"What poisons?"
"I have no idea. She did not trouble herself to explain further, and at that point I was simply trying to get through your list before my eardrums burst, or I choked on my own blood, so I did not ask for more details. I thought perhaps you would know."
"Me? I'm a dockworker. I don't know anything about sorcery or poisons or any of this!"
"That's unfortunate."
Emmis grimaced, then glanced at Ahan, but he had already turned up an empty palm, signifying ignorance. Emmis turned back to Corinal.
"It seems as if there's a lot of wizardry in Lumeth," he said. "That transporting whatever-it-is, and the protective spells on the towers, and all that. Isn't that more than most of the Small Kingdoms?"
"I wouldn't really know," Corinal said. "I agree, though, that it does not accord well with the popular image."
"And where does that tunnel go? Why are there assassins there?"
"That was not on your list of questions; shall we start compiling a new list, to present to Aibem or Bellab or Mazhom?"
Emmis considered that for a moment.
He certainly had plenty of questions – Unniel's responses had raised almost as many as she had answered. On the other hand, Corinal said none of the gods would give useful answers about warlockry, and that was the topic Lar most urgently wanted addressed. Consulting Mazhom at all would be a waste of time; Emmis knew that Azradelle was no longer any of his business, and nothing could come of asking a god to confirm that. This Aibem might be useful in locating the assassins before they could make another attempt…
"Wait a minute," he said. "Didn't I ask whether there would be further attempts on the Vondish ambassador's life?"
"Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me!" Corinal shuffled through his papers. "You did indeed ask that, and Unniel denied any foreknowledge on the subject; she claims to be unable to see the future except when it's inevitable, and this is not such a case. However, she also said that there had been two assassination attempts, rather than the one you mentioned; the second involved a wizard's spell called Fendel's Assassin, which was performed earlier today." He looked up from the scribbled notes. "I'm sorry, I really should have mentioned that one sooner, shouldn't I?"
Emmis stared at him. "Yes, you should!" he said. He snatched up his purse and started toward the door.
A heavy hand fell on his shoulder.
"Pay the magician," Ahan said.
"But he said…"
"I heard him. But the ambassador may already be dead, or the spell may have failed, or it may not strike for days, and not paying a magician is a very bad idea."
Emmis stared at Corinal. "Do you know anything about this Fendel's Assassin?" He fumbled with his purse as he spoke.
"Not a thing," Corinal said. "Assassination is something I try to avoid. Perhaps…"
"…I should ask a wizard. Yes. Thank you." He finally found the coins he wanted, and thrust them at Corinal.
"Thank you," the theurgist said, accepting the handful of silver. "And I wish you the best of luck in dealing with… well, whatever it is you're dealing with."
"Thank you," Emmis said, as he pulled tight the drawstring on his purse and ran for the door. "If you know a good deity to pray to for me, I would appreciate it."
He was outside the shop by the time he finished the sentence.
Ahan was close on his heels, and the two men sprinted up Priest Street together.
Chapter Eighteen
Emmis's breath gave out two blocks north of the Arena, and he slowed to a trot. This was the second time he had gone running across the city to warn Lar of an assassination attempt; he really hadn't expected it to become a habit.
Ahan slowed beside him. Emmis threw him a glance. "I don't suppose you could run on ahead?" he asked.
"I was ordered to accompany you."
"You don't think this situation might justify bending those orders a little?"
Ahan looked at him, then turned his attention to the street ahead again. "If I were still just another guardsman, it certainly would justify some reinterpretation, but I'm not. I'm one of Lord Ildirin's elite escort, and we have very strict instructions – we are to obey Lord Ildirin exactly, unless doing so would endanger Lord Ildirin or the overlord himself. No one else. We get a very generous bonus every sixnight, and stretching my orders in the slightest would probably mean losing that. I have three younger sisters and a widowed mother living on my pay, and I'm sure you know that an ordinary guardsman's pay is not going to support the five of us comfortably."
Emmis did indeed know that. Guards generally slept in a barracks free of rent, and were fed at the city's expense, not to mention being provided with their uniforms, but their actual pay, while steady, wasn't all that much. An unmarried soldier, with no one to look after but himself, could live on it well enough and even save up a tidy sum, but add a family and everything changed. They couldn't sleep in the barracks, or charge their meals against an innkeeper's taxes. That was why most guards didn't marry, or found other work when they wed.
He considered asking why Ahan's mother and sisters didn't have any other means of support – even if none of them could find paid employment, didn't any of the girls have apprenticeships or husbands?
But that was really none of his business. Perhaps they were ill, or crippled, or under a curse. If Ahan thought he had to wait hand and foot on Lord Ildirin to keep his family out of the Hundred-Foot Field, it wasn't Emmis's place to argue.
"Oh," he said. He sighed, and picked up his own pace.
Ahan matched him, and the two ran on, drawing stares from the crowds on Arena Street.
Emmis was panting by the time they rounded the bend on Through Street and came in sight of the yellow house. Two guardsmen were standing on either side of the front door; they straightened, suddenly alert, at the sight of Emmis and Ahan.
"Any trouble?" Ahan called.
"No," one of them replied. "Why?"
"The theurgist…" Emmis had to stop and catch his breath; he gulped air, then said, "The theurgist told us that an assassination spell has been cast on the Vondish ambassador."
The door guards exchanged glances.
"You'd better go in," one of them said, reaching for the latch.
A moment later Emmis and Ahan were in the parlor, where Lar and Lord Ildirin were seated comfortably on either side of a small table, drinking tea. The two officials looked up.
"And what brings you two back here, looking so concerned?" Lord Ildirin asked.
"I talked to a theurgist, my lord," Emmis said. "Corinal, by name. On Priest Street. He consulted a goddess called Unniel the Discerning, and she said that someone had cast a spell called Fendel's Assassin on the ambassador."
Lar went pale.
Lord Ildirin's eyebrows rose. "Did he, indeed?" He glanced at Ahan.
"Yes, my lord," the guardsman said. "Exactly as Emmis says."
"Did the theurgist inform you of the method Fendel's Assassin intends to use?"
Emmis blinked at him. "What?"
Ildirin sighed. "Fendel's Assassin is a well-known spell; it summons or creates an invisible being that will make one attempt to kill the intended target, and only one attempt, using a method specified by the wizard who cast the spell. Strangling is the most common means chosen, since it requires no special weaponry – the creature's claws are strong enough to do the job. Sometimes other methods are specified to make it look like suicide, or to cast blame in a particular direction, but the need to smuggle in weapons can be very inconvenient. The assassin itself can apparently pass through solid walls, while weapons cannot." He shook his head. "The spell hasn't been used in years, to the best of my knowledge, but it's a common way for the Wizards' Guild to dispose of its enemies."