The Way of Shadows
Page 29
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“I prefer that you only inquire about those deaths you’re seriously considering,” Master Blint said.
“Why is that?”
“I value secrets very highly, as I must. So I don’t like to discuss my methodology. And, to be honest, knowing too much tends to frighten those who employ me. I had a client some time ago who was very proud of his defenses. He asked me how I’d fulfill a contract on him. He irritated me, so I told him.
“Afterward, he tried to hire another wetboy to kill me. He was turned down by every professional in Cenaria. He ended up hiring an amateur.”
“You give yourself the status of a legend,” the lord general said, his thin face pinching.
Of course Durzo Blint was a legend! Who would hire him if they didn’t know that? At the same time, hearing Master Blint speak of his trade to a noble—to someone like Count Drake—was eerie. It was like Azoth’s two worlds were being pressed uncomfortably close to each other, and he could feel the noble’s awe in himself.
In the guild, Durzo Blint had been a legend because he had power, because people were afraid of him, and he never had to be afraid of anyone. That was what had drawn Azoth to him. But this noble was awed for different reasons. To him, Durzo Blint was a creature of the night. He was a man who could come violate those things he held dear. He undermined all of what the lord general had thought safe. The man didn’t look afraid; he looked disgusted.
“I’m not suggesting that I terrify every wetboy in the city.” Master Blint smiled. “The fact is that we professionals are, if not a close group, at least a small one. We’re colleagues, some of us even friends. The second wetboy he went to was Scarred Wrable—”
“I’ve heard of him,” Brant Agon said. “Apparently the second best assassin in the city.”
“Wetboy,” Blint corrected. “And a friend of mine. He told me what this client was doing. After that—well, if a military metaphor works better for you—it would be like trying a small raid on a city that was expecting it instead of an unsuspecting city. In the second case it might work, in the first it’s suicide.”
“I see,” the lord general said. He paused for a moment, apparently surprised Master Blint knew who he was, then suddenly grinned, “And you’re a tactician, too.”
“How so?”
“You haven’t had many contracts taken out on you since you started telling that story, have you?”
Master Blint smiled broadly. These were two men, Azoth saw, who understood each other. “Not a one. After all, diplomacy is an extension of warfare,” Blint said.
“We usually say that warfare is an extension of diplomacy,” Brant Agon said. “But I think I agree with you. I once found myself outnumbered and forced to hold a position against the Lae’knaught for two days to wait for reinforcements. I had some captives, so I put them in a vulnerable position and told their guards we would receive reinforcements at dawn. During the fighting, the prisoners were allowed to get free and promptly told their superiors the news. The Lae’knaught army was so disheartened that they held back until we had been reinforced. That diplomacy saved our lives. Which brings us back to the matter at hand,” the lord general said. “I need some diplomacy that’s not on this list of yours. I’m afraid I’ve not been completely forthright with you, Master Blint,” the lord general said. “I’m here for the king.”
Master Blint’s face went suddenly devoid of emotion.
“I understand that by telling you that, we might lose the man who provided me with your name. But the king deems this to be worth risking the lives of both a contact and one of his ministers—namely, myself.”
“You haven’t done anything foolish like surround the building with soldiers, have you?” Master Blint asked.
“Nothing of the kind. I’m here alone.”
“Then you’ve made one wise choice today.”
“More than one. We’ve chosen you, Master Blint. And I’ve chosen to be honest with you, which I hope you appreciate.
“As you know, the king’s wealthy, but not politically or militarily strong. That’s a bitter pill, but it’s not news. Our kings haven’t been strong for a hundred years. Aleine Gunder wishes to change that. But in addition to internal struggles of which you no doubt know more than I’d care to learn, the king has recently learned of some rather devious plots to steal vast sums of money not only from the treasury, but—in a multitude of schemes—also from almost every nobleman in the country. The idea being, we think, that Cenaria becomes so impoverished that we’ll be unable to maintain an army.”
“Sounds like a lot of money to steal without anybody noticing,” Master Blint said.
“The Chancellor of the Exchequer has noticed—he’s the one arranging it. But no one else has noticed, yet. The schemes are little short of brilliant. The plot won’t even ripen for six or ten years. Men are being placed in key positions and have as yet have done nothing wrong. There’s more, much more, but you don’t need to know it.”
“What do I need to know?” Blint asked, his eyes heavy-lidded.
“I’ve made a study of you, Master Blint,” the lord general said. “Though information about you is difficult to find. Everyone knows that the Sa’kagé holds an enormous amount of power here. People outside the country know it. Khalidor knows it.
“The king needs you for more than a dozen jobs, spanning years. Some will involve simple assassination, some will involve information planting, and some will not involve killing at all, but simply being seen. Godking Ursuul must believe the Sa’kagé and its assets have an alliance with us.”
“You want me to become a government agent.”
“Not . . . exactly.”
“And I suppose you’d give me a pardon for all I’ve done?” Master Blint asked.
“I’ve been authorized to offer that.”
Master Blint stood, laughing. “No, Lord General. Good day.”
“I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer. The king has forbidden it.”
“I do hope you’re not planning on threatening my life,” Master Blint said.
“First,” the lord general said, looking at Azoth for the first time, “we’ll kill the boy.”
19
Master Blint shrugged. “So?”
“And we’ll kill your lover. I believe her name’s Vonda?”
“You can kill the bitch. But that might give you some trouble, considering she’s four months dead.”
The lord general didn’t even pause. “And we’ll kill this ‘Momma’ Kirena who seems to be your only friend. Then we’ll come after you. I don’t want it to be this way, but this is what the king offers.”
“You’re making two mistakes,” Master Blint said. “First, you’re assuming that I value other people’s lives more than my own. How can you know what I do and believe such a thing? Second, you’re assuming that I value my own life.”
“Please understand. I’m under orders. Personally, I’d rather have nothing to do with you,” the lord general said. “I think it’s beneath the dignity of a king to hire criminals. I think it’s immoral and foolish for him to put money in your purse rather than chains on your wrists. I find you abhorrent. A wreck of a human being barely resembling what once must have been a man. But the king has decided we need a sellsword like you. I’m a soldier. I’ve been sent to get you, and I won’t fail.”
“Why is that?”
“I value secrets very highly, as I must. So I don’t like to discuss my methodology. And, to be honest, knowing too much tends to frighten those who employ me. I had a client some time ago who was very proud of his defenses. He asked me how I’d fulfill a contract on him. He irritated me, so I told him.
“Afterward, he tried to hire another wetboy to kill me. He was turned down by every professional in Cenaria. He ended up hiring an amateur.”
“You give yourself the status of a legend,” the lord general said, his thin face pinching.
Of course Durzo Blint was a legend! Who would hire him if they didn’t know that? At the same time, hearing Master Blint speak of his trade to a noble—to someone like Count Drake—was eerie. It was like Azoth’s two worlds were being pressed uncomfortably close to each other, and he could feel the noble’s awe in himself.
In the guild, Durzo Blint had been a legend because he had power, because people were afraid of him, and he never had to be afraid of anyone. That was what had drawn Azoth to him. But this noble was awed for different reasons. To him, Durzo Blint was a creature of the night. He was a man who could come violate those things he held dear. He undermined all of what the lord general had thought safe. The man didn’t look afraid; he looked disgusted.
“I’m not suggesting that I terrify every wetboy in the city.” Master Blint smiled. “The fact is that we professionals are, if not a close group, at least a small one. We’re colleagues, some of us even friends. The second wetboy he went to was Scarred Wrable—”
“I’ve heard of him,” Brant Agon said. “Apparently the second best assassin in the city.”
“Wetboy,” Blint corrected. “And a friend of mine. He told me what this client was doing. After that—well, if a military metaphor works better for you—it would be like trying a small raid on a city that was expecting it instead of an unsuspecting city. In the second case it might work, in the first it’s suicide.”
“I see,” the lord general said. He paused for a moment, apparently surprised Master Blint knew who he was, then suddenly grinned, “And you’re a tactician, too.”
“How so?”
“You haven’t had many contracts taken out on you since you started telling that story, have you?”
Master Blint smiled broadly. These were two men, Azoth saw, who understood each other. “Not a one. After all, diplomacy is an extension of warfare,” Blint said.
“We usually say that warfare is an extension of diplomacy,” Brant Agon said. “But I think I agree with you. I once found myself outnumbered and forced to hold a position against the Lae’knaught for two days to wait for reinforcements. I had some captives, so I put them in a vulnerable position and told their guards we would receive reinforcements at dawn. During the fighting, the prisoners were allowed to get free and promptly told their superiors the news. The Lae’knaught army was so disheartened that they held back until we had been reinforced. That diplomacy saved our lives. Which brings us back to the matter at hand,” the lord general said. “I need some diplomacy that’s not on this list of yours. I’m afraid I’ve not been completely forthright with you, Master Blint,” the lord general said. “I’m here for the king.”
Master Blint’s face went suddenly devoid of emotion.
“I understand that by telling you that, we might lose the man who provided me with your name. But the king deems this to be worth risking the lives of both a contact and one of his ministers—namely, myself.”
“You haven’t done anything foolish like surround the building with soldiers, have you?” Master Blint asked.
“Nothing of the kind. I’m here alone.”
“Then you’ve made one wise choice today.”
“More than one. We’ve chosen you, Master Blint. And I’ve chosen to be honest with you, which I hope you appreciate.
“As you know, the king’s wealthy, but not politically or militarily strong. That’s a bitter pill, but it’s not news. Our kings haven’t been strong for a hundred years. Aleine Gunder wishes to change that. But in addition to internal struggles of which you no doubt know more than I’d care to learn, the king has recently learned of some rather devious plots to steal vast sums of money not only from the treasury, but—in a multitude of schemes—also from almost every nobleman in the country. The idea being, we think, that Cenaria becomes so impoverished that we’ll be unable to maintain an army.”
“Sounds like a lot of money to steal without anybody noticing,” Master Blint said.
“The Chancellor of the Exchequer has noticed—he’s the one arranging it. But no one else has noticed, yet. The schemes are little short of brilliant. The plot won’t even ripen for six or ten years. Men are being placed in key positions and have as yet have done nothing wrong. There’s more, much more, but you don’t need to know it.”
“What do I need to know?” Blint asked, his eyes heavy-lidded.
“I’ve made a study of you, Master Blint,” the lord general said. “Though information about you is difficult to find. Everyone knows that the Sa’kagé holds an enormous amount of power here. People outside the country know it. Khalidor knows it.
“The king needs you for more than a dozen jobs, spanning years. Some will involve simple assassination, some will involve information planting, and some will not involve killing at all, but simply being seen. Godking Ursuul must believe the Sa’kagé and its assets have an alliance with us.”
“You want me to become a government agent.”
“Not . . . exactly.”
“And I suppose you’d give me a pardon for all I’ve done?” Master Blint asked.
“I’ve been authorized to offer that.”
Master Blint stood, laughing. “No, Lord General. Good day.”
“I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer. The king has forbidden it.”
“I do hope you’re not planning on threatening my life,” Master Blint said.
“First,” the lord general said, looking at Azoth for the first time, “we’ll kill the boy.”
19
Master Blint shrugged. “So?”
“And we’ll kill your lover. I believe her name’s Vonda?”
“You can kill the bitch. But that might give you some trouble, considering she’s four months dead.”
The lord general didn’t even pause. “And we’ll kill this ‘Momma’ Kirena who seems to be your only friend. Then we’ll come after you. I don’t want it to be this way, but this is what the king offers.”
“You’re making two mistakes,” Master Blint said. “First, you’re assuming that I value other people’s lives more than my own. How can you know what I do and believe such a thing? Second, you’re assuming that I value my own life.”
“Please understand. I’m under orders. Personally, I’d rather have nothing to do with you,” the lord general said. “I think it’s beneath the dignity of a king to hire criminals. I think it’s immoral and foolish for him to put money in your purse rather than chains on your wrists. I find you abhorrent. A wreck of a human being barely resembling what once must have been a man. But the king has decided we need a sellsword like you. I’m a soldier. I’ve been sent to get you, and I won’t fail.”
