And yet, all Vir could hear was Ravin’s daughter screaming over and over. Screams that would haunt him forever.
85CHALA’S KNEES
Vir made haste escaping the Warrens with Neel. If anyone had heard Ravin’s daughter screaming, no one seemed to show it, but Vir wasn’t taking any chances. Primal instinct compelled him to run away as far and as fast as he could. He sped across rooftops and darted through empty alleys with Neel.
Riyan taught him long ago that the most suspicious people acted suspiciously, so despite every instinct telling Vir to sprint, he forced himself to lope across the enormous drawbridge that led to the eastern gate. It was only after he’d crossed the Grand Moat and was safely within Daha’s walls that he dared to relax a hair.
Vir’s mind was blank the entire way back, studiously observing his surroundings as if hidden foes would jump from the shadows at every moment. It was a welcome distraction from the panic and unease that ravaged his mind.
He stopped only once—taking a break atop a rooftop to alter his appearance back to the face the Brotherhood was familiar with. The face of a rugged young warrior.
After that, he proceeded straight to the Executor’s booth. The shops may have been closed, but the Brotherhood never shut down.
“It is done,” Vir said, ushering Neel inside the booth and closing the door behind him. He didn’t bother to introduce himself. While he’d never met this female Executor, he knew she knew who he was.
“We know,” the Executor said.
“You know? I thought the Brotherhood didn’t spy on anyone during missions?”
“We certainly do not. However, you must have heard of the Brotherhood intelligence network? Operatives are everywhere, at all times. Even in Ravin’s very household.”
If you had someone in his compound, why didn’t you hire them to take him out?
“Servants seldom make good assassins,” the veiled Executor calmly said, ignoring Vir’s shocked expression. “As for how we knew before you’d arrived, well, we have our ways.” The Executor wouldn’t reveal any secrets, no matter how much he prodded. Well, maybe they would if I paid them enough karma points, he thought. But he didn’t have points to spare on idle curiosity.
“The contractor will be very pleased at this news,” the Executor lady continued.
“Guessing you’re not going to say who the contractor was,” Vir said.
“We cannot. We can, however, congratulate you on your promotion to Acolyte. Well earned, friend,” she said, passing Vir his two-silver reward. “This mission awards one 1000 Brotherhood karma, and with this, your total karma now stands at 1760. Impressive. Most impressive.”
“T-thanks,” Vir replied, taken aback at the genuine praise.
“You now have access to 10% discounts at Brotherhood Sanctum armorers, and a 5% discount at Brotherhood dorm rooms. Acolyte-grade rooms are now available for rent.”
Vir nodded. The perks were nice, but that wasn’t what he really cared about.
“So, about that dossier I’d asked for.”
The Executor paused, as if recalling an old conversation. “Ah, yes. In recognition of your exemplary service, we have arranged a more suitable reward for you. Instead of a dossier, how about a meeting?”
“A meeting?” Vir echoed. “With whom?” He also wondered how they acted so fast. It had only been a few hours since Ravin’s death, and it was currently past the middle of the night.
“Fear not. We are merely giving you the option. If it’s a dossier you want, we will furnish it. However… I would recommend you take the meeting instead.”
“Why? Who is this person?” Vir asked.
“Someone who knows Princess Mina better than anyone else. Someone who can be trusted. Of that, you have our word.”
Vir thought it over. A dossier was incredibly useful, but chatting with someone who knew her could help him even more.
“What if this meeting ends up being useless? Can I still have the dossier?”
The Executor chuckled. “As you wish. Though we doubt you will feel that way.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow evening, at this location and time,” the Executor said, handing Vir a small, folded piece of parchment. “You will learn their identity when you meet.”
Frowning, Vir unfolded the parchment. One hour after dusk, Chala’s Knees tavern, Upper West Side Commons. Corner table, halfway back.
“This still sounds dangerous. You want me to meet someone, but you won’t tell me who they are. What if this is some elaborate setup to take me out?”
Again, the Executor paused, and through that veil, Vir felt he’d somehow offended the Executor.
“Acolyte, you are still new to the Brotherhood. You may not know of our ways. You may not know that such a service is a privilege, and one that is not often bestowed. The Brotherhood rarely arranges such meetings. In doing so, we place our reputation on the line. Our global reputation. Do you understand my meaning?”
“You’re saying betraying me here would have ripples across the Brotherhood worldwide?” Vir asked.
“Faith in our organization would be shaken. As trust is our most precious commodity, this would be a death blow. Fear not, Apramor. Your safety is guaranteed. Trust us. This is not a meeting you will want to miss. It is not one that can be arranged again.”
Vir mulled it over. The tavern the note mentioned was famous. At that hour, it would be jam-packed with activity, making it an incredibly risky place for someone to commit a crime. Not only would there be a hundred witnesses, the criminal would have a tough time fleeing the scene safely.
“You’re sure this person will have the information I need?”
“And more. They possess more information about Mina Hiranya than all the dossiers in existence.”
“Alright,” Vir said at last. But I want you to keep my name a secret.” This conversation was the last thing he wanted, given his current mental state. The Executor agreed, and Vir left the booth with Neel, dragging himself up to his room. The travel and the tension from the assassination left him spent.
But try as he might, sleep was not forthcoming. Vir tossed and turned in bed, wracked with nightmares of Rudvik dying in the forest. Of Apramor being hanged alongside his wife. Of Maiya burning to death.
Every terror Vir had ever had manifested that night, tormenting him.
Vir awoke before dawn, drenched in sweat.
Why? Why do I feel like this? Over the course of a single night, life and death had gained far more weight in Vir’s life.
Ravin had been a villain by all accounts. Vir had the Brotherhood’s blessing. He’d done the world a favor, and strangely enough, he didn’t even feel guilty like he thought he would’ve. In fact, he hardly felt much of anything regarding Ravin himself. What resonated in his mind was his daughter’s screams. Screams that made his hands shake even now. Screams that caused his heart to race. That made him sick with nausea.
Riyan was right… Killing a man was no easy feat. Vir wondered how soldiers managed it in the chaos of the battlefield. Maybe it got easier. Or maybe the part of him that cared just died after a while.
That scared him even more.
Sitting in the darkness, Vir listened to Neel’s rhythmic breathing as he tried to sort out his muddled mess of emotions.
Wonder who this character is, he thought, thinking of the meeting later that night to distract himself.
Vir wasn’t about to leave anything to chance. He trusted the Brotherhood, yes, but after his Saran trip with Maiya, Vir had learned to plan for contingencies. Even when the situation hardly called for it.
Thankfully, he had the perfect tools for that job. Dance of the Shadow Demon would allow him to spy on the table from the safety of the shadow realm. Prana Vision would tell him all he needed to know about this confidante’s magical abilities.