread in the center of the table as he greeted those around him. They exchanged the crude pleasantries people in this sort of gritty establishment so often did, then, determining the newcomer was a source of neither coin nor hostility, went back to their meals.
The Fakarian was across the establishment, seated at a table against the far wall. He seemed at ease in the room of rough adventurers. Just as a Council agent would be.
Hozark began forming a plan. He would find a way to apply a spell to the man’s food, causing some gastric distress. He would then follow him to the restroom and see what information he might pry out of him while seeming to help the poor, ill fellow.
Then he saw her.
This is not good, he thought as the second Fakarian caught his eye. What are the odds?
The answer to that silent query was slim. The odds were really, truly, exceptionally slim. But it had happened. And now, of all times.
There was another Fakarian here.
Hozark’s expression remained unchanged, even as his mind raced. The two were seated at opposite ends of the establishment, and they didn’t seem to be acquainted. At least not outwardly. It was just stupid luck.
Adding another layer of confusion to the mix was that the Fakarian nearest him was a female. Normally, that would have made his job easier. Tikoo was definitely a male, and that should have taken the other amphibian out of the equation.
Unfortunately, Fakarians were one of the only known races who could switch genders. And for a Council agent, especially one on the run and not wishing to be found, changing not only one’s attire, but also one’s gender, could prove an incredibly effective means of throwing off the scent.
Hozark settled into his seat and slowly chewed his bread, taking his time to formulate a new plan.
This was going to be interesting.
Both Fakarians seemed to have arrived roughly when he did, and their food came out at approximately the same time. That allowed him a nice cushion to settle on a plan. Finally, as he was finishing up his meal, Hozark set into action.
Belching with gusto, he rose from his seat and swaggered over to where the female was sitting, plopping down beside her and leaning in close.
“Hey, I saw you from over there and wanted to buy you a drink.”
The blue-green woman ignored him, focusing on the food in front of her.
“I’m Garamush, by the way,” Hozark said, offering his hand.
The only way he could employ the little spell that would detect a recent shift in gender would be through several seconds of uninterrupted contact. Again, she ignored him. His little ploy to take her hand, or at least get a name, had come up short.
“You know, you have some really beautiful skin,” he said, pressing on, adding an increased hint of inebriation to his swagger. “The blue and green are incredibly flattering. And those eyes. Oh my.”
Her eyes were indeed something to look at, their coloring being rather striking in contrast to her skin. All four of them, in fact. But his flattery didn’t so much as cause a glance his direction.
“So, about that drink? What’re you having?”
A long silence ensued. One so uncomfortable, those around them even flashed sympathetic looks.
“Fine. But if you change your mind,” he said, flagging down the barmaid.
The woman stopped at his table and took his order. Hozark pulled out all the stops, ordering a glass of the most expensive liquor in the house, dropping ample coin on the table as if it were nothing.
Now that had gotten her attention. This was a den of scum and villainy, after all, and this drunk seemed like an easy mark. At least for a very, very expensive drink. He might not be good for much more, but the useful idiot would at least provide her one perk for the annoyance of his company.
“Okay,” she said, turning to the barmaid. “Make that two.”
A casual glance at the other Fakarian told Hozark two things. First, the man was watching. And second, he seemed pissed. Apparently, the assassin had just unintentionally cock-blocked the poor fellow.
“Garamush,” he said again, once more offering his hand.
This time, she took it, his warm grip holding hers firmly as she politely replied.
“Dintza,” she said, letting the awkward man hold her hand a moment longer before politely pulling it free.
It had been enough. The spell Hozark quietly muttered had told him all he needed to know. She had not changed gender recently. Dintza could not be his target. That meant the man watching them with an annoyed glare was Tikoo.
But the confirmation didn’t give him the freedom to act. Not now. Not like this, surrounded by at least a few of his target’s likely friends and cohorts. Hozark would have to bide his time and strike when the moment was right. But for now, he would chat, drink and play the part. Soon enough, it would be time for action.
Chapter Forty-Four
It was a painfully slow ten minutes, but Hozark forced himself to smile, chat, and act like the casually flirtatious pirate he’d made his approach as. But inside, he was aware of every second as he bided his time before he could act.
He needed to break free of this engagement with the Fakarian woman, but once she’d seen the coin he was willing to spend, her attitude had warmed to him. He was a pirate, yes, but possibly an easy mark desperate for some female company.
“I’ve gotta have a slash,” he finally said, excusing himself and heading to the restroom. That would give him a break from the intent stare Tikoo had been subjecting him and the Fakarian woman to ever since he’d sat down and begun his flirtatious questioning.
Just a few minutes later, Hozark returned from the toilets, only to see Tikoo had left his table. As nonchalantly as he could, Hozark made his way toward the establishment’s front doors. Why had the man chosen now to leave, of all times?
“Hey, where are you going?” Dintza called after him as he made for the exit.
