FROM THE SCRIBBLINGS OF RANY

The Golden Stag was a nice enough pub on Steeple Row. No music, no food, just serious drinkers. A man of middle years served ale from the bar and a very young girl tended to the tables.

There was no back corner table. Already I was beginning to suspect Leonis was full of nothing but shit.

“Afternoon,” said the barkeep. “Are you an outlander? We welcome your kind here – ale is half price for ya!”

The other patrons at the bar grumbled their exception to this.

Sammyl was one of them, his glass nearly empty, and I suspected it was not his first. He was trying far too hard to pretend not to know me. Fortunately, no one was paying attention to him.

I asked the bartender, “Do you have any brandy?”

“Sorry, no. Just ale.”

“I must have the wrong place. Is there another Golden Stag?”

“Of course not!” the man gave me a knowing look. “You know, maybe I do have some brandy in the back room. From my personal supply, but I will offer you a cup, on the house! Serina – clear that table in the corner for our new friend here!”

The brandy was far too strong and far too sweet. I really wanted an ale. But I sat and I sipped, waiting.

Sammyl concentrated very hard on not looking in my direction. I watched him order what must be his third ale. Maybe fourth.

The men at the bar engaged in steady, mindless chatter, the kind drunks like to engage in. They paid me no mind. Outside, the city bells rang twice.

A man came in. He was clothed plainly in black pant and black shirt, wearing the brown boots of a worker, no armor. He came straight to my table.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, as if he knew me. He sat down across from me. He had a thick head of dark black hair, almost covering his eyes in the front and below his shoulders in the back, with thick black eyebrows, moustache, and beard.

The man spoke softy enough that no one else could hear. “No names.”

He looked intently at me. “You don’t look like an outlander.”

“The fuck do you care? You got something for me or what?”

Murder flashed in his eyes but was gone in an instant. “Why don’t you take it easy,” he said.

The serving girl came over and he ordered an ale. She went off to fetch it.

“This is no simple job,” he said. “But it pays quite well. Once done, there should be more for you.”

“Great. What’s the fucking job?”

“I’m getting to it, you fucking outlander. I serve a man who is very wealthy, very powerful. You would not know him by name, but believe me when I say he exerts a great deal of influence in this city.”

“Impressive,” I said, forcing myself to not sound impressed.

“He lost something recently, something of great value. Ah, thank you, miss!” He received his ale from the girl and took a healthy drink.

“A dagger,” he continued. “Not just any dagger. A very old dagger, centuries old, with a pure gold, diamond studded hilt. It is said to have belonged to an ancient emperor.”

“You want me to find the dagger.”

“No. I already found it. I want you to get it back.”

“Ok,” I said. I waved my hand in a motion I had seen Alec make, gesturing to speed the discussion up and get to the point. “Where is it?”

“A young lady has it. And by lady, I mean ‘Lady.’ She is staying at the Regal Inn. She keeps the dagger in a strongbox in her room. Get the dagger, and – this is important – replace the dagger with this.”

He produced a dagger from his belt and slid it across the table to me. I forced myself not to gasp. It looked like it cost over 100,000 gold. It looked much like the dagger he had just described.

“It’s fake, of course,” he said. “Any merchant would take one look at it and laugh if you tried selling it to them. So don’t get it in your head to try that. This one must replace the other, or there is no payment.”

“How much is my payment?”

“Three thousand gold.”

I nearly fell out of my chair but managed to feign boredom.

“That sounds reasonable. I’ll do it.”

“Good. One more thing. The job must be done tonight.”

“No problem. I’ll have that fucking thing in an hour.”

“You and I will not meet again. Bring the dagger to Leonis and he will have your payment waiting.”

“Ok.”

“The girl’s name is Krista. Young and a pretty little piece of ass, for a noble girl. You can’t kill her, by the way. This only works if no one knows the dagger is stolen or suspects a thing. Otherwise, no payment.”

“Not a problem,” I smiled.

The Regal Inn of course was the most fancy inn in the city. I think it might have been a lord’s castle once. The common room had the look of a great hall. Stone floor, so clean it shined, high ceiling, room enough to accommodate an army. The minstrels were of high quality, but performed as if they were doing a service rather than doing everyone a favor, an attitude I have found common among that lot.

This was an inn for nobility. I had never seen anything like it. Every patron had the look of a lord or lady, each accompanied by an entourage of servants and guards.

I strutted in with faithful servant Sammyl in tow, acting as if none of these royal ass kissers were worthy of holding my cock while I took a piss. I was the only outlander in the place. (I had nearly forgotten I was only pretending to be an outlander).

We sat at a table, drank some ale and waited for the sixth bell.

She came down, right on schedule. She wore a green dress of the highest quality material tailored for every contour of her body. Her hair fell straight down below her shoulders – no fancy braids or anything of that sort. I could see the green of her eyes from across the room – dark green to match her dress.

She sat, alone, her guard taking a table with other guards in the corner. Soon, as I had hoped, I noticed her beginning to cast glances in my direction.

I steeled my nerve, stood, and swaggered right over to her.

“What’s up?” I said. I extended my hand. “I’m Paul Rance.”

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her green eyes sparkling.

“I am Krista. You are an outlander?”

“You’re damn right I am.”

“I’ve never met one before.” Her eyes seemed to blaze with curiosity. She had a very intelligent look about her. “Would you like to join me?”

We chatted for a bit. She told me she was a lady in waiting for Queen Elyscia. Thinking an outlander would not know who that was, she explained that Elyscia was the bloody queen of Fedra. I pretended that this was new information to me. Krista, strangely, did not seem impressed at all with her own position.

“I am here for this ‘big council’ that all the kings and queens in the fucking empire are attending. With the Empress. Very exciting.”

“Have you ever met the Empress?”

“Me?” She laughed. “Fuck no.”

She was quite bored with Meridea and wanted to get back to her own city. It was becoming more and more clear that she would welcome an evening of pleasant distraction. I turned on the charm, giving every hint I could that she could have such an evening with me.

As she finished her meal and her wine, she smiled at me in a way that made it clear she understood.

“Is that your servant over there?” she asked, looking at Sammyl. Sammyl was staring at us with a scowl on his face.

“Yes,” I said. “He is sworn to follow me.”

“Is that so?” She seemed impressed.

“Yes. He has followed me into battle many times.”

“He looks so strong.”

“Oh, well, yes. He is, I suppose.”

“And he will do anything you command?”

Damn the gods.

I had a quick word with Sammyl about the revised plan. He seemed a bit too happy about this turn of events.

For someone who put on so few airs, Krista certainly lived a life in a world quite different from my own. She had an entire suite of rooms, with a luxuriously furnished solar, a room for her guards to sleep in, a privy, and her own room with a gigantic bed a span high and two span wide, covered by a silk canopy.

Next to the bed was the strongbox.

We drank wine in her solar and talked for some time. I told stories about the outlander world – fabricated from my own imagination of course. Both guards sat with us, watchful but seemingly unworried. After awhile, she sent them away, and asked me to leave as well, to fetch more wine. She had plenty of wine in her suite already, of course.

That she could be taking a huge risk by being alone with someone like Sammyl seemed to do nothing but thrill her.

I went downstairs, ruminating on the mysteries of women. The plan, now in motion, seemed less solid than it had. Now it relied on Sammyl and whatever lovemaking prowess he possessed.

I decided I would have an ale in the common room, then sneak back into her suite, sneak into the room while she and Sammyl were in the act, and do the fastest lock picking of my damn life. Not an ingenious plan, but simple.

As I drank my ale, I absently toyed with my lock picks, getting a good feel for them. I took the fake dagger out and had a better look at it. I ran my fingers along the hilt, thinking somewhere in the back of my mind that something was odd. After a bit of further examination, the dagger came apart in my hand.

The hilt was hollow. Inside was a thin, rolled up parchment, which I unrolled and tried to read.

Qttp ktw ijqnajwd kwtr rfle lznqi. Hfxj tk bnsj. Ymnwi gtyyqj, qfxy wtb, rfwpji ts gtyytr bnym xrfqq gqtyhm. Uqfhj ymwjj iwtux ns Fsfqnxf bnsj. Bmjs Fsfqnxf ijfi, dtzw hmnqiwjs bnqq gj kwjji.

It was indecipherable. The intended recipient probably had some type of key indicating which letter to substitute for which.

Nevertheless, I had some time left, and you can be damn certain that if I find a coded message hidden in an object I am hired to plant, I am going to want to know what it says.

I took pen and paper and tried various things, my ale forgotten.

It took me some time. Krista’s guards were dicing with some swordsmen, but seemed to be casting glances upstairs as if thinking to return soon.

The code turned out to be so damned simple that I nearly missed it. I was ready to give up, but just before doing so, tried simply studying one word and changing letters around in my head until something made sense.

All at once I had it. The word was “in.” Each letter in the code was five letters further along in the alphabet than the correct letter. Excited now, damn near forgetting that I needed to be heading back upstairs at the moment, I hastily scrawled out the real message.

As I finished writing, I froze still in my chair.

Look for delivery from mage guild. Case of wine. Third bottle, last row, marked on bottom with small blotch. Place three drops in Analisa wine. When Analisa dead, your children will be freed.

There was only one Analisa I knew of, and that was the damn Empress.

I was holding in my hand a message, written in my own hand, instructing someone to assassinate the Empress. Quite certain that was punishable by death.

I glanced about, trying to appear calm. All around me in the crowded room were nobles and minor royals.

I burned the note that I had transcribed. I placed the coded message in my boot.

Krista’s guards looked restless and the dice game appeared to be nearing an end.

Unable to resist, I took my pen, tore off a blank parchment from my journal, and wrote a new message, with my own code. This code was indecipherable because it was completely random. Let the recipient spend some time trying to make sense of that.

I placed the message in the hilt of the fake dagger, which I fastened back to the blade.

I rose to my feet and made my way back up the stairwell. Krista’s guards were on their feet, preparing to make their return as well.

In the bedroom, Krista was asleep.

As was Sammyl. He was snoring quite loudly. I have no idea how it did not wake her.

I had to pick the lock of the strongbox in the dark. It took some doing, every bit of my skill and experience. It came open with a loud click. Krista stirred in the bed. I froze, less than a span away from her. Outside the room, I heard the guards entering the solar, talking quietly. It sounded as if they were arguing about something.

I took the dagger from the chest and hid it below my tunic. I put the fake dagger inside the chest, which I closed as quietly as I could.

I stood and left the room, no longer attempting to be quiet.

The guards stopped arguing and stared at me.

“I can’t wake my goddamned servant,” I said, quite irritated.

One of them went into the room to check on things, while the other eyed me. The one came back out.

“Too much wine.”

They chuckled.

“We know nothing,” the guard said. “What the Lady Krista does is not our business.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” I said. “That motherfucker is damned lucky he is so good in battle that he is difficult to replace. I’m just going to wait here for him. I’d get my own room, but the fucking inn is full.”

They shrugged and retired to their quarters.

I sat in one of the plush chairs and waited for dawn.