The Nameless Assassins

Helene

"I love the pink of the walls! What a delightful shade! It sets up the exactly the right mood for meditation! I should find out what this color is called so we can repaint the railcar! Isha, don't you agree that what the Old Rail Yard really needs is a pink railcar?"

"Ummm."

I was too dismayed by the décor of the Moon's Embrace, which inclined, as Ash had warned, towards faux-Iruvian. The lobby walls and front desk were plastered with varnished papers that had been painted to resemble swirling pink marble slabs. On the side closer to the baths and their humidity, the paper had already begun to peel, a state of affairs only partially concealed by lush palms in crude Iruvian clay pots and cliched posters of Iruvian beauties. All around us, bronze-skinned, black-haired, cat-eyed sirens in gauzy silk harem pants reclined against moonlit marble balusters and gazed down at us soulfully.

Could we convince Brannon and Irimina to take over the spa instead of the casino? I wouldn't mind assassinating the owner of the Moon's Embrace – or at least its interior decorator.

"Or," Faith interrupted my thoughts, scrutinizing my face to see what got the best reaction, "maybe we don't need to repaint the railcar. Maybe all we need to do is find out where the owner bought this gorgeous wallpaper." I glowered at the poorly executed imitation marble. "Or these posters!" Satisfied by my involuntary exclamation, she continued mercilessly along that line of attack. "I think a few on the wall behind the bar will lighten up the entire common area!"

Luckily for Faith (and Brannon, Irimina, Ash, and the crew coffers), the bath attendant we'd pre-bribed marched up to us, wearing not sensual, flowing harem pants but a crisp navy blue nurse's dress and a starched white hat, plus sensible black shoes with low heels. Thank goodness. "If you will come this way, please?" she ordered in a no-nonsense tone entirely at odds with the ambience of the place.

I liked her already.

Actually, I'd liked her since Ash and I approached her outside the casino, the night she lost a month's wages at the gambling tables and stalked out with her face tight and lips pinched. Some women might collapse under the strain of maintaining both a home and a gambling addiction on a bath attendant's salary, but not Una. She'd listened to our proposition with a hard expression and then bargained so effectively that Ash's eyes lit up at the challenge.

Now she led Faith and me down a long hallway lit by yellowish gas lamps shaped vaguely like ancient Iruvian turbans. Who was the interior decorator? If he had come to Doskvol to avenge the family honor and kill me, could I persuade him to avenge the honor of all Iruvians and kill the interior decorator first?

"Awwww, aren't the lamps so cute?" gushed Faith, bouncing along.

Una responded for me. "No," she stated curtly. "They're a pain to clean."

I could only imagine.

Undaunted, Faith flitted from door to door, peering at the bronze plaques mounted by each one and reading the names by gaslight.

"Opal Room."

"Emerald Room."

"Ruby Room."

Each plaque had the name of the room engraved on it in ancient Hadrathi runes, plus an Akorosian translation. I couldn't read the runes, but he'd started learning shortly before I left.

For a brief moment, I was home again, squeezed onto a sofa beside him and reading over his shoulder while he wrestled with the grammar or lack thereof. (Ancient Hadrathi was a language composed of more exceptions than rules.) He could have told me whether the Moon's Embrace had spelled the words correctly.