The job today was a routine one, which meant that James and Bacchus wouldn’t know the specifics until they spoke to Gerred. The Guild’s second-in-command held court in various locations—sometimes public, sometimes private. Today, he was in the back room of a carpenter’s shop.
The smell of sawdust and the soft crunch of wood shavings underfoot greeted them as they entered a room cluttered with tools and lumber. Gerred sat at the carpenter’s work table and acknowledged them with a nod. He was middle-aged, with a paunch that testified to his recent success, though anyone who mistook his girth for weakness did so at his own risk. A few of Gerred’s subordinates were scattered by the walls, and behind Gerred stood a man who was fast becoming familiar to James. The man wore the clothes of a commoner, but his bearing gave him away. He stood tall and looked at people as if they existed at his pleasure. It was Lord Hamel, one of the richest noblemen in Forge. He’d always believed in spreading his influence, and he didn’t restrict himself to legal means. Not for the first time, James wondered how much of his bread and butter came from Hamel’s coffers.
“We’re errand boys for the wallhuggers,” Bacchus muttered. For once, he had the good sense to keep his voice low.
James didn’t give any indication of hearing him, though he agreed. Talesinger accounts of the age-old Assassins Guild abounded with romance and mystique, but actually, the Guild’s current incarnation was pale ash compared to what it once was. A hundred years ago, Guild members had been feared and influential. Nowadays, they were just hired thugs who did unpleasant jobs for pay. James’s own jobs had become more menial over the past few years, though he suspected this had more to do with Gerred taking over job assignments than with the wallhuggers’ meddlings.
“Ho, Gerred,” James said. “How are things?”
Gerred had been writing in a ledger and put his pen down. James did have to give the man credit for being organized. Gerred’s meticulousness had brought a new efficiency to Guild operations. “We’ve got trouble with Red Shields coming after our men,” said Gerred.
“Is that so?” James let the question fall with an unfinished note.
Gerred gave them a probing look. “Clevon’s dead,” he said abruptly.
James briefly considered feigning surprise but decided against it. Gerred needed to know that he wasn’t able to hide as much as he wished.
“When’d you plan on telling us?” asked Bacchus.
“I told you just now, din’t I?”
There was a shifting of energy within the room, and James felt eyes settle on him, waiting for his next move. If the others were expecting a show, they’d be disappointed. James kept his expression carefully neutral. “When?” asked James.
“Six days ago. Red Shields. Three of them.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he said.
Gerred rubbed his knuckles and squinted at them. “Things’ll be shaky for a while. Can I count on your loyalty?”
“Of course,” said James coolly. Around him, the other assassins settled, and the tension dissipated a notch.
Again, a long stare from Gerred. Then, he cleared his throat. “The job today is for Lord Hamel. An associate owes him money.” He handed them a name and address on a parchment. James took it, since Bacchus couldn’t read. James himself had only learned to do so after he’d noticed all the leaders in the Guild were literate.
Gerred gestured toward the parchment. “You know him, don’t you?”
“Name looks familiar. He still hasn’t paid up?”
Behind Gerred, Lord Hamel cleared his throat. “He’s owed me money for several weeks now.” The nobleman spoke with an elegant diction. “Be more persuasive this time, will you? I don’t imagine that will be a problem for the two of you.”
Bacchus snorted. “It won’t.”
They took their leave. Most of the city had gone to sleep, and the streets were quiet. After they had gone a few blocks, Rand materialized from the shadows and fell in step with them. “Any news?” he asked.
“Clevon’s dead,” said Bacchus. “Gerred ’fessed up.”
Rand cursed under his breath. “Think Gerred’ll take over?”
“Seems he already has,” said James.
Their conversation fell off as they reached the man’s house. James nodded, and the three of them moved in.
The door was in such disrepair that it swung open with a single kick from Bacchus. James watched as the other two dragged a disoriented man out of bed. Their victim was still blinking and shaking his head when they dumped him in front of James. Rand pulled him to his feet and held him firmly by the arms.
“One hundred coppers, due three months ago,” said James. “You remember, don’t you?”
As the man came to his senses, he started to gibber about his health. James exchanged a glance with Bacchus, who rolled up his sleeves and moved closer with a grin. Bacchus enjoyed this type of work.