The Nameless Assassins

Some Answers, Finally

Luckily for me, the thugs were so desperate to worm their way back into my good graces that they scurried ahead to prepare "my" boat (which was good, since I had no idea what it looked like). Apparently, Marne was too important to be expected to pilot it herself (which was even better, because I had no idea how to operate any kind of watercraft – a state of affairs I should probably rectify). Planted at the bow, chin lifted, I stared straight down the canal as if the bustle of city life around me were beneath my notice. As we motored around a bend, I caught a glimpse of two figures bundling a third into a gondola outside the Moon's Embrace Spa.

Faith and Ash would get all the answers we needed from Marne and convey any crucial intel to me during Mass.

Back when we were planning the score, the two of them had had a minor dispute over where to conduct this interrogation:

"Faith, how good are the Sensorium's mind powers?"

"Why, they're as amazing as I am! Why do you ask?"

"Well, are we doing this in the Sensorium, or are we getting information in a more primitive way?"

"We're getting information in the most enjoyable way possible, of course!"

"Uh...."

"I've already prepared a room at the orphanage!" A pause. A thoughtful pout. "Or is the railcar more appropriate?"

Hesitation from Ash, who really didn't want to traumatize his underaged assets. "If we're doing this at the orphanage, we should send the orphans out...."

An even more pronounced pout, as if he were spoiling all of her fun. "Maaaaaybe we should do this at the railcar then."

"Yes. Just so you're aware, you probably shouldn't teach the children to torture people. Yet. I know it's enjoyable, but – "

"But from a practical perspective, how will they learn how to torture people if I don't teach them?"

"The practicality is that they're around ten years old, and that's not okay! They can learn to murder people. That's much more normal – that's okay."

I rather thought that Ash and the Patriarch would get along.

While a discreet gondolier was taking my crewmates and Marne back to Coalridge, the Hive thugs and I were motoring into the North Hook Channel. On my right lay the Docks, whose familiar skyline evoked a twinge of homesickness. On my left, we were passing the North Hook Lighthouse on the tip of Whitecrown, an ancient stone tower that had been retrofitted with electroplasmic technology and now blazed like ten thousand moons, guiding the leviathan hunters home. After that came the Spirit Wardens' estate and Doskvol Academy, that derivative institute of higher learning that specialized in plagiarizing Tycherosian research (according to Ash). At the head of Bowmore Bridge, which sliced across the channel between Whitecrown and Brightstone, rose the Lord Governor's stronghold, which Sigmund had been planning to breach before Faith convinced the Helker children to give her their mother's papers.

And then, silhouetted against the moon and its sisters, loomed the turrets of the Hive's island fortress. Short, stubby docks jutted out in all directions, swarming with little boats that carried Hive members to and from the mainland. Heavily fortified piers bristled with electroplasmic lanterns and patrols. As Marne's boat bumped gently against the quay, a pair of guards marched down to meet us. In the harsh blue-white glare of the lights, they checked our faces and saluted me crisply. "Welcome back, Miss Booker."