“And now you’re here to inform me that you’re going to finalize the contracts for the members working for this… assassin’s guild?” King Borelean inquired knowingly.
“I did have that in mind, Yer Majesty. Ian never got t’ see his little girl, an’ while cowards have their uses, traitors an’ backstabbers are there t’ be disposed of as needed. Given I can’t throw them inta a batch o’ undead an’ watch them be blasted t’ bits with great satisfaction as they fight fer their lives, I thought they’d just disappear on some secret mission an’ never return. Filed away under ‘unknown’ with heavy hearts, I wager, may me mother pray fer their poor souls,” the Lord Mick replied lightly to the question.
Borelean turned that over in his mind. Arresting the wretches and giving them a public trial was the other option, but how long would that take, and where would the proof come from? The files of a bitter woman already missing and also working with the assassins?
“You can do that quietly?” he asked calmly.
“They’ll no more know I was there than yer guards will now, Yer Majesty,” the Lord Mick answered honestly.
“You have my permission, my condolences, and my backing. Know also that they won’t vanish quietly. I’ll have the wordsmiths start putting out word that they betrayed the nation and were working for the assassins. At the very least, they aren’t going to be given a noble legacy, even if it is after the fact.”
“I’ll be right happy to inform them o’ that afore I give them a second smile, Yer Majesty,” the Mick grinned in appreciation. “I do be having one request from ye, tho.”
“And what might that be?” Lord Mick would argue murderously for the support and backing for his scouts, but he had plenty of cash of his own and didn’t need to be paid to do what he did. His salary went to support the survivors of those who died in the line of duty, and he had a quietly large support network below him who thought he was their guardian angel as a result.
And the King supposed he was. Messing with the people Lord Mick put under his protection was a fast way to an early grave, and more than a few troublemakers who’d tested the rep of the old adventurer had learned hard and ugly that not all the older members of that breed had lost their nerve.
“If ye’ve the power to contact Oswald the Green Hunter, now’s the time t’ call in your marker. There’s an active Assassin’s Guild re-establishing itself, it’s recruiting young blood, an’ it’s taking money from all comers, especially the undead factions, an’ even the virindi, Gotrok, and Hea. If it’s not stamped out now, well, soon enough ye’ll only be king because they let ye live, Yer Majesty.”
Borelean sighed. “You’re going to send Oswald out against the new blood. Probably ones trained by one of his fellow throat-cutters.”
“We both know the Green Hunter don’t take no human lives no more, unless they’ve betrayed our kind. It’s time he proved what he believes, an’ if’n that means taking down some old friends whose god is gold, well, he’s earned himself a hard death t’ go with a hard life.”
Borelean couldn’t argue with that. “He’s been looking for a chance to be forgiven in the eyes of my family and the public ever since Nuhmudira used him. Whether or not this is the kind of thing he thought he’d end up fighting for, I’ll leave to you.”
He crossed over to his desk, opened a drawer there, and took out a slender scroll tube from near the back, black, with no markings on it.
“Take this, follow the instructions on it, and he’ll contact you. How long it might take, I do not know.”
The Mick took the scroll tube, still not rising from his knee, and tucked it away in his belt.
“Then with yer leave, Yer Majesty, I’ll be taking mine.” The Mick offered a casually sloppy salute, grinning mischievously at the younger man as he did so, and rose slowly off the ground. A moment later he was flying, flying!, right out the window, and as he was halfway through it, clearly visible in the moonlight, something washed across him and erased him from view completely.
Borelean crossed to the window and looked outside, suddenly marking that all the little noises he hadn’t missed had abruptly come back, as if they’d been isolated in their own little world.
He could see the area before and around the courtyard and grounds quite well in the night, and there was nothing moving out there that was visible at all.
He sucked in a breath.
Flight! Invisibility! The Mick’s new contacts had a pair of terrifying tools at their disposal, and he could only trust in their goodwill for now that they were not going to abuse such power readily.
What it meant for the future, he’d have to deal with when the time came.
------
Less than a half hour later, the three of them touched down at the campsite of the other Scouts. The Mick whistled to alert his students that he was coming, and the trio came down smoothly out of the sky while visible.
“Well, sir?” Rogar asked for all of them, the students waiting and listening.
“There’s three elders in the Scouts who don’t know they be not Scouts no more, by word o’ the King. There’ll be nothing in writing o’ what is going on here, but then, then we’ve a different job.” He unslung his pack from his shoulder and pulled out some thick files that had been stuffed within. “It seems our remit be changing. There be killers for coin out there, taking money from the undead, the Gotrok, the Hea, even the virindi, perhaps even what shades stayed sane. Someone has to go out, hunt them down, an’ kill them all.
“Guess who has been volunteered for that fine an’ patriotic duty?” he asked with a lightness that hid a razor’s edge.
“We’re going to be going up against assassins?” Selena asked, just to be sure.
“Aye. Doubtless trained since they were kids, fanatic believers in the cause, all tied up in secrets an’ ancient traditions an’ mystic philosophy an’ the like. Probably orphans whose parents were killed in the Fall, taken in, an’ brainwashed ever since.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“They’ll likely have Levels on all of ye, equipment given them by the undead beyond what our smiths can make, an’ they’ll be ruthless an’ cruel as they need t’ be t’ get the job done.” His smile was wide. “I be happy t’ inform ye that they also know something of the new magic that the lasses bring with them, an’ that’s the foundation o’ their power. It did surprise the one we found that the Lady Ryin could see right through their invisibility an’ the Princess, well, she could have killed him with her eyes closed, so being Invisible did nae mean too much, poor lad that he were.”
“So, what’s the play, sir?” Rogar asked neutrally, accepting the change and forging on ahead.
“Well, first we’re goin’ ta be doin’ that horrible, stressful, boring, taxing, an’ excruciating task known as thinkin’ an’ readin’, or mayhap just readin’ will be too much, an’ we’ll leave the thinkin’ for later.” He held up the stack of folders, pointed at the tables that had folded down into visible extensions of the Invisible Wagon, and as Lights blinked on there, he added, “Grab some o’ this foul abomination called paperwork from me, an’ get to it, roaches!” he added cheerfully.
------
“Magical Scouts. The Rogue variant, if you recall.”
Kris frowned and sent her mind back to duplicated memories of the game. “Magical Scouts, magical Scouts, Rogues…” she squinted, trying to remember. “Sorry, I’m coming up totally blank. Did anyone ever use the variant?” she asked with a shrug.
“Not really, but it was a way to get spellcasting without high mental reqs.”
“How did it work?” Kris asked reasonably.
“You give up the Sneak Attack damage for the ability to take the full Magical Knack Mastery tree with your Talents. Since Talents are a Class ability, you completely sidestep the Casting reqs, in effect tricking the universe into doing what you want it to. Instead of spells, you learn them as Spell-Like Abilities, SLA’s, just like monsters might have, usable three times a day each.”
“How many do you get?” Kris asked thoughtfully.
“One per Level. Plus you still get Talents, which you can spend on them, and Feats, which you can spend on more Talents. You can’t have more Magical Knacks of a higher Spell Level than you can of a lower one, however, so basically two to three per Level as you advance, cherry-picking your best spells.”
Kris considered the implications of that. “Because it’s a Talent, not research, it’s something they just could have stumbled into, then taught one another. Picking Invisibility, Silence, and similar stealth-related magic would be a no-brainer, while vastly enhancing their stealth capabilities. It’s just a trick making the universe do what you want it to...”
“It’s also an SLA. There are Meta Feats for SLA’s, giving you additional uses per day, making them more powerful, and so forth and so on,” I reminded her.
“They still need to grow powerful enough to use the more powerful spells, and would they even know of what spells they could choose?” she asked archly.
“I don’t know, but Talents being what they are, they will stumble into things based on what they desire. It’s what the Class does, after all.”
“And they give up Sneak Attack damage. Do they lose Cunning entirely?”
“Yes. Magic for Cunning. However, they still get 8 skill Ranks a Class Level, have that big skill list, and the other Class abilities are still in place.” Evasion and uncanny dodge were extraordinarily useful in low-magic combat and survival, too. “They just rely more on luck and magic than pure skill.”
“But a very restricted number of spells, albeit… as SLA’s, they’d require nothing more than an act of will to get off. That could be extremely useful,” Kris nodded slowly, picturing the ramifications.
“The one we captured knew Prestidigitation, Mage Hand, Vanish, True Seeking, Invisibility, and Darkness,” I reviewed. “He knew of others with Dispel Magic, Devilsight, and Oswald the Green Hunter is reputed to know Improved Invisibility.” At least by the description of the effects.
“Yes, that’s quite a combination of spells. Their only limitation is not knowing what they can gain, or how to advance.”
“Mmm. It also means that the Green Hunter has reached at least Seven in a Powered Class,” I pointed out.
It took Kris a moment to realize why I had mentioned that, then she glanced at me alertly. “He’s got the age extension. He probably looks to be under thirty now, just like the Mick.”
“Only disguised by the distinguished white in his beard,” I nodded to her. “People are looking for a man in his sixties or seventies, not a fellow young enough to be his son. They just don’t know it.”
“And… it’s likely the assassins ran into the Ceiling at Six and don’t know it, relying on the Isparian side to bull through, and they just don’t have the right mindset.” She narrowed her eyes. “We’re going to go looking for the mysterious Green Hunter, and run into someone who might look like his son. He could be living on these islands right under the noses of those looking for him somewhere!”
“The contact information the King gave us probably means he’s living close by there under an assumed identity?” I just shrugged.
“The odds he hasn’t continued to develop his powers?” Kris asked rhetorically.
“Slim to none. I imagine he knows Fly, Blink, Dimension Door, Teleport, and a couple other SLAs to give himself an edge. As a result, he’s probably extremely well-traveled over the whole island, as he can get into and out of trouble quite easily.”
“Blink past the Shoreward, Fly while Invisible to the mainland, and then Teleport around to where he’d like to go as he wishes. Given his reputation, I’m assuming his Lived-Line would extend pretty much everywhere, and so he’d have no problem traversing the length of the island to do what he wants to do.” Kris nodded. “A supremely dangerous man, then.”
“Yes. The ultimate agent provocateur in a world where they don’t know what is magically possible any more.” His only limit was not being able to Teleport across the waters, as Teleport was basically a variant form of Earthjumping.
“But not a big surprise to those who know his potential Class abilities, although I’m assuming he’s also a max Level person, a paramount like Lord Mick.”