Knoxx actually managed a few hours of sleep that night, but awoke to greet Eighth-day with the dawn. His buzzing mind quickly overshadowed any lingering fatigue in his body as he got dressed, plotting out his movements of the day. He expected it to be an informative one, so long as he survived it.
The previous day had, more or less, altered his entire life. He wasn’t happy about it, but neither could he ignore its revealed truths, especially not after Devlin had explained exactly what was happening here in Aralexia. Turning his back on the matter was no longer an option, and he would have to find a way to make Flynn understand this—although with Aris Sylvain now mired in the affair, he suspected the task might not be as difficult as he was dreading. But speaking with Flynn would have to wait, for he first had much more pressing matters to see to.
Knoxx left his room, headed down the stairs, and exited The Dancing Damsel. The street beyond was brightening, but still holding to a few early-morning shadows. Few citizens were yet up and about, apart from the street vendors now bustling to open their carts and shops for the day. Knoxx bought a handful of strawberries from one and snacked on his meager breakfast as he headed west, enjoying the early morning quiet as it allowed him to think. Another hour or so and that quiet would be obliterated in the crowds making their way to the arena for the opening duel of the day; an event Knoxx had every intention of attending just as soon as he took care of the first task his brother had asked him to see to this day.
Two blocks from his destination, he finished his strawberries and then ducked into an alley, where he promptly faded from sight. This was most likely an unnecessary precaution, but one Devlin had advocated, citing any misstep at this point would most likely prove fatal to the both of them. Knoxx hadn’t argued.
He swept back onto the street, now completely undetectable to the eye, and resumed his route. It led him to a small bookshop where his brother conducted much of his business, a location Devlin was still hoping Cadien Stavrakos knew nothing about but one he would now avoid until he’d determined this for certain.
Knoxx let himself into the shop and looked about. There was a man reorganizing a shelf at the far wall, now paused with a book in his hand as he glanced about. Having no doubt heard the bell announcing the mage’s entrance, his confusion was no mystery, but after a moment he simply returned to his organizing. Knoxx presumed this to mean his brother had either warned the shopkeeper to expect such occurrences, or the man had simply grown so used to inexplicable circumstances while acting as Devlin’s spy that he no longer bothered to question them.
In any case, Knoxx paid him no more mind as he made his way behind the counter and through the door leading into a secret room. Within, there was only a small table with three chairs scattered about it, a lit oil lamp to give a fair amount of illumination, and shelves lined with bottles and glasses. Deciding it was somewhat too early for any of the types of beverages offered there, Knoxx settled himself into one of the chairs and reappeared.
The man Devlin met with here every morning at the hour of Sixth arrived promptly about ten minutes later. He was tall, black-haired, a native of Jennen, and wearing a frown as he stepped through the door and took in Knoxx.
“Who are you?” Callan Ashe snapped.
“My name is Knoxx and I’m here on behalf of the jester. For the time being, all communication will be going through me.”
The assassin sneered. “I don’t deal with middle-men.”
“You will if you want your three hundred gold,” Knoxx replied. “Now have a seat. None of us are happy with the arrangement, but there are reasons for our caution.” His words were issued without the slightest hint of uncertainty, but he was actually quite terrified of igniting the temper of an assassin of Ashe’s reputation. Although known only in certain circles, his was a name that tended to be thought of synonymously with Death.
Ashe appeared unperturbed by the command, however, dropping himself into the chair across from the mage and grinning faintly as he openly observed Knoxx’s Birth and Choice medallions.
“Out of respect for my gold, I will play along. But should you even think about disappearing with my earnings, thief, trust that I’ll hunt you down and give your throat a smile the likes of which you’ve never seen.”
Knoxx swallowed delicately, silently cursed his brother, and then forced himself to look back at Ashe unwaveringly. “Fair enough,” he said, then hurried on. “Now, I am aware that you have so far eliminated two men hired to kill the warlord Baiel Maves. Can you yet confirm both were hired by Cadien Stavrakos?”
“Of course not,” Ashe replied. “We don’t gossip about our jobs, and I didn’t bother questioning them before I killed them. That was not a part of my contract.”
Knoxx paused. Devlin had warned him to expect such an answer, but had wanted him to ask anyway.
“Are you suspected among your fellow assassins?” he questioned next.
“Certainly not,” Ashe told him. “No bodies have been discovered, so none have any reason to believe they’re even dead, much less killed by one of their own.”
His brother considered Callan Ashe a very valuable resource, not only because he was proficient and immoral enough to hunt his own kind, but because he knew how to disguise his crimes by disposing of his marks by leaving no trace of them. In short, the assassin was worth every piece of gold his outrageous prices demanded, and the jester needed to ensure he stayed on his side of Aralexia’s conspiracies.
“Does the name Aris Sylvain mean anything to you?” Knoxx asked next.
“No,” Ashe said.
Knoxx again took a moment to think. Not wanting to pull Ashe from his detail of guarding Maves, Devlin had hired another to take care of the problem that was Sylvain. This assassin had turned up dead yesterday afternoon, fished out of a drainage pipe with multiple knife wounds in his back. Knoxx had warned Sylvain would be hard to get to, even harder to kill, and the proof of this had now surfaced in the form of a punctured and bloated body. Not wanting to risk Ashe, at least not until he saw Maves alive throughout the duration of the week, Devlin was pulling his efforts from Sylvain until he could work out a more refined plan. This was terrible timing, as both brothers were more or less convinced that Sylvain and Stavrakos were behind the theft of the list of combatants, although the desired result of this scheme still remained largely undetermined. They were expecting today’s designated fighters to provide further clarity.
“Do you have plans to leave Aralexia once the Challenge has concluded?” Knoxx next questioned.
Apparently Ashe’s Secondary of Commerce had given him a scent for coin, for his look turned interested. “I could be persuaded to stay, under the right circumstances,” he replied.
Knoxx took ahold of the leather pouch affixed to his belt and tossed it onto the table. “Consider this a retainer. Keep to protecting Maves for now, but once this week is through there will be further work for you. Acceptance of this implies you will take no jobs but for those negotiated with the jester—or myself, if he still deems it unsafe to meet with you personally.”
Ashe was now giving the contents of the pouch a close inspection, appearing pleased by what he saw.
“Also,” Knoxx added, watching him carefully, “you are to report on any others attempting to solicit your services. We will want not only their names, but the names of their marks, if possible.”
Ashe had by now pocketed the pouch, and he lounged back in his seat while taking Knoxx in with narrow-eyed calculation as well as a crooked grin. “Are you aiming to begin a revolution, boy? Because I’ve started a couple, and for someone in the jester’s position, this is exactly how one goes about it.”
At twenty-five, and likely only a few years younger than Ashe himself, Knoxx didn’t appreciate being referred to as “boy”, but he let the comment slide on account of the rest of Ashe’s statement. So far as he knew, an actual revolution was not in Devlin’s plans, but it was difficult to discount the assassin’s experience in
this matter. Particularly when one knew Devlin never explained himself any further than what he deemed absolutely necessary. Knoxx suddenly found himself questioning his brother’s motives.
Ashe was continuing to eye him.
Frustrated, Knoxx next came to the silent conclusion that if he began to doubt Devlin in this one area, he would have to start doubting him in all. Consequently, he decided to hold to blind faith as far as all matters involving his brother were concerned. He would be of no use to anyone otherwise.
“You’re being paid to kill, not to ponder our motives,” Knoxx finally responded, his tone clipped. “I would suggest leaving us to our own objectives while keeping to yours.”
He then became incredibly unnerved as the silence following this stretched, with Ashe staring at him unblinkingly all the while. Deciding he’d pushed the assassin too far, Knoxx was just preparing to vanish himself and make a dash for the door when Ashe finally looked away and got to his feet.
“Until tomorrow then,” he said, turning to leave the room.
Knoxx waited until the door had closed behind him before exhaling deeply with relief. He had very little experience dealing with killers, and found he’d not enjoyed it in the slightest—and how very lucky for him, he was now required to see Ashe every morning for the remainder of the week. A part of the royal council or not, the mage did not envy his brother’s life here in Aralexia.
He stood and faded himself from sight, aiming to leave this safe house of Devlin’s as anonymously as he’d entered it. The jaded shop owner gave no reaction to the opening and closing of doors that saw Knoxx from the back room and then out onto the street, which was now buzzing in the early-morning anticipation of the day’s first match. Knoxx headed for the arena, keeping an eye out for any leaflets announcing the days’ fighters.
Still invisible, he reached the marketplace outside the forum and jostled his way recklessly through the crowds, finding it unlikely anyone would take notice of feeling him within such a press. His feet were stepped on a number of times, but he managed to make his way to a crier without receiving or inflicting any serious damage. Several Justice officers were now handing the stack of leaflets to the crier, who began distributing them to the hundreds of eager hands now trying to get a hold of one.
Knoxx pulled one from a woman’s hand and vanished it, then backed himself away from the bulk of the crowd. He was rather hesitant to examine the leaflet’s contents and therefore spent a few moments just standing there against the forum’s outer wall, trying to conquer his feelings of dread. The reaction could be explained by what his brother had instructed him to do should Taleb’s, Nathon’s, or Prince Luken’s name appear on the days’ list. Who they would be dueling would also be a factor, and warrant further instruction.
But should any of those three be called on to take the field today, it had been Devlin’s thought for Knoxx, disguised in invisibility, to take it with them. With carefully-timed tripping and shoving, it was his brother’s idea that he could secretly aid those they needed to keep alive.
Knoxx had agreed to the likely effectiveness of the plan, but the prospect of putting himself in the close proximity of two dueling swordsmen was not one he was looking forward to. Unfortunately, neither he nor Devlin had been capable of formulating a different option, or at least not one that afforded even a slim chance of success. Which was why he was now cowered against a wall, fearful of looking at the piece of parchment clutched in his hand and wondering how he’d ever gotten himself into this position.
The responsibility was not one he—or, most likely, anyone—was used to, and it rankled. If Prince Luken was killed, all manner of disaster would likely follow. If Taleb or Nathon died, depending upon which of the two was the man Devlin sought, all of Dhanen’Mar would be at risk. That said, Knoxx knew he had no choice but to do what had been requested of him, regardless of the danger to himself. Sighing, he finally turned his attention to the leaflet, lifting it in his hand while withdrawing the sliver of Magic he’d used to vanish it.
The parchment reappeared, the black letters printed upon it leaping into sight. Immediately, Knoxx saw that he was in for a most unpleasant day.
Taleb’s name was the first recorded, followed by that of the Justice officer he would very soon be facing.
Then would come a knight, battling the Jennite Rydin Kale. Knoxx was relieved he at least wouldn’t have to get near to Kale, figuring such a move would likely be deadly whether the other man could actually see him or not.
The third pairing, to occur at Ninth-hour, would be between Nathon Wythe and Beynon Ansell, another Jennite who had happily slaughtered his opponent, a Justice officer, during his first round duel.
The day would then have rounded out as being the worst of Knoxx’s life had Prince Luken been slated in the fourth and final duel of the day, but thankfully, this proved not to be the case. Instead, this fight would see the warlord Baiel Maves versus Kem Maida, the lastborn prince of the desert country of Navosa.
Knoxx’s first thought, after taking all of this in, was that he would have to risk himself upon the field twice this day. His second, which he found strange, was a fleeting realization that no matter how frantic Oliveah Oslund had appeared to him yesterday, she was likely in a much worse condition today. Lastly, it came to him that this list, much like the one of the day before, did little to discern the motivations of those who’d concocted it. Or at least not as far as he could tell.
He let fall the leaflet, which was quickly caught up in the slight wind and carried back into the masses, and then started into the arena. To avoid the annoyance of the crowd his steps carried him right out onto the field, where he proceeded to close in upon the seating of the royal council. Its seven members were themselves passing about one of the leaflets, and Knoxx figured that by this time, his brother was aware of the days’ perplexing circumstances.
Remaining upon the field, he halted about twenty or so paces from those he regarded and turned to face them. King DeSiva, he saw, was speaking to the captain of his knights while gesturing emphatically. The knight’s face remained impassive as he listened to what was most likely his liege’s inane ravings. The commander of the Legion, Valerio Catala, sat to the knight’s other side, and Knoxx took this opportunity to scrutinize him interestedly, for there was something he knew of this man few others did.
Pulling his gaze away after only a moment, the mage then went on to take in his brother and Dusan Galaz. Knoxx glared at the seneschal, silently blaming him for this entire affair that he, and many others, were now deeply mired in and risking their lives for. It was not at all a fair judgment, but Knoxx did it all the same because glaring at the king, even while invisible, wasn’t something he’d been able to bring himself to do.
Devlin and the seneschal appeared to be exchanging a light-hearted chatter, proving themselves to be the excellent actors that they were, for it was doubtful either would be feeling anything near to light-hearted this day. Actually, the only relief would be found in the final duel, when the warlord Baiel Maves would, without question, safely oust Prince Kem Maida from the games and therefore avert any possibility of war breaking out between Dhanen’Mar and its neighboring country of Navosa. For had Kem been killed during the Challenge, this scenario had been a likely one.
Knoxx finally took in Cadien Stavrakos, who was sitting silently but surveying the field before him with an unmistakable glint of triumph in his eyes. Watching him, Knoxx rapidly wondered if his brother could somehow find a way to explain away the matter if he were to suddenly begin strangling Stavrakos. Finally he decided it was unlikely and wrenched his eyes away from the treasurer, willing the desire to pass.
Knoxx waited. While it was true there were dozens of subtle ways he could now alert Devlin to his presence, it was no secret the royal jester’s brother happened to be a mage gifted with the power of invisibility; and because of this, they had decided to play this as cautiously as possible. They’d determined the
presence of the bell-ringer to act as their signal, at which time Devlin could be certain his brother was in position and awaiting his direction.
Knoxx was finding the wait interminable, although in all likelihood he stood there for only a few minutes. At last seeing the bell-ringer striding toward center field to call the first duelists forth, he looked back to his brother. If Devlin were to tap his left foot, Knoxx would know Taleb had drawn a formidable opponent and that he needed to aid him. If Devlin was to tap his right thumb upon his arm rest, however, Knoxx could presume his brother didn’t foresee Taleb being under any serious threat and that he was going to win the fight with or without Knoxx’s help. Knoxx assumed his brother would be making these predictions based upon the first round performances, as well as on any other information he’d managed to glean about each of the contestants.
Needless to say, Knoxx was desperately hoping to see his brother’s thumb tap rather than his foot, and when it happened he experienced a moment of sheer relief. Evidently Devlin was not concerned over the outcome of this fight, meaning Taleb wasn’t going to have any trouble defeating his foe. Knoxx further realized this shouldn’t be surprising, for his brother was almost positive Taleb was the man he was seeking, and if so, he certainly shouldn’t be in need of anyone’s help when it came to the matter of combat. On the other hand, the man had spent most of his life guarding a vineyard, instead of in training for what Dhanen’Mar would need of him when the time came. Clearly, Devlin feared Taleb’s skills had not yet been honed to what they should be, and that his death in the competition was still a possibility if faced with certain opponents.
Happily, though, it didn’t appear this Justice officer fell into the category of being a threat. Almost euphoric, Knoxx began stepping to remove himself from the immediate area, only to pause when he realized he now had the opportunity to discover the truth of a matter he’d pondered over many a time. He had always been curious to know if any trash talk went on between the combatants when they faced each other. Figuring he could easily back away to safety before the steel began swinging, he decided to investigate the matter as he now had the perfect chance, and moved to stand near to the bell-ringer. This man was just now gonging his piece, calling Taleb and the officer to the field.
Taleb moved in from the far side, where the mage could see Nathon, Oliveah, and the diviner standing. He felt a quick pang of guilt for not telling the two women the night before about his and Devlin’s plan to help the men out on the field if need be, but the very thought of them knowing he was there had for some reason made him even more nervous, and so he’d said nothing.
He took a few steps back as Taleb and the officer, a young man of about his own age, assembled before the bell-ringer. Knoxx then received an answer to his years-long pondering when the officer, who’d apparently been watching his opponent upon the sidelines, made a decidedly ungentlemanly comment about Oliveah.
Taleb’s reply was a short remark vowing death.
“I had hoped for an excuse to kill you,” he said. “I thank you for providing it.”
The bell-ringer’s expression remained unchanged, implying he’d probably been hearing the likes of this for years, but Knoxx was not so conditioned. Back-stepping swiftly to get himself clear of the imminent violence, he turned and made way for the sidelines. He reached them and was just looking back when the second gong commencing the duel rang out.
It quickly became evident, even to Knoxx who was no swordsman, that Devlin’s estimation of this fight had been perfectly sound. Certainly, Taleb was in no danger of dying here today, and was instead finding a great and obvious amusement in toying with the officer who had been unwise enough to piss him off directly before their fight.
Every offensive the officer made Taleb blocked with seeming ease, smoothly following up with strikes that could have all proved fatal but were instead merely humiliating to the one scrambling to counter them. As the officer’s frustration grew, his swings became more and more wild, and Taleb took full advantage of this by twice tripping him up and then playing to the crowd while waiting for the man to get back to his feet.
The audience was enjoying the show immensely, as they often did when the law-keepers got their asses publicly handed to them. Knoxx might actually have been amused himself was he not suddenly recalling the fact that he himself had once, and not long ago, been the target of Taleb Okin’s focus, a circumstance that would’ve most certainly produced dreadful results had Oliveah and Flynn not worked through the problem. Knoxx further realized he likely owed Oliveah his life for this effort—a debt he would deem repaid in full should his brother signal for him to take the field alongside Nathon in two hours’ time.
Taleb’s antics, Knoxx observed next as he glanced away to the seating of the royal council, were not gaining him any appreciation from the Legion Commander, Valerio Catala. Captain Poage also appeared most unimpressed, likely sharing a sympathy with Commander Catala after experiencing a similar embarrassment when one of his knights was utterly annihilated by the warlord in the first round.
The king seemed to be finding the exchange now happening on the field extremely entertaining, laughing along with the crowd as Taleb continued making a fool out of the officer. Next to the king, Prince Luken plainly didn’t know what to think, and was even more plainly attempting to control his features lest they display something inappropriate—a rather ridiculous fear, given his father’s own unrestrained enthusiasm.
The expressions worn by Devlin, Seneschal Galaz, and Cadien Stavrakos were utterly, eerily, identical. None were showing even the slightest hint of their inner thoughts, their three pairs of eyes devoid of any emotion as they watched the event playing out on the field before them.
Turning back to the fight, the mage saw Taleb now had the man flat on his back on the ground, the officer’s sword laying in the grass several paces from his hand. Despite his vow of earlier, Knoxx was now wondering if it was truly Taleb’s intention to finish this duel by dealing a death strike.
Taleb appeared to be wondering the same thing, for he was now paused over the officer with the tip of his sword leveled at the man’s throat. The jocularity of the crowd had fallen into a rapid hush, as all waited to see how he would choose to end this. Knoxx glanced again to his brother, knowing Devlin would find the resolution of this quite telling, despite whatever end Taleb chose. Of course, Devlin’s expression continued to remain unchanged and unreadable.
Knoxx watched as Taleb now appeared to be speaking to the Justice officer. He was extremely tempted to creep up so that he could overhear the words they were now exchanging, but didn’t quite dare while Taleb still had a grip on his sword.
The conversation was brief and concluded when Taleb stepped back and upended his weapon. The majority of the crowd cheered his honorable and bloodless victory, others hissing their disappointment. Knoxx found himself exhaling deeply with relief. It would have made it substantially more difficult to continue risking his life for this man had he just proven himself an unconscionable killer.
Seeing his brother now coming forward to declare Taleb the victor, Knoxx moved in to eavesdrop, curious to see if Devlin would attempt any sort of dialogue with this man he was all but moving mountains to protect.
As the officer dragged himself to his feet and slunk off in shame, Taleb watched the jester’s approach.
“I was hoping for more of a challenge, now we’ve moved on to the second round,” he said flatly to Devlin. “If you recall, I at least had the excitement of madness to amuse me in the first.”
Knoxx watched his brother regard the man mildly as he drew to a stop before him. “If the arrogance of this year’s participants isn’t completely astonishing,” he drawled with a slow shake of his head. “The warlord expressed much the same sentiments.”
“Perhaps you should pair me with him in the next round, then,” Taleb told him.
Setting Taleb against the warlord, Knoxx knew, was precisely what would have occurre
d during this round had Sylvain not somehow managed to filch Devlin’s carefully-constructed list. This, however, was not the reason Devlin was now frowning at Taleb.
“The pairings are drawn randomly, Master Okin,” he said lightly. “I’m afraid your fate therefore lies in the hands of chance.”
Taleb snorted. “I hope you realize no one actually believes that,” he retorted. “Especially not after the prince’s fight. And I do use the term “fight” loosely,” he told the jester.
Knoxx winced. Setting aside the fact that apparently the entire populace knew they were being shammed, a conclusion that had become rather evident once Prince Luken had taken the field, Taleb obviously had no idea the dangers of spouting off about such things to the wrong people in Aralexia. Had any other members of the royal council been near enough to overhear his words—with the assured exception of Seneschal Galaz, of course—Taleb would probably be charged, at the very, very least, with rumor-mongering. Suffice it to say, this attitude of his could potentially become a very serious problem.
Devlin was no doubt thinking something similar, but he apparently decided to ignore the entire exchange, for reasons known only to himself. He grabbed a hold of Taleb’s arm and hefted it in the air to officially declare him the victor of the match.
Knoxx turned and started off the field, planning to reappear and rest himself for the next couple of hours. He wanted to ensure he’d be ready should his brother direct him onto the field with Nathon.
Chapter 37