Date: Mon, 5 Sep 2016 06:19:50 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 34-The Orb of Winter-Gay Science Fiction

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				   *****

			    Chapter Thirty-Four

   By the time Kian reached Fish Town, all three of Wynwrayth's suns had
set in the west.
   The harbor had dozens of piers, and some extended out into the Bay of
Drowned Men. Many longships from the Dhesirian Empire (fifteen hundred
leagues to the northwest) anchored in the deep water just off shore. These
huge vessels represented the merchant clans of the Dhesirian consulate, a
corrupt organization that (as far as Kian knew) was Zanda's only major
trading partner on this continent.
   In many ways, this country was a hermit kingdom, isolating itself from
anything south of its wall of granite mountains. This included the
important lands east and south of the Sea of Winter: namely the Valion
kingdoms, Merenzar, the Daar khanate, and the vast Balsoran desert. Kian
had never seen the western end of that desert expanse, nor studied any map
that showed what might lie there. But he suspected if people called that
place home, the Zandans had managed to alienate them too.
   It's hard to stay afloat when the whole world hates you, Kian thought.
   He looked around the pier and the shipyard in the gathering darkness,
scanning all comers and goers for a cart with clams in it. Still crowded
with hundreds of men and the occasional woman, Kian saw mostly dark-skinned
individuals, swarthy men with broad faces and flat noses, although the
occasional yellow-skinned Clymarindi or a fair-skinned Noremarian did
appear.
   Positioned dead center in the harbor was the Lighthouse of the
All-Seeing Eye, and Kian stopped to look at it. The top of the stone
lighthouse was dominated by a glowing jewel in the shape of a gigantic
eye. It even had long black lashes and was suspended in a column of green
light that rose into the sky to eventually fade into a field of stars. The
orb faced north, watching all ships that approached the Holy City through
the fjord. It used its magical powers to penetrate their hulls to search
for unwanted stowaways and other secrets dangerous to the rulers of
Zanda. Beyond the lighthouse on the far side of the bay flickered the
myriad torches of the Keep of Anghul and the Timeron knight academy on the
Isle of Night's Watch. Kian had excellent vision, and could see that the
island was connected to the mainland by a short stone bridge, and it had
its own buildings and walls as well as a cove for students to engage in
paddlesail tournaments.
   Three men approached Kian from the wharf on his right, one carried a
barrel of pickled fish on one shoulder. The other two carried sacks of
beans. All three were shirtless, wearing bandanas on their heads and with
many tattoos and piercings. Their skin was wrinkled and very tan from
months on board a ship. Each stood slightly shorter than Kian, and they had
broad hairy chests and big beer bellies. They tried to give Kian a wide
berth, nodding with respect to him, but he caught their attention with the
flash of a gold coin.
   "You there," Kian said, "the man with the pickled fish. Have you seen a
boy selling fresh clams? I've got an appetite for them."
   All three set their wares down and bowed. "Yes, ser knight. There was
one earlier. He sits at that pier over there with his dog, and has some o'
the best clams there is. But he usually packs up before nightfall. Today
you can find him at the Witch's Brew two streets down. Bein' that ships
just got unloaded yesterday, there's always leftover bones from the
slaughterhouses an' ole Grimby saves a couple for the boy's mutt."
   "You don't say?" Kian asked, tossing the gold coin to the man with a gap
in his teeth. "Are the meals good there?"
   "Some o' the best around," the man replied. "We'll be goin' there after
we unload our ship. They have great beef pot pie."
   "Aye and you're buyin' now," both his companions said.
   "I'll have to try some," Kian stated. "What street was it again?"
   "Take that road there, go down two blocks and turn left. You'll see the
Witch's Brew as sure as you'll see whores. The locals all call the place
Slattern Row. There's a sign, ser, but I can' read it. I assume that's wha'
it says."
   "Thank you, gentlemen," Kian said. And then he was off.
   Kian ran the two blocks in very short order. He passed by all kinds of
taverns and shops, saw baskets filled with lobsters, barrels of tar, a
forge, a wainwright, and a stable. He turned sideface a dozen times to slip
between men and women haggling over oranges and grapefruits, measuring out
cotton cloth, or passing crates of wax candles. Kian dodged pigs, stray
dogs, cats, and beggars alike. After two minutes he arrived at the street
and saw the Witch's Brew straight ahead in a square where a bard strummed
away at a guitar before a crowd of amused men and women. The two story
tavern had a façade shaped like the face of a huge crone, complete with
conical hat and a bulbous nose with a pimple on it. This wooden witch
stirred at a cauldron that actually spilled vapors down upon the crowd
going in and out of the place. It looked to hold two-hundred people, had
double doors, and laughter and the sound of dancing came from within.
   As for the surrounding buildings, well they were all two and four story
affairs, each seemingly more colorful than the next. Kian spotted a
gambling hall featuring a sign with a moving wooden dragon seated across
the table from a wizard carved from oak. On the table before the dragon was
a huge stack of coins. Raucous boasts and petitions to lady luck herself
came from inside, and the doors were thrown open allowing for the cool
night air to filter in through a haze colored amber by the many fires
roaring in a half-dozen hearths. Guards from the Blades Acuuarum stood at
the entrance. Not too far away, at least four ladies of the evening dressed
to the nines in flowing gowns of mist silk and decorative stiletto
heels. They called out to him with, "Come 'ere 'andsome knight," and "Let
us show you pleasure, milord." His favorite epithet might have been, "Dock
your cock in this port, milord. I've a deep harbor for the ship you're
drivin'."
   I love high heels, Kian thought, thrumming his metal clad fingers on the
helmet above his chin. Damn...what I wouldn't do to lick those...
   At another building, Kian saw the universal sign for a bowyer and
fletcher. And behind the minstrel in the square was a shrine to the sea
goddess. This intrigued Kian, because Khaal was a deity mostly aligned with
the "forces of light" as far as he knew. To see her venerated here was an
acknowledgement to all that the sea ruled the lives of those who sailed it,
disregarding one's personal outlook on life.
   Kian walked toward the doors of the Witch's Brew and almost took the
stairs when he heard a dog barking. He stopped, causing a minor traffic jam
as people edged around him to get into the establishment. The sound came
from a narrow garbage-choked alleyway that went behind the tavern, and Kian
took it cautiously, peering ahead through his helm.
   There at a door was a boy about thirteen years old. He had black hair,
brown eyes, but fair skin. He was thin as a knife's edge and dirty from
head to toe. He wore a cap, a threadbare wool shirt, and pants with at
least six holes torn in them, but they had lots of pockets. He wore shoes
held together with bailing twine. Next to him a mangy mutt (with hair so
knotted Kian couldn't see its eyes) ate rancid meat and bones off the lid
of a garbage can. The boy worked at a clam, splitting it open with a sharp
knife. He sat on the end of a cart that was half full of them, humming a
Valion ballad called "The Maid and the Shephard." At his feet was a large
crumpled brown cloak.
   As Kian approached, the boy saw him and stood straight up and nervously
discarded his dinner.
   Kian hunkered down so he wasn't towering over the boy the entire time
they talked.
   "Can I help you ser knight?" the boy asked.
   "Are you Renfro?" Kian asked.
   He nodded. "I am at that. May I ask who I'm talkin' to?"
   Kian nodded and said, "I'm called `Hunter.' I need your help." Kian
looked around to see if there was anyone watching them, but they were at
least a hundred-feet from the square and between them and the singing
minstrel was half an alley full of strewn garbage and at least twenty rats.
   Renfro blinked in disbelief. "Is this a trick?" The boy's face sparkled
despite the dirt on his cheeks and nose. "Hunter's got blond hair and blue
eyes, and he's no Timeron traitor. He's got a sword called Bloodbane with
veins on the handle, and he's the most handsome man alive."
   Kian removed his helmet and kind of raked his hair with his
fingers. Then he drew Bloodbane and turned the sword (handle first) so that
Renfro could see it.
   The boy's mouth dropped open, and his eyes flew so wide Kian felt they
might be in danger of falling out.
   "It's you. I mean it's really you. Markain Kragar tells us about your
deeds every Seven Day in church. He says you've killed over a hundred men
now, and that you've faced death giants, and terrible stone minotaurs, and
you've even killed a dragon."
   "Three actually," Kian said, "but who's counting? It's been a year since
I became disciple."
   "You have a daughter, and her name's Ashley, I think," the boy
said. "And you're a legendary lover. All the boys talk about how you can
have anyone you want. Mothers use the word `Kian' to describe boys blessed
with physical beauty."
   I have a daughter? Kian thought. Was Angelaria pregnant? Why would she
keep that from me the last time I saw her on the beach before the test?
That can't be right. She said she was going to take a potion to prevent
that.
   "How widespread is that?" Kian asked.
   "I'm not sure, but it's probably pretty common. I say `Tethyr's teeth'
because o' you, and our Daymaster created a rank in the guild called Hunter
just last year. He said it's for the best killer in the guild. Right now, a
man named Marley has that honor. He's got five kills under his belt."
   "That's impressive," Kian said, marveling that all his exploits were so
detailed. Can priests see what I'm doing? I'll need to ask Tethyr about
that.
   He withdrew a handful of gold coins and gave them to Renfro.
   The boy smiled at all that yellow metal and quickly put it away.
   "May I touch your hair?" Renfro asked.
   Kian nodded, and Renfro approached and ran his fingers through Kian's
sweaty locks. "I've never seen this color. It's white-blond and as
beautiful as the girls in the guild say it is. Most of them have pictures
of you above their beds."
   "What?" Kian asked. "That's going too far. How did they get them? People
aren't supposed to know what I look like."
   "The priest, Markain Kragar, supplies them. They're on magical paper
that only reveals the picture to someone that is true to the faith of
Tethyr. If you follow another god, the parchment just shows a recipe for
making tomato soup."
   "That's a neat trick," Kian said.
   "They don't do you justice, sir. I mean it. The girls in the guild will
wet themselves when they see you."
   "I guess I'll keep my helmet on then," Kian replied. "Renfro, I want to
visit the guild, but I need a password to get in. What is it?"
   "Today it's actually a passphrase. `May the jackal keep your purses full
and your enemies sickly.'"
   Kian arched an eyebrow. "I kind of like it," he said. "Use that gold to
visit a cobbler and get some proper shoes." Then his eyes fell to the cloak
on the ground. It looked dirty, but when he reached down to grab it, he
found it was remarkably free of any bugs or unsightly splotches. It was
also enormous, like it was made to engulf a five-hundred-pound man. "Is
this yours?" Kian asked.
   Renfro nodded. "It is. It's in good shape, don't you think? I was going
to use it to cover my window back at the guild, keep the light of the
street out a little longer in the mornings. If you want it, sir, you can
have it."
   "Thanks," Kian said, slipping into it. The thing was so massive it had
the effect of swallowing him whole. Now he could walk everywhere and not
attract attention because of his armor, but he'd need to clutch it in
places to keep from tripping over it. "Where did you find it?"
   "It's an odd story, sir. One of my regulars, a fat man with a bushy
black beard and a hearty smile, gave it to me and bought half my clams to
boot." Renfro jingled his purse so that Kian could hear the coins smacking
together. "He showed up in great clothes, a brand new cloak made of purple
velvet, and with two women in tow. I asked him where he got the money, and
he said a beautiful elven girl with big eyes paid him to smuggle some
barrels in through the gates. I think he's a captain of some rank at the
Grain Gate, and he owns a farm outside the walls. Word on the black market
is that Silas can get you anything at a price."
   Kian replaced his helmet and pulled the cloak over his head. "That's his
name? Silas?"
   "Yes, sir," Renfro said.
   Kian gently rubbed the back of Renfro's neck with his gauntlet, and the
boy grinned from ear to ear. "You're a good lad," Kian said. "If we cross
paths again and you need a favor, be sure to speak it to me because I owe
you one."
   "Thank you, sir," Renfro said.
   Kian took his leave of Renfro then and left the alley to head for the
Spendthrift Mistress over in Sooty Shingle. Now wrapped in his cloak, he
discovered that the crowd didn't nearly respond to his presence as it had
before. He had to ask to get by people for one, but he also appreciated the
incognito that such attire afforded him at this time.
   He arrived sweaty and hot at the outside of the Spendthrift Mistress
close to eleven o'clock. About an hour ago, a fog so thick that Kian had
trouble seeing his hand in front of his face had rolled in off the
harbor. It even served to muffle voices and the "click clack" of
horse-drawn carriages. He kept to the side of the streets, and saw that
everything in Sooty Shingle was black from coal dust. Passing a sign
identifying an alchemist and metallurgist, Kian made his way to the front
of the Spendthrift Mistress, mostly following the "stomp stomp" of
feet. Kian edged into a crowded taproom and hunched over so that his tall
stature didn't set him several inches above everyone else in this
place. Everywhere, buxom barmaids poured suds into pitchers and pints. A
half-eaten boar turned on a spit in an oven visible through a stone
archway, and trenchers of bread and boats of gravy got passed to tables
from trays laden with foodstuffs.
   Kian took out a copper penny and paid for a drink. He got back a pint
thick with foam. Raising his visor he took a drink, careful not to let the
hood drop. But there was no real need to be too cautious as no one paid
attention to him at all. The center of the room had two dwarves dancing
hand-in-hand on a table while three men pounded on drums and men sang along
to a Merenzaran drinking song.
   He found the ale refreshing and cool, and paid for a pulled pork
sandwich which he started eating as soon as it was set in front of him. He
held it in his gauntlet, chewing slowly, and scanned the crowd keeping his
face low. But he saw no one he recognized. However, the pork was as savory
as any he'd tasted.
   When Kian had a couple bites left, he motioned for the owner who was
busy cleaning mugs and held a gold coin in his palm. Deftly, Kian passed it
to him, and then the owner leaned in to hear Kian's words. "I'm curious
about old places like this. I'm an inspector of foundations, and would like
very much to see your basement."
   "My basement's full of art pieces, milord. I got to keep up appearances
for a fine establishment like this. Some say I have the finest collection
of oils featuring jackals...my favorite animal."
   "I prefer a black wolf with yellow eyes myself," Kian said, "but if it's
all the same to you, may the jackal keep your purses full and your enemies
sickly."
   The man grinned and wiped his hands on a cloth. "Come then. I think
we've got a lot I can show you, good sir."
   Kian stuffed the remainder of his sandwich in his mouth and chewed on
it. Then he finished off his ale and followed the man behind the bar. Once
they were in the back, Kian stood at his full height, which put him a few
inches taller than the proprietor.
   "You're a wiry one," the man said, looking Kian up and down. "That armor
won't be popular here, but you probably stole it to get around the
city. Smart move. My name's Otis," he said, proffering his hand.
   "Hunter," Kian said. "Well met."
   The man paused at the entrance to his cellar to whistle. "The Hunter?"
   "Yes, I have business with the Nightmaster."
   "I must say, sir, it's an honor to meet you." He stepped into Kian
unexpectedly and gave him a hug. "You probably don't remember but six
months ago you were in Hathaway and broke a man out of debtor's prison on
orders from the church. That was my brother, and you saved his life from
execution. Now he's got a new business in Ladika that's doin' well."
   "I remember it like it happened yesterday," Kian said. "He's about your
height, beardless, and with bushy brown hair. The man was a banker and got
caught with a rigged scale. Correct?"
   "That's 'im, sir," Otis said. "The church watches our own, that's what
Markain Kragar says. They sent you because the prison's so difficult to get
into. Rumors say you killed twenty imperial guards that night."
   "More like twelve," Kian said.
   "Seems like a lot for my brother, but I'm sure it was justified," Otis
replied.
   "Oh I was there for more than just your brother," Kian said. "I broke
out six other prisoners too. All on order from the church."
   That made Otis' eyes widen. "Were they important?"
   "None as important as...Richard was," Kian said carefully, struggling to
recall Otis' brother's name.
   But this made Otis laugh and clap Kian on the arms. He even danced a
little jig. "You remember his name! I told him, `If you got rescued by the
Assassin of the Silver Rose then the church values your operation
highly. Hunter doesn't just rescue no one.' Tethyr's teeth are we lucky to
have you! I love that our church created the order of the Black
Dragons. But you...you're a hero to so many. May Tethyr love you and keep
you safe, Mr. Hunter. You do excellent work."
   Kian nodded, feeling a little embarrassed at all the attention. He
decided it was a good thing that no one could see his face right now.
   Otis lit a lantern and unlocked a door next to a dish washing
station. Then he opened it and ushered Kian in and then closed the door
behind them. Before Kian loomed stairs that descended into a wine
cellar. Once at the bottom, Otis motioned toward a wine rack on the far
wall. With Kian's help, it pivoted out of the way easily, suspended on
strong hinges. Kian felt a breeze from a crack in the brick and realized
there was a secret door here.
   "Tell the Nightmaster hello from me," Otis said, turning his back to
head toward the stairs.
   Kian nodded and pushed on the secret door, which moved out of the way
revealing a lit corridor and more stairs. He heard voices up ahead, and
they sounded much more subdued than the ones in the tavern of the
Spendthrift Mistress. Kian closed the door behind him and took the stairs
two at a time. At the top, he saw a large room of boys and girls of various
ages eating at long tables. There was a table of older men and women, and
one that held a priest with the garments and holy symbol of the Church of
Thieves. The place was warmed by a single fish-mouthed fireplace and
candles provided light around the room. There were no windows.
   Without turning around, the priest at the table said, "Welcome, Black
Dragon Assassin of the Silver Rose. We've been expecting you. Please, come
and join us for late supper."
   This made everyone in the room quiet, and they all peered at Kian.
   "He's wearing Timeron knight armor," one boy said.
   Kian pulled his hood down and took off his helm. This immediately made
girls smile and giggle and boys stare in wonder at him. "A disguise I
assure you," Kian said softly.
   And then, all at once, two dozen boys and girls got up from the table
and mobbed him with hugs and cheers. Kian had to raise his arms out of the
way because so many wanted to get close to him.
   "Hunter! Hunter! Hunter!" they shouted.
   Then the priest stood and turned to face the crowd and said, "Children,
I'm sure Hunter has important business here. Let him through and if he has
enough sins, maybe you'll get to spend some time with him."
   Kian sighed at this "proclamation" of sins, because it was a reminder to
Kian that he owed a debt of time that amounted to several hours now.
   As in most churches, Kian was required to confess his sins. But in
Tethyr's church, one wasn't punished for sins in the form of money or for
that matter, prayers spoken while on bended knee in front of an idol to the
Jackal himself. No, Kian was required to teach and to pass on the things he
learned. All of the churches and priests in the world had a magical system
they could tap into that not only informed them of what their Black Dragon
Assassins were up to, but also gave them a running tally of how much
community service their mighty servants owed. That, and they could add to
it as they saw fit for forgiveness of sin. Because the church had many
demands upon the likes of Kian and Talen and Badger Swift, the three Black
Dragon Assassins could choose to work these hours whenever they found the
free time to do so in any thieves' guild in the world. Kian (by far) had
racked up the most community service and owed what amounted to seventeen
hours to be paid back in teaching martial arts, lockpicking, moving
silently, poison-handling, swordplay, information gathering, or even
something as innocuous as teaching boys how to be good men. Both Swift and
Talen managed to keep theirs under four hours. This is what Markain Kragar
meant when he addressed the guild just now. If Kian could spare the time
here, he could whittle away at some of his "Sin Tax" and spend time with
the children teaching them valuable skills.
   But what a pain in the arse, Kian thought. Of course, he wasn't stupid
enough to say this out loud.
   "Are you hungry, Assassin of the Silver Rose?" Markain Kragar asked.
   The priest was old but not stooped with age. He had a long beard that
flowed over his gray and black striped robes. A plain hemp rope served for
a belt around his waist. His eyes were black pools, reflective but
difficult to plumb, and Kian found his skin tanned like old leather, very
wrinkled around the eyes and atop the hands.
   Kian fell on bended knee before the priest and lowered his head
respectfully. "Your holiness, I had a sandwich just a bit ago. It was
pulled pork and quite tasty if I might add."
   "Ah, the chef's special," Markain Kragar said, with a bit of a laugh.
   Smiling children (dressed mostly in rags) gathered around Kian in a
tight crowd, running fingers over his armor, and touching his hair. One
girl said, "I love the potatoes when their covered in brown gravy."
   "I bet you do," Kian responded and then pecked her innocently on the
cheek. This of course immediately caused her to blush.
   The priest started waving his hands at the children, shooing them back
to their tables. Then Markain Kragar extended his weathered fingers toward
Kian's face and said, "kiss my ring and then you may rise, Hunter."
   Kian did as he was told, bestowing a gentle caress on the old man's
solid gold ring. The thing had a circle of small rubies ensconcing one
flawless diamond of several carats. Then he got to his feet once more.
   "I suppose you want to get down to business then?" Markain Kragar asked,
not bothering to get up from the bench. Kian saw three men and three women
here, all of them plain of face and dark-skinned. However, one woman had
eyes as yellow as the sun, and her hair was a metallic purple color.
   "If it please your holiness. But I can wait for you to finish your
meal," Kian said.
   Markain Kragar laughed. "I'm getting pretty full. But let me introduce
you to the others here. The three women are Ambrose, Reyna, and
Brusenna. The three men are Pen'Reath, Zed, and Dale. Brusenna is our
Nightmaster," Markain Kragar said, pointing out the woman with the purple
hair and yellow eyes. "She will be joining us in our meeting."
   Kian nodded toward her. "Good evening, Brusenna. Might I say I've never
seen eyes quite like yours before."
   "You flatter me, Kian," she said. "My eyes are the only thing
exceptional about me. But I must say that you are more handsome than even
your many portraits, which are quite popular here."
   "And tall," Pen'Reath said. The speaker had black skin, which made Kian
think he was a kuanni because of the pointed ears. But a dark elf, here?
Pen'Reath had shocks of long white hair, which Kian certainly remembered
from his last entanglement with the elves of the underworld. "Tell me,
Hunter. Are you six-foot two?"
   "I think an inch shorter than that," Kian said. "It's the heels on the
boots."
   "Ah, and are you surprised to see me here?" Pen'Reath asked. "A kuanni?"
   "I am at that. The ones I encountered led me to believe that their
entire race was savage and in league with the grimlocks and the ekthor,"
Kian responded.
   "My race is doomed," Pen'Reath said. "They court evil like flies swarm
on shit. I would like to hear of your tales with the grimlocks. The things
we know from that period in your life are sparse, though Tethyr has seen
fit to deliver to the priest some details which he has shared with us."
   "My glimpses into Kian's life are delivered through prayer," Markain
Kragar explained, taking a sip of beer, "and I share only what I deem is
appropriate. That judgment is left to each priest who is updated on Kian's
activity every morning during communion with Tethyr. There are things that
happened to our beloved that I will not speak. I leave that up to him to
decide."
   "Thank you for your discretion," Kian said softly. He glanced around the
room at the silent children, eating at their tables. All of the girls and
half the boys just stared at him. Many of the girls smiled and
giggled. Some whispered into the ears of their friends. He heard a little
of what they said, and it all had to do with how handsome he was. It kind
of made Kian a little nervous, but it also made him feel appreciated and
special. It hurt him to see them so poor, but Kian felt Zanda was probably
a crueler place than most for a thief, and at least they had food.
   "I had no idea that the portraits even existed, much less that the
priests got briefings about my activities," Kian said.
   Markain Kragar shrugged. "The church supplies the portraits through
magic. I can create a living image of you on paper with a single spell. I
never realized they'd be so popular but you are...as the girls and boys
say...very cute." Kragar smiled. "Don't worry, assassin. No one that is
unfaithful to Tethyr can see anything on those parchments hanging from the
walls of the dormitory rooms. And they show nothing below the waist."
   "Are the briefings...explicit...your holiness?" Kian asked, feeling heat
in his cheeks.
   "The ones about you are. I think Tethyr looks in on you quite often. But
to my knowledge, no priest talks about your indiscretions. Your life is a
public book, Kian. But it's only as public as my brother and sister clerics
decide to make it. You are tremendously liked by Luminara and many others,
and that's a position of privilege. No one would ever say anything to
embarrass you, trust us on that."
   "To be fair, the other Black Dragon Assassins also have a following, but
you're the most popular," Nightmaster Brusenna said. She got up from the
table, leaving a pewter plate behind mostly covered in crumbs and leftover
gravy. "Shall we go and speak with Kian in your chapel?" she asked Markain
Kragar.
   "Ah yes," Kragar responded. He motioned for Kian to help him stand up
(which Kian immediately did) and once on his feet, the doddering old man
followed Brusenna down a hallway to a set of double doors emblazoned with
the holy symbol of Tethyr. Kian walked behind Markain Kragar, and towered
over him by at least a foot.
   They went inside, Kian counted ten rows of pews. A skylight of stained
glass echoed the holy symbol of the god of thieves that Kian had seen
previously on the door, and it was set in a stone wall ten feet above an
altar draped in holy cloth. Atop it was a fine silver chalice, a bottle of
blessed wine, a silver plate with wafers on it, and a fat gray candle. The
floor here was granite, and Markain Kragar went directly to the altar,
poured some wine into the chalice, and removed a holy wafer from the
tray. He also pulled out a small bag of gold coins and a bottle of blessed
oil from a storage place inside the altar itself.
   Kian immediately dropped to his knees before the altar, set down his
helmet, and got ready to receive his holy "communion." First Kragar gave
him a sip of wine (which tasted delightful), and then he put the wafer on
Kian's soft pink tongue. As he pulled it inside his mouth, Kian felt it
dissolve and he swallowed it quickly. Kragar anointed Kian behind each ear,
and on the nose with the clear (and perfumed) oil. Then Kragar grabbed the
bag of coins and handed them to Kian.
   "The contract with the god of war, wolves, and winter that Luminara
worked out with their disciple has been quite lucrative. You may not know
this, but their church paid us two-hundred thousand gold pieces for your
services. In this bag is a thousand gold crowns...your share for the
services you've rendered so far. It may not seem like much, but you're a
holy warrior and that's your tithe. You'll receive another in six months'
time. Spend it wisely, Assassin of the Silver Rose. Remember always when
someone hires you, it is not to make you rich for the greatest reward comes
from within the church and how we support you and give you your
powers. We're also gathering more contracts. When you get done with the
current one, we'll have another for you that pays as much as this
one. We'll expect your best effort of course. The church of Tethyr has
ambition to become one of the world's greatest religions. A lot of that
ambition has to do with you, and the actions of your Black Dragon brothers
in arms."
   "I remember, your holiness," Kian said, pocketing the gold. "I'm
grateful to the Jackal, and I'm thankful for his generosity and will always
be in his debt. Before I came here, Renfro told me that I have a
daughter. Is there anything you can say about this?"
   Markain Kragar straightened his back. "It's true. She was born a few
months ago to Angelaria Shaquessir. She's a healthy and incredibly
beautiful baby. Her name's Ashley, and she's got the white-blond hair and
blue eyes of her father."
   Kian swallowed, "After my commitments to the current contract, can I go
home and see them?"
   "I'll ask Luminara to consider this, but I have to tell you that you're
owned by the church, Kian. Would you allow your draft horse that's needed
in the field to go off and see its foal? This is not meant to be cruel,
Kian. But if you wanted to raise a family, you chose the wrong kind of
work. However, Luminara may decide differently. The decision will be left
up to her to see if we can spare you for a few months."
   "A few months? I wouldn't need long," Kian said.
   "So you say now, until you lay eyes upon your daughter. It's what all
young men say. And then we take into consideration that more children are
going to follow from that visit. We aren't stupid and know how babies are
made. No if we send you home, you'll have six months. That's an appropriate
amount of time for a man to see his family and get another bun baking in
the oven. Hopefully by then you'll be begging to get away, what with all
that crying and screaming. You should also know that Angelaria has not
taken another lover in your absence. It appears you've stolen her heart,
which seems to be a modus operandi of yours."
   "I don't mean it to be. I didn't ask to be this good looking," Kian
said.
   Markain Kragar sighed. "Of course you didn't. But you are, and the rest
of the world pays the price of having the most beautiful lad the world has
ever seen walk unfettered among us. Now, do you have any other questions?"
   "No," Kian said.
   "Good. What sins have you to confess?" Markain Kragar asked.
   Behind him, Brusenna closed the doors to the chapel and then took a seat
in a pew just to his right.
   Kian glanced at her and then bowed his head to the old priest of Tethyr
who stood before him, patiently listening.
   "Forgive me, Markain and voice of Tethyr for I have committed many sins
against Tethyr's teachings and seek forgiveness."
   "Of course you have," Kragar said. "You wouldn't be Kian Lightfoot if
there weren't sins to confess. Out with it then."
   "Since my last confession, I've killed nine individuals who were not
ordered slain by the church. I recognize the authority of the church to
direct my sword, however, these deaths couldn't be helped."
   "They couldn't, eh? I suppose they just ran chest first into your sword
while you were boiling peas?" Kragar asked.
   "Two were Timeron knights that came across our camp in the woods. One
was a minotaur that was in the sworn company of Ser Ephram Skye, whom I was
hired to protect." Kian went on to describe the other deaths of men that
either got in his way, or stood in the way of his mission.
   "These are all understandable and forgiven. Are there any others?"
   "I killed two men because I wanted to," Kian said. "They were both
abusers of children, and I had the time to mete out justice."
   This made Markain Kragar frown. "I get that you're a good person, Kian,
but the resources of our church are not meant to be used to police the
world's lack of morality. Let it stand that I add two hours to the sin debt
of the Assassin of the Silver Rose," the priest said.
   The candle on the altar lit with gray flame at that proclamation, and an
androgynous voice filled the room. "Two hours of service have been added to
Kian Lightfoot's record, bringing the total to nineteen hours."
   "Is there anything else?" Markain Kragar asked.
   "I struck a Nykoran hard enough to knock him out for a few hours. I
wanted to kill him, and as far as I can tell, he does business with the
thieves' guild here," Kian said. "I even threatened him."
   Markain Kragar whistled and said, "You threatened Horigum Khaine? He and
his partner pay good protection money to our guild, Kian. Maladom Flint is
even one of our own, and we make a king's ransom from his fashion shows and
his sex trade. This is unacceptable. Did you do this because the Nykorans
have such a terrible history with your race? Had he threatened you
personally?"
   "Yes," Kian said. "And `no' to the second question. He wanted to fondle
my balls, but to be clear, he had no idea who I was. However, I'd do it
again in a heartbeat. Nykorans skinned my ancestors to make capes. They
sold them as sex slaves to depraved owners that mutilated them. I have no
sympathy for Nykorans. Every single one that I see in this world will fare
equal to or worse than Horigum Khaine."
   Markain Kragar shook his head in exasperation but said, "You are
forgiven. Let the record stand that I add five hours to your `sin debt.'"
   "Five hours?" Kian asked. "That's a lot."
   "Keep complaining, assassin, and I'll add more. I assume we're also not
done, so keep confessing."
   "What if I am done?" Kian asked.
   Markain Kragar stared at Kian and said, "As lovely as those eyes of
yours are, young lad. You're not done confessing. I can see you still have
more."
   Kian ground his jaw and said, "I let a Timeron knight live. I know
they're our sworn enemy but I couldn't kill him."
   "When did this happen?"
   "Two days ago. I needed to steal a message that was intended for
Skellhaundar Romax. I knew it would have something important written upon
it because they kidnapped Ephram Skye, the knight I was sworn to protect."
   "You let them take him?" Markain Kragar asked.
   "I couldn't stop it from happening. But I've a plan to get him
back. Anyway, I knocked the helmet off one of the Timeron knights in a
scuffle and when I saw his face, I couldn't bring myself to kill him. So I
just stole the message and left."
   "Why couldn't you kill him?" Kragar asked.
   Kian looked up. "He was...my age sir."
   "And was he cute?" Kragar asked, somewhat disgusted "Why must you be
attracted to everything with a nice face?"
   Sweating nervously, Kian said, "I-I just couldn't kill him. He was in
the wrong place at the wrong time."
   "So you spared his life, and he'll probably end up killing one of our
own in the future. Fuckin' hell, Kian. You are forgiven, but that will add
five hours more to your sin debt."
   Kian's eyes look downcast as the voice in the candle flame reported that
Kian now owed twenty-nine hours of service to Tethyr's church. "You might
as well know what I'm planning tomorrow. I'm using this armor to enter the
Bowl of Blood in the Arena of the Flayed Man. I intend to win and to get
the spurs to become a bona fide Timeron knight."
   "That's forbidden!" Markain Kragar exclaimed. "No follower of Tethyr
ever pledges allegiance to Taleta, Queen of Demons! I realize you'd be a
double agent, but how would we know for certain that you'd take our side in
a conflict between our churches?"
   "Aye that it is, but can I be forgiven in advance? I swear my allegiance
to Tethyr is absolute. Most esteemed holiness, this is the only way I can
fulfill my duty. I need access to the Keep of Anghul to rescue Eph. I have
to go places in Zanda that only Timeron knights can go without
detection. There's a pressing need for this, and I know I can pass the
physical test."
   "Yes, yes," Markain Kragar said. "The church's policy is to never stand
in the way of its disciples but you, Kian, are asking a lot of us. We are
the church of thieves' for god's sake. Most of our members never commit
sins because a `sin' as defined by the dictates of our church is pretty
major stuff. We don't care if you whore or murder or swear or steal. Yet
here you are, doing all the things that we object to. By the power vested
in me by Tethyr himself, you are forgiven. So don't sweat that. However,
I'm adding a full twenty-four hours to your sin debt."
   "That's insane!" Kian said. "Twenty-four hours? How can you add that
much?"
   "Because you're doing something that's forbidden. People follow your
deeds very closely. You are taking our church in a completely different
direction. How can we be comfortable letting our own disciple entwine
himself so closely with those who have declared open war against us and
blame us for Inzilbeth's death? Hmm? Twenty-four hours of sin debt seems
light to me in recollection."
   Kian bowed his head and said, "I apologize for raising my voice to you,
holiness."
   Then he heard the voice in the candle update his sin debt, "Let it stand
that Kian Lightfoot now owes fifty-three hours of community service."
   Markain Kragar placed his hand gently on Kian's shoulder. "Rise,
Assassin of the Silver Rose. Be it known you are in excellent standing with
the church, have made us lots of money, and have not failed us at all. Your
sins are forgiven, and we love you. And now with that bit of unpleasantness
over," Kragar said, snuffing the flame on the altar with his fingers, "what
is it that we can do for you?"
   Kian folded his arms over his chest and looked at the Nightmaster. Then
he said, "Ser Ephram Skye assembled a party of individuals, and I told them
to make contact with me through the thieves' guild here in Zanda. There's
going to be a hare-foot, an elven druid, an ursuul warrior, a dwarf
fighter, a bard, a red-haired girl, a ronin from the mystic east, and one
elvish Valkyrie."
   "That describes a party that Marley saw. They paid Silas at the gate
good money to smuggle the majority of them into Zanda inside barrels. But
they haven't made contact with us yet," the Nightmaster said.
   "Could be that they don't know how to find us," Kragar offered. "Unless
you know what to look for, we're pretty hidden."
   "Can you get a message to them from me?" Kian asked.
   "We can," Nightmaster Brusenna said. "What's the message?"
   "Tell them I've located Ephram Skye and that I'll need them to be
waiting for us in a boat no more than five-hundred feet from the Isle of
Night's Watch sometime after midnight tomorrow. They may have to wait
hours. But I'll bring Ephram to them before dawn. That's my promise."
   "Anything else?" Nightmaster Brusenna asked.
   "Yes," Kian said. "Tell them that Henna must be well rested. It's
possible that Ephram will be so wounded that he will need immediate medical
attention to prevent his death."

				   *****

The complete novel is now available to read at
http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html under the label
"The Orb of Winter" if you care to read ahead.

Are there any artists out there willing to draw some pics for my story? If
so, please email me. There is an "Orb of Winter" map now in both the NEWS
section of my website and in the FORUMS of my website.

If you go to my website directly from this posting, you will want to begin
with "CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE."