City of Rogues: Book I of the Kobalos Trilogy Page 7

  She stepped back to the door and opened it so Fortisquo could see her body outlined beneath the silk sheets. “Since you asked about the whereabouts of some man,” she answered.

  Fortisquo’s long fingers played with the glass in his hand, finally placing the object neatly in the center of the table in front of him. “You didn't hear much.”

  Adara nodded.

  “But, still ...” The fencing master hesitated, running his fingers across his lips.

  Adara let the sheets fall from her body.

  Fortisquo’s eyes widened.

  The woman pursed her lips. “Still?”

  “Dammit all!” Wearing a grin, Fortisquo jumped to his feet and marched toward her. “I suppose I can kill you after we make love!”

  ***

  Of course Fortisquo had been joking when he’d threatened to slay Adara. He would no more kill a woman of her beauty than he would drop a bag of gold into a river. Both ideas would be repugnant to him. Besides, he knew he would have one hell of a fight on his hands. He would win. Of that he was sure. But he was positive he would not walk away unscathed from a duel with the slender female.

  He grinned as he slid from the rumpled bed and into his pants. He could not imagine knowingly attacking Adara, but daydreaming about ways to conquer a formidable foe was another matter. Fortisquo didn’t get to be one of the best rapirists and assassins in West Ursia by daydreaming about women and sex all day long.

  “Why are you smiling?” Adara asked from the bed. “What are you thinking?”

  Fortisquo’s grin grew wider beneath his thin mustache as he pulled a silk white shirt over his head. “That’s a woman's question.”

  Adara squinted one eye. “Then give a man’s answer.”

  Fortisquo laughed and strapped on his sword belt. He placed one finger on his chin while staring upward as if in deep thought.

  His playful eyes shifted back to her. “I don’t know.” Then he laughed.

  A pillow smacked him in the face.

  The swordmaster gripped the cushion, bringing it above his head to fling back, but the woman had already slid across the bed and was standing there naked with a thin sword, a rapier, in her hand.

  Fortisquo chuckled as he saw the pointed end of the blade leveled at his eyes. “What are you planning to do with that?”

  Adara gave a half bow, then stood in a fencing posture, her left hand behind her back and the right hand slightly extended with the rapier’s blade pointed at Fortisquo’s face. She stood on the balls of her feet as her right foot faced forward a couple of steps ahead of her left foot, which was turned outward slightly.

  The fencing master tossed the pillow onto the bed. “Enough play, woman! I’m hungry!”

  Adara took a step back. “You’ve already eaten this morning," she said with a squinted eye.

  It was too much for Fortisquo. A hungry belly laugh erupted from him as he turned away and waved a hand at the woman.

  Adara lowered her weapon. “Where are you going?”

  Fortisquo shot a look back. “I’m going to have breakfast while you dress. We can’t spend all day in bed!”

  Adara tossed the sword on the sheets. “I don’t know why not,” she said, pulling on her britches. “It wouldn’t be the first time we stayed in bed all day.”

  She could hear Fortisquo chuckling again from the front room.

  “That’s true, my dear.” His voice was followed by a chomping sound Adara decided was his teeth biting into one of the apples left from their dinner the night before.

  She pulled a white shirt over her head. “Are you going to tell me why that man came to see you?”

  There were more chomping sounds from the other room. “You’re sounding like a woman again.”

  Adara’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at the door. That’s because I am a woman! Instead of shouting the words aloud, as she wanted, she thought it best to keep the peace until she had learned all Fortisquo had to teach her. “Anyone would be curious.”

  There was another biting sound. “True. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell.”

  Adara reached for her tall boots. This was one part of the day she detested. Without servants, pulling up thigh-high leather boots could take all morning.

  “Well?” she said testily as she yanked on black leather.

  “He works for an old associate of mine,” Fortisquo explained from the other room, “and he had a business proposition for me. I refused him.”

  Adara huffed, ran out of air and halted her tug-of-war game with the boots. “Why did you do that?”

  She heard Fortisquo’s familiar chuckling again before he spoke. “Because I am no longer in that line of work. This associate made sure of that years ago. He bought out all contracts for the guild where I was provost, effectively putting me out of business. I owe him no favors.”

  Adara huffed again as the first boot slipped into place and she grabbed the other one. “I take it you don’t need the money?”

  “The associate was kind enough to make sure I was well compensated before my forced retirement.”

  “It sounds as if you got a good deal.” Adara tugged on the other boot. “You made out with some gold and don’t have to work.”

  “Let’s just say I enjoyed my profession.”

  Finally, Adara pulled up the last boot.. “You at least could have heard the fellow out.” She stood and stomped the boots into perfect fit, then appeared in the doorway.

  Fortisquo stood in the center of the front room with the remains of a mostly eaten apple skewered on the end of his sword. He gulped down the last of the fruit in his mouth. “I am no longer in that line of work.”

  “And what line of work would that be?”

  “I killed people, and I was quite good at it. I headed the assassin’s guild for nearly five years.”

  Adara’s jaw dropped.

  Fortisquo slung his sword’s tip, sending the apple flying across the room to land in a corner on a fine rug. “I’m going to need more than this for breakfast.” He belched and dropped his sword into its sheath.

  Adara stood motionless, her jaw still hanging.

  Fortisquo snapped his fingers in front of the woman’s eyes. “Adara.”

  She blinked and scowled. “I never knew you were a hired assassin.”

  Fortisquo laughed again. “Would it have made a difference?”

  Adara thought about it for a second. “Probably not. I guess it’s no different from what we do.”

  “Don’t fool yourself,” Fortisquo said. “It’s quite different from what you and I do. An assassin kills anyone he has been paid to kill. A professional duelist only kills when necessary.”

  The swordsman turned and headed toward the exit. “Are you coming, or do you wish me to send up food?”

  Adara sighed. “I’m coming, I suppose.” She took several steps toward Fortisquo.

  “Good.” The swordsman glanced back at Adara as he turned the brass knob on the door. “I’d hate to spend breakfast with the bartender again. The man can pour a decent ale but he can’t fry eggs worth —"

  Fortisquo went silent and stared out the door.

  Adara looked across the room to see two muscular figures in leather armor in the doorway. Each of the men carried a large crossbow with arrows pointed at Fortisquo’s chest. Behind the two in leather stood the man who had spoken with Fortisquo a half hour earlier.

  “Master Belgad insists upon meeting with you,” Lalo the Finder said.

  Fortisquo looked to Adara. “It seems we will be having breakfast with that associate after all, my dear.”

  ***

  “Tell me your problems.” Fortisquo sat in a chair of iron bands on a second-floor verandah overlooking one of Belgad’s gardens. Next to him sat Adara. Across a table from them, Belgad lounged on a marble sofa layered with silk pillows and a pale Hiponese throw with edges of gold stitching. Behind the master of the manner stood Lalo the Finder, patiently quiet.

  “Do you know of Trelvigor?” Belgad sat
up straight. Now that Fortisquo was here, it was time for business, and Belgad never relaxed when it was time for business. One’s senses became dull when reclining.

  The former assassin nodded to his former associate. “I passed the house a few days ago.”

  “I’m having him tended in the central healing tower.” Belgad looked to Adara, then back to Fortisquo. “He’s expected to live, but will likely wear scars the rest of his days.”

  Fortisquo eased back in the iron chair to become as comfortable as possible. “What do the wizard’s misfortunes have to do with you?”

  “Possibly nothing,” Belgad said, “but events since look to be linked to the fire. A few nights ago two of my men were killed, another crippled and yet another wounded. They were attacked by a man calling himself Kron Darkbow.”

  “Is the man insane?” The assassin seemed seriously doubtful of Darkbow’s sanity.

  “It would seem so.” Belgad sat up straighter. “But he is also talented at lurking in the dark and causing me trouble. My men were ... on business when they were attacked, and these were experienced men in chain with weaponry. He took down two of them with a bow and proceeded to pummel the others.”

  Until then, Adara had held little interest in the conversation. Upon hearing of the skills of this Darkbow, her interest rose along with her eyes. She stared at Belgad, following his every word.

  The Dartague went on. “Last night he killed two more of my men at the Docks, and burnt my three ships down to the water’s line.”

  “I wondered about that smoke to the north.” Fortisquo retrieved a strawberry from a copper bowl on the table and popped the fruit into his mouth.

  “Darkbow again. He wounded another of my men, but allowed him and one more to go free.”

  Fortisquo swallowed his breakfast. “Are you sure it was the same man in all these instances?”

  Belgad brooded for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m not sure it was one man, but it would seem to be. The description of my men at the Docks matched the description from the other night. As for Trelvigor, I won’t know what happened in his home until he is able to speak again, which the healer tells me isn’t likely for at least two weeks.”

  “Is there any evidence why this man wants to harm you?”

  “None for sure, but it’s not as if I wouldn’t have enemies.”

  Fortisquo stared off into the garden. Adara could tell his mind was at work behind his eyes.

  Belgad leaned forward as if to impress his situation upon the others. “He is more than adept with a bow, and he carries a large sword on his back, though none of my men have seen him put it to action.”

  Fortisquo looked back at the hulking northerner on the marble chair. “If he can use his fists, then he’s likely proficient with the sword.”

  Adara nodded, thinking the same thing. A man who could fight well with one weapon could generally fight well with another. He might not be as experienced with a particular weapon, but if he understood close combat tactics he would soon learn the limits and reaches of whatever weapon he had in his hands, at least if he lived long enough to become familiar with the weapon.

  Fortisquo picked up another strawberry. “Have all of these attacks been at night?”

  “So far.” Belgad’s gaze narrowed as he followed the small red fruit to the assassin’s lips. “He dresses in black and uses the shadows. I’m sure you’re familiar with the type.”

  Fortisquo grinned. Of course he was familiar with the type. He had even been that type.

  “Stilp described him as a large man, but he also seems quick of foot and hand.”

  “Strong, agile and experienced.” Fortisquo hesitated in eating further, the strawberry stopping halfway to his lips. “He also uses the darkness to his advantage and softens his foes from a distance before moving in, so he’s clever and stealthy. It’s a superb mixture of talent, skill and brains. I would like to meet this Darkbow.”

  Belgad frowned. “I want him dead.”

  “Your description of him has intrigued me, but it’s going to cost you.” The swordmaster bit into the fruit, his lips suddenly stained crimson.

  “I’ll pay one thousand gold.”

  Adara sucked in air. A thousand gold could purchase a small kingdom.

  Fortisquo finished his strawberry and grinned. “I have little need for your funding.”

  The corners of Belgad’s mouth drooped further. “I don’t have to hire you. I have plenty of men who would take on this man.”

  “True, but you have no one with my talents. Admit it, you need my skills.”

  “I want your skills,” Belgad said. “I don’t need anything from you.”

  “Then what Belgad wants is going to cost more than a bag of coins.”

  “Tell me your price.”

  “The contracts from my guild. Sign them over to me.”

  Belgad nearly rose from his seat to shout at the sword master’s face, but gritted his teeth to keep from doing so. It took him a moment to regain his composure. “I am not going to allow an assassin’s guild in this city again. You know my position on that matter.”

  “You’ve always said killings are bad for business, but that’s not true if killing is your business.”

  “Killing isn’t my business. Making money is. Blood in the streets means fewer people to spend their coin. Fewer people spending coin means I make less. I’ve come a long way since Dartague, my friend, and I do not foresee returning to those ways. I spared you ten years ago because we came to an amicable agreement. You have stood by our agreement since, but if I was wrong in my judgment of you, then I will have to have you removed.”

  Adara eased a hand toward the rapier on her hip as she felt the tension rise on the verandah. She had seen no weapons on Belgad, or Lalo for that matter, but she had no doubts Belgad could take care of himself and there were likely numerous guards within shouting distance.

  “There will be no need for that.” Fortisquo waved a hand at the Dartague. “I am retired. But it would do my ego good to have those contracts again.”

  “I would rather not take the chance on your changing your mind at some future date.” Belgad’s voice was firm.

  Fortisquo stood with slowness and walked to the edge of the verandah to stare at the greenery below.

  “One thousand gold,” Belgad repeated.

  Fortisquo continued to stare, his eyes following a yellow bird feeding from the long pink tube of a foreign plant he could not name.

  Belgad forced himself to stand. “Fortisquo, I am not a man of patience.”

  The swordsman turned slowly, a grin still stretched across his face. “A thousand gold will do fine. But there will have to be some arrangements.”

  The big Dartague appeared confused. “What do you have in mind?”

  “First, you are going to throw a party.” Fortisquo winked at Adara.

  Chapter Ten

  Seemingly flummoxed, Belgad returned to his seat. “What do you mean by party?”

  Adara and Lalo leaned forward in curiosity. They had been discussing killing Kron Darkbow, and now the former master of Bond’s assassins’ guild was talking about festivities.

  “A ball.” Fortisquo continued smiling “A festival of sorts.”

  “Have you gone mad?” The look on Belgad’s face revealed his displeasure. “Should I have you admitted to the Asylum?”

  “Darkbow isn’t set on killing you, at least not immediately, or he would have tried. First he wants to humiliate you.”

  “He did that by burning my ships for the whole town to see.”

  “Yes, but that was a message to you. If he had wanted to embarrass you publicly he would have left some sort of calling card, perhaps his name written in flames or something else as silly. He wants you to feel small and powerless. Oh, he might get around to trying to kill you eventually, but only after he thinks he’s emotionally crushed you.”

  Lalo opened his mouth for the first time since the gathering began. “How does Trelvigor fit into a
ll this?”

  Belgad answered. “Perhaps Trelvigor provided information that led Darkbow to me, or perhaps Trelvigor was the original target, and somehow this man’s fury was passed on to me.”

  “All possibilities.” Fortisquo shrugged. “But we have to keep our focus on the fact Darkbow’s main target is now you, Belgad.”

  “None of that explains why you think I should have a festival.” The northerner remained unsmiling. “I would think I should have more important things with which to be concerned.”

  “Let’s say you have this party here at your mansion,” Fortisquo said, holding out his hands to the opulence that surrounded them. “It would be an invitation-only affair, of course, but you would invite hundreds, everyone who is someone in Bond. The doors to your home would be open and crowds of people would be coming and going all night with the liquor flowing freely and the food unloaded by the wagon. What do you think would happen?”

  A dull, angered look grew in Belgad’s eyes, but after a moment pondering the sword master’s words, his eyes turned wide.

  Fortisquo grinned. “That’s right. Darkbow would make an appearance. How could he turn down the chance to insult you in your own home?”

  “It would give him the perfect opportunity.” Now Belgad’s lips showed a thin smile.

  Lalo, however, was unconvinced. “The perfect opportunity to try and assassinate you.”

  Belgad waved a hand to brush off his underling. “I am much harder to kill than that.”

  “Yes, you are,” Fortisquo said, lowering his arms to rest in his lap, “but we should still have you guarded well that night. I don’t think he would try to slay you with hundreds of people around. More than likely he would want to humiliate. Though it’s not impossible he might find a place to hide and wait until everyone has gone before trying to confront you.”

  “As insane as it seems, yours is not a bad idea.” Belgad’s grin slowly faded. “But it seems overly complex. I wanted to hire you to kill this man, and now you’ve come up with this idea for a festival.”

  Fortisquo rubbed his hands together as his own grin continued to grow. “This way is much more exciting. Have you no flair for the dramatic?”