The figure was not alone. The room was steeped in darkness and there were many places to hide. Kishrub and Zulbash stood ten paces behind Lewd, their huge hulking arms crossed, but they were otherwise unarmed. They bickered and accused each other of being too loud. The figure at the table shot them a glare. They clamped their chubby lips shut and resorted to a feud of big fat finger-pointing.
Shade stifled a chuckle. They looked like over-wrapped mummies in their bloody bandages. He let them drink in the full mockery of his boastful smirk.
They froze and grimaced fiercely back at him.
He ignored them and turned his attention back to the table.
Yessheeran pulled out a chair.
Shade waited. His eyes swept the room, turning over every shadow to detect a ambush. He could feel the figure grinning at him through the darkness. The table was set with a lavish satin tablecloth that caught the moonlight. A bottle of rich Dark Oliverian Wine sat on the table, chilling in an ice bucket, beside two silver goblets set with small round gems of tannamite and bloodstone. A silver candelabra engraved with the motif of the three moons burned—one flame representing each deity. Shade shook his head. Lewd must have done his homework.
Warlord Lewd’s face was illumed by the pale candlelight. He wore well-polished dark blue plate armor and a rich purple cape fit for a king. He wore a simple black cast iron crown on his head. Shade was surprised the crimelord had the guts to show up in person, but then again Lewd was probably thinking the same thing about him. Shade’s first impression was that there was nothing blatantly grotesque about Lewd, but rather subtle disproportions that left Mother Nature at a loss.
Warlord Lewd sat permanently hunched over as if his broad Doelmish shoulders were far too thick and heavy on his lean manlike frame. Such was the tale of his form. His bushy brows and overly obtrusive forehead hunkered down on his grossly half-human face. His face was wrinkled and lined with age. His skin was a sickly blend of yellows and greens infested by black pockmarks. His beady black pupils stared back at Shade floating in slimy mucus colored eyeballs that glimmered as if warming over an open flame.
Lewd stood up. He bowed managing all the grace and courtly polish of a Faelin king. “I’m humbled by the presence of such a world renowned assassin,” the Troll smiled with a beguiling enigmatic flare, “I see now why so many of my henchmen were returned to me wrapped in cerecloth.” He flashed a set of long blocky, but perfectly white teeth.
Shade was momentarily stunned by the sudden reflected white in the torchlight. Teeth had always been described as one of a Troll’s most frightening features. It appeared Lewd spent much time grooming his teeth even despite his wretched and twisted appearance. The assassin recovered quickly and took his chair.
“Don’t waste your time trying to disarm me with your flattery, Warlord Lewd,” he growled back, “I came here to do a job and by the moons I’ll get it done.”
“Disarm you? Why would I seek to disarm you, my dear cutthroat?” Lewd sat back and said with a cool frost to the edge of his lips, “When I already have.” He snapped his fingers.
Shade jumped to his feet, his fingers going to the invisible shadow daggers in the straps of his armor. He glared at Kishrub and Zulbash who did not move. Neither did he pick up on any other movement in the room.
Yessheeran slinked from the shadows his scaly fingers reaching for the bottle of Dark Oliverian Wine. The Syssrah ran a cloth over the bottle and popped the cork. His scaly green lips snaked into a crooked smirk as he filled the two goblets.
Lewd’s own mouth twisted into an equally snaky grin, “Oliverian wine?”
The assassin lowered himself back into his seat. He grabbed his glass of wine and smirked coolly back. He stared the crimelord in the face. Shade brought the cup to his lips and drank slowly. The rich taste washed down his throat. He closed his eyes a moment and thought of home. He saw the glow of the moons dancing off of healthy black rustling leaves. He saw gardens of midnight flowers and the proud towers of moonstone cities shining in the night. Two tears squeezed from his tear-ducts, but he forbade them to fall. He betrayed no weakness.
Shade opened his eyes.
Lewd was staring at him as if to make certain the Dark Elf drank every last drop. He set the glass down half-finished. He smirked as Lewd shifted uncomfortably. The warlord’s eyes lingered on the half-filled goblet. Now Shade’s lips were lined with a cool edge of satisfaction. He suspected the wine had been poisoned.
“Now let’s talk gold,” Lewd said quickly, attempting to smooth over the awkward silence, “how many pounds are they paying you for the hit?”
“There was no specific number,” said Shade, “let’s just say you’re wearing the weight of it on your shoulders.”
Warlord Lewd laughed, “A rather gruesome touch, don’t you think?”
“No more than the trophies mounted above your throne, Lewd.”
“Name your price.”
“I have no price.”
“The weight of one of my bodyguards in gold.”
“And give up the thrill of the chase? You’ve got to be joking.”
“The weight of both my bodyguards in gold,” Lewd offered, “and you come work for me. You have already relieved me of my very best. I could use an assassin of your caliber to dispose of a few manmade inconveniences.”
“I will not play one of your stoolpigeons, Lewd.”
“Surely we can reach some manner of agreement,” the crimelord frowned, “otherwise we’re caught in a deadly waiting game, one in which we will both undoubtedly lose. You will waste my valuable time and resources and I will waste your invaluable talent! Let us not speak of what we cannot do. You desire to move onto the next hit and I desire to move freely among my own chambers and manage my affairs without fear of you.”
“No agreement,” said Shade. He picked up his goblet and took another sip, “you will find it rather unsettling how easy it will be for me to get to you.”
“You’re a dangerous Elf, Shade, but do you really think you could reach me in the heart of my fortress behind all my walls?”
Shade sat back and shrugged. “It appears you didn’t get my message.”
“You left Krulle’s head in the outer chambers,” Warlord Lewd said, “a real assassin would have slipped it under my bedcovers. Tell me…was the security of my inner stronghold too much even for the legendary Shade?”
Shade harrumphed and momentarily averted his gaze.
“Not even you can walk through walls, Shade.”
Shade snatched up the goblet and his eyes traced back to Warlord Lewd. He stared long and hard at his adversary. His yellow eyes glowed in cool pools of confidence, so sure and strong his gaze that Lewd actually shuddered under the weight of it. Shade brought his goblet to his lips. He paused before gulping down the meager remains of his wine. The Dark Elf wiped his mouth, savoring the final taste and smirked with an icy grin, “Tomorrow night when the three moons are at their peak, I will come for you.”
“Try it and I will have your head on a scale,” Lewd’s voice wavered.
Shade leaned in. “I consider that a personal insult, Lewd. I couldn’t possibly back down now. I take the weight of any challenge far more seriously than the weight of gold.”
“Then we are at a stalemate.” Warlord Lewd stood up and bowed graciously. “I look forward to your next move on the board. I consider it an honor to have so worthy an enemy.” He bowed deeper. “Thank you for honoring the terms of the agreement.”
“The honor was mine as well, though I will not boast of your honor,” he said, he turned the goblet over and let the three last drops of wine dribble to the floor, “this wine was poisoned.”
“Ah yes, I’m rather disappointed you didn’t die,” the crimelord said bluntly, “the Syssrah assured me it was one of their fastest-working toxins.”