Trouble Brewing

“Brewing poisons isn’t just about crushing the plants and distilling them.” Catherine Harper said in the laboratory that doubled as her bedroom. “You need the right ingredients for the job, cut the right way, and boiled for the correct amount of time. And yes you need them distilled enough for potency but that can actually render them useless depending on the ingredients.” With chemical stained fingers the assassin pointed to glass vials boiling at different distances from the hot coals. Each was meticulously labeled.

Sir Danielle Longbow was caught by the unnatural tone of Catherine’s skin, the grey tinge that suggested the assassin had rolled in dust or was dead. Miss Harper’s yellow eyes always gave the knight a sense of failure.

Danielle struggled to read the minute handwritten labels. Her niece Deandra Fletcher leaned closer, face relaxed. Deandra absorbed the information with an ease her aunt envied.

“All of this grows in Crann?” Miss Fletcher asked, wondering that so many dangerous plants could be found growing wild in her home kingdom.

“Mostly, though I’ve kept important specimens from abroad to study. Those are more to develop antidotes in case their poisons are ever used against us.”

“Where are the other plants from?” asked the eager girl eying the small garden that grew in the shaft of light from the assassin’s tower window. Beyond it the view of Leonor City was nothing short of spectacular but Deandra was more interested in the plants from far and wide.

“This one here,” Catherine waved a hand at a red flowered shrub outgrowing its pot, “comes from across the Eastern Sea. The leaves induce paralysis when soaked in water. Locals there use it to catch fish.” She batted Deandra’s wandering hand away.

“One of the plants I have in mind for our harpy hunt does the same thing as a powder or an oil.” Harper’s yellow eyes met Danielle’s brown orbs as she pointed to a wad of dried root hanging from a chord. “It’s fast acting and it’s from rhododendron flowers that grow like weeds in Bandit’s Forest.”

“One of them?” Danielle asked, glancing around the room. The assassin’s rarely used bed was in the shadows between bookshelves. Strings with bells hung in front of the door, the window and Catherine’s bed. By the door a target intended for musket practice held three throwing stars. Two in the eyes, one in the throat.

“Have you practiced?” Catherine asked, catching the knights eyes on her target.

“Every night.” Danielle nodded. “It drives Lupita crazy.”

“Great weapon though,” Harper said. She smiled with sharp teeth that were more fangs than anything else. Crossing the room she yanked out the four pointed blades and handed one to Danielle. “Show me.”

Danielle took one, testing the weight in her battle scarred hand. Raising it up as she had been shown, she saw the master frown at her form. Sir Longbow threw the four bladed disc watching it spin towards the target. It hit the granite wall behind the target with a horrid clatter that reverberated, making the trio wince as one.

“Closer than the last time,” Catherine said encouragingly.

“Can I try?” Deandra asked. Before Danielle could say no her niece had a throwing star in hand and was pulling back to hurl it. It spun, hitting the target in the shoulder.

“Not bad.” Danielle patted her niece’s shoulder.

“Better than you.” The assassin smiled again. “So, Deandra, would you like to work as I do?” The assassin’s eyes narrowed.

Sir Longbow’s niece let out a long breath. “I don’t know. Killing people. That’s-” She looked at Catherine as if scared to finish the sentence. “I’m not sure I could.”

“You don’t have to.” Danielle put a hand on Deandra’s shoulder and gave the assassin a look she hoped conveyed how little she wanted the girl to follow in Catherine’s footsteps. Her niece wasn’t a killer. Better it stayed that way.

“I just saw the interest. No harm in asking.” The royal poisoner shrugged. “No one else does this work for the Queen. Someone needs to. We can’t trust the Church of Red Knives for everything. They have their own agenda. Assassination isn’t loud, violent work like being a soldier. If you do it right no one sees you go. There’s no collateral damage. You kill only who you have to and you leave.” Catherine picked a tome from her collection. It was so old the dust had become part of the cover. The smell of it warred with the scent of drying herbs in Danielle’s nostrils. “This book has helped me a lot. It doesn’t talk about poisons. It’s not dangerous. It’s the story of a royal assassin who worked for Crann a hundred years ago. You might find it interesting.” Miss Harper held out the book to Miss Fletcher.

“She said she doesn’t want to, Catherine.” Danielle said with steel in her voice.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” Deandra took the book from the assassin’s long fingers. “I said I don’t know if I could. Reading a book won't hurt me though. Will it?” The girl’s face was red with anger that her aunt had dared to make a decision on her behalf.

I shouldn’t have brought her here at all, Danielle thought. At least she can’t read that. She’d need Lupita’s help.

“If you have any problems with the words, take the book to the library and speak to the librarian called Arthas. He’d happily read it to you.”

“We should be going now,” said Danielle. Before you decide to give her a recipe book.

“What about the harpy?” The assassin frowned. “We need to prepare.”

“When I get back.”

“Get back?” Deandra snapped. “So you’re just taking away the child? I don’t need you to make decisions for me, Danielle. You’re not my mother. I’ve been responsible for my life for years. I made the money and paid the bills long before my mother died. I can look after myself and I don’t need you to be my moral guardian angel.” With her hands on her hips, despite being the shortest one in the room, Deandra was an imposing figure. Her will and command was beyond that of others her age.

“Then stay.” Danielle sighed. “And learn. Just know that Catherine’s life isn’t without risks. Soldiers die in battle. Assassins are hung or tortured for information.”

“Whereas no one has ever captured and tortured a soldier?” Catherine laughed. “Soldiers are never bitten by monsters and spend the rest of their lives fighting the transition into something evil.” The assassin fingered the silver chain around her neck.

Deandra folded her arms.

“Even if you hear everything we say, you’re not coming with us when we hunt monsters,” said Sir Longbow.

“Never said I wanted to.” Deandra raised her chin. Danielle’s niece had iron will in her brown eyes.

Shaking her head, the knight waved a hand at the assassin to continue. She fanned her fabric armour, meant to turn aside gunshot more than blades.

Catherine nodded in her black shirt and trousers, both faded and patched. “Harpies are resistant to most poisons, according to the lore. They are susceptible to paralysis from rhododendron toxin according to a story I found from southern Takshanta. But that’s from a three hundred year old story translated from,” she paused with a lost expression on her face. “Whatever language they wrote in Takshanta three hundred years ago.” She waved a hand vaguely. “I only have that thanks to the Red Church so who knows if that’s something they came up with themselves hoping it would get me killed.” Catherine shrugged. “It’s just a hope that it might help a little.” She pointed to a vial on the wall. “I’ve been working on that for a while. Distilling it to concentrate the effect. Testing it.”

“What do you test it on?” Deandra asked.

“Rats. Or targets that I don’t need to kill straight away.”

“That’s horrid,” said the girl, grimacing. Danielle was suddenly happy she’d given in to her niece’s curiosity.

“That’s my life, Deandra. It’s not pretty. It’s necessary. Not all of my work involves killing. A year ago I discovered that agents in the south were nudging several kingdoms in the south towards an alliance against Crann. They came from the fragments of the Empire of the Holy Proclamation. I believe they wanted revenge. It’s not a stretch to say that Crann was the rock that broke the empire.

Not everyone was grateful. There were plots here in Leonor among refugees from the broken north. I had to stop a few attempts on the Queen’s life. That’s what I do. It doesn’t have the honour,” she put great sarcastic emphasis on the last word as if it was hilarious to her, “of soldiery, but it makes a difference.”

“You want to use rhododendron to poison the harpies in Afon Fos?” Danielle asked, changing the subject before Catherine could paint a heroic picture of her work for Deandra again.

“On our blades?” The spy nodded. “And arrows as well. If it only slows them down, and it might not do even that, then it would be worth it. They’ve already bitten two women there. One was put down and the other is fighting the transition using silver. We need to be out after them as soon as possible. Flocks of harpies add at least one to their number a night. That’s at least two since they were seen.” Catherine checked her black leather gloves for holes. “As long as it doesn’t touch the skin you can handle it. You have gloves?” Her eyes met Sir Longbow’s.

“Yes,” the knight said, nodding.

“No time like the present.” The spy handed the other two thick cloth hoods. “Hold hands. Walk slowly and test every step before you put your weight on it.”

Donning the hoods, Danielle and Deandra held hands. Catherine led the knight out of her room, down a narrow passage of which she saw nothing but knew she was between walls.

“Steps.”

Sir Longbow’s foot felt air and stepped down until they it met the step below. The aunt was careful not to pull her niece down the stairs behind her. Her broad frame bounces off the close walls at times. She grunted as they made slow progress through the castle.

They turned, left and right and back down granite stairs then up until Danielle wondered if they had doubled back. The air was stale and damp until they emerged from the confined spaces into a hallway where their footsteps echoed.

“Hoods off.” Catherine handed them both a small vial of liquid. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” Deandra asked.

“Same thing it was last time you asked. You’re not going to remember me telling you so just drink it. I can’t have you remembering where the door is.”

Danielle realised she had no idea how she’d ended up in the assassin’s room. She drank the vile grey liquid in the vial and handed the glass container back to the poisoner.

“When will it-” the knight began but never finished her sentence. A dizzy spell spun her world. She had the briefest headache before falling sideways into a doorway.

Danielle stopped in the middle of the road to Afon Fos, pulling back on the reins of her horse. “Where. How did I get here?”

“On the horse!” Catherine smiled, showing the fangs of a predator.

“But.” Sir Longbow rubbed her aching head. “We were in your room.”

“Were. Yes. I gave you a concoction that makes you forget.” Though she’d hidden her vicious teeth behind her lips the assassin was still smiling. “There won't be any permanent damage. Just avoid drinking strong alcohol for a while.”

“Where’s Deandra?”

“Safe at home where we dropped her off. You got your things ready for the hunt. You kissed Lupita goodbye for luck and we set off on the horses because you said the cure a groin-” Catherine was interrupted by Danielle with a raised hand.

“Curaogine.” The knight corrected the spy. “Djeithir is a curaogine.”

“Whatever. My point is we’re ready, that’s Afon Fos and the sun is almost setting. The red angels will strike soon.” Miss Harper turned back to the road and nudged her hose along.

Silhouettes of high towers to the east showed the peaks of the walled city of Afon Fos. Torches flickered on the battlements, blown by a wind from the north.

Danielle spurred her horse after Catherine who was galloping east. Sir Longbow coughed in the dust cloud the spy left in her wake. The White Keep, built of quartz, stood the tallest among the many towers of the castles that surrounded the old capital of Afon.

Curaduile trees lined the river which had been diverted to act as the moat. The oak-like trees were given a wide berth by anyone who knew what they were. Imperial armour still poked from the trunks of some, where invaders had been devoured by the hungry trees.

Trees had parted at the western bridge to the city. Guards in Crann green tabards watched the skies as much as the road.

“Seen anything tonight?” The assassin asked.

“No, maam. And I hope not to,” said the oldest man in an accent that said it was a refugee from Afon who had moved back when the city was bought from the imperials. His Brown and grey beard had been trimmed into a long point. He carried an axe instead of the standard sword. He smiled, seeing the two incomers looking at it. “Trained with it for years. No point switching to a sword now. Even if the Queen was giving them away. Just hoping I don’t need it.”

“Hopefully we find them first. The Nameless Knights have been by?” Sir Longbow asked of the army she’d trained to fight monsters.

“Two hours ago, Sir.” The old man bowed his head, showing a battle scar on his scalp. “And good luck to you all.” He stood aside, keen in particular for Catherine and her yellow eyes to be somewhere else.

“Good night.”

The remains of the old Afon Fos showed the scars of invasion. Black stones told the story of a burning city besieged by the empire. New granite sat atop the old bones, carted from the mines around Leonor.

Danielle found herself looking up past the blue grey tiles of the rooftops as much as forward.

Emerging from an alleyway she met an orchard surrounding a newly built cathedral. They’ve got their hooks in, thought the knight of the Church of Red Knives, religious assassins who followed the God of Dire Necessity.

“Sir Longbow!” A shrill cry of joy dragged Danielle’s brown eyes from the sparkling grey spire of the new cathedral to one of her Nameless Knights.

“Sir Donaldson.” Danielle smiled as she clapped eyes on the tiny knight who was still growing beneath the layers of chain mail and plate mail. “Where is Sir Hyland?”

“On the battlements, Sir. Watching the horizon. And waiting for you, Sir Longbow.”

Sir Anne Hyland looked every moment of her fifty odd years and yet youth and vigor sat in every laughter line. Her welcoming smile when she saw Danielle put Sir Longbow instantly at ease.

“The real monster slayer is here!” Sir Hyland held out her arms for an embrace Danielle sunk into. “Come to show us how it’s done.”

“Here to help,” Danielle insisted, looking out over the rooftops of the city which in its heyday had dwarfed Leonor.

“Any idea where they might be?” asked the salt and pepper haired knight Sir Longbow had met during the Battle of Burning Leonor.

“That way,” said Catherine, pointing out to the north east.

“Sure?” Anne asked. “How?”

“I can hear them.” The assassin tapped her head. “Their voices are growing louder. They’re coming.” Yellow eyes reflected the skyline as she stared out to a point far beyond anything the others could see. “Something distracted her.” She leaned out over the battlements, down into the city. “I can hear one of the bitten.” Her eyes narrowed. “I can hear her.”