The Gift, page 4
part #2 of Realm Wardens Series Series
Froliegun whimpered. “How did I insult you?”
“You accused me of stealing this merchandise of yours. I’m an assassin, not a thief. I have no interest in whatever your merchandise may have been. Your man said he lost it before he could make the sell.”
“Lost it? Where did he lose it?”
“I care not, as I said, I have no use for it. You only asked for the ring and the necklace, you asked for no further information.” He grabbed the knife handle and yanked it straight up.
Froliegun cried out and cradled his hand to his chest. “The ring and necklace mean nothing. I need that merchandise!” His voice was shrill with a hint of desperation under it.
Niviel was good at reading people, he had to be in order to remain the best in his trade. Froliegun was hiding something. Niviel noted the panic in his voice, like he had brokered a deal with someone and was now in danger of reneging on that deal. The loss of this merchandise wasn’t a matter of money, no, it had greater value. He gauged whether this man was capable of causing enough trouble that it would force Niviel’s hand in killing him and his bodyguard.
Three hundred twenty-seven, that was how many bodies Niviel had left behind. Three hundred twenty-seven. Would it matter if he added another two? The only thing he would need to ensure is that the Commissionaire of Oath cleared the contract first. It would look bad, not just for Niviel but the agency as well, if he were to kill a client before a contract was cleared.
“I did as you had requested of me. If the merchandise was part of your requirement then you should have specified that in our agreement.”
“Please,” Froliegun begged. “You must find that merchandise.”
“I must do nothing. My job is complete.” He grabbed a cloth napkin off the table and wiped the blood from his blade before returning it to its holder. He got to his feet, bowed his head to Froliegun, and strode to the front door. The bodyguard stepped in front of him blocking his way. Niviel found himself staring at the wall of a chest. Without looking over his shoulder or up into the eyes of the guard he said, “If you would prefer to cease your habit of breathing then, by all means, remain where you stand.”
Froliegun approached. “I am truly sorry. I can’t let you leave until I have my merchandise. If you agree to retrieve what was taken from me then I will release you from my service.”
Niviel took a half step back to look Froliegun in the eye without turning his head. “I will not be coerced.”
“I’m afraid you’ve left me with no choice.”
Niviel smiled in a way that made Ren take a step back. “There are always choices, Mr. Froliegun. If you wish for me to retrieve this merchandise, then open another contract. Otherwise, I have no further obligations to you as per the agency agreement. If you would like to dispute this, then direct your complaints to the agency.”
“Very well.” Ren rested his hands on his considerable belly. “I’ll send a new contract to the Luxury Inn.”
“What is this merchandise?”
“Something of insurmountable value.”
Niviel’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly.
“It is to go to the High King Thomas,” Ren said.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it has even greater value to him.”
Niviel contemplated the man. He had no need for riches meant for a king. He sized up the bodyguard. He was big, lumbering; there was no balance to him. He was clumsy on his feet and would be easy enough to overtake.
“Assassin, I will offer you another thirty gold pieces to retrieve this merchandise.”
Niviel considered, again more money than it was probably worth but now his curiosity was piqued. Now he had to know what is so valuable that even the High King would want it. “Very well.”
“Wonderful!”
“I want one hundred gold pieces and two of the clearest dwarf diamonds.”
“A hundred gold pieces? Two dwarf diamonds—that’s ludicrous, I’m not paying you—”
“Then our business is done. That is my price.”
Froliegun paced the room muttering to himself. He stopped to jab a finger in Niviel’s direction. “You’re a thief, you’re robbing me blind!” He returned to his pacing and muttering. It was a few minutes before he finally came to a stop in front of his guard. “Fine, fifty gold—”
“One hundred.”
“Seventy-five.”
Niviel’s face remained neutral. “One hundred.”
“Eighty-five.”
“Two hundred.”
“Two! You can’t raise your price. That’s not how this works!”
“I’m not here to negotiate. I told you my price. As always, my price stands. This merchandise means more to you than me. I don’t care if it’s found or not.”
“Gronk’s hairy balls!” he shouted as he stormed from the room. As he stomped down the hallway Niviel heard him shout. “Fine, one hundred gold pieces and two clear diamonds, but that’s it! Now find me my merchandise,” he screamed. He slammed a drawer closed before returning to stand in front of Niviel.
“I believe the price was now two hundred gold pieces and two of the clearest dwarf diamonds.”
The man gnashed his teeth together. “Half now, half when I get my merchandise.”
“The contract must be drawn and cleared before I accept it.”
“What for? We just agreed.”
“The agency does not work that way. If I did, it would be considered a side deal, Mr. Froliegun, which is punishable. You will draw up the contract and send it to the Luxury Inn. Once it has been cleared by the Commissioner of Oath I will begin.”
“Fine, you’ll have your contract by the end of the day.”
“Very good. Ensure the details of the merchandise are spelled out in the contract.”
“Why? Why would you need the details of it?”
Niviel raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to track down an item when I have no idea what that item is? I’m an assassin, not a spy. Perhaps you should employ one of the agency’s spies to complete this work for you.”
“They cost three times what I’m asking for you!”
“Surely money is of no consequence to you, Mr. Froliegun.”
Ren paced the front room as he cradled his injured hand. Niviel was growing weary and was ready to leave when Ren spoke again. “It’s going to cost several gold, and possibly platinum pieces, for a healer to fix my hand.” He waved it at Niviel. “Plus, I don’t need anyone else to have that information; I don’t need the competition. I’ll put the details in the contract.”
“Excellent choice, Mr. Froliegun.” Niviel smirked at the guard. “Good day to you.”
The guard tilted his head and stepped aside, clearing Niviel’s path.
CHAPTER FIVE
The building was near the center of the city. It stood tall and defiant against the smaller brick stores surrounding it. The stone sign above the door said Luxury Inn, but everyone in that area knew it wasn’t really an inn. Even newcomers avoided looking there for a room.
Niviel strolled through the cobblestone streets, snatching an apple off a cart and flicking a coin in the vendor’s direction, who caught it and merely nodded his head. Taking the steps one at a time, Niviel entered the inn. The floors were marble. A long, red runner stretched from the front door to the concierge’s desk, one of very few places that had carpet. There was a seating area to the left with large chairs and a bar. A waitress and bartender were always on duty. Directly down the center and the end of the walkway was the concierge’s desk, it spanned several feet and made from mahogany and stained a deep red. The front of the desk was carved with the chapter’s symbol, a dagger through an eye, with the tip touching a triangle.
The man behind the desk greeted with a warm smile. “Good day, Mr. Darke. I trust you are well.”
“Good day. Are there any messages for me?”
“No, sir. Not at this time.”
Niviel nodded and moved to the staircase. He debated asking for some company but thought better of it. There would be plenty of time for that later. Attending to his tools was more important than his personal needs at the moment.
It took only a few minutes for him to reach the fourth floor and gain entry to his room. To the left was a secondary room where he slept. The main living area had a hearth with a couch facing it and two armchairs on each end. The far right corner was Niviel’s personal bar, and next to that was another door leading to his own water closet.
He took off his long outer coat and hung it on a hook by the door, then removed the two sacks of gold pieces from the inside pockets and placed them on the bar. The knife sheaths on his arms showed more clearly with the coat off. He unbuckled the straps from around his forearms and placed them on the bar in the living space. He removed a belt holding two large blades after untying the straps from around his thighs. Niviel knelt in front the safe under the counter of the bar, wrapping his arms around it enough to slide it out of the way, careful not to leave any scuff marks on the floor.
With the heel of his hand he hit one of the floorboards and it popped out of place. He pulled it out completely then dropped his payment inside the hole. Inside was an item wrapped in cloth, two bags of loose gems, a few pieces of jewellery and now the satchels of gold pieces. He put the wood plank back in place and slid the safe into its original position.
He tidied himself up in his water closet, changed his clothes, and decided to have a drink downstairs while he waited for the new contract to come in.
The seating area was empty but for the waitress and a bartender at the far corner. After he sat in a high-backed chair the waitress came over with a tray and single glass in the center.
“Your whiskey, Mr. Darke.”
“Thank you.” He sipped and let a quiet hum out as the smooth alcohol slid down his throat. In front of him on a round table was a pile of papers. Some were pictures, some just lists. He leaned in and grabbed a sheet.
As he was looking over the lists of contracts a rather sloppy fellow sat next to him. Niviel sighed internally. He knew the man well and tried to limit his contact with him.
“Hey, Nivi,” the man said.
“Mr. Uskfist.”
“Mr.? Ya know you can call me Baxar right?”
“Indeed.”
“So, you dabble in magic right?”
“I dabble in nothing.”
“You know magic?”
“I do.”
“Why would someone be gathering magic users and creatures of magic? What could they possibly want with them?”
“There would be no reason.” Niviel continued to read the contracts list when his eyes struck several monasteries known for the powerful magic they wielded. Many would travel far to seek their magical assistance. “Unless they were attempting to…”
“Attempting to what?”
Niviel’s eyes never left the list. “Who is gathering these beings?”
“No one knows for sure; there are rumours though.”
“What are the rumours?”
“Many say High King Thomas is gathering them at his castle.”
Niviel lowered his paper. “When did the High King raise his ban on magic users?”
“Don’t know. Like I said, rumours. Why, have you heard something?”
Niviel shrugged. “Just some drunks talking about a forest being burned down.”
“Which forest?”
“Not sure. I had work to attend to.”
“Well, let’s hope it wasn’t the Whispering Oak Forest.” Baxar leaned into the waitress, taking the offered drink and dropping coins on her tray as his eyes lingered too long on her breasts.
“Why?” Niviel asked pulling Baxar’s attention away from the waitress.
“Powerful magic in those trees. One of the oldest dryads lives in there.”
Niviel returned to the contract sheet he was browsing. Baxar let out a low whistle and Niviel lifted an eyebrow at him. “Four hundred gold pieces for this beaut,” he said as he waved the sheet of marks.
Niviel narrowed his eyes. “Let me see that.”
“Of course, you’re going to try for the contract.” Baxar lazily handed over the sheet.
Niviel scanned through the prices until he came to the one Baxar was talking about.
“Who do you think she is?”
“Someone worth four hundred gold pieces,” Niviel said studying the face of the human female in front of him. “She has a dwarf military rank.”
“You going to take it?”
“It’s open to whoever wants it. It’s not a closed contract. I’m certain many are going to try their hand at her. Plus, I have another task I must attend to first. You?”
“Naw, the dwarf kingdom is too far for me. I like the smaller contracts that keep me close to home. To the warmth of my own bed.”
“How someone with such lack of enthusiasm got into the agency is beyond me.”
“What I lack in enthusiasm I make up for in skill.” Baxar smiled with a wink.
“Indeed.” Baxar was extremely skilled, the man could match his own. But where Niviel was willing to travel the realm to complete a contract, Baxar complained about crossing the street. He was a man who enjoyed his job, killing was something he would be willing to do for free, but since the agency offered room and board and anything else an assassin may deem necessary, he joined the agency.
“Got yourself another contract, do ya?” Baxar asked.
Niviel tilted his head at the man and raised an eyebrow.
“Right, sorry, you don’t share that kind of information. It’s not like we would even travel in the same circles for contracts, anyways.”
Niviel continued to stare at him.
“Right, the client list is sacred.”
“Releasing your list is punishable by death. I’m surprised you’re so lackadaisical about it.”
“I’m not la-lacka—whatever you just said. I’m just sayin’, what’s a list between friends?”
“We’re not friends.”
“Right, sorry, you’re a one man show. I forgot.” Baxar heaved himself out of his chair with a grunt. “Catch you later, Nivi.”
Niviel returned his attention to the sheet. “Mr. Uskfist.”
Niviel sat for another half hour looking over the available contracts when the concierge appeared by his side. He glanced up at the man, who bowed and offered a folded piece of paper.
Niviel took it from the man and he straightened up. It was the contract for finding and retrieving the merchandise. He checked the details of the contract carefully noting the price specifically. His eyes landed on the description of the merchandise. He wasn’t sure how he felt about retrieving it for Ren. What did he want with it? What did the High King want with it?
“Is there a problem with the contract, Mr. Darke?” The concierge asked. “Would you like to deny it?”
Niviel sighed. Perhaps he merely wanted to know about the magical nature of the creature. He finished reading over the rest of the contract, and when he was satisfied Ren Froliegun had adhered to their agreement and hadn’t added anything to the contract Niviel hadn’t specified, he signed it.
The concierge took the quill and ink bottle and signed next to Niviel’s name, guaranteeing the contract. They nodded to each other without a word and the concierge left with the paper. Niviel decided to return to his room, it was going to be a long day tracking down someone who had the skills he needed to find the merchandise.
He replaced the contract sheets on the table, pushed himself out of the cushy armchair, and headed for the stairs to his room once again. It had been a long day. He looked forward to an undisturbed nightcap and a long rest before completing the new contract.
Once he entered his room he lit the first lamp by the door. Striking the match gave off a quick flash of light, enough to illuminate just his face. He touched the match to the wick of the oil lamp and it came to life. He gave his hand a quick flick to extinguish the match before tossing it into the little metal bowl.
He took the lamp with him to the bar in the seating area, his weapons were right where he left them. He admonished himself for leaving them out in such a sloppy manner; he should have put them away before he went downstairs. Normally he treated his tools with more respect, but his mind seemed to be wandering.
He stepped around the bar to make himself a drink, when there was a sound from behind him. In one smooth, discreet motion he pulled a throwing knife from the arm sheath, spun, and threw the blade. It narrowly missed the brunette standing in the doorway and caught in the door-jam.
Several strands of hair floated to the ground. Their owner stood, arms crossed, glaring at him. “Gronk’s beard, Niviel! You know it’s against agency policy to kill fellow assassins on the grounds of an inn.”
“Prydwen, you know better than to sneak up on me like that.”
“Sneak up on you? Like that could ever happen.” Prydwen pulled the knife from the wall and moved across the room with the grace of a dancer. “You wouldn’t have missed if you didn’t know it was me.”
“You wear entirely too much perfume.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Pour me one of those too, would you?” She placed the blade on the bar and sat on a nearby stool. “Or perhaps your elf senses are too sensitive.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I was in town for a bit, before heading out to the Fairy Fields.”
“In town from where?”
“Mardrovend.”
“Really?” Niviel didn’t make it out east very often. Usually he traveled more northeast, toward Clan Land.
