The Nameless Assassins

Client Solicitation

"Target Chime!" Faith shot out of her chair and struck a dramatic pose in the middle of the room. Clasping both hands to her breast like one of those actresses in A Requiem for Aldric, she raised her eyes heavenward and declaimed, "I am aghast by the implication! I would never do such a thing to my dear friend."

Bazso could almost certainly hear her in his study. In fact, half of Crow's Foot could probably hear her.

"Keep your voice down!" I hissed.

"Why?" she pouted, flopping back down and crossing her arms across her ruffled bosom. "I just said that we're not targeting anyone. Honestly, Isha, I don't know how you do things in Iruvia, but in Doskvol, not targeting someone isn't a crime."

In U'Duasha, sometimes not targeting someone was a crime – against yourself, at any rate. Scores of the Patriarch's relatives had spent their last moments wishing they'd strangled him in the cradle.

Perhaps my expression convinced Faith that I meant business, because she twirled one end of her shimmery satin sash, lowered her voice a notch, and explained, "I merely think that Chime would have a better time in jail accused of some of the crimes we've committed! Like playing dress-up outside that brothel, or inaugurating the festivities at Spiregarden Theater. If we invite him back to our railcar and host him for a couple days, I'm sure we can convince him to confess to something."

Ash spoke up at last. "Well, I'm not sure how we'll get paid for this one, but it's always good to get onto the safer side of the law," he pronounced. "And since we already set up this delightful treasure hunt for the Bluecoats – "

" – Might as well have it lead somewhere?" I finished drily.

"Exactly!" he beamed.

Apparently Ash's preoccupation with crew finances was rubbing off on Faith, because she sank into a brief reverie, then bounced up and down with excitement. "Oh! I have an idea! I have a friend at the Docks!"

Her level of enthusiasm was wearing me out. Leaning back against my pillow and closing my eyes, I let Ash deal with her idea.

He didn't disappoint. "Another 'dear friend' like Chime?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, no, not at all! This friend can be our client, or at least connect us to one. Her name is Nyryx – "

That wasn't a very common name at all. In fact, I only knew one Nyryx. Incredulously, I began, "You think that Tycherosi prosti– "

"Don't use that term, Isha!" Faith gasped, scandalized. "It sounds so vulgar, so unbecoming for a lady such as myself to hear. What I think you meant to say was 'that Tycherosi lady of marketable affections.' And the answer is yes."

I hadn't actually asked anything yet.

"I know Nyryx," Ash put in. "But I fail to see what a, um, lady such as herself has to do with the operations of people such as ourselves. Unless she harbors personal enmity for Chime? I find it hard to believe that she can afford our fee, though."

Like a child just bursting to share a particularly exciting pebble with her parents, Faith gleefully looked from one of us to the other. "Oh, Ash, Isha, didn't you know? Nyryx is one of the Reconciled."

Simultaneously, Ash and I exclaimed, "What?"

The Reconciled were a select group of spirits who had found – or at least claimed to have found – a way to retain their sanity after death. Naturally, they preferred to have a physical embodiment and often possessed living humans, including (it was rumored, although by whom I had no idea because the Reconciled themselves certainly weren't talking, and neither were the allegedly possessed humans) members of the City Council itself.