Space Assassins: The Complete Series 1-5, page 96
“Yes, just as I have seen those two eat,” Demelza said, nodding toward Henni and Hap. “In any case, we are well-funded for this outing, so it shall not be an issue.”
Bud grinned wide. “Now that’s music to my ears.”
The magical lighting cast across the permanently dark city lent an almost eerie shade to everyone and everything. While the casters here were plentiful and skilled, magical illumination, however good it might be, could not compare to a sun’s natural light.
Most on this world were of paler complexions. It was an effect particular to this type of system. The many races represented amongst the native populations would see their pigments lessen from birth in the low-light environment. But there were plenty of off-world visitors to the system as well, all of them readily apparent by their darker tones, not yet faded by the lack of light.
Hozark and Demelza, however, blended right in, as pale-skinned Wampeh were sure to do in such a place. It was no wonder the Ghalian had selected it as a safe world. They could preserve their energy and not focus on disguises here, while their naturally light skin would be better camouflage than any spell.
“Come, I know a particularly good tavern just up ahead,” Hozark said, leading the way through the milling throngs of men, women, and those whose morphology made it utterly impossible to tell which they were.
Of course, some were both genders, and still others were more than the most common two. But with arms, legs, tentacles, and whatnot, it was best to be polite and not question. Just let everyone be who they were and go about your own business.
And in this case, the business was eating. And in the dining hall to which Hozark was taking his friends, business would be good.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Now this is what I’m talking about,” Bud said as he reclined in his comfortable seat, his belly already happily full, and a seemingly bottomless drink in his hand. “Oh, yeah. I heartily approve.”
“I am glad it is to your liking,” Hozark said, noting the similarly satisfied demeanors of the rest of his companions.
They had been fed well. Extremely well, in fact. The establishment was one of the go-to places Ghalian assassins often frequented when they visited Ormitzal, and the proprietors knew how to take care of their deadly, good-tipping guests.
But this? This was Hozark. One of the Five. To have him in their tavern, undisguised, no less, was a boon. Word would get out––quietly, of course––and when it did, people would flock to their doors to eat where so illustrious a Ghalian had dined.
But they were quite aware that privacy was of the utmost importance to the wary assassins, and it would be some time before they confirmed any such rumors. To do otherwise might do more harm to their establishment than good.
The table at which they had placed their special guest and his friends was located at the back of the tavern, adjacent an easily accessed door in case the need for rapid egress arose. It also provided a clear view of the entire dining hall with a solid wall at their back.
In addition to those simple, yet effective safety precautions, there were layer upon layer of muting spells cast upon the private table, making the conversation of those seated there entirely unheard by any, no matter how close they might be lurking.
But, in this case, no one was remotely foolish enough to even think of having ideas of attempting to eavesdrop on the master assassin and his friends, let alone making any sort of move on them.
“So, are you all feeling well fed? Adequately decompressed from our incident on Gravalis?” Hozark asked.
The others nodded and voiced their approval of the current setting compared to their recent flight for their lives.
“Beats having a building trying to fall on our heads, that’s for sure,” Henni said. “And the food’s pretty damn good too!”
While Bud might have been relatively full, the young woman with the sparkling eyes seemed to have actually grown her appetite since their arrival, if that was even possible.
Hozark and Demelza both wondered if it might have something to do with her own mysterious power suddenly getting a kick-start from the sun’s unusual rays. But there was simply no way to tell for sure. Henni was an enigma, and quite possibly a powerful one. Or so they presumed.
“I could go for a refill,” Laskar said, holding up his cup, only to find it being topped off a few moments later by a particularly attentive staff member. “Wow, these guys do not mess around.”
“One of the many reasons the Ghalian continue to frequent this establishment,” Hozark said. “Now, if we are all feeling our equilibriums evened out, let us discuss what happened on Gravalis. What we saw.”
“We were all there, Hozark. We all saw the same thing,” Hap said.
“Ah, but there is where you are mistaken, young Jinnik. There are always multiple interpretations to any event, and even eyes observing them at the same time, and in the same place, will have different takeaways.”
“He is correct,” Demelza said. “For example, what can you tell me of the entryway traps?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that they were set up to catch you when you stepped inside?”
“A correct observation, but I saw it differently. What was apparent to me, at first glance, was that the floor was too clean for the foot traffic a facility like that would normally have.”
“Very true, sister,” Hozark said with a pleased grin. “And I noted the slight discoloration to the side, near the secret doorway. A doorway that had to be large enough to accommodate the oversize crates and materials that would be passing into and out of the building.”
“So, you see, Hap, we each perceive different elements of the same thing. Does that make sense?” Demelza asked.
The boy nodded his understanding. It was this sort of real-world lesson that really stuck with him. Far more than any of the book learning his tutors tried to drive into his head. But his tutors were dead, killed when he was kidnapped. And that memory brought his mind back to his still-missing father.
“He was there, though, wasn’t he? My father?”
“Yes, he was. His power was still lingering in the facility,” Hozark replied.
Hap’s face grew dark. “We shouldn’t have stopped for me to practice casting. We wouldn’t have been late otherwise. We would have gotten there in time to find my father. This is my fault.”
“I understand where this emotion is coming from, Happizano, but rest assured, though we just missed Visla Jinnik, something very important was clear the moment we set foot inside.”
“Yeah, that he wasn’t there.”
“No. That the entire location had been cleared out of all valuable materials,” Hozark said. “Even if Uzabud had run the Drookonus until it was white-hot, even if we had burned it out racing to get to Gravalis, the simple fact is the timeline was not in our favor. The facility was emptied before we could have ever reached it, no matter how fast we flew. Our little stopover played no part in missing them before they left. It was simply not meant to be, young Jinnik. Not this time.”
Hap, to his credit, took the assessment somewhat in stride, at least compared to his prior tantrums and sulking. He was saddened about his father, no doubt, but he was becoming stronger in the course of his tribulations.
He was still a boy, but the ordeal was making him a man, though a good deal before his time. But he was not the first such victim of circumstance forced to grow up too fast, nor would he be the last.
“You know they were experimenting on power users, right?” Bud said. “I mean, you guys saw the bodies.”
“Clearly,” Hozark replied. “Ootaki and even Drooks.”
“Seems like a senseless waste, killing them like that. Ootaki can regrow their hair, and Drooks? Those guys are constantly replenishing their power.”
“Yes, but when attempting to charge new weaponry, a large initial amount of power is required.”
“But Drooks can’t power konuses,” Bud said. “Their power is only good for one thing. Flying ships. Everyone knows that.”
“But what if someone actually had managed to find a way? Someone in quite a rush to amass a sizable quantity of weaponry in as short a period as possible? Then they would be a force to reckon with, indeed.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Hozark. But it was Jinnik’s magic that was being used the other day, not some weird Drook bastardization.”
“Yes, Bud, I know. But that does not mean our dear Visla Maktan is not making the attempt.”
“Makes you wonder what the hell the guy is up to.”
“It truly does. More concerning, however, is that when I was last on Gravalis, there was another body present. A deceased Wampeh.”
“They killed a Ghalian?”
“No, it was not a member of the order. But their slaughter gives me pause nonetheless.”
He looked at Demelza, and it was clear the same thought had flashed through her head. What if someone was trying to harness their unique power? The power only a tiny fraction of their kind possessed? It could be catastrophic, to say the least, if a visla, or anyone for that matter, could steal the power of another.
Fortunately, that was a nearly impossible feat. In fact, it had never occurred. But impossible and nearly impossible were not the same thing, and they had both learned long ago not to discount the possibility of any such instances, no matter how far-fetched.
“Ya know, there was another interesting bit of magic in play,” Henni said. “Laskar here actually managed to keep us all from getting crushed by that wave of trap magic.”
“Yeah, nice job, that,” Bud agreed. “But, your magic has always been pretty damn weak, no offense.”
“None taken,” his copilot replied with a wry grin.
“So, how exactly did you manage that?”
“I really don’t know,” Laskar replied. “It was all happening so fast, and I just threw whatever spell came to mind. Somehow, it seemed to work.”
“Panic casting,” Hozark said. “He did the same during the riot with a stun spell.”
“What?”
“Panic casting. Sometimes, albeit rarely, a desperation surge can be drawn upon that is much more substantial than the magic a user is normally able to control. In your case, that was an impressive amount of power, indeed.”
Laskar blushed slightly. “Really, it was nothing.”
“It was. You saved us, even if you did not do so intentionally,” Hozark said.
Despite his rather obnoxious ways and endless cockiness, the assassin was beginning to wonder if, perhaps, Laskar might have some potential yet.
This was just one instance of significant power use, but if he could learn to tap into it on a regular basis, he could become quite an asset to their team. But for now, he was content to have the man on their team, whatever his gifts might prove to be.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Dinner had been followed up with a leisurely dessert, which for Bud and Laskar had consisted of more than a few drinks at a little dive bar near the lodgings Hozark had procured for them. Fortunately, the former pirate and his right-hand man, while happily buzzed, refrained from any excessively drunken shenanigans for a change.
Happizano had been thoroughly wiped out, both physically and emotionally, and turned in almost immediately. He’d held up quite well through the whole ordeal, but a solid night’s sleep was going to do him wonders, and, hopefully, help reset his stress levels.
Henni, however, was a bundle of energy, and after joining Bud and Laskar for a few drinks, she headed off into the night to see what interesting things she might find in this fascinating place.
She had never been to a system like this, and the unusual nature of the world, combined with the constant high she’d been on since the sun it orbited began feeding her its strange power, was like an open book of wonders, and she was an eager reader.
By morning, however, she had returned to her room for at least a little bit of sleep. When she roused, she was once again full of pep and ready to go.
“Ooh, some more of those biscuits,” the violet-haired girl said, snatching another still-hot pastry from the plate on their table.
She promptly split it in half and smeared Dizmus jam on it, then proceeded to stuff her face.
“Good Lord, woman. Do you ever stop eating?” Bud joked.
“Not when there’s food like this around,” she shot back.
The others were also in particularly good spirits. Spirits that were abruptly dimmed with the arrival of a pale young messenger. Her name was Dohria, and she was part of the order, but not like the others.
The Wampeh had trained with them but had not graduated to the level of a full-fledged Ghalian assassin.
But as a particularly skilled trainee––though one who did not excel at the killing arts––she was put to work in a different role within the family. Rather than acting as a killer, she was an elite messenger of the highest order. With a memory of astounding accuracy, and the infiltration and stealth skills of the Ghalian, she could bring detailed messages to just about anyone, just about anywhere.
Time, secrecy, and lack of extraordinary need, however, kept her from being put into constant use. But something of particular importance had arisen, and the young Ghalian had heeded the call.
“Master Hozark,” she said, rather than asked.
Of course he knew the elusive messenger. All of the Five did.
“Dohria,” he said with a respectful nod.
“News from Corann and Prombatz,” she said, double-checking that the muting spells were in place around them while adding another of her own.
Hozark noted her attention to detail with approval. “Urgent, I see,” he said. “And what have we learned that warrants your visit?”
“Not just a visit, but my validation of the event in person as well.”
“Oh?”
“There has been a slaughter on a somewhat desolate world. Bitzam is its name.”
“Never heard of it,” Laskar said.
“Nor would you have. It is sparsely populated, though habitable. In the Maskus system.”
“Not much out there,” the copilot noted. “How was there a slaughter?”
Hozark nodded once. “Yes, Dohria. Please, enlighten us as to the nature of this incident.”
“There was a brutal killing on that world,” she began. “Council craft, under Visla Ravik’s command. But mercenaries, believed to work for Visla Maktan, were present as well.”
“Unpleasant business, no doubt, but unlikely the only reason you have come,” Hozark noted.
“Indeed. There was more. A contingent of pirates engaged those forces. A terrible battle ensued, adding new carnage to the already bloody event.”
“Pirates?” Bud asked. “We need to go there.”
“Agreed,” Hozark replied.
Dohria looked at him with a puzzled glance. “There is no need. The battle is over, and only the dead remain.”
“And dead men tell no tales,” Laskar added, grimly.
Hozark pushed back from the table and rose to his feet. “We shall go immediately, nonetheless,” he said, turning to Laskar. “And you might be surprised to know, the dead often can and do tell tales. To the right eyes, that is.”
* * *
It was a relatively short series of jumps to Bitzam, and the blood had yet to fully coagulate by the time Hozark and his friends set foot on the site of the bloody scene. Happizano remained aboard the ship. There was simply no need for the boy to bear witness to such carnage.
Dohria had described things with perfect recall, as was her talent. It was, indeed, a wasteland of the dead, with no sign of any survivors. And, just as she had informed them, there was still trace magic lingering in the air. That of Visla Ravik, they now knew, having dealt with him and his goons on more than one occasion.
And there were also remnants of that strange, masked magic that had to be Visla Maktan’s. It was powerful, yet oddly subdued, much as the traces of another visla’s power.
That of Visla Jinnik.
“They have utilized weapons powered by Happizano’s father,” Demelza quietly said to Hozark.
“Yes, I can sense it,” he replied. “And that same fading of the energy is present with Maktan’s power. The man sent his lackeys to do his dirty work, using konuses he filled with power. But he himself kept his hands clean of whatever dirty work went on here.”
“It is the only way he can maintain his semblance of normalcy,” Demelza said. “Corann said the spy network still had found no overt sign of him skirting the Council to carry out his dark plans.”
“And if he had charged weapons prior to setting things in motion, he could very well pretend to have nothing to do with this while actually directing things from afar,” Hozark mused. “A most clever adversary, I admit.”
The others were picking through the corpses, trying to piece together what had happened. There were no Council forces left. Only their spilled blood remained, their injured and killed taken from this place when the fighting had ceased.
Or so it seemed.
“This can’t be right,” Bud said as he turned over the body of a dead pirate.
“It’s what the messenger said. Pirates were part of this too,” Laskar replied.
“No, that’s not what I mean. This isn’t normal ground assault gear,” Bud said. “Look at his kit.”
Laskar leaned in and examined the man more closely. His body was a wreck, but his friend was clearly right. This was space-fighting equipment.
“What does it mean?” he asked.
Bud looked up at the sky a long moment, straining his senses. But there was nothing.
“It means, this fight took place in the air,” he finally said. “Whatever happened here on the ground, it was civilians versus Maktan’s goons. But it looks like they were interrupted.”
“By pirates,” Henni said. “Flying pirates.”
“Exactly. Probably trying to steal whatever it was the Council goons had taken from these people.”
“But this is a remote world of no value. What could they possibly have possessed that would be of that much interest?” she asked.
