Take out the mark, retrieve the scroll, and avoid getting killed by his protection detail of Black Guard mercenaries. That was the job. Simple enough, or so the Assassin Without a Name thought, until he finds himself smack in the middle of three org...
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Guild House, or just the House to those in the know, is not a place one sneaks into if one values their life. So as I made my way through Beggars' Quarter, I took wide, visible paths where I knew Guild operatives watched my every step. Thjorn would know I was coming long before I was granted an audience with him. If I was granted an audience. He might just throw me in a pit for a few days as a lesson not to interfere, knowingly or not, in Guild business. Liz had been right about his tolerance of me—let's just say I've done a favor or two for him. But his generosity only went so far, especially considering how important this scroll was turning out.
The House was in one of Alchester's older neighborhoods. In this case, older didn't mean run-down, for while the manors lining the curved, cobbled roads were of a more traditional style, with tall windows, flat roofs, and moss-covered brick, they and the grounds surrounding them were well kept. Guild House was no exception, though you wouldn't know it from the street, given how well it was hidden behind its tall, ivy-covered wall.
Two men at the gate confiscated my weapons. They had enough sense to remove my boot knives along with the obvious ones at my belt, but they completely missed the smaller gundi blades I had concealed up each arm. Amateurs. "I'll want those back," I said, right before one of them shoved me through the gate. It clanged shut behind me.
Another pair escorted me in. The front of the main house was mostly dark and quiet, with only a few wisps of laughter and muffled conversation coming from an open window or two. I wasn't led inside, but around and into a garden that stretched out into the evening darkness. Just when I thought I was headed for that pit in the ground, a small building materialized. It had the look of a guest house about it, or perhaps a separate office. I remembered the place from earlier visits back when Liz and I were an item, but I'd never been inside. I got that chance now. Within, a man I'd never seen before waited for me. He was the only one there.
"Guess I'm not going to get to see Heavyhammer?" I asked him.
The room was lavishly furnished with plush chairs facing an impressive desk and a fireplace that wasn't lit. My escort had remained outside, so it was just the two of us.
"No," the man said, his voice flat and even-toned. He had dark, wavy hair, a dark mustache, and a goatee oiled to a point. Beneath a filigreed jacket, he wore a silk shirt with a ruffled cravat around his neck. He looked like a member of the gentry who was trying too hard to look like a member of the gentry.
He gestured for me to sit in one of the chairs before he took a seat behind the desk. Placing both hands upon the desk's surface, he said, "Master Targalas is otherwise occupied presently. My name is Gustav Preyton. I manage many of Master Targalas's affairs, including the one I assume you are here about."
"Oh? You know why I'm here?"
"Of course. You are here to hand over the item—a certain bone scroll case—which you procured from one Aravar Tillwood. As you know, Guild contracts supersede all others. I know that our agent in the field made you aware that your contract conflicted with our own. Your presence here tells me you are aware of this precedent. Because you have come to us with it so quickly, we are willing to overlook any transgressions this matter may otherwise have caused."
