The Heart of Alchemy by James Wisher (i like reading books txt) 📗

one building with more than a handful of rooms. If that wasn’t their destination, Allen didn’t know what was.

The two men pulled up out front, drawing bored looks from a pair of old men seated out front, smoking pipes and eyeing a checkerboard between them. Dirt caked their hands, streaked their faces, and covered their canvas shirts. He’d seen poorer-looking men, but not in a while.

They tied up to the hitching rail, dismounted, and pushed through the swinging doors into a nearly empty common room. A bar at the far end had a modest selection of liquor bottles behind it along with a middle-aged man that appeared to have recently returned from a famine.

The bartender eyed them with a mixture of curiosity and greed. Strangers were probably not a regular occurrence here.

Allen leaned against the bar and said, “I was hoping you could help me. We’re trying to determine if a certain noblewoman spent time regularly visiting this town. You couldn’t miss her. Late teens, bronze skin, generally beautiful.”

The barman tilted his head back and laughed. In fact, he laughed until his face had turned red and Allen feared he might pass out. At last he gathered himself and said, “Does this look like the sort of place a high-class woman would spend her time? We barely even see our lord, much less anyone else, unless you count the tax collectors. Those bastards visit regularly. I fear you’ve wasted your time.”

Allen nodded and glanced at Oskar who nodded. They went outside and Allen put the same question to the old men. One shook his head and the other turned his head and spat a line of tobacco juice into the dirt.

“I think we’re on a wild-goose chase,” Oskar said. “Should we stay the night and ride back in the morning?”

Allen blew out a sigh. “I suppose we’d better. He’s not going to be very happy that she lied to him.”

“No, poor girl.”

They went back in, negotiated an only moderately obscene price for two rooms, and went upstairs to rest. As soon as the door closed behind him, Allen dug out Lord Shenk’s magical toy, composed his thoughts, and snapped it. “The locals have no memory of Jade. She lied.”

A little spark ran up his spine and then the tube disintegrated. Whether it worked or not, he couldn’t say.

Allen eyed the lumpy, straw-filled mattress and grimaced. Maybe a quick nap, then he’d tend to the horses. His mission here was complete and, cold or not, he was eager to get home.

Some people thought Allen was paranoid. But he didn’t mind. When you dealt with violent, dangerous people for a living, precautions weren’t only prudent, they were a necessity. So when the stool he’d tucked under the door to reinforce the meager latch came crashing to the floor, he was up and out of bed in an instant.

A good thing too. A crossbow bolt buried itself in the mattress where he’d been lying a moment before.

He freed his sword in time to meet a swing from the dark blur that came charging into the room.

Shouts from outside argued that Oskar was having problems of his own.

Great, no reinforcements would be forthcoming. At least not anytime soon.

Allen shoved his attacker away. His eyes had adjusted enough to the light that he could make out the figure’s dark clothes and straight-bladed shortsword. A mask covered the lower part of his face leaving only dark eyes and thin eyebrows visible. Just inside the door, an empty crossbow lay on the floor.

He had the advantage of reach and his opponent had the advantage of being dressed and fully awake. So it should be an even fight.

The killer looked back over his shoulder and Allen lunged.

A quick spin carried his target out of the way. Allen nearly lost his hand to his opponent’s counter.

He squared up again, determined not to make another mistake.

The only way out for the assassin was through Allen or over the railing where a long drop to the common room floor waited.

Time was on Allen’s side.

Hopefully Oskar would win his fight and come help. If they captured the man in black, Lord Shenk would no doubt be very happy to make his acquaintance.

The assassin seemed to understand his situation as he eyed Allen then the railing.

“Go ahead and jump,” Allen said. “You’ll be much easier to deal with nursing a broken leg.”

The man in black gave a soft growl and attacked.

Allen parried a slash, countered with a thrust that forced the attacker to backpedal. Behind him the battle had gone silent.

A moment later Oskar said, “Allen? Are you okay?”

“For the moment. Any chance you can give me a hand here?”

The sound of boots on wood was followed by Oskar stopping beside him. Lord Shenk’s agent had a shallow cut on his left arm that oozed blood, but otherwise he appeared unharmed.

“Do you always sleep with your boots on?” Allen asked.

“I do when I’m on a mission. You never know what might happen.”

Allen could hardly argue with that. “You go high, I’ll go low. Let’s try and take him in one piece.”

“You won’t take me alive.” Allen had just time enough to realize the assassin was a woman before she leapt over the rail.

He looked down. She landed on her sword, driving it all the way through her body and out her back.

Allen and Oskar shared a look. That certainly hadn’t been the response Allen expected.

“A fanatic of some sort,” Oskar said. “We may have stumbled into something bigger than I first thought. Can you send another message to Lord Shenk? He’ll want to know about this.”

“No. He only gave me one of those magic things. Let’s get ready and search the bodies. I don’t know about you, but more sleep seems unlikely to me.”

“Agreed. The sooner we’re back in Rolan City, the better.”

Ten minutes later found Allen and Oskar in the latter’s room standing beside a black-clad body with a deep, foot-long slash in its chest. This one was clearly a