Chapter 26 – The Feint
Zaphyr and Zull looked around the dimly lit interior of the tailor’s shop, mouths open in astonishment. They had thought that Gerok’s workshop was crowded, but compared to this, his had been practically ascetic. Every inch of wall space and practically every square foot of ground was piled to the ceiling with cloths and clothing of all textures, fabrics, and colors, a veritable mountain which threatened to topple over and bury the twins at any moment. A single glass lantern, perched precariously at the top of one of the larger mounds of fabric, teetered back and forth, and Zaphyr winced, vividly imagining it tipping over and igniting the chamber around her into flames. That brought far too many unpleasant memories back to her mind, which she shoved out of her thoughts as quickly as she could. Can’t dwell on the past, she told herself. I need to stay focused, in the here and now.
As they closed the door behind them, Vard set their bag of supplies that he had been carrying down beside it. Then, he reached up and lightly tapped on the wall. “Hello?” Vard said. “Is anyone there?”
“Hmm?” came a shrill voice, buried deep somewhere in the back of the store. “Who’s there?”
“Customers,” Vard said simply.
There was the sound of frenzied movement from somewhere in the depths of the store, and a man eventually emerged from the claustrophobic pile of wares. At least, the twins assumed he was a man: he was gangly and awkward, all elbows and knees like a scarecrow given life. He moved about with frantic, nervous energy. His clothes were a hodgepodge of various fabrics stitched together at random, and he wore enormous glasses which magnified his eyes until they seemed to take up most of his face.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he said, pausing at last in his frenzied movements to study the three of them. “And what are you here for?”
“We’re here to buy a new set of clothes,” Vard said patiently.
“Well, obviously,” the man said, spinning into a blur of motion once more as he drew out of his clothes’ uncountable pockets a large array of tapes with which he began quickly measuring Vard. “Why else would you come to a tailor? I have just the fabric for you, good Sir. And, fortunately for you, quite a lot of it as well.”
Vard spluttered, pushing the tailor away from him as he did so. “The clothes aren’t for me,” he corrected. Pointing to the twins, he added, “They are for them.”
The tailor considered this, nervously fidgeting with his glasses as he did so. “I see. Hmm. Yes, they do seem to need it, even more than you do.” Spinning around and scurrying away into the depths of his store. “Follow me! We have quite a lot of work ahead of us.”
“That’s for certain,” Vard said, whistling softly to himself as he mopped at his forehead with a handkerchief. The trio hesitantly made their way deeper into the labyrinth of the store, curious to see what awaited them. After navigating their way between the stacks of fabric, they found themselves standing before a small, adjacent chamber. This chamber’s walls were coated entirely with mirrors, reflecting the tailor, who already awaited within, from every possible angle. The combined reflections, bouncing off each other and reflecting still further in an endless, eye-watering cycle, made the tailor appear almost phantasmal, a refracted creature of illusion.
“Come in, come in!” the tailor said irritably, beckoning them into the mirrored chamber. “You don’t have all day. At least, I assume you don’t: most people don’t take the time for selecting clothes that they should.” Once they entered, he stood there thoughtfully, studying the twins from a variety of angles. “So, these are the ones who require my services; siblings, I assume? Regardless, we will begin with the female. May I suggest a silk summer dress, frilled, in blood red? Blood red is the absolute height of fashion this season, as dictated by the Empress herself, and of course with that hair…”
Cutting into the tailor’s mid-speech, Vard said, “We don’t need anything particularly fancy, Sir. Just something serviceable, something that could take a lot of travel, wear and tear, as it were. We don’t particularly care about colors or fashions.” The twins nodded their agreement with that statement, to the tailor’s evident disappointment.
“Oh. Very well,” he said with a shrug and a sigh. “You are the customers, after all. Are you absolutely, positively certain?”
“Yes,” the three of them all said.
The tailor shrugged once more, but before he could say anything further, there was a sharp knocking at the door. The tailor frowned. “Don’t worry, I will just ignore that. One customer at a time, that’s how I do my business. If they are still here after I finish with you, then I will take care of him.” The creaking groan of the door being opened reached their ears, followed by it being slammed loudly, causing the great mounds of fabric to quiver and nearly fall. The tailor let out an exasperated groan. “It appears I will have to make my policy clear in person. Typical: some people just have no patience. Wait here. I will return in a moment.” The tailor scurried away, leaving them standing there awkwardly, surrounded by their own pensive images, looking back at them a thousandfold from every direction.
“I wonder how Sir Kyr and the others are doing right now,” Zaphyr wondered.
“If I had to guess, they’re more comfortable than we are,” Vard said, rubbing at the side of his neck with his right hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a building so crowded. It’s a minor miracle that he-”
Whatever Vard was going to say was cut off by an ear-piercing shriek, coming from the front of the store, followed by a quiet whimpering. The blood drained from Zaphyr and Zull’s faces as they looked at each other, then at Vard.
“Wait here,” Vard said quietly. “I’m going to go see what caused that. If it is what I think it is…”
“We’re going with you,” Zull insisted.
“Do you want to put yourselves in danger? I swore an oath to keep you safe!” Vard snapped.
“And you can’t do that if we become separated,” Zull countered.
Vard fidgeted nervously for a moment, then, with a sigh of defeat, said, “Stay close, and stay quiet.”
Together, the trio crept their way through the store, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The myriad shadows cast across the mountains of clothes made it difficult to see clearly, and the store, which had seemed merely eccentric before, now became ominous as the twins half-expected some kind of madman or killer to jump out from behind one of the towering stacks of fabric at any point. Instead, when they reached the front of the store, they peered around a particularly voluminous pile of green and gray wool to see, standing over the still bleeding body of the tailor, a short, stocky man in dark brown servant robes, a large knife clutched in his hand. He was attempting to clean the blade, wiping the blood off with stiff, methodical movements, as if doing it by memory.
“That’s him,” Zull hissed to Vard. “He’s the one who was spying on us in the marketplace earlier.”
“Then that proves he really was following you,” Vard acknowledged. “And, in turn, that means he is most likely an agent of the Master.”
At that moment, the assassin looked up, stiffly turning as his gaze swept across the room. The trio ducked behind the pile of wool as quickly as they could, but Zull had a sickening feeling in his gut that they had been spotted.
“I know you are there,” the assassin spoke aloud. His voice was rough and hoarse, as if he had only recently been screaming until he nearly lost his voice. “If you come with me, out of the store, then this will be easier for you all.”
“What do we do?” Zaphyr whispered.
“Try to hide, and look for other exits from this abominable store,” Vard said. “If that fails, then we fight.”
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The trio remained where they were, waiting to see if the assassin would act further. Having finished cleaning his knife, the assassin returned it to a scabbard tucked into the folds of his robe, then walked deeper into the store. He collided with a stack of silks, toppling them to the floor, then froze momentarily.
“What in blazes?” Vard muttered, watching the assassin.
“Is he blind?” Zull wondered.
His guess was proven wrong a second later when the assassin, who was facing partially towards where they were hidden, turned fully to face them. Spotting where they were hidden behind the wools, his eyes widened in horror. “Run,” he squeaked out from between clenched lips, before his hand went stiffly to his side, like he was a marionette on strings, and drew his knife once more. He lunged towards the trio, who fled deeper into the store as he slashed and hacked, seemingly at random.
“You’re only making this harder for yourselves,” the assassin grated, his voice even raspier than before. “Come with me, and you don’t have to die.”
“How original,” Vard called tauntingly to the assassin. “I suppose you’re another of the Master’s mercenaries? Here to collect your bounty?”
There was a noticeable pause before the assassin answered, saying, “Naturally. And I have never failed to complete a contract once I take it.”
“Is that so,” Vard said. “Well, I will have you know that you aren’t the first to try to kill the twins. First, there was an idiot named Choler, who could wield swords made of his own blood. He said he was the strongest hemomancer in the world, and I believed him. Then, there was an old lunatic and his army of hemomantic abominations. After fighting them both, we’re still here. What does that tell you?”
Again, there was a pause, then the assassin said, “I knew about Aldus and Choler already, Vard.” A chill ran down the spines of all three as they realized the assassin knew far more than they had originally supposed he had. They continued making their way towards the rear of the store, as the assassin seemed to blindly stumble after them. “If you think this information is supposed to intimidate me, then you failed. Oh, and I know all about Sir Kyr, Vyle, and the others. I didn’t understand at first why you chose to leave Sangue alive, but now I do: she would be dead soon in a matter of days, regardless. This way, the problem disposes of itself, as it were. Quite efficient, a trait I always admire, regardless of who is exhibiting it.”
“How does he know so much about us?” Zaphyr asked, nearly panicked.
“I don’t know,” Vard told her. “But clearly, he’s studied us thoroughly. This isn’t like the previous two.”
“None of this makes sense,” Zull said, brow drawn together in the deepest frown Zaphyr had ever seen on his face. “He hasn’t used any hemomancy yet, and his actions and movements are all delayed, like he…like he…,” He clutched his hands to the side of his head, visibly irritated. “None of this makes sense!”
“We can debate the logic of the situation later,” Vard said. “For now, let’s focus on surviving.”
While the assassin flailed about the store behind them, seemingly unable to hear or see them, they made their way to the very rear of the store, where, to their dismay, as they looked around, they saw no further exits, nothing but more fabric, a table with a sewing kit laid neatly atop it, and the mirrored chamber where the now deceased tailor had done his fittings.
“Trapped,” Vard said, slamming his hand against the wall in frustration. “No way out.”
“Then there’s only one thing to do,” Zull said. “Fight.” He looked to Zaphyr. “How are you feeling? Do you think you could make a blood blade?”
She considered. “Like you said, it’s extremely taxing, drawing all that blood out of my body like that. I can, but I would rather not.”
“We should conserve our strength,” Zull said. “There has to be another solution.”
“Well, I don’t see one,” Vard grumbled. “We’ve got an apparently blind and deaf assassin bumbling about with his knife, likely to skewer one of us entirely by accident, a dead tailor bleeding by the front door, and not a single weapon between the three of us! Why, oh why did I agree to let the two of you come along with me to get supplies…”
“Wait,” Zull said, holding up a hand commandingly. Zaphyr and Vard both looked at him. “The tailor. That’s it!” He turned to Zaphyr, smiling confidently. “We don’t need to use either of our blood! We have the blood of the tailor!”
“Ah, of course!” Zaphyr said.
“Zaphyr, you’re stronger than I am,” Zull said. “Would you do the honors?”
The assassin had finally stumbled over to where the three of them stood, each step he took looking artificial and forced, like a puppet dancing on the end of its strings. Stopping at last before them, his knife clutched tightly in his left hand. The left half of his face drew back into a victorious grin, while the right half remained frozen in a half-panicked expression. “If you won’t comply, then I will have to kill you both,” the assassin said.
“Not so fast,” Zaphyr said, her expression one of studious concentration, hands clenched at her sides. The blood that had pooled on the floor beside the tailor, dripping from his slit throat, began quivering, before rising up in the air. It floated there, forming into a loose, needle-like shape. Zaphyr gestured with a flick of her fingers, and it flew through the air towards them. The blood needle narrowly missed the side of the assassin’s neck, striking the wall besides him with a wet splatting sound. The assassin jerkily turned to look at the splattered blood, eyes widening in shock.
“You missed!” Zull complained.
“I’m still getting used to this!” Zaphyr protested. “Gerok never trained us for anything like fighting with weapons of blood!”
Ignoring them both, Vard took advantage of the assassin’s distraction to barrel towards him, colliding with the significantly shorter and smaller man with all the force he could muster. It was enough to knock the assassin onto his back, eyes wide and apparently dazed. The knife fell from his fingers with a clatter as he stared up at them, breathing heavily.
“Surrender, and promise to leave the twins alone, forever, and you can walk away from here, alive,” Vard said.
The assassin looked up at him, blinking rapidly, before whispering, so softly that Vard wondered if he hadn’t even said it at all, “Kill me.”
Vard stared down at him in amazement. “What did you say?”
The assassin suddenly rolled over, snatching his knife before spinning back, moving far more rapidly and smoothly than he had before. In a flash he had grabbed Vard by his collar with one hand while stabbing wildly at his face with the other. The assassin’s poor aim kept any of the blows from landing, though one came dangerously close to Vard’s left eye, missing it by a matter of inches. Vard shoved the assassin, who stumbled away from him. The assassin’s expression had gone eerily blank, as if no mind or soul dwelled within his body whatsoever. He lunged towards Vard, who twisted to the side as the assassin, carried by his own momentum, tumbled past him and into the open door of the mirror chamber. Once in there, he spun in circles, confused by the spinning kaleidoscope of images around him.
Before he had a chance to reorient himself and escape, Zaphyr and Zull slammed the door to the mirror chamber shut, leaning against it with all their weight, a task Vard soon aided them in. They felt the assassin slamming against the door from within, trying to break free, but they managed to hold the door firm, despite his best efforts. After a short while, his efforts ceased, and there was silence from within the mirror chamber. Then, there came another shriek, eerily like the one that the tailor had let out before dying, then the crashing boom of something falling to the floor.
Zaphyr raised a hand to cover her mouth in horror. “Did he…”
“It could be a trap,” Zull cautioned. But, after several agonizing minutes of further silence, Zull agreed to let the door be opened so they could see for themselves.
Inside, the trio saw to their horror the body of the assassin outstretched before them on the ground, his knife buried in his heart.
“How horrible,” Zaphyr said.
“I still don’t understand,” Zull said, staring blankly at the body before them. “There’s something here, something that I’m missing. He never even used any hemomancy.”
“I’d take your blessings when they arrive, lad,” Vard said, patting Zull softly on the back as he did so. “Perhaps he was simply an exceptionally incompetent example of an assassin, and simply took the contract for a chance at what he thought was easy money. At least we can put this behind us now.” He walked over to the piles of clothes, commenting, “Since the tailor is dead, he won’t missing any of these. We will have our pick of the lot.”
“How can you be so calm about all of this?” Zaphyr asked. “A man just killed himself, practically in front of us!”
Vard didn’t bother looking up as he searched through the piles of clothes. “After everything I’ve seen and all that I have had to take part in to protect the two of you for the past few weeks, Zaphyr, this doesn’t even begin to concern me. Maybe that, in and of itself, should be a cause for concern, but for now, my focus is entirely elsewhere.” He turned away from the pile, holding a pair of light red robes, made from wool. “Here: these look like they should fit the two of you. Put them on, then let’s get going. I don’t want to take any longer to get back to the others than we must.”
“Very well,” Zaphyr said. She and Zull caught the clothes as Vard tossed them to him. “Here, Zull, help me drag this poor man’s body outside the chamber, and then we can each use it to change. I’ll go first.”
“Sounds good,” Zull said.
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Outside the tailor store and across the street there was a particularly bland looking young man, with features nearly totally unremarkable in every way, who stared at the tailor store with an expression of studious concentration. His left eye twitched ever so slightly, and his posture relaxed somewhat.
“Bother,” he said aloud to no one in particular. He killed himself. I suppose I should have predicted that and kept much tighter control over him. Ah, but that would have required going in myself, and that would in turn have risked exposing my identity. I could have revealed my hand too early. It’s better this way. He was a disposable asset regardless. The feint has been spent, the trap sprung. A few minutes later, the tailor store’s door opened, and out of it stepped a noticeably shaken looking Vard, carrying his retrieved back of supplies, along with the twins, now wearing light red robes which matched their brilliant red hair perfectly. They walked down the street, never even sparing a glance in his direction. He waited until they left, never stirring from his slouched position on the wall, though his gaze followed them, practically drilling a hole into their back. Time for me to take the next step.