Allana sighed, bowing her head against the crenellation in front of her. Being an assassin, she had learned, was a lot more sitting around and waiting than action or killing.
“The four P’s,” she muttered to herself, mocking Geoffrey despite his absence. “Patience, preparation, perception and fucking pissed off.”
Even in her frustration, she kept her voice to a whisper, pitched such that it would barely carry a few feet–certainly, it wouldn’t make it off the tiled rooftop she was perched on, maintaining her solitary watch.
For two weeks now, she and Geoffrey had worked in shifts to watch the workshop of the chandler he had taken a contract on the month before. Algus Heggen, of Heggen’s Fine Luminaries. A withered old husk of a candlemaker who, as far as she could tell, was guilty of little besides being a sour cuss that even most of the area’s criminals didn’t want to deal with.
His shop never did brisk business, but apparently either those he did sell to bought in bulk, or his stock was exorbitantly expensive. Despite his apparent shortage of customers, he had successfully fended off the financial pressure of a few of the local, short-lived loan sharks who cropped up in any neighborhood that had independent businesses to prey on. Though Geoffrey kept all of his contracts blind, with no direct contact with those who purchased his services, Allana suspected that it was one of those same moneylenders who had sicced the assassin on the old man.
She didn’t like to think about that side of things very often. Geoffrey’s skill, wealth, and class all gave the impression of being above such petty squabbles, but his career choice still meant that he was hired to settle grudges more than anything else. Allana didn’t want to live that way.
It was one of the many inconsistencies she had noted in her time working with the professional assassin. Geoffrey seemed intelligent and even kind in his own way, but at the end of the day, he was still a weapon in the shadowy battlefields of Lowrun’s cutthroat politics. An expensive weapon, but a weapon all the same.
But still… he did manage to keep himself out of the worst kinds of work, and he had the luxury of being selective in his contracts.
More of his time was spent hunting outsiders and other monsters than killing, or even preparing to kill, people. At some point, despite Geoffrey never saying so, Allana had intuited that someone was funding that activity, even if she didn’t know who. It was hard to imagine the wardens or the Golden Council paying Geoffrey to kill some dire vermin that would only harm the people living in Lowrun. Rogue knew the Powers-That-Be in Highwalk never showed much care for the slum-dwellers otherwise.
And there was his pursuit of Telik. There was no way anyone else in Lowrun had the money to purchase a contract on the slumlord. Sure, some of the richer merchants, like those that sat on the Golden Council, might be able to afford it, but they wouldn’t dare. Allana knew personally that a significant part of Telik’s business came from acting as a middleman between thieves, brigands, and murderers, fencing their ill-gotten goods to legitimate merchants to sell–at a steep percentage, of course. Telik’s role was too crucial for the Golden Council to purchase his death out of hand.
Nevertheless, Geoffrey pursued his investigation of Telik’s defenses diligently. Rogue only knew how many plans the wily assassin had concocted to kill Allana’s former patron, only to discard each in turn. She just didn’t understand. Clearly she was missing something about Geoffrey and how he operated. She could only hope that, eventually, he would let her in on his secrets in their entirety.
Instead, she turned her mind back to Algus Heggen, the chandler. An innocuous enough man, he seemed an odd contract for Geoffrey to take. So Allana had been whiling away her hours on watch duty trying to puzzle out exactly what made the old man worth killing. It helped to pass the time on her long shifts, cloaked by her gift of stealth on the rooftop across from his shop. At the very least, the roof in question belonged to a successful cooper, and consisted of smooth tile punctuated by elaborate crenulations. Decorations like that made hiding simple with her abilities.
[Obscuring Veil] - Active, Illusion - Manifest an illusion that partially masks you from conventional senses. Veil is most effective in darkness or other obscuring conditions. Minor focus cost recurs as long as the veil is active.
“So, option one,” Allana reiterated to herself, “he stood up to the wrong man, so now he gets to die.” Speaking out loud helped her think–though she still kept her voice to the barest whisper. “But that sucks. And moneylenders live about as long as rats. Half the men who tried to lean on Algus are dead now. It doesn’t make sense for any of them to be able to buy a contract on some guy who stood up to them. They’d be more likely to just send some bruisers around to teach him a lesson.”
“Option two then…” She’d been chewing on option two for several days now, since she dismissed option one a few days in. “With how few customers he has, he must have some sort of wealthy benefactor. Maybe he has a standing order with a couple of the goldshits up in Highreach, to provide with all the candles they need to light their mansions, or whatever. One of them might have the money to buy a contract from Geoffrey.”
Of course, that brought her back to the real problem with that idea. “Why would a merchant kill some chandler? Especially if they have an ongoing trade deal.” Allana pursed her lips as she came up short again. Sure, she could imagine a hundred long, drawn out hypotheticals that could lead to a wealthy merchant killing a random craftsman, but it took a few too many logical leaps for her to feel good about that guess.
“Unless…” Allana’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she stared down at the storefront below. It was past dark already, and though Algus’s shop was open, his curtains were drawn, admitting only a small bit of flickering light from inside. She could imagine the old man going about his work, making new candles, tidying the place up, and remaining busy in the hopes that his late hours might lure in one more customer, maybe one who went to light their candles in the evening and found one burnt out… but that didn’t hang quite right on Algus.
Even if the tiny market district that housed the candle shop was far from the worst neighborhood in Lowrun, the streets were quiet after dark. The only people still out were moving about quickly, eyes downcast as they hurried about whatever nighttime errand required them to risk themselves on the dangerous streets of the city. There was no chance someone would risk the nighttime streets for just a candle, and it was all too likely the wrong type of person would find their way into the shop instead, safe in the knowledge that commotion would draw little attention in the darkness.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
In fact, Allana admitted to herself, that was how she’d go about this contract if it was up to her. Wait until it was late, stride into the storefront, pretend she was looking to buy until she got the chance to sink a blade into him, then bolt. Easy as sin. But Geoffrey didn’t do that. He insisted on watching and studying the old chandler instead, as if there was some information to be gained from how Algus ran his business.
Finally, it clicked.
“Option three…” Allana whispered to herself, her lip stretching in a grin. “Algus Heggen isn’t a chandler, or at least not just a chandler. He’s involved in some other trade, something illicit enough that he needs to hide behind a front like this candle shop. That’s why he stays open with no customers. That’s how he ended up getting a hit put out on him, and that’s why he stays open this late. But what is it exactly?” There weren’t many trades that were truly illegal in Lowrun. Allana knew of a dozen drug dens and vice halls off the top of her head, and twice that many brothels catering to every kind of sexual desire she knew about.
“That’s why Geoffrey wants to observe him,” she decided, nodding to herself. “He wants to know what industry Algus is in before he does the deed, to make sure he’s not taking an unnecessary risk. Rogue knows some forbidden drug or contraband would be much more well-guarded than a bunch of candles.” That settled, Allana rolled her eyes. “But how does he expect to learn anything watching from all the way out here? It’s been weeks, and I haven’t seen crap, he’s always got the damn curtains drawn!”
The wraith girl squirmed in place, impatience finally spoiling the subtle veil her gift of stealth had made. “I do still have a couple hours before Geoffrey checks in…” she mused. “How great would it be if I had some actual information for him?”
Allana tried to pretend she had carefully thought it out, came up with a plan, and now she was going to execute it efficiently, the way Geoffrey trained her to. But in reality, less than two minutes after she came to her conclusion about Algus Heggen, she was slipping silently off of her rooftop and approaching the door of his storefront.
She had no way of knowing the mistake she was making. No one can reach a correct conclusion from an incorrect starting point, after all.
#
Algus looked up sharply at the sound of his door opening, suspicion writ plain on his face. The old man was seated behind a tall counter, his back bowed over something Allana couldn’t see. He looked about as sour as his personality, skeletally thin, his pale skin spotted with age and pockmarked from the tiny burns inherent to his trade. His face seemed stretched too tight around his skull, emphasizing his many sharp edges, and his teeth were bright yellow when he spoke.
“What do you want, girl?” he asked, his voice wavering with age but aggressive nonetheless.
Allana blinked at him in surprise, trying her hardest to stay casual. “Um… candles?” she replied, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “I closed the shutters for the night, but I was so distracted today, I forgot that my lights had all burnt out yesterday!” She peered around, as if just noticing that she was the only person in the shop. “Oh… you are still open, right? I saw your lights on…”
The old man sighed in irritation, and Allana relaxed a little as the suspicion fell off his features. “Yes, yes I am. One moment.”
Algus slowly lifted his arms up, and Allana drew in a little breath when she saw the thick red liquid clinging to them. For a moment, they looked to be soaked in blood, but the shade rapidly brightened in the cool air of the shop, and she realized that they were covered in dripping crimson wax.
The man lifted his hands up to his face and grunted slightly as he flexed his fingers. Dried wax peeled and curled from the motion, and he shook off his hands then clapped them against each other to dust them off. The dried wax fell back into the vat between his legs. “Sorry,” he grunted, sounding anything but apologetic. “I make my best pieces at night.”
“Oh, do you have an Artisan gift?” Allana asked, a politely interested smile on her face. Artisan gifts were only granted to the most dedicated craftspeople–for Algus to have one meant that, regardless of any front, he was a true tradesman too.
“Aye,” he said simply. With another grunt of effort, he stood up, and came out from around the counter. “Right then, what do you need? I got some beeswax ones over there.” He gestured brusquely at a series of off-white, cylindrical candles of various thicknesses. “They’re a little pricey, but they burn bright and clean. A good sized one could last you a while.”
“Uhm… I’m sorry sir, but I don’t think I have the money for that,” Allana lied cleanly. She didn’t understand why the man was bothering to try to pitch to her. If he was open this late as a cover, as she suspected, he should want her out the door as quickly as possible. “If you don’t mind, I had these lavender candles that smelled so nicely…”
Algus snorted. “Lavender. I bet the smoke they gave off was…” The chandler trailed off, his gaze fixed off to one side. Allana followed his gaze to one of the lit candles along the top shelves of the little shop, which provided the place with its dim, wavering light. One of them stuck out–brilliant blue, it had odd symbols she couldn’t make out traced along it in bright red. The same color as the wax he was working in his vat.
Algus’s eyes shot back to Allana, suspicion lighting up on his face once again. “Who are you, girl?”
“What?” Allana blinked in surprise. “I told you, I'm just looking to buy a candle.”
“Lie.” The old man’s voice growled. He waved his hand to one side, and a trio of candles near the counter lit up. Their wax was black and brown and red, and made Allana think of dried blood. The light shining from them was a deep, lurid scarlet.
Instantly, Allana sagged in place, suddenly exhausted. She knew the feeling–something had drained her stamina, the same way overusing her stealth abilities would. She lifted an arm, but it felt sluggish, weak. Had her strength or speed been drained too?
“I… I’m…”
Algus wasn’t paying attention to her mumbled protests, his skeletal face livid with anger. “You picked the wrong man to rob, girl.” He gestured again at those odd candles, an evil grimace splitting his face. “You like my little beauties? Cursed candles, just the thing to handle little shits like you.”
Allana mumbled something in response, but even her thoughts felt sluggish in the scarlet light of those candles.
“A girl like you, you’ll be just the thing to make another candle.” Algus made a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan of satisfaction. His eyes were bloodshot in the red light as they locked onto her. “You’ll make beautiful tallow.”
Allana had made a mistake. A bad one. She knew that the gift of the Artisan allowed for the creation of magical items, but she had never seen anything like Heggen’s cursed candles. She could barely think, much less move, and the cadaverous old man was ambling towards her, his long, red-stained fingers reaching out lecherously…
That motion finally gave Allana enough of a surge of adrenaline to push against the vacant emptiness left behind by the candles. She groaned–and sagged to one side abruptly. She struck a table lined with simple tallow candles in a variety of colors, and they toppled off of it a chain reaction. Most fell to the floor–but one struck a display shelf, and several lit candles fell off of it, towards the pile of flammable wax and tapers.
Algus spun towards the mess, shouting “No!” He flung his hands out in what looked like futile grasping gestures, and the lit candles snuffed out in midair, their flames evidently suppressed by the chandler.
Still, the distraction did its job. Allana managed to shamble to the door while Algus was preventing his shop from burning down. The second she stumbled into the cool darkness outside the shop, the enervating effects of the candles vanished, restoring her strength, speed, and stamina.
She drew a blurring veil around her from her gift of stealth, the strongest she could make while running, and ignored the twinge of a focus headache as she fled into the night, not risking a single look back at the murderous candlemaker and his cursed candles.