The Nameless Assassins

Lady Vhetin Kellis

"There. That." I stabbed a finger at a review for an upcoming play in the Theater & Arts section of the Doskvol Times and read aloud, "'Set in Lockport in 845 IE, A Requiem for Aldric takes a fresh look at the causes of the Unity War.'"

The three of us had braved a bone piercingly icy rain to buy copies of all three of Doskvol's official newspapers and scour them for upcoming plays and musicals. For once, the North Hook Gazette, purveyor of serious news for serious people; the Doskvol Times, provider of popular items for the everyman; and the Dockside Telegraph, repository for scandalous gossip and scurrilous rumors, were all agreed: The opening night of A Requiem for Aldric would be the event of the year.

Pulling her beribboned coat closer about her, Faith huddled further into the recesses of the doorway we'd commandeered. "You mean aristocrats want to hear about how pollution from all the leviathan blood processing destroyed Lockport and turned the residents into slithery, scaly monsters?"

Not the entire population, of course. Not the denizens of the protected enclave where the magnates lived – but for once Faith's flippant description was surprisingly accurate.

Ash's eyes widened as he read further. "Yes, apparently. Listen to this: 'Sisi Bell is brilliantly convincing in her role as the noble, doomed Queen Alayne, and Carter Vale's performance as her idealistic, devoted husband is not to be missed.' I'm surprised the Lord Governor is even allowing the performance."

Who cared why he allowed it as long as it happened? "Sounds controversial," I said happily. "Vhetin definitely won't miss that." Skipping to the end of the article, I checked the performance dates. "It premieres at Spiregarden Theater in Brightstone on Carillon. That's only three days from now!"

Folding up the newspapers, we dashed back to our railcar so we could map out our strategy and divide up the tasks. Proving his devotion to the score – or his coffers – Ash immediately headed back out into the miserable rain to track down Vhetin's seamstress in Nightmarket. With the aid of a bribe, he succeeded in convincing her to make a knock-off of Lady Kellis's "one-of-a-kind" gown in time for the performance. "It's no worry," the seamstress assured him. "We do this all the time."

Cursing the weather, I changed into thin servant's attire, hoped I didn't catch my death of a cold, and spent all day tailing Vhetin as she made social calls. You'd think the rain would have deterred her, but no, she simply couldn't put off returning Lady Strangford's visit any longer. After that, since she was right around the corner from Lady Strathmill, she simply must drop in to offer her congratulations for a brilliant fundraiser. And then, of course, her favorite milliner would be desolate if she didn't stop in to commission a new hat, and so forth. My coup came when I snuck into the Skovlan-themed costume ball she threw the next evening; warm and dry, I mingled with the guests, sampled the excellent buffet, and gleaned everything I could about Vhetin's personality.

Meanwhile, Faith read up on revolutionary theories, hung around Spiregarden Theater, and ingratiated herself with the actors until she identified a naïve young man with Skovlander sympathies. Over tea at a nearby café, she hinted that a group of aristocrats were secretly pro-Skovlander and encouraged him to alter a few words in the script to heighten the pathos. That would "reach out to the nobles," as she explained earnestly. "Being provocative can sometimes be a good thing, you know?" Between the two of them, they managed to rile up a good fraction of the actors, most of whom were already anti-establishment dreamers anyway.

Unfortunately, one of the stagehands turned out to be an undercover Bluecoat, and Faith found herself arrested and summarily hauled off to the station for questioning. Ash and I had to scrape together coin from both crew and personal coffers in order to appeal for her release.