And they certainly had much to talk about.
Since the attack against Victor, the city had settled into an unstable peace, a held breath before the next catastrophe. Victor’s work continued, a steady picking at the various thief guilds and their numbers. Through it all, the guilds remained quiet. Haern wanted to know what Alan knew, what Thren was thinking after such a vicious loss. That, and the Widow had struck again, another Spider found mutilated. Despite their best attempts, none of the Eschaton had been able to stop it. The rest of the city was catching on to the murders, and for most, it was just a cruel joke.
“Another went to see the Widow,” he’d heard a guard say, and the rest laughed as they picked up the body and pocketed the silver and gold. It was a lead Haern knew he should pursue, though the task was daunting. Systematically questioning every prostitute both within and surrounding the Spider Guild’s territory...
He shook his head. Even then, it didn’t explain the dead child on the Gemcroft property. Perhaps a housemaiden cast off for some reason, forced to work the streets for a living? Haern resolved to question Alyssa later as he climbed to the rooftops. Too close now to risk being spotted, even with the clouded sky hiding the moon and stars. Despite his numerous contacts, Alan was the only one within the Spider Guild willing to give information to the Watcher, so great was the fear Thren Felhorn inspired. The two previous members he’d contacted had died horribly as examples to the rest.
All the more reason to be careful, Haern told himself. He slowed down his run and forced himself to carefully observe his surroundings. Far better he missed speaking to Alan for a few more days than to get the man killed by his carelessness.
The southern district was the poorest of them all, and against the wall were dozens of little shanties, homes made of thin wood that looked like a stiff breeze could knock them over. For a few months King Edwin had tried to scatter them, but they always came back, the hungry and homeless too adept at fleeing, too desperate to fear threats. Because of this, few thieves bothered to patrol the area. What was there to steal, or prevent another guild from stealing? With the night so deep, all there were asleep, all but Alan. With a leisurely stroll he passed them by. Only after a quick whistle from Haern did he turn about, heading toward a corridor where shadows were at their deepest.
“You spotted?” Alan asked as Haern dropped to the street before him.
“If someone had spotted me, do you think we’d be talking?”
Alan grunted.
“Confident, aren’t we? You have my coin?”
Haern tossed him another bag.
“Hopefully you have something more useful than last time.”
Alan caught the bag, stashed it away, and then leaned against a wall.
“Depends on what you consider useful. You just pay me to sing, anyway. Not my fault if you don’t like what you hear.”
Haern fingered his sabers, not eager to have their meeting last any longer than Alan did.
“Less arguing, more talking,” he said. “How’s Thren handling the loss?”
“Terribly. He’s planning something big against Victor, but he’s not telling us what, other than it has something to do with the Trifect, as well. I think this Widow—whoever it is—is starting to wear on him. Our numbers are thin as it is. We don’t need some crazy whore killing even more of us. Shit, it’s even making me a little nervous to do my rounds.”
“Why’d the Ash Guild ruin your attack?”
Alan shrugged.
“Grudge? Amusement? Maybe he was bored, I don’t know. I find it a poor use of time trying to guess what Deathmask is thinking. Might as well go hunting ghosts, or searching for dragons.”
Haern frowned.
“Will Thren turn on the Ash Guild for it?”
Alan shook his head.
“Not yet, not unless they provoke him again. Says that’s what everyone wants, to have all our guilds killing each other while Victor goes about picking off the remains. He ain’t falling for the bait.”
Haern figured it also might have something to do with the catastrophic casualties Thren would suffer if he tried storming the Ash Guild’s territory. Deathmask was as dangerous as he was elusive. At best, it’d be a waste of time. At worst, a death sentence. Haern kept such thoughts to himself, instead pulling his hood low and preparing to leave.
“Should you learn anything of the Widow, anything at all, make sure I know,” he said.
“I learn anything, you can be sure—shit, get down!”
Before the curse was even off his lips, Haern had seen the widening of Alan’s eyes and begun to roll. Even then, it was too late. A heavy weight struck the back of his head. Stomach lurching, he fell forward, fighting off the coming waves of darkness. His sabers drawn by instinct, he turned to face his foe.