The Nameless Assassins

Finding the Battle Plans

After weeks and weeks of searching, I finally found Ronia Helker's battle plans. Several pages of them, anyway. Even though there couldn't have been too many to start with, Faith had somehow scattered them all over her office – wadded up next to the wastebasket, half-sliding into the fireplace, sandwiched between stick-figure sketches, even mixed into a sheath of old lecture notes that had fallen over the back of her desk and was hiding between it and the wall.

As I crawled back out, I heard her footsteps coming down the hall, which gave me just enough time to shove the papers under my shirt and spring to my feet. By the time she opened the door, I was planted in front of her desk, scowling as if I couldn't find the student essay I needed.

She wasn't fooled. "Why, good morning, Isha!" she sang, ambling up behind me to peer over my shoulder.

Instinct made me twitch sideways.

She beamed, as proud as Mother would be. "I'm glad that you decided to help me organize my notes! While you're at it, can you file those essays over there?" She pointed at a shelf that was shedding graded homework assignments all over her desk. "They should be sorted by the individual students who wrote them." When I hesitated, wondering what looked the least guilty, she made a shooing motion with her hands. "Come on! Come on! Isn't that why you're here?"

Why not play along for now? I actually started alphabetizing the essays by student while Faith drifted around her office, flipping through stacks of paper, tsking and shaking her head and selecting sheets here and there. From time to time, she slanted a glance at me, curious how far I'd carry the charade.

The answer was: just far enough to ascertain that there were no battle plans in this batch of papers. As soon as I finished, I picked up Beetle's essay on the history of Skovlan to bolster my story – and left with my prize.

And what a prize it was. With all her trademark ruthlessness, Ronia Helker had laid out exactly how Imperial troops would surround U'Duasha, bombard Sukru'at to slaughter the Houses, demolish the city walls at the four points closest to the spires, and then march straight to them, leveling everything and everyone in their path. The bloodbath would destroy U'Duasha as a political and economic power for decades or centuries, maybe even forever.

Sigmund had been right: Even if other Imperial generals developed a more effective strategy (and I was sure they would; a stealth attack would leave more of U'Duasha's commercial organs intact, generating more tax revenue for the Imperium in the long run), we would still be better off.

I'd have to search Faith's office again to track down the rest of Helker's notes.

But my demonic crewmate turned out to be perversely committed to her promise to the Helker children that she would prevent the plans from falling into "the wrong hands." At breakfast in Strathmill House the next morning, she announced to the orphans, "Today's lesson will be on how to dispose of evidence properly. We'll go to the canal between Six Towers and Nightmarket as soon as you finish eating and set it on fire."

Oh gods. Those pages she'd collected while I was distracted by alphabetizing essays.

Her green eyes met mine across the room. Over the children's whoops, she called, "You're of course welcome to join us, Isha!"

Of course I did.

Through Charterhall and into Six Towers she chivvied the children, shadowed by a grim Edwina whose job it was to actually set the canal on fire. Throughout that interminable walk, I kept close to Faith, quivering with tension as I watched for a chance to pickpocket, filch, or just plain snatch the papers from her. Forestalling my attempts, she kept a tight grip on them all the way until we approached the canal between Six Towers and Nightmarket. Then, all of a sudden, she tripped over a loose cobblestone, squealed, and waved her arms like a windmill.