---Chapter 9

“What do you seek?” said the man in black.

“A way to escape your gaze,” the frightened traveler replied. --

The Hunt for Honey, a work of fiction credited to Sir Carryon.

In the dooryard I turned to Shyven, “so, where do we look first?”

“Well, I don’t think these masked men belong to any cult or hermitage.” he shook his head, cramming his wide-brimmed hat on tighter when it almost came off. “I’ve heard of the Undertakers of Sin, who claim to bury all sin as if it were dead, but they don’t wear masks or uniforms. In fact, the only change in attire they wear at all times is a black scarf.”

“Our enemies could be the servants or hired killers of a cult,” I suggested.

But Shyven still shook his head. “No, it is more likely that, as we agreed before, they work for someone of nobility. Hired guards or family servants. The trick is to find out: which house? And such details as how many there are, if the queen still lives, if this is even the right place at all...”

“I repeat, where do we start?”

Shyven frowned. “It would probably be better if I went alone for now to ferret out information more casually, you know. You can look around on your own. But Gray One--”

“I know.” I held up a hand. “Be careful. Even if there is no Assassin’s guild. But you be careful too. One man alone is in more danger from attack than a pair.”

“‘A man is never alone with his blade’.” Shyven quoted the famous play of Henry Isinglass and turned jauntily to stride away, throwing over his shoulder when he was almost out of sight. “I’ll be careful, Gray One!”

I shook my head and felt the hilt of my knife. “He’d better be.”

Deciding that I wanted a substantial breakfast before anything else (as we had been on short traveling rations once again the last days) I started off to find an eatery of some sort and get two things done at once. There was always gossip going on in inns and hostels, along with the food being served. I headed down the street which we were staying on, looking left and right at the buildings as I passed them. On one side there was a small, red-brick building shaped like a miniature cathedral, with a huge stained-glass window on the front depicting a snake and a furry creature of some sort locked in a deathly embrace. It made me shudder to look at it. The fear and hate expressed by the creatures was very real, even though they were just figures made of glass shards.

Before the building, there was a low wall made of stone, only about knee-high, with flowers growing on the other side of it. A few men in dark robes with the hoods pulled up strolled across the lawn, tending the garden or going about more mysterious business. I decided that this must be one holding of the cult which the innkeeper had mentioned, the one known for their cloaks.

I hurried past it, as I did not like the feel of the place at all. Beyond, I found a pleasant inn with a wide, comfortable common room and the doors flung open to let anyone enter who wished. I had not wanted to be seen asking too many questions in our own inn, or else I might have stayed there.

This one was a better choice for gossip and breakfast anyway, as there were many customers of all types coming and going, as well as platters of pastries, cheeses, and bacon being served. I dropped into a comfortable chair along one wall and ordered a plate of the same, with a mug of stout to wash it down.

The plump, pretty serving girl hurried away, while I began to take stock of the other diners. Mostly they were comfortably off, hard-working people from the middle class.

A man had brought his family for a surprise breakfast, the children clamouring for their favorite treats while the wife looked anxiously at the bill of fare. At another table, three young ladies, who probably worked as servants in a nobleman’s house, were having a day off. They laughed and made verbal pokes at each other as they ate. Sitting in a dusky corner in the back was a man with a cloak, the hood pulled forward so that his face was hidden in shadows. But I was almost sure, for a moment, that I saw the glimmer of eyes glowing green underneath the cloth.

The maid returned with my platter and mug, setting them down before asking prettily if there was anything else I needed. I gave what I hoped was a casual, charming smile and said, “only a little news, if you don’t mind. Has anything of note happened in town lately? I am a traveler, you see, and a stranger.”

The girl rattled off a few items that would have only been of interest to someone who knew the celebrities of the town, as well as a touch of secondhand politics from the capital of Shardland. She finished by remarking, “they say that the chief of the Assassin’s Guild is on the move in this direction too, sir. I don’t know if I even believe in the Assassin’s Guild, I’ve never met one of their men.” (here a giggle that indicated it might be fun) "Though I hear that they are roguish fellows. But for some reason, a few people of the nobility have become frightened that he is coming for them and hired extra guards. I don’t believe one bit of it, do you?”

“Perhaps...what do they say the name of this chief assassin is?”

My mind instantly went to Melleus, and I wondered if his little band could have caused this big a stir.

“Oh, he’s too mysterious to have a name, sir. He just goes by the title ‘Bladehunt’ and terrifies everyone with it. They say he dresses in clothes ‘as dark as night’ and has a smile like a coiled snake. Silly, isn’t it?”

I gave a noncommital answer before asking, “so, what nobles are scared of him, in particular?”

“Let me see...” The serving girl put a finger to her dimpled chin. “There’s Lord Gomarth, Lady Gomarth, Sir Davidson, Lady Angeline, Miss Timsoi, Lady Onyx--”

But she broke off here because the innkeeper shouted at her to start serving customers and stop spending all her time talking. As she left, she looked back over her shoulder and winked. “That’s about all the nobles I know have been hiring more guards!”

Tapping my fingers on the tabletop, I ate slowly while looking around me. The chief assassin which the girl had mentioned did not sound like Melleus. Someone might have called him a snake, but he did not dress in black. The masked men, now, they wore black. But so did at least two cults in the town, it seemed. And the Ebony Queen herself. It seemed a strange coincidence to me, one that made me feel uneasy. Especially as there was one of those robed men in that very inn, just at the back. What if he was the ‘Bladehunt’ the girl had mentioned?

My eyes turned to find him, but he was gone from his place in the corner. I had just about decided that he was only a cultist looking for lunch when I turned my head back and got a shock. He was sitting in the chair opposite me at my table.

“Looking for something?”

A pair of vivid green orbs glowed at me from under his hood. Even at this short distance, his face was covered in blackness like a deep well. He was dressed in dark clothes from head to heel.

“Just looking.” I gave him a level gaze. “How about you?”

The cloaked man leaned back in his chair, blinking those uncanny eyes slowly, like a sleepy cat. “If I wasn’t, I would soon lose all interest in life and molder away.”

Feeling oddly trapped by his gaze, I shifted in my chair and clenched my hands under the table. He thought that he was playing a game far too deep for me. Well, we would see about that.

“You’re a cultist, I suppose? One who carries a sword at his side?” I could see the faint gleam of the hilt showing under his cloak and the tip of its sheath poking out beside the chair.

“I could be a cultist, with this cloak, couldn’t I?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

I slowly slid my hand to the hilt of my knife. He was brazen enough to admit it, so he was probably dangerous enough not to care what a person knew before he killed them. But he did not reckon on his victims being quite so fierce, I imagined.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, expecting his move either under or over the table at any moment.

He sat up straighter and gave me a long, contemplative look before speaking each word as if it were carefully measured. “Only to tell you two things. First, she will come to you again tonight, for the last time. Secondly, I am not Bladehunt the Assassin, though he is in this town at this very moment.”

After speaking these words, the cloaked man got up and started to walk away. I watched him tensely, still expecting him to whip around and throw a dagger into my chest, or draw his blade for a sweeping blow. Half way to the door he stopped, turning just his head to look over his shoulder. “Oh, and a third bit of advice. You can relax now.”

Then he was gone. For some reason, I found myself relaxing as soon as he said the word. Once he was gone, I felt foolish for it and tensed again, then shook my head and stood up. A crazy cultist, certainly. Though his words had struck oddly close to the truth...

I shook my head again. He had probably just overheard my conversation with the serving girl and been trying to play himself off as a mystical clairvoyant on the strength of it. But who did he mean by ‘she’? Certainly not the serving girl. Anna, perhaps, but somehow I doubted it would be the last time, as I would not give her what she wanted.

After paying my fare and walking out the door, I looked up and down to make sure that I was not being followed. The people going past payed no attention to me, busy about their own work. The cloaked mystic with glowing eyes was nowhere in sight, thankfully. Putting him out of my mind, I started back to the Rose Bud to find Shyven.

---

He returned to the inn about an hour after I had. Shyven was in a high good humor, the light of a hunter close to the kill in his eyes.

“You tell your news first,” he demanded, sweeping into the room we shared. “Then we’ll go on to mine.”

Feeling a little ruffled by his high-handed manner, I looked down at my knuckles. “How do you know I have any?”

He just gave one of his wry smiles, flinging himself into a chair and propping his slim boots up on one bed. “You were out in town, weren’t you? A man from town always has news.”

So I told him about the conversations I had with the serving girl and the cloaked man, drawing special attention to the mention of an assassin being rumored to hunt in this area.

“Did the girl give you any names of the nobility hiring more guards?” Shyven asked.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Yes.” I tried to remember a few of them, though the list had been long. “Miss Timsoi, a lord and lady Gomarth, or something like that, a Lady Onyx and--”

“Onyx?” Shyven interrupted my flow. “Curious. That is the same shade of color as Ebony...Lady Onyx...Ebony Queen.”

“But if she were hiring guards,” I argued, “that would mean she is free. And I thought the Ebony Queen was kidnapped.”

Shyven leaned back further and shut his eyes, deep in his own reflections. His hat shaded his face, giving it a mysterious appearance. After a moment, he blinked and let the legs of the chair slam back to the floor. “Er, what? Oh, yes. But things aren’t always exactly how you suspect them to be. They often shift like colors in a bubble. We shall see. I picked up a lead myself that might bear fruit.”

“Oh?”

With a nod, Shyven stood up. “Yes, but don’t press me now! I still have to get one more proof for me to believe it. I’ve promised to meet a contact, tomorrow morning alone, on the outskirts of town. He should be able to confirm my suspicions. If so, they definitely brought the Ebony Queen to Shadowhill, and I might even know where to.”

I opened my mouth to ask him where, but he waved me away. “Please, wait until tomorrow, my friend. After my meeting with the contact, we will plan what to do with the information. Until then...rest, and dream of grand rewards.”

He began taking off his boots and cape, flinging them under one bed before rolling himself tightly into the blanket on top of it.

I frowned at him. “Shyven, it’s only noon, if that.”

“Rest while you can,” my companion returned, voice muffled by the quilt, “we’ve had some excitement over the past days and lost a lot of sleep. But a dragon might not notice that.”

“You’re just avoiding talking to me. What secrets did you dig up and what plans are you laying?”

“All in good time. Tomorrow...Tomorrow.” His hand emerged from the blanket at one end to wave in the air for a moment, before returning into the angular bundle that he made on the bedsheets. I blew air noisily out between my lips and stood up.

“Alright, sleep if you want. But I’m going to go follow up one of my own leads.”

“Good luck.”

Stepping out into the street again, I set off to find out where a nobleman’s guards might be hired.

---

I found out where the Guard’s Guild was located, but after asking various sectaries and captains inside the hall, I still could not get any information on who was hiring guards or where they lived. It wasn’t that the guild did not have this information. It was simply that they did not want to share it.

“Confidential,” a woman sectary sniffed, putting her palms together as if that shut a door on the subject. It summed up the answer I got from all of them. By the time I was through looking for answers there, it was getting near evening. I felt hungry, tired and angry at the unsuccessfulness of my mission.

On the way out of the guilder’s hall, I saw a man in a green uniform with golden armbands leaning against the wall outside. Realizing that it might be a much simpler approach, I walked up and started a casual conversation with him.

During the course of it, I learned that there had, indeed, been more guards hired lately by the nobility. Yes, rates had gone down a little, but employment had gone up. And guards of the guild did not have to pay many of the yearly taxes put upon a majority of the populace. As to guards that dressed in black? Why yes, there was a noblewoman who kept her security force in black. He fancied the green and gold of Sir Davidson himself, but Lady Onyx’s people wore black uniforms.

As to who Lady Onyx was, or what she did with herself, he was vague. She was a mysterious figure that was supposed to live in the miniature black castle on the hill, the one with the orange-diamond banners. He had never seen her personally and did not know of anyone who had. She always sent servants to town to do her business, never came in person. Onyx did not come to the parties of his master, either, even if there was an open invitation to all the nobility about.

I thanked the guard for his conversation and left him still leaning against the wall. I was filled with excitement about what I had learned. But I also had many questions that were difficult to answer.

I hurried back to our apartments, hoping to confide my new knowledge to Shyven and perhaps press some answers out of him. But when I came in, he was gone and there was a note laying on my bed.

‘Gray One, do not be alarmed. I’ve just received pressing news from my contact and must go meet him immediately to learn what he knows. I should be back by early morning. If not...ask at the Jumping Lords inn for a Mr. Tiles and he will give you the answers once my name is spoken. Good hunting!’

I frowned at the letter, feeling a sense of uneasiness tingle up my spine. Though it appeared genuine, I did not like the letter. Shyven was up to something I did not understand. He was playing a deeper game than me. But why and what its aim was, held only more mysteries for me. I trusted him with my life and even my secret. We had been traveling partners for days and come close to being good friends. But Shyven had a reserve about all that he said and did that made me wonder.

Ill at ease, I paced the room, shaking my head as unwanted thoughts came to me. One after the other, I forced them away, before sitting wearily on the edge of my bed and pulling the Vhoe up onto my lap. The morning would bring all the answers, whether from Shyven himself or his pal Tiles. For now, I would just have to wait and get lost in the wistful strains of the singing Vhoe.

‘Day and night are just a dream,

woven by, hands unseen.

Darkness is, as to light,

Withered fruit, ruby delight.

Yet it calls, across the day

Promising all a clear new way.

Throw the cloak of darkness on,

And in the night, you will be gone...’

I did not actually sing the words, but they came to mind as I played them. Another of the rare songs written in Creel for the instrument. After being given Dee to leave Frizzeen, I had traveled into Creel for a time, looking for something to solace my tormented mind and a place to stay where no one would have heard of me. Hearing a beggar playing the instrument in the streets, I had paid him a Frizzeen man’s silver Tanac coin (worth about half a Lily) in return for lessons. He showed me how it was played, spending days on the street corner positioning my fingers and showing me the strokes used. He taught me a few songs I now knew as well, before I paid him another Tanac for his good mentorship and left to buy an instrument of my own. A few days later, I found what I was looking for. It was owned by an old and masterful wizard, who set me three riddles to be solved before he would even let me buy the Vhoe. One riddle was a trap, designed to find out that I was a Dragonbound, as he had guessed.

I escaped with the Vhoe, just barely, and had not been back to Creel since. But the instrument was always beside me now, ready to carry me away on its tunes.

When I was done with the song, I laid it under the bed with a sigh and prepared for sleep. I did not like staying inside when there was such warm, gentle weather outside. Too many years sleeping on open crags or hidden valleys as a dragon had given me a dislike for roofs over my head all the time. Though with the soft, porous nature of human skin, it was nice to have shelter during storms.

It took some time to get to sleep. When I finally did, I realized that the man with glowing eyes had been correct.

She came to me in my dreams for the last time. The Ebony Queen.

Unlike before, she was on her feet. Her cape was drawn about her, mingling with shadowy skirts which fell to her ankles. One white hand was held out as if to ward me off, while her face held the expression of one who has been deeply betrayed.

In the dream I stood a little way from her in a room made of darkness and bars of pale gray like dawn, forming a vague room with either no entrances or many made of arched shadow. A terrible conviction fell on me that I had brought trouble to her when she had been looking for aid. I tried to step forward, but she retreated, still holding up that one white hand in command. Her eyes were sad now rather than accusing. The fiery crown burnt on her brow like a beacon.

I awoke with a start to the realization that gray morning light was seeping in the window, barring my bed with its pale bands. I sat up quickly, looking over at Shyven’s bed with an unrealistic hope that he would be in it. But even before I saw that it was empty, somehow I knew.

I got up and dressed, belting on my knife and making sure that the Vhoe was tucked safely under the bed out of sight. Then I went out of the door and down the steps, lifting the latch to let myself out. The innkeeper was still in his own quarters, asleep or enjoying breakfast. I was in too much of a hurry to stop for food.

Stepping out onto the street, I found it almost deserted. Only one man dressed in the tunic of the city watch was visible, strolling down the side of it with a short club dangling from his hand. Swallowing my dislike of the breed, I walked up to ask him where I could find the inn called the Jumping Lords. He directed me to a small, ramshackle building on the edge of town, but when I inquired at it for a Mr. Tiles, I was told he was away.

“Are you sure?” I asked the innkeeper. “He was supposed to meet me here this morning.”

The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed, and he rubbed a greasy hand across his bar counter, each knuckle red and glistening in the pale flesh. “You called Gray One?”

I nodded, adding for good measure. “Shyven sent me.”

“Then this is for you. Tiles left it.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a grimy envelope, holding it carelessly out of my reach until I paid him a Tin for it. Outside the inn, I opened the envelope to read, ‘Our friend has gone to the black castle of Lady Onyx.’

That was all. A dizzy feeling struck me as I folded the letter up smaller than it needed to be and stuck it in my vest pocket. He’d gone, alone, to the black castle. Closing my eyes, I thought over all the possibilities and my suspicions became sunk a little deeper into my mind.

A sudden determination took me and I shook the dizziness away. Whatever Shyven’s plan was, there was only one thing for me to do. Go to the dark castle myself.

I turned my feet towards the ridge overlooking the city and started to walk. A cobbled road wound up out of Shadowhill along the edge of the ridge, branching off to each of the miniature castles and mansions. I walked across the country, climbing the hot, weedy slope until I hit the road. It took me directly up to the drive leading into Lady Onyx’s castle. It was lined in flowering bushes, trimmed low and square with yellow flowers growing just inside them. Everything was quiet and still in the morning sun as I walked up to the large gate. It was made of oak banded in iron, with a large brass knocker hanging from it.

I grasped the knocker and slammed it against the plate loudly three times, but there was no answer. After trying it once more, I looked around and noticed a small path leading around the edge of the black stone walls.

This led to a side gate, small and set into the side of the gatekeeper’s house, which was just inside the castle wall. Trying it, I found the door unlocked.

It pushed open easily, letting me into a passage which led both into the gatehouse and out into the courtyard of the castle. No one was in sight down either way.

I followed the path into the graveled yard, which had shady weeping willows growing around a pond on one side and more flowering bushes along the others. Everything was quiet and still throughout the yard, no one in sight. I kept my eyes open for black uniforms along the wall top or moving behind the windows of the mansion house, which sat in the middle of the castle grounds. But none were to be seen.

Tension made my neck ache as I walked slowly out into the courtyard and followed the bushes around the edge to a side-door of the house. When I came to it, the door was already slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I drew my knife and walked up to it.

But when I put my ear to the door, everything was quiet within. Quieter than it should have been in the morning, when they should be making the Lady’s breakfast in the kitchen nearby. At first, nothing at all seemed to be moving or making a sound in the large house. But then I heard a faint, far-off noise down its passages. It was a clattering and ringing like distant silver bells, or the sound of blades meeting in action.

I pushed the door open and hurried inside, finding myself in a hall with doors leading off into the kitchen, scullery, cellar and other such places. I looked in at each of them briefly, but did not see anyone.

The hall took me out into a dining room, where multiple doors led off and a set of stairs went upwards. The sounds of battle somewhere in the house had become louder now, but were strangely confusing in their direction. I tried opening various doors and listening through them, but the noise did not appear to increase behind any of them. I determined to go up the stairs and check the second story in the same way.

Up the richly carpeted stairs was a landing hung with vivid old paintings and windows draped in maroon fabric. I looked in doors there, wandered down halls leading to servant’s quarters and found an art gallery full of more old paintings. But the sounds of battle were still distant and illusive. A feeling of nightmare took hold of me as I ran back down the stairs, dashing through doors and following halls until I was entirely confused. Rich decorations, golden candle holders and draped windows became a blur around me.

Finally, I found a set of steps leading downwards, also carpeted and the banisters decorated with carvings of twining dragons. I stared at them for a minute, my surprise erasing the blur that had surrounded everything a moment before. Dragons?

A clash came to my ears, and I realized that it was coming from below. I jumped down the steps quickly, reaching another hall, this one lit with candles flickering in their holders. Laying half way down it were two uniformed men, stabbed through and fallen into a pool of their own blood. At the end of the hall, a door stood half-way open. The clashing sound came from beyond it, louder than ever.

I walked up to the door and pushed it open, stepping through into a sort of antechamber with three shallow steps leading up to an open entrance. Through it was a room I could only see a small part of, and that dimly lit, fluttering with shadows. The walls were dark, draped in orange and maroon banners. More uniformed bodies lay strewn about the floor, all stabbed to death despite holding weapons in their hands. As I stood staring at them, there was a last swish of a sword and a crumpling thump, accompanied by a ringing clang which that would have been beautiful in any other setting.

Something came rolling towards me and stopped at the top of the steps. It was a decapitated head with dark hair.