A Shaper's Birthright Read online

  They were soon around the back of the narrow townhouse. Elona’s knife made short work of the lock and they were inside the small walled garden before anyone could notice anything out of the ordinary. This time they didn’t bother to knock. Elona kicked the door open and they stepped into a deserted kitchen. The hearth was stone cold and dishes from a solitary breakfast lay on the only table. Two flies danced around a semi-stale load of bread and a chunk of cheese.

  “I’ll deal with the servant. You go get the others.”

  “Don’t kill him. We might need him,” Mystrim pointed out.

  Elona looked at the weather mage with disdain. “Are you really that stupid? What am I saying? Of course you are.” She leaned in so her nose was about an inch from his. “You are trying my patience. Get yourself out of my sight before I remind you just how long I’ve been doing this job and just how good I am at getting rid of unnecessary obstacles, so-called allies included.”

  Mystrim didn’t need to be told twice. He damned her the whole way. He reminded himself that their master never made a mistake, but he couldn’t help but wonder why He’d paired the two of them for this mission. The warrior was a nightmare to work with.

  Elona, meanwhile, had soundlessly checked out the house. The owner was undoubtedly away. The place was well-kept enough, but the air was stale and the grates cold. She’d discovered the servant in a small, upstairs privy, much to her delight. There was nothing quite like catching a man with his trousers down to put him at a disadvantage. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait,” she’d told him, leaning against the open door. She’d ignored his bluster. It soon tailed off when he realised she was neither leaving nor closing the door. She stood in the opening and nonchalantly played with her knife, occasionally pausing to waft away his stench.

  When he risked reaching for the dagger on his belt, she had her blade at his throat before he could blink. “I admire your intention, but you underestimate your enemy. At this current moment, you are useful to me. Should you cease to be, I will slice you up like a butcher’s ham and feed you to the fish.” The man’s hand crept away from his dagger. Elona removed the weapon from his belt and stuck into her own. “Now, hurry up. You have work to do,” she told him, resuming her position by the doorway.

  A little later, the servant led Mystrim, Pyteor and Nijel into the agent’s best room. Elona was lounging on a day bed, sipping at a glass of wine. “You must try some of this Pyrjeon red. It’s fabulous,” she drawled. “Cleish, go open another bottle for your master’s friends.”

  The servant bowed and backed out of the room. “His master will have a fit when he finds his stash of expensive wine finished, but it serves him right for inconveniencing us,” Elona said, sitting up. “According to Cleish, no birds have arrived from Alscombe in the past two weeks. I’ve been through the man’s papers and there’s nothing. The trip he’s away on has been planned for months.”

  Mystrim sat down heavily. “The bird could have been taken by a hawk.”

  “Both birds?” Elona asked.

  “What birds?” asked Nijel, confused.

  Elona scowled at the boy. He needed to learn his place. She deliberately ignored him, keeping her eyes on the weather mage. Mystrim had sagged in his seat. “We have to assume she’s been taken,” he concluded.

  “It doesn’t change our mission. We continue on.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Hang on. Are you talking about Sesi? Rybis has Sesi?” Pyteor’s face was white with shock. “What if they’ve found the safehouse?” he asked quietly, his mind reeling at such a terrible thought. “What… what will they find?”

  Elona frowned. “Too much, if history is anything to go by.”

  “So they know our mission?” the Concealer asked, his voice rising in anger.

  “Almost certainly,” replied Mystrim.

  “But the Emperor wouldn’t allow anything to happen to Sesi. She can open a channel to Him and He’ll kill anyone who comes close. She’d have plenty of time to destroy anything incriminating.”

  Mystrim sighed. “Wishful thinking is not a good guide for a spy, Pyteor. We assume the worst. We’re on our own.”

  “That ginger irritant will be on his way too,” added Elona. “Plus his fawning sidekicks, no doubt licking his boots the whole way.”

  All talk stopped as Cleish returned with a bottle of wine and three extra glasses. The group remained silent as the wine was served. “Will there be anything else, mistress?” the servant asked.

  “We need passage to Shae. Tomorrow.”

  “But the ferry doesn’t go tomorrow,” the man began. He saw Elona’s eyes narrow. She looked on with satisfaction as the servant’s aura rippled with fear. “I… Mistress… I… I don’t…” he stammered. “I don’t know how to arrange that, mistress,” he finally confessed, his head bent to avoid her eyes, his heart racing. His knees almost gave way when he saw Elona’s hand release the catch holding the long dagger on her belt. A name flashed into his mind. “There’s a man who drinks in the Jolly Sailor Inn of an evening. Urchit. I could ask him. He’s the kind with fingers in a lot of pies. I know my master’s dealt with him before. He might know of someone who would make the crossing. He’s dangerous, but I don’t know how else…” His voice tailed off as Elona moved to stand in front of him. She used the point of her dagger’s blade to lift the man’s chin until he was looking up into her beautiful, treacherous, blue eyes.

  “Continue to be useful, Cleish,” she whispered. The point of the blade dug deeper into the man’s chin and a trickle of blood oozed from the wound. He closed his eyes and prayed.

  “I swear I don’t know any other way, mistress. I swear. I’m only a manservant. Please,” he begged.

  In a flash, Elona had spun away and sheathed her dagger. Pyteor and Nijel were grinning. Mystrim was distracted, worrying about Ionantis. If the birds hadn’t arrived here, they wouldn’t have arrived there either.

  Elona dismissed the servant. His relief was short-lived. “Await me by the front door, Cleish,” she told him. “I’m coming with you.”

  The Reader waited until the servant had grovelled his way out of the room. “Mystrim, I need a heavy purse. Let’s say fifty gold. Don’t worry, it’s just for show. I know we need to conserve our cash. Pyteor, you and Nijel will enter the inn ahead of me and behave like normal customers. Make sure to suss the place out and get yourself somewhere you can see me. Be prepared to assist if I signal you. If I leave without signalling, follow. Mystrim, I need you to ransack the house for gold and jewels. We may need more if we’re on our own in Ionantis too.”

  The weather mage didn’t respond. Elona walked across to the sofa and kicked his boot.

  “What the hell?”

  “We’re going out to book our passage to Ionantis. Find the agent’s stash of valuables while we’re out.”

  Mystrim could see the sense in her order, but it didn’t make her taking charge any easier to swallow. “The servant doesn’t know where it is?” he asked.

  “No and he tells the truth. His aura is steady.”

  Mystrim stood up to pace in front of the fire, pretending to consider Elona’s order as a suggestion. He paused in his walk and turned to the others. “I’ll direct the search. You and the others will sort out our transport. It must be tomorrow, Elona. We can’t give Braxton any opportunity to close the gap on us.”

  Pyteor and Nijel rolled their eyes at each other. Mystrim sought to regain control by reissuing Elona’s orders and adding a counter order. It was so blatant it was pathetic.

  Elona stalked forward. Mystrim found himself looking up into her eyes, just as the servant had done. All that was missing was the dagger. “Make sure to do your part,” she said slowly. Mystrim had the sense to allow her the last word. He knew it meant a change in leadership, but he also knew he had plenty of time to take it back.

  Mystrim, Sifry and the two slave girls began ripping the house apart as soon as the Reader left. She and the servant walked a few minutes behind the Conceal
er and the Healer. Cleish was quaking. Elona had transformed herself into a beautiful runaway, desperate to escape her abusive husband. The act was convincing, but they all knew she’d boil a man alive if he raised his voice to her never mind his fist. Without permission, that is.

  The Jolly Sailor Inn was doing a thriving trade. Pyteor looked around the packed tavern and, too late, saw the flaw in the sketchy plan: there must be twenty men in here that met the description Cleish had given them, they had no idea where the man they wanted was sitting and the light from the big fireplace that was puffing out smoke like a lajie addict in no way made up for the owner’s stinginess with candles. How could they possibly provide backup if they were at the wrong end of the inn and unable to intervene because they couldn’t get through the crowd and couldn’t see a damn thing anyway? It dawned on him that Elona had ordered him and Nijel along more to inconvenience Mystrim than to help her, but the fact was she was walking into a meeting almost completely blind and trusting herself to get out of any difficulty. He thought of how Nystrieth would react if he allowed Elona’s arrogance to threaten the mission. He thought of how Nystrieth would react if he saved the day. No matter the cost, he would get those stones back to his master.

  “I’m going to the privy,” he said loudly with a subtle wink of his right eye.

  “The privy? You can’t wait?” Nijel asked, confused.

  Pyteor rolled his eyes. The boy was an imbecile. He leaned closer so their neighbours wouldn’t hear him over the hubbub. “I’m going to have a look around, you idiot. Go order some ale and stay vigilant.”

  Nijel blushed and nodded his understanding. Inside, he was seething. He was getting fed up of being ignored and belittled. He was a Healer, for Light’s sake. This spy stuff was new to him.

  Pyteor was back within a few minutes. “A man’s holding court in the far corner nearest the back door. He’s got three big men with him. There are also empty chairs despite the crush and no one’s asking for them. He commands fear. It could be our man. I’ll find a space over there. You cover the front door. Watch me like a hawk.” He snatched a mug of ale from the Healer’s hand and began to push his way through the throng.

  The teenager didn’t move. He watched to see where Pyteor was going, but he soon disappeared from view. He wondered how he was supposed to watch him, the front door and the man near back door when he didn’t know where the back door was and there were about thirty bodies milling about him.

  Before he could come up with a solution, Elona and Cleish came in. There were a few women in the place, but none as beautiful as the warrior. Several men blocked their passage, flirting and boasting, trying to get her interest, but they soon backed off at mention of the man they were there to meet. He did indeed command fear.

  CHAPTER 8

  C leish stood awkwardly on the outskirts of the businessman’s domain in the Jolly Sailor. He shuffled from foot to foot and cleared his throat loudly. Elona stayed behind the man, modestly covered by her cape. A huge, muscle-bound man stalked over to meet them. Cleish’s aura quivered with fear.

  “Ahem, I wondered if Master Urchit had a moment to speak with me. My name is Cleish. He may remember me from Master Aaron Nestry’s establishment.”

  The brute laughed. “You’ll have to do better than that. Master Urchit is a busy man. He’ll not be disturbed by the likes of you.”

  Elona wasn’t the most adept of Readers, but it wasn’t hard to see the panic in the servant’s aura. She stepped forward into a rare pool of candlelight and swept her hood off her head. Her blonde hair and huge blue eyes glowed in the soft light, her freshly nipped and wetted lips shining like ripe strawberries. “Please excuse me, good sir,” she said demurely. “I must ask for your master’s help. Master Nestry is not in town and I was relying on his favour.” She lowered her head, but knew the brute was looking at her lips. She saw his tongue dart out as if to taste them.

  “A damsel in distress, eh? Perhaps you’ll owe me a favour if I get you a moment of Master Urchit’s valuable time?”

  “I would be oh so grateful, sir,” she simpered, pressing a gloved hand against his chest.

  “Wait here,” he said with a roughened voice. “I’ll see what I can do.” He made his way back over to the table where Master Urchit was speaking to his bookkeeper. He stood patiently, his mind more on the waiting beauty than the conversation in front of him. He jumped slightly as Master Urchit slammed his fist on the table. The bookkeeper scuttled away, apparently corrected of whatever false assumption he’d made.

  Master Urchit waved the big man closer. “Pay him a visit later, Geest. Break one leg. I don’t care which, but I need his arms and his head intact so don’t get carried away.”

  “Yes, sir. Also, sir, there’s a very attractive woman hoping for a word. She’d make a fortune for you in any brothel, sir. Could have an ugly body, mind. Not seen her without her cape. Looks promising though.”

  “Go away, Geest. Your mouth is running ahead of your brains.”

  The enforcer’s face whitened. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to go on. I’ll get straight onto the bookkeeper situation, sir. Unless there was something else, sir?”

  Master Urchit’s beady eyes had turned to view the woman standing next to that cretin Nestry employed. She’d replaced her hood so he couldn’t see how accurate Geest’s assessment was. He was curious. He hadn’t felt that way for several weeks. Business had been extremely boring recently. He made a snap decision. “I’ll see her. Keep that snooty manservant away from me though, Geest, or it’ll be more than one leg being broken this evening.”

  The enforcer almost bowed himself away from the table. Elona was intrigued. The man at the table looked entirely insignificant. Small, weedy and dressed in average, nondescript clothing, he looked like a poor excuse for a successful businessman. Even his aura was a sludgy brown. There was no mistaking the power he held over every person in this inn, though. They were terrified of him.

  Pyteor looked on anxiously as Elona followed the big man over to the table. He left her there and rushed off, taking one of the other men with him. Pyteor smiled. There was only one bodyguard left and Elona could take care of him in her sleep. He missed the wave the brown-clad man gave. Suddenly there were three new men arrayed around the table. He hadn’t even seen where they came from. He stuck his head in his mug of ale and prayed that Elona knew what she was doing.

  Elona was taking it slow for once. She stayed standing, waiting for the businessman to finish a quiet conversation with one of his men. He looked at her the whole time, his eyes as cold as death. It was a little unnerving. While he watched, she removed her cape. His eyes moved over every inch of her body, but his aura and face gave nothing away. He dismissed his man and waved for her to take a seat.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, his voice as cold as his eyes.

  Elona batted her eyelashes and even squeezed out a few tears as she relayed the story of a terrible marriage and a violent husband she’d run away from. She sought passage to Ionantis, but it had to be completely unofficial so her husband couldn’t find her. He was only a day behind. She and her loyal retainers had to leave on tomorrow’s tide and without any record of their transit.

  “How many in total?” he asked.

  “Seven.”

  Elona could tell Master Urchit knew the story was false despite her tears. No runaway takes six retainers with them, even one as apparently vulnerable as she.

  “Horses?” he asked.

  “None, they’re spent.”

  “Will you need horses on arrival?”

  “Transport into the city will be enough, thank you.”

  Elona was silent as the man considered his fee. She would hold out for thirty gold, she decided.

  “The price is one hundred and fifty gold.”

  Elona’s hand twitched as she imagined throwing a knife into the man’s heart. “Sir!” she exclaimed prettily. “The ferry is only twenty silvers per person!”

  Urchit shrugged.
“Then take the ferry.”

  Elona squeezed out another few tears. “Please, sir, I have nowhere near that amount to spare. Could you not drop the price to twenty gold? I could just about manage that.”

  “No.”

  Elona thought about the fifty gold in her purse but determined to pay no more than thirty. She leaned forward so her substantial cleavage was on show. “Perhaps there is something I can give you of equivalent value instead?” she purred.

  “And you wonder why a husband would beat you?” he asked, a smirk on his face, but his aura completely clear of emotion.

  Elona only just stopped herself pulling a dagger from her sleeve. “I’m desperate, sir. Can you help me or not?”

  The businessman steepled his fingers on the table and tapped them together. Elona imagined cutting them off one by one and making the weakling swallow them. The fingers stilled. “I need a man killed. If you can deliver, I’ll reduce the price to fifty gold.”

  “I’m no murderer, Master Urchit!”

  “In that case, you have need of the morning tide as much as I have need of more gold.”

  It appeared they were at an impasse. Elona had no qualms about killing a man to secure passage to Ionantis, but she needed guarantees it could be done this night and that Urchit would keep his mouth shut. It was bad enough that Rybis’ men were after them.

  Urchit broke the silence. “You have my word. Do this for me and you and your men will have passage on the afternoon tide and transport into Ionantis City for fifty gold. Do we have a deal or should I alert the King’s Guard to your whereabouts?”

  Elona carefully schooled her face and her aura to hide her shock. He must be an extraordinarily gifted Reader. She’d make one last attempt to get the price reduced. “It has to be thirty and the morning tide.”

  The businessman sat back and smiled. “It will be the afternoon tide, because it is the only one in daylight. It will also be fifty gold and not a copper less. Up front.” He leaned a little closer to the blonde. “I know you have it.”