They laughed again, this time far too loudly. Haern was tempted to startle them, show them how unsafe they were, but he had no need. A loud voice called them to attention, and they jumped. Haern’s eyes narrowed as he saw Lord Victor enter the alley with an escort of soldiers.
“What is the meaning of this?” Victor asked, approaching the corpse. The men shrugged.
“Just a dead thief,” said the third. “But this one’s a bit odd. Thought you should see. Liam, open his mouth and show him.”
The redhead knelt, grabbed the dead thief’s mouth, and pulled it open. The gold on his tongue sparkled in the torchlight. Victor muttered a curse.
“Not just this,” said the tall man. “The wall, too. Looks like the killer left her name.”
“Her?” asked Victor.
“Or him,” the man corrected. “Guess we can’t judge the tastes of a dead man, can we?”
Victor looked to the wall. Haern watched as the man’s grip on his hilt tightened with each line.
“Is this a hit between thieves?” Victor asked.
“That’d be my guess,” said one of the soldiers.
“And a foul guess it is,” Haern said, his voice startling many into reaching for their weapons. He ignored them. “Check his eyes.”
As a couple swore, Victor leaned down, and his hand brushed over the face. Seeing the silver for eyes, Victor shook his head and frowned.
“Leave us,” he said. At first Haern went to go, then realized he spoke to his own soldiers.
“Milord,” said Liam, “are you sure...”
“That’s an order.”
The protest died. The men funneled out to the main street, leaving Victor alone in the alley. Haern put a hand on the rooftop’s edge and swung himself to the ground. He landed silently, not even his cloak making a rustle. Victor stood over the body, and he let out a sigh.
“What is this?” he asked. “You know this city. Tell me.”
“I’m not sure I should help you,” Haern said.
“Forget your stubborn pride,” Victor said, glaring at him. “A man died. I want to know how, and why.”
Haern looked to the dead thief, saw the silver glinting in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Twice now I have seen this...arrangement, along with the rhyme on the wall.” He knelt beside the corpse and lifted it up. Finding what he wanted, he gestured so Victor might see, as well: a tiny bolt embedded in the back of the man’s neck.
“Poison?” Victor asked. Haern nodded, glad the man could make the connection.
“Quick, silent, hard to stop,” Haern said. “I’m not sure it’s what kills them, though. Look.”
He pulled away the silver and gestured into the hollow eye cavities. One was filled with more blood than the other, and contained a puncture wound leading in to the brain.
“So whoever it is paralyzes them, tortures them, and then kills them?” Victor asked.
“Appears so,” Haern said. “Easy enough to understand, but then you have this…”
He gestured to the coins, the writing.
“You said it being a rival guild is a foolish idea,” Victor said. “Why is that?”
“Because a guild would either claim it, or destroy any evidence to avoid retribution. This is neither. This is mockery, or a riddle, or vengeance for a blood feud. Whatever it is, it isn’t normal, and it isn’t a guild. One, maybe two men working together.”
“Or women,” Victor said, glancing at the rhyme.
Haern stood, and he backed away from the lord. The shadows of his hood protected his face, so that only his eyes shone out. Most wilted under his stare, but this Victor was unafraid, and met them without flinching.
“Watcher,” Victor said. “I’ve wanted to meet you since I stepped foot in Veldaren. Forgive my boast before the King earlier. I know what you’ve done, and it is truly impressive. But your way is doomed to fail, and that is why I have come. You can’t control them any longer.”
“They fear me,” Haern said, shaking his head at the foolish noble. “That is why I can control them. What can you do? What terror can you inspire with a few scrolls, judges, and soldiers?”
Victor pulled the gold coins out from the corpse’s mouth, then stared into the vacant eyes.
“They fear you, for they know you are with them in the shadows.” He looked up. “But they will come to fear me more, Watcher, for I will leave them with no shadows at all. That is my terror. That is the difference between us. You skulk and hide in their midst, and with every murder, you become more like them. You are something they can understand. You are greater than them, you are frightening, but you are still just one man, and the moment you die, everything you’ve built will come crashing down. Let me help you. Let me save your legacy.”