Four – The Big Fat Kill
The idea was to send the target to Dakkru`s dark embrace so that not only others -colleagues, family and perhaps most importantly the authorities- thought it had been an accident, but also that the target him, her or kraself thought it had been an accident. The nature of death was that unless the target was particularly old there was a good chance that sooner or later they would find their way back from the Death Realm. It could be days, it could be years, but people had a nasty habit of coming back. And if they knew they`d been done in by someone then they usually came back with a burning grudge. But if they died accidentally they`d have no one to hunt down...and they`d have the embarrassment and confusion of having died in an accident. Feeoh fondly remembered a xacha priest he`d gotten drunk, set up and killed down on the Stronghold. No priest would come back and want to talk about dying dressed in a fenki courtesan`s garb and a ball-gag, crushed to death by a rampant rivnak stallion in his personal quarters.
Death, as opposed to True Death, was so much less likely to be investigated. Of course, it meant that he only got his target out of the way temporarily, but more often than not that was all that was really needed.
One important factor in his work was that, depending on the target`s lifestyle and the locale, a great many situations could be explained as `accidental death`. A farmer crushed by his livestock or farm implements? Happens all the time. A knife through the ribs? High crime in Hydlaa plaza but not quite so shocking in the dark alleys of Ojaveda`s more shady Dsars. Also so much easier to disguise as a simple mugging by also looting the body, rather than murder and its true motives. So usually he took some time to get to know his target: both their daily routine if any, and their interests. Usually one of the two lead to something he could exploit, be it a bizarre and depraved penchant for eroticism as with the xacha priest down on the Stronghold, or a habit of going out hunting alone on a rivnak into the wilderness every morning. Routines bred predictability. Hence he`d asked a lot of questions of Kaisa. The controlled environment of the winch, and its security though...they didn`t leave him with many options or much time. He knew he had at least twenty four hours to dispatch Mesusa. Plenty of time to learn the lay of the land...though not really enough to learn the target`s routine and find a vulnerable point. At worst it might have to be a spontaneous act when he saw the opportunity.
He slipped his boots off in case they made any noise and scampered between the shadows cast by buildings, the Azure Sun overhead still a fair few hours from full brightness.
The winch area comprised four tiers of land decorated with offices, warehouses, a few houses for officials and paddocks for livestock, with roads curving down to the left and right toward the main building itself. To each side cliff-faces rose up as natural barriers and with the wall segregating the area from the rest of Hydlaa at the back, the only open side was that which dropped away down to the Barn and other levels. On a good day, when the weather was clear, one could see across to the city of Donton on the far side of the Dome where the second winch was.
He had been told the Quinx Mercantile Guild had a small warehouse with quarters on the left side of the second tier down, identified easily enough by the sign hanging over the door, decorated with the image of a quinx: an iron-bodied mute creature said to be one of Laanx`s creations. This one was painted hefting a pair of crates with great ease. Clearly the merchants either had links to the Iron Temple or simply sought the masquerade lord`s blessing.
As he mused this over, a ylian woman perhaps in her early twenties and dressed in travelling clothes with the rusty-red cloak of her guild stepped out of the building. Amani, he thought. The Outlaws hadn`t told the woman what they planned to do to Mesusa, only that he`d be removed so she could complete her half of the bargain, so he thought it best if she remained ignorant of his presence. Apparently the Outlaws had offered her money to do this job for them, so clearly she could be bought. He didn`t want anyone buying her as a witness either. Killing her superior without her knowing about it beforehand would also serve to scare her into secrecy.
The woman came out with a wooden bucket and crossed the road to a small pool in the middle of a clearing. Gathering water for morning ablutions and breakfast, no doubt.
Rather than rushing into the building while her back was turned and potentially running straight into his target unprepared, he sprinted low across from his hiding place to the wooden fence encircling the warehouse and its small compound. He wanted a closer look at the building itself.
Two stories, it appeared a good two-thirds of the building was storage space. He peeked through windows to see nothing but crates stacked to the rafters. The final third was accommodation: the ground floor living space and a small kitchen and pantry. A chimney spouted from the tiled roof and vented grey smoke. He didn`t risk climbing the gutter pipe but assumed the upper area had to be bedrooms. Probably not more than one or two.
As he examined the building another possibility came to mind: species. This Mesusa was a ynnwn: a diaboli-elf halfbreed, and that meant he had a serious allergy to precious metals. Feeoh had once managed to poison a ynnwn to death, over a protracted length of time, by inserting small amounts of silver dust into his food. It had steadily built up and killed him. Not quick, not cheap and most certainly not painless. The buildup of silver in the corpse hadn`t escaped the local sawbones` attention, but by that time Feeoh had been long gone, moving to one of the other levels. Again, there wasn`t enough time for that, but still...precious metals might be the key...
Still studying the rear of the warehouse he heard the door close on the other side. Amani must have gone back in. Sneaking along the wall, his knees and back bent to keep him under the level of the windows, he stopped outside what he judged to be the kitchen window.
“Ah, there you are at last!” came a male voice punctuated with a yawn.
“`morning Mesusa,” Amani replied in a weary tone.
“Come on, come on, I`m hungry,” said the ynnwn bossily and Feeoh heard the ylian woman`s footsteps as she moved toward the window he crouched under. He held his breath. There came a chopping sound from within: evidently Amani had started to make breakfast for the two merchants. There was a creaking of wood from within as someone climbed stairs. Mesusa must be big. Or fat.
“Lard-arsed bastard son of a rivnak,” Amani muttered to herself as she chopped veg and put it into the pot which was slowly starting to boil.
Fat it is, then.
It would be so easy to knife Mesusa in the night and plant the weapon on Amani, Feeoh knew, but he was being paid specifically to keep Amani clean. In a way he was being paid to do what she`d probably love very much to do herself.
As Mesusa came back down stairs the sounds within changed to those of the two merchants eating, the domineering ynnwn reminding his junior of all the duties she was to perform that day in preparation for the next morning`s shipment and other deals. He conspicuously left out detailing what he would be up to, if anything.
Feeoh left the sound of spoons scraping on plates, drinking and Mesusa`s belching, and made his way back round to the rear wall and the windows to the warehouse. Fortunately one of them had been cracked, evidently some time in the past a crate had toppled inside and broke it, the splintered panes still held precariously by the wooden frame. He took a good look to memorise how the window looked before he set to work. Fortunately nothing was resting against it anymore and he carefully slid a naked finger into a gap where a chip had fallen away. The edges looked sharp but he knew if he wore his gloves then his finger would never fit. The elf tested the shards of glass, finding them loose and with extreme care proceeded to work them loose, starting with the topmost one lest it fall noisily. Freeing it he placed it flat on the ground, taking a moment to look around and listen before rising again to work on the rest of the glass.
It took far longer than he had anticipated and twice he cut his fingers on the edge of the glass shards, careful to remove any blood from them before stacking them on the ground. Eventually he had removed one window and peered into the interior of the warehouse. Stacks of crates and barrels, as he had seen on his brief check earlier. He leaned in and placed the stack of broken glass on a crate to one side of the window before hauling himself inside. With as much care, if not more, he placed the broken window panes back into the window frame, cutting a finger a further time and uttering a curse under his breath as he pulled on his leather gloves, not wanting to leave nolthrir bloodstains everywhere.
Iron-bound wooden crates and chests formed a labyrinth within the warehouse, and an ill-lit one at that, for the outer stacks blocked much of the light that did get in through the windows and he soon found himself navigating almost by touch. Thankfully, being a nolthrir, he had an excellent sense of direction. After some fifteen minutes of carefully inspecting the labels nailed to various crates in case he could find something of use he eventually found that most of them were locked and those that weren`t had their lids nailed down. He`d need more than his dagger to pry them open and set about searching for a pry-bar. It was as he reached for such a tool that he heard the large wooden doors on the front of the building side open. Snatching up the bar he snuck through the shadowy maze toward the front. He didn`t want to have to brain the ynnwn to death with the iron club but if it was that or be discovered then he`d do it and figure out a way to make it look accidental afterward. And quickly: bodies didn`t tend to stick around once they`d expired.
The door slid noisily closed again and Feeoh frowned. If the merchants were going to be either taking stock out or moving stuff in, they`d need the doors open. The heavy footfalls on the stone floor indicated that Mesusa, and Mesusa alone, was still within the warehouse...an inspection?
Trying to remember the layout of the stacks without having to run his hand along the walls, the nolthrir assassin worked his way toward the sound of the merchant`s steps, trying to come round behind him.
After less than a minute the footsteps stopped, Feeoh too freezing momentarily until there came a jangling of metal: keys, and a huff as the corpulent half-breed bent over. Feeoh peeked out from behind one wall of crates to find Mesusa unlocking a crate, lit by a thin beam of light penetrating between two stacks. He was no more than seven paces away. Seven quick strides, a strong swing, and the ynnwn would be on his way to Dakkru`s cold embrace.
But something stopped the nolthrir.
What was in the crate?
The hinges squeaked as the lid was drawn back and Mesusa`s crimson face was illuminated as the scant light reflected off something gleaming brightly within. The merchant gave a hoarse cough and pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket along with a small bag. Feeoh could hear the other`s childlike giggle, everything else as silent as the grave. The merchant straightened, holding up a small, shining disc between gloved fingers, his other hand over his mouth as he coughed again. His beady eyes were fixed upon the platinum coin. With another greedy chuckle he slipped it into the small bag and bent back over the crate to scoop up more.
Feeoh saw his chance and carefully crept across to the stack of crates between the merchant`s back and the wall. In time with the clinking of coins he climbed atop the bottom crate, his chest and face pressed against the two above. Three more towered atop those.
The lid squeaked again as Mesusa began to close it and Feeoh almost spat a curse. He`d taken too much time! But the lid squeaked again as Mesusa changed his mind, deciding to pilfer a few more coins after all.
The nolthrir held his breath and turned, balancing on the edge of the crate with his bare feet, so that he now faced the wall. He put his webbed feet against it and pushed as hard as he could. He bit his lip rather than let out the grunt of exertion which his lungs begged to release. And soon enough the stack toppled, smashing into the ynnwn merchant`s back and hammering him face-down into the crate of platinum coins.
Quickly rolling off the scattered chests, Feeoh spared a quick but critical glance at his victim: three heavy boxes were resting on his torso and head, from the back of which blood was trickling and the hands lay limb at the sides. What he could see of Mesusa`s face was already swelling up and turning a foul green with allergic reaction to the platinum.
Thinking quickly Feeoh tugged the purse of coins from the corpse`s hand. He noticed the large `M` embroidered on it and chuckled to himself as he pocketed all but two of the coins, leaving the purse on the ground as evidence. As he did this Mesusa`s corpse faded away, taken by Dakkru, and the crates fell noisily again.
Time to be out of here.
Epilogue
The next day the accidental death of the Quinx Mercantile Guild`s trader Mesusa was reported in the Hydlaa Post, the fact that his body disappeared noted and prayers directed to Dakkru for his safe passage through the goddess` land. Both the Hydlaa Guard and his own Guild were waiting with large clubs and very difficult questions for him should he make it back to Yliakum.
Feeoh looked remarkably different the next time he strode into Hydlaa. Clean shaven and clad in fine clothes -a considerable portion of his payment from the job- he met Kaisa and Mogweh in Kada El`s. The nolthrir never asked the full details why they had wanted Mesusa temporarily removing...something about a shipment they wanted diverting, the smiles on their faces sufficient proof that events had gone according to plan. The less he knew: the safer for all parties.
Kaisa set a beer in front of each of them and they raised their drinks in a silent toast before downing them.
It was only as Feeoh lowered his mug back to the table that he saw Thorian wink maliciously at him from across the room, and a strange feeling spread through his stomach...
The End
