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The next evening the Assassin receives a message that his informant has further news. He hurries back to the scruffy Tavern and takes his usual position ..the food and drink has not improved.... The wizened thief tells him that this Red, has been at great pains to cover his tracks, on many occasions almost giving his watchers the slip ..but not quite succeeding. He has been seen in strange places and most unexpected company. A pattern is beginning to emerge.....he has followed the Assassin's movements at times, at others he has visited, mostly nocturnally, some of the most dubious Slavers and merchants in the city. "I knew he had been following me, also two others wearing the house colours of the merchant, Kaldor. There seemed little point in seeking to avoid them, it would only have increased their interest. Many times it is possible to hide in plain sight." "Yes, Master...did you also know that Kaldor hosted a gathering two nights ago. In addition to our pale friend there were at least six other of the less...er ..honoured traders from the City present. My GuildMaster knows that are trying to create a slaving cartel and to restrict the market in certain of the more exotic and illegal trading goods , to restrict choice and supply, whilst increasing their prices." The silver disk tumbles through the air and into the small thief's hand. The hooded figure nods.. "You have done well, keep me informed should anything of interest come to light." He rises and walks away into the night. The following day, at the appointed hour, a gloved hand raps on the door of the House of Scribes. The door is opened by perle who bows in respect, her eyes cast down. Her cheeks are tear-stained... "Good day...My Master awaits you in the solar, the warmth of the sun seems to ease his pain a little, would Master require refreshment ?" the girl asks as she leads him to the door. He shakes his head but sees that this is not the question she really wants to ask.....he lifts an eyebrow, quizzically and nods approval for her to speak...... The slave looks up, eyes wide with terror and also brimming with tears...... "Master, when you slay us, today......you will not cause My Master unnecessary suffering..? "You ask for him, not for yourself........I promise you it will be swift and he will feel nothing, and.." he bends forward to touch the torq on her arm,..."As it will be for you..............". perle whispers..."Thank you, Master..." Ornoth awaits sitting on a high backed chair, in a puddle of sunlight. He looks up and smiles. His eyes are somewhat glazed...the effect of the narcotic, a sweet sickly smell emanates from his body, the windows are closed to retain the heat. The poet stretches, his joints cracking, the flow of his robes releases another draft of fetid air......he gestures for the visitor to sit. Without waiting he launches into his tale, a complex web of deceit and dishonour, of plot and counter-plot, play and counter-play. The Assassin forgets his discomfort, the smell , the heat as he listens engrossed. On the face of it Tikarl is the central figure, his aim is primarily political but appears limited to removing and replacing the current GuildMaster of Merchants in Ar....thence to buy and bribe his way to a seat on the ruling Council, removing any opposition, whether passive or active, by any means at his disposal. Unfortunate accidents, disastrous trade expeditions, lost ships or caravans..... Ornoth describes the albino, Red as something of an enigma...ostensibly he is in Tikarl's employ, but a known killer, mercenary and torturer such as him would no more settle for being Guard Captain to a greedy merchant than a tarsk would take wing. Their associates are numerous, crossing many cities, reaching even into the tribes of the Wagon People. On the face of it legitimate trading enterprises, nothing they have been seen to have done could be described as anything other than the normal acts of an ambitious trader, seeking to gain advantage for himself, at the expense of others whether they are fellow traders or gullible customers. Ornoth pauses, he doubles over in pain, his face tuning pale, sweat breaking out on his forehead. The Assassin calls for perle, who rushes in with a small bowl which she holds to her Master's lips. He swallows and sits back, clutching at his stomach. Slowly the seizure passes, he straightens and looks at his guest with a fevered expression............. "That is but the surface plot, listen now to what I have since discovered and perhaps it will explain why my silence is so necessary to them". He leans towards the still-hooded figure.. putrid breath sweetened by the medication..... "The true conspiracy is much deeper, much more insidious than you could ever imagine....."
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Chapter
Five - Ornoth's Tale