A Conjuring of Assassins, page 38
When I got back with the rope, Teo was sitting beside Cei, not on him. The beautiful young man lay perfectly still. A hand on his chest testified that he was breathing.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t kill him. I just … forced him to turn inward for a while.”
He uncoiled the rope and bound Cei securely. I cut the length with my own dagger, retrieved from the edge of the pier.
“I’m guessing you can’t explain exactly how you did the forcing.”
“There are ways to deal with evil that are not death,” he said, which was not at all a satisfying answer.
“He’s dangerous. Skilled,” I said. As Teo was. The speed and power of Teo’s reactions made Placidio look slow. And Teo had magic I did not yet comprehend.
“You’ve brought me funds enough to buy a small boat, yes? I’ll take him away from your city for a while. Someplace he can do no harm.”
“Teo, why would you do this?”
“I killed three bargemen from fear and weakness,” he said. “I need to make amends. I swear I’ll not let him hurt anyone else. I think that’s what I do … when I’m at home.” The tilt of his head told me he was smiling. “It’s very late. You’ll be mindful on the way to your home?”
“Indeed so. Fortune’s benefice, Teo. Do come back.”
“No doubt of it. I’ve much more to learn here. Theía Mitéra embrace you, Romy of Lizard’s Alley.”
I strolled up the dock, racking my brain to figure out where Teo might be taking Cei. My hand strayed to the heavy little bags chinking at my belt. Silly. I’d not left him coin enough to buy a sausage, much less a boat.
“Teo!” I reversed course, only to halt halfway down the dock.
Teo … At the end of the dock my tall, slender friend stood naked, his pale flesh marked with coils and spirals and sinuous lines in the hue of midnight. Throwing his head back, he lifted his spread arms to the starry sky in supplication. Or exaltation. Perhaps both. Then he rolled Cei’s bound body into the flowing Venia. He made a graceful arc as he dove into the flood after it.
I raced to the end of the dock and found his slops and shirt folded neatly and left atop a bollard. There was no sign of either man in the dark river.
For an hour I sat beside that bollard.
I did not believe Cei was drowned. And vicious as he was, I was happy we hadn’t killed him. Foolish, perhaps, for a woman who approved the Brotherhood exacting mortal penalties on Egerik and Lodovico di Gallanos.
Maybe it was the night. Maybe it was the wonder of Teo’s gifts. Or just that my head was so tired from housing two souls. But fragments of conversations flitted through me along with facts and observations like snowflakes swirling on the wind, settling into odd and marvelous patterns that would have no hold in the daylight.
Teo’s love for the sea. His declaration that he would not let Cei hurt anyone else. What had he said? I think that’s what I do. When I’m at home. He prevented monsters from hurting others.
Teo who did not lie. Whose language and markings came from another millennium.
Another fragment—my dream of ruination, a dream I believed Teo shared. An apology had drifted through that dream: Your time has come early. Time for what?
On the night before we met Egerik, Vashti had teased Placidio, “Leviathan is with us. A fighter, yes? Dormant, waiting for the world’s need. Is that not your Costa Drago legend?”
It was. But it was not Placidio who brought that legend to my mind this night. It was Teo.
Placidio claimed to have seen Leviathan portrayed as a human, naked like Atladu.
Atladu. Theíko Patéra—the divine Father. And Placidio had bowed to Teo and said his people and their secrets and their customs were worthy of respect.
Not least, there was the Antigonean bronze. The statue, depicting Atladu and Dragonis and a missing companion, not in combat with each other, but on a hunt or in a footrace, sat in the grand duc of Riccia’s castle. I believed—and Placidio believed—that statue to be the object of Teo’s searching. Teo who bore the sign of the wind on his swift feet. Was it possible that the missing companion—the piece of bronze broken off and lost—was Leviathan? And that somehow, in some way, Teo …
Well, I could not say it, even to myself. But certain, there were mysteries beyond the things we knew. When I finally accepted that my friend was not returning from the river that night, I tucked all those bits and pieces away, promising myself to look at them another day.
I strolled homeward on the Ring Road, paying careful attention to my surroundings, as all my male friends advised as if I wouldn’t think of it myself. Indeed the night market was still lively. People bargained with bootsellers and candlemakers, and crowded the noodle stalls. Cheery music of pipes and tabors drifted through the market alongside the aromas of biscuits and rosemary and garlic sausage.
Though bone weary, I chose not to go straight to bed, but to stop into the Duck’s Bone and eat sausage and drink wine and tell a basketmaker that I would meet her on the morrow to write a letter to her son in Tibernia, and that yes, it should get to him before the winter solstice. Neri was there, tossing out drunkards and stopping fights. Later, I could tell him of Teo and Cei and the snowflake pattern that had come to me. Then I would sleep.
Cantagna was my home, and for tonight, she was safe.
Acknowledgments
Unending appreciation to my ever-faithful critiquing crew—Susan, Saytchyn, Curt, and the two most excellent Brians—for saying what needs to be said and sharing the journey of words. To the Writers of the Hand for the focus, encouragement, and the consistent reminder that membership in the community of writers is the one of the greatest rewards of this strange profession. I must also give a shout-out to Markus the Fighter Guy for timely consultation, to Lucienne the Agent for her steady hand, to Lindsey the Editor for her careful reading, and to my faithful readers for your companionship in adventure. And thanks, always and ever, to the Exceptional Spouse for everything.
ALSO BY CATE GLASS
An Illusion of Thieves
About the Author
Cate Glass is a writer of fantasy adventure novels. She also dabbles from time to time in epic fantasy and short fiction. For more information, check out categlass.com or follow her on Twitter @Cbergwriter. Or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Maps
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
The Needles of the Ascoltaré
Acknowledgments
Also by Cate Glass
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A CONJURING OF ASSASSINS
Copyright © 2020 by Carol Berg
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Alyssa Winans
Maps by Rhys Davies
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
120 Broadway
New York, NY 10271
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress has catalogued the print edition as follows:
Names: Glass, Cate, author.
Title: A conjuring of assassins / Cate Glass.
Description: First edition. | New York: Tor, 2020. | Series: Chimera; 2 | “A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
Identifiers: LCCN 2019042694 (print) | LCCN 2019042695 (ebook) | ISBN 9781250311023 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781250311016 (ebook)
Subjects: GSAFD: Fantasy fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3607.L3645 C66 2020 (print) | LCC PS3607.L3645 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019042694
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019042695
eISBN 9781250311016
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First Edition: February 2020
Cate Glass, A Conjuring of Assassins
