I arrived ten minutes early. Checked the exits. Counted shadows. Found three spots where someone could hide a crossbow if they were feeling ambitious.
Professional paranoia. It's kept me alive this long, so I figure I'll keep doing it.
"This is boring," Malgrin complained. "We should burst in dramatically. Kick the door down. Do a backflip. Make an entrance."
I didn't respond. Just watched the entrance and waited.
Noon exactly, Margrave appeared. He wheezed his way down the stone steps, carrying his bulk like it had personally offended him. Sweat stained his merchant robes even though the cellar air was cool. The man sweated in winter. I'd seen it.
"Yozi." He looked me over. "You look like shit."
"You said there was work."
"Straight to business. I like that about you." He pulled out a cloth and mopped his face. "So. Heard you robbed the arena and actually survived. That's impressive. Stupid, but impressive."
"Just shut up and tell me about the job."
"Right, right." He lowered his voice like we weren't already in an abandoned cellar where nobody could hear us. "Got contacted by a high-paying client. They need someone for investigative work."
"Spying."
"Information gathering. Don't oversell yourself."
"How much?"
"Five hundred silver. Up front."
That was too good. Way too good. I kept my face neutral but my brain was already picking that number apart. Nobody pays that much for simple information gathering. Not unless the information is dangerous, or the gathering is likely to get someone killed.
"What's the job?"
"Client wants to meet you first. Make sure you're suitable." His eyes flicked down to my arms. The black veins were barely visible under my sleeves, but Margrave noticed. He noticed everything. That's why he was still alive in his line of work. "They mentioned needing someone outside normal channels. Someone expendable, was the word they used."
"Where's the meeting?"
"Old catacombs beneath the Temple of Three. Tonight. Midnight."
"Oooooh, catacombs at midnight!" Malgrin perked up in my head. "Very dramatic. I approve of this client already."
The catacombs were neutral ground. No gang controlled them. No guards patrolled them either. Good spot for a private meeting if you didn't want to be disturbed.
Also a good spot for an ambush if you wanted to kill someone quietly.
"Who's the client?"
"Didn't give a name. Just said they'd recognize you when they saw you."
"That's not really an answer."
Margrave shrugged. "It's all I got. Take it or leave it."
Five hundred silver could get me out of Zetun entirely. New city. New name. New life. Start over somewhere nobody knew about the arena or the escape or any of it.
"You're going to take it," Malgrin observed. "I can feel envisioning the pile of silver in that pouch. Kaching."
"What's your cut?" I asked Margrave.
"Ten percent. Finder's fee."
"Five."
"Eight."
"Done."
We shook on it. His palm was clammy, as if it was a personality trait.
"One more thing," he said as I turned to leave. "The arena put a price on your head. Two hundred silver, dead or alive. Mostly dead, from what I hear."
"Who's hunting?"
"Couple of bounty crews so far. Nobody too scary. Yet."
I nodded and headed for the stairs.
"Hey." His voice stopped me. "Whatever you did to survive that last fight. The rumors going around say it wasn't natural."
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I looked back at him. "You believe in rumors?"
"I trade in them. Doesn't mean I believe them."
"Sure."
I climbed up into sunlight that felt too bright after the cellar. My eyes took a second to adjust.
"He suspects something," Malgrin said.
"Everyone suspects. Nobody cares to find out."
"Yet."
The Temple of Three stood in Zetun's old quarter. Sandstone walls covered in geometric prayers that had been carved so long ago the edges had worn soft. Brass domes on top catching what was left of the afternoon light.
I circled the building twice before I found the entrance to the catacombs. Rusted grate behind the eastern wall, half-hidden by scaffolding that had collapsed years ago and never been cleaned up. Nobody had used this entrance in a long time, from the look of it.
I waited until dark. Watched. Nobody came or went.
At eleven-thirty I pulled the grate open and went down.
The catacombs were older than the temple above them. Pre-empire construction, from back when people still buried their dead instead of burning them. Stone corridors lined with alcoves, and in the alcoves were bones that had turned to dust centuries ago. The air was cold and stale and tasted like forgotten things.
I activated Blood-Sense.
My vision shifted. The world went dark except for the warm glow of living things. And there, in the darkness ahead, I found what I was looking for.
One heartbeat. Maybe thirty meters away. Pulse elevated. Nervous, or maybe just alert. Alone.
But wait. There was another one. Fifty meters out, different direction entirely. This pulse was calm. Steady. Professional.
That wasn't a meeting. That was an ambush.
"Two of them," Malgrin whispered. "Want to run?"
Running meant no money. No answers. Back to hiding in the Sump while bounty hunters slowly closed in.
Staying meant risk. Probably a lot of it.
But staying also meant answers. And I needed those more than I needed safety right now.
I moved forward.
The corridor opened up into a larger chamber. Vaulted ceiling disappearing into darkness overhead. Ancient murals on the walls, so faded you could barely tell what they'd once depicted.
A woman stood in the center of the room. Tall. Armored. Scars visible on her face and arms even in the dim light. She held herself like someone who'd been in enough fights to know posture is more important than healing.
"Yozi." She said it like a statement, not a question. Like she already knew.
"You're the client?"
"I'm the one hiring." She stepped closer. A shaft of moonlight from somewhere above caught her face. Hard features. Grey eyes. A scar across her throat that looked like someone had tried to take her head off and hadn't quite managed it.
"You're Inquisition," I said.
"Was. Not anymore."
"That doesn't make me feel better about this."
She almost smiled at that. Almost. "My name is Nyssara. I need help with something the Inquisition won't touch."
"Why me specifically?"
"You're outside the system. No loyalties. No connections. No conscience, from what I've heard."
"Wait, I have a conscience."
"Do you?"
I didn't have a good answer for that, so I didn't give one.
"I've watched your fights," she continued. "You win ugly. No flash, no style, just efficiency. You fight like you're solving a math problem instead of trying to entertain anyone."
"And that qualifies me for what exactly?"
"Investigation. Protection. Possibly violence, depending on how things go." She pulled a folded piece of paper from her belt. "There's a conspiracy. Important people are dying. I think someone's planning something big during the coronation."
"Which pretender are you working for?"
"None of them. I'm working for myself."
I studied her face. With Blood-Sense still active, I could see her heartbeat. It was elevated, but not in the way that meant she was planning to attack. More like she was nervous. Taking a risk she wasn't sure about.
"Five hundred silver," I said.
"Seven-fifty. Half up front."
"She's desperate," Malgrin noted. "She's offering more than you asked for. That's interesting."
It was interesting. It also meant whatever she was into was probably more lethal than she was letting on.
"Why so much?" I asked.
"Because this is dangerous. Because I need someone good. And because..." She paused, looked me over again. "You have an honest face."
I actually laughed at that. Couldn't help it. "That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me."
"I didn't say trustworthy. I said honest. There's a difference." The corner of her mouth twitched. "You look like someone who'd stab me in the front, not the back. I can work with that."
"That might be the strangest compliment I've ever received."
"You're welcome." She was definitely almost smiling now. "So. Do we have a deal, or are you going to keep asking questions until sunrise?"
"I have more questions."
"I'm sure you do. You can ask them after you agree to help me."
"That's not how negotiation works."
"It's how my negotiations work. Take it or leave it."
I looked at her. At the scars. At the grey eyes that didn't flinch when they met mine. At the way she stood like she was ready to fight or run at any second but was choosing to do neither.
She was trouble. Obviously. The kind of trouble that got people killed.
But she was also offering seven hundred and fifty silver and the chance to do something other than hide in abandoned buildings waiting for bounty hunters to find me.
"Fine," I said. "But I want...."
Metal scraped against stone behind me.
I spun around. The second heartbeat. The calm one.
A man stepped out of the shadows on the far side of the chamber. Inquisition armor, well-maintained. Crossbow in his hands, already aimed at my chest.
"Nyssara." His voice was flat. "Step away from him."
"Korvan, wait. Just let me explain....."
"He's a pact-bearer." Korvan's eyes were fixed on my face. "Look at his eyes. They're black. He's using demon magic right now."
My Blood-Sense was still active. He was right. My eyes would be solid black.
"I can explain," Nyssara started.
Korvan fired.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--- SPECTACLE REPORT: THE DEAL ---
Performance Rating: ?? (2/5) Malgrin's Note: "I despise math. Watching you haggle over 8% commission while hunted by assassins is... hilarious. For people wih the humor for it. You value coin like it will save you. (Spoiler: It won't)."
TRANSACTIONS:
- Contract Accepted: [The Catacombs Investigation]
- Reward: 500 Silver (Pending) + Margrave's Info.
- Risk Level: High.
ASSET STATUS:
- [Blood-Sense]: Standby.
- [Raubtier Speed]: 3/3 Charges Ready.
Corruption Update: The ink is itching now, isn't it?
Spectacle Report!