Dread Rising

"What does he wait for?"

"To close off either end of the street and trap us," Decius growled. He cast another look toward the end of the street, but nothing about the traffic there foretold danger.

"Perhaps we should break down the door and ask our questions face to face," Lomirran snarled.

"Ever the firebrand," Draithan teased. "Have some patience. Marcellinus is a cautious man."

"But are we?" Decius wondered aloud. The street was still, but the sudden quiet and the long wait sat unwell in his mind. He turned over in his head, running his mind through all the possibilities, until at last his thoughts were disturbed by the door unlatching.

And elderly servant stood before them, clad in bright livery of indigo and green, the scent of spice thick about him.

"My master will see you now. Follow me."

They followed him into the hall, which was lit only by a pair of weak lanterns and a single window over the door. It was dim and dusty, and Decius' hand crept to his broadsword. The servant paid them no mind, his back inscrutable as he stiffly led them down the hall. The doors to either side were shut, and Decius waited for them to fling open and disgorge assassins to kill them.

But they reached the far end of the hall without incident, and the servant pushed open the door to a large atrium. Here Decius could see that the townhouse they had entered was joined at the back with another, much grander house that faced onto the main street by the simple expedient of knocking a doorway into the shared wall. The result was that they had been able to conceal their entry into the spicers' house from the busy street and its prying eyes.

The roof above the atrium was open to allow rainwater to pool in the courtyard fountain, a common fixture of homes in the Empire. Decius suddenly felt like he was back home. To one side of the fountain sat a man, perhaps fifty, though he looked younger. He reclined on a divan beside a low table were five glasses of wine sat around a plate of steamed clams. He smiled at them as they entered.

"Come, sit. We have business to discuss." Draithan and the others did, the servant vanished, and Decius cautiously seated himself across from the man. The smell of the clams wafted up to his nose and he suddenly found himself very hungry.

"It is good to meet again," Draithan began. The half-elf picked up a glass of wine and swirled it before him, peering into its dark depths. Seemingly satisfied that it was not poisoned, he took a long draw. Decius did the same.

"You always have the good stuff," Draithan pronounced with great satisfaction. "But I won't waste any more time. Word is surely spreading across the city that something is afoot. I have come to make the final arrangements."

"I see," Marcellinus said, considering his wine. "Well, then I suppose I should make my terms clear. I want the names of your smugglers, their ships, their bases, their contacts, all of them. If I have a month atop the guild, I can clean out every smuggler in this city. Not even the emperor would dare replace me then. After a few years of this, I'll be headed back to Indigo Forum and a seat on the Charter Council."

"Hmm," Draithan replied, touching a finger to his temple. He looked to the others of his kindred, then to Decius. "It seems we have a problem then. This is Decius Capricius Sallax, of the Collegium. He has come here to secure new sources of spice, seeing as how your Guild has close off many as of late. And I have promised him the names of those smugglers as compensation for his part in our plot. The names of the smugglers won't do him much good if they're all dead, will they?"

"You brought a sorcerer into this plot?" Marcellinus hissed through clenched teeth. "Why should you not consider my aid forfeit right now?"

"Perhaps we can come to an agreement," Decius interjected. "Though I confess that agreements between our two organizations that do not include violence are quite rare."

"Speak quickly," Marcellinus snapped, his eyes cold.

"Our interests need not be at odds. My family can offer you support in your rise. Clandestinely, if you so desire. It would doubtlessly raise suspicions for a long-standing Collegium family to throw in with the Spicers. Draithan has come to offer you a substantial bribe that will take some of the sting out of allowing the smugglers to continue to operate. However, it is imperative that the Collegium have access to those smugglers."

"Then I fear we are at odds in the end. I could not ignore enforcement of the Charter even if I wanted to. Those criminals are cutting into my share of the profits. Why should I let them continue? What does your help bring me that putting heads on spikes would not?"

"The friendship of a sorcerer is a card your fellows in the Guild cannot play, is it? You can compel sorcerers with bribery or blackmail, but they will always look to stab you in the back. You cannot safely hold a viper, and no viper can match the venom of a sorcerer. How many of your fellow spicers have played that game and lost?"

"And why should you be any different?" Marcellinus demanded. Behind him, two burly servants crept into the room, cudgels held by their sides.

"Have you grabbed me by the tail?" Decius asked, ignoring the two goons. "Or have we sat down at a table laden with wine and clams to plot our own mutual benefit? Let me sweeten the deal. Through means that are largely unimportant, the Collegium has identified six men and women in the Guild that the emperor has turned. In exchange for lax enforcement of your Charter, I will give these names to you, and you may do as you wish with them."

"Six names," Marcellinus replied suspiciously. "These must be names of importance."

"They are. I would not trouble you with clerks or longshoremen in the emperor's pay. You look concerned. Did you think the emperor blind to the Guild's wealth and ambition?"

"Of course not." The spicer shifted uncomfortably. "There are always traitors in the Guild, and they are always dealt with. As they deserve!"

Decius now wondered if there was perhaps another list of traitors with Marcellinus' name on it. Amused, and leaned back in his seat.

"Six names, in exchange for a blind eye to my future business associates."

"Six names for six names," Marcellinus replied. "You give me the six traitors and I will give you six smugglers to exempt from enforcement. Choose wisely, for there will be only six."

"I find the terms of your deal acceptable. A written contract seems counter to our aims of secrecy, but you and I no doubt have little trust in one another still. An oath before the gods, then? Let them keep our secret with their own."

Marcellinus nodded and stood up. They went across the room to the house's altar and laid their hands upon it.

"Here, in sight of the gods, Decius Capricius Sallax, sorcerer of the Collegium, solemnly swears to provide Barbatio Marcellinus with the names of the six spies known to the Collegium, in exchange for his protection of six smugglers, to be named later. Should I fail in this, may the gods take my eyes, my tongue, my ears, and condemn me to forever walk the world blind, deaf, and dumb."

Marcellinus nodded, satisfied and swore a matching oath. Decius summoned a servant with pen and paper and inscribed the names of the six traitors for Marcellinus.

"Draithan and I must go now," he said. "We will return later once we have the names of our smugglers, but time is of the essence now, and there's killing to be done."

"I must not be seen to be involved," Marcellinus cautioned, raising his hands. "Give me a head start. I'll make for the casino or the Lotus, some place where I can be seen decidedly not murdering Nevitta. Then you four make your move and none will be the wiser."

They exited the spicers' house through the way they had entered. Decius moved quickly toward the end of the street with the elves following in his wake. Once back onto the busy thoroughfare, they pulled into a doorway to converse.

"We should give Marcellinus time to get somewhere public," Draithan said, but Decius shook his head. "He'll be public enough leaving the house in his sedan chair. We cannot afford to waste more time; I spent enough bargaining with him already. Who knows what Magnur knows by now? We should go directly to wherever Nevitta is and deal with him. Where is he?"

"At his home, surely," Draithan answered with a shrug. "If not there, then at the guildhouse."

"How well guarded is his home?"

"Very. Both guards and wards, but if you can dispel the wards, I can find a spot for us to enter."

"You can't do it? Aren't you elves supposed to be gifted with sorcery?" Decius asked.

"I live here. Of course Nevitta found a sorcerer better than me. I just hope he didn't find one better than you."

Decius sighed. "Lead the way, then." Draithan did with a smile. They started back up the way they had come along the boulevard. The street meandered a bit before they broke out onto a wide square rimmed by tall buildings tiled in terracotta. The afternoon was waning, and long shadows played across the square to shade the facades of the eastern buildings. Somehow, the crowds grew even thicker this late in the day. At last, after much press, they turned onto another, quieter street and Draithan stopped. He indicated the stone wall on the western side.

"This is the back of Nevitta's house." Decius' eyes climbed the wall to the sharpened ridge at its top, serrated like crenellations. The gaps in between the stones were plastered to eliminate gaps where an intruder might find purchase for climbing, and the wall even seemed to slope outwards to further complicate the matter. Yet Decius knew it was the unseen obstacles that would prove most difficult. He drew from his pockets a crystal monocle and set it over his eye.

Through the faintly blue crystal, all the secrets of Nevitta's wards were revealed to him. Like a great tent, sorcerous strands were laid over the entire house and draped over the exterior wall. Decius could see arcane energies running along the strands, coursing with enough powerful to cook alive anyone careless enough to set them off. He took a deep breath and swallowed a pinch of spice from his belt pouch. The magic shot through his veins, sparks burst before his eyes, and he felt his vision sharpen. The elf-blooded ones watched him carefully, though Decius tried to ignore them.

Instead, he conjured a blade of white fire before him and, grasping it in his hand, thrust it forward and through the arcane shroud. The strands sizzled and popped, sparks flew, and the severed strands fell to the earth, snapping and coiling about themselves until they simply faded away into nothingness. Decius slashed to either side, cutting away more strands to carve a portal through Nevitta's defensive shroud. Were he slower, or were his conjured blade less powerful, the severed strands would light up with sorcerous energy and trigger an alarm. But as it was, he severed them before they could realize they were under attack, and the alarm remained inert.

"Now for the wall itself," he breathed. He dismissed his blade and drew from his belt pouch a piece of pale green chalk. Swiftly he drew a circle on the stone before him. With whispered words of command, and quickly, for they were now noticed by those on the street with them, he invoked an ancient spell of passage he had deciphered in a long-lost ruin. The stone crinkled away like paper in an open flame. Decius reached out and pulled open a portal in the wall as easily as molding wet clay. The elf-blooded ones dashed through, even as the passersby gasped in awe, and Decius followed quickly behind.

"They'll know we're here in a moment," Draithan cried, blade in hand. Lomirran bolted ahead.

"Head for the garden!" he shouted, "That's where he's most likely to be!" Drawing his own broadsword, Decius moved to follow the elf, but Draithan caught him by the wrist.

"Lomirran will need no help if he finds him, but we must guard against the possibility that he will not. Into the house!"

His blade flashing in the late afternoon sun, the half-elf charged forward toward the house's nearest backdoor. As Lomirran and Gilgabraith disappeared round the corner, Decius could do little but follow Draithan.

The half-elf burst through the portal with his shoulder lowered, and Decius followed hot on his heels. They found themselves alone in a storeroom, with sacks of flour and casks of wine piled to the ceilings. Draithan paid them little heed, and barged through the opposite door into the kitchen.

Servants screamed in surprise, fleeing at the sight of his drawn blade. Draithan caught one of them and threw the woman against the wall, his blade at her throat.

"Where is your master?!" Shaking with fear, the woman extended a trembling finger toward the far wall.

"In the salon," she stammered, "Don't hurt me..."

Draithan let her fall and charged toward the door, vaulting over a butcher's table in the process. Decius followed him with only a pitying look towards the frightened woman. The door to the hall flung open with a bang, startling yet another servant in the hall. The man dropped a tray of fine silver with a yelp, a lifetime of his wages went crashing to the floor. He turned tail and fled, soft slippers slapping on the polished wooden floor.

Draithan kicked open the first door with Decius right behind him. Inside was a richly appointed salon, fitted with overstuffed furniture and bronze candelabra for light. A fat man was in the process of rising from the couch, his silken robes thick about him. He faced away from them, but his balding head turned on heavy shoulders, his jowls flapping as he rumbled in anger.

"What has gotten into the lot of you?! That had better not be my good silver..." he turned and saw the two of them. "Oh... I--" Draithan darted forward, blade at the ready. The man squealed in fright and ran for the far door. He was surprisingly quick on his feet for someone so fat, though he lacked the grace to match it. He bowled over a low end table and went crashing to the floor in a lumpy heap of silk and fat. Draithan pounced.

He leapt over the couch, blade in hand and poised for the kill. But Nevitta's flailing hand closed about a heavy silken ashtray and he whipped it at Draithan without a moment's consideration. The item struck Draithan in the temple, drawing blood. The half-elf cried out, grabbing the injured area as he staggered back a half-step. Nevitta wasted no time in rising and running for the far door. Decius went after him.

The fat spicer burst out into a foyer, holding his long robes up from his feet.

"Help!" he wailed, his voice echoing off the marble walls of his empty foyer. "Assassins! Help!"

The front door burst open and a man in servant's livery fell through it. He struck the marble floor, dead. Behind him, Lomirran stood in the doorway, a bloody blade held aloft. Nevitta screamed again and ran for the stairs. From above came two men with swords, rushing down the stairs toward the spicer. Draithan surged toward them, his sword at the ready.

From a room on the first floor burst a man with a pistol. He crashed through a door into the hall and his eyes immediately fixed on Draithan, obliviously charging up the stairs. The man leveled his pistol.

Forgoing a warning cry to Draithan, Decius summoned a bolt of lightning from his hand. It arced across the foyer and struck the man in the chest. His limbs spasmed, his fingers pulled the trigger. But it was a spark from the lightning that ignited the powder in his flashpan. The pistol cracked, a blast of white smoke erupting from its muzzle, and Decius heard the shot ricochet off the marble wall somewhere in the great, echoey foyer. The unfortunate gunman was thrown backwards where he crashed against the doorjamb he had just passed through and lay still in a broken heap.

Above him, Draithan cut a bloody path through Nevitta's guards as Lomirran and Gilgabraith stepped inside the house. Nevitta fled deeper into the upper floor of the house with the four assassins in pursuit. Doors slammed open and shut as the spicer tried in his panic to find a place to hide. At last, he slammed a heavy teak door in their face, and Decius heard a thud as a locking bar fell into place behind it, but another bolt of lightning blasted the door to splinters and Draithan surged through the portal after his quarry. On the other side, they found Nevitta collapsed in a heap, his escape routes exhausted.

"Please," he pleaded, a hand raised in surrender, "Don't kill me..."

"It's not personal," Draithan reassured him as he approached. "But you are standing between me and quite a lot of money."

"Money!" the spicer blurted. "I have lots of it! Let me live and I will make you a very rich man! Elf! Half-elf!"

"Sorry, but there's nothing you could offer me that your death won't provide. Give my regards to Kanaron." The spicer wailed in protest, but it was no use. Draithan ran his blade through the man's fat breast and tore it out. A spray of blood painted the wall and Nevitta slumped to the side. His eyes slipped closed, and blood ran down his chest to pool on the floor.

"Well, that's done." Draithan pronounced cheerily. "Let's get on to the next one."

"We should go," said Gilgabraith. "There will be more of them soon."

They raced back out the way they had come. Servants in the halls fled in confused terror as they crossed their path. Two men in cuirasses found themselves barring their way, but fled before blades could be crossed. Draithan led them back into the rear garden and through Decius' portal. They found the street abandoned, though shouts of alarm could be heard from either direction.

"Hold here," Decius called. "I will close the portal and erase any artifacts of our presence. There is still a chance we might be able to conceal our involvement."

He pulled the sorcerous threads that held open his portal and the circle in stone contracted, cracking and creaking as it did. The portal collapsed on itself and soon enough all that remained before them was an unblemished stone wall.

"Good," Draithan pronounced. "No one will know we were here."

"I wouldn't say so," said a voice, and all four of them turned with a start. Appearing from nowhere were a short, dark-skinned man with long, thick dreadlocks of black hair and his companion, an equally dark-furred minotaur standing nearly eight feet in height. Both wore armor and a badge with a saltire argent on sable. Decius' heart fell.

"Get 'em, boys!" the man proclaimed and a score of similarly attired guardsmen stepped from the doors on the opposite side of the street, halberds and firelocks in hand. The minotaur hefted a huge, two-handed poleaxe and slapped it against his open palm. "The Queen wants you alive," it boomed, "but it's all the same to me."

Decius raised his broadsword, but he suddenly saw sorcerous strands falling over them from above. One touched him, cold and dark, and he felt the energies of the indigo spice drain away. More strands fell on the four of them, even as they struggled against them, and Decius felt a blackness creeping in from the edge of his vision. He tried to fight it, tried to summon his strength to cast a counterspell, but it was no use. He fell to the cobblestone and the light went out.

Decius came to in a dark chamber, the only light filtering in from a narrow slot high in the wall. He still wore the clothes he had been captured in, though his jewelry, belt pouches, and broadsword had all been stripped away. He was not chained, but this brought him no comfort for he could not summon any magic to aid him. Decius fumbled about in the dark chamber in search of anything to aid in his escape.

The floor was smooth and featureless, as if made of glass. The walls were made of brick, but he could not scratch the mortar between them with just his fingernails. He ran his hands around all four walls, but could not make out the edge of a door. Frustrated, he sat down again, staring up at the single source of light in the cell.