Tenebres tried not to fidget too much, but it was hard to stay composed with Allana kneeling between his legs, her dexterous fingers moving in slow, capable motions. He had been shocked to find that the street wraith’s talents included something like this, but he couldn’t deny her efficient skill. A particular movement, slow and gentle, drew a sharp intake of breath from him, followed by a shaky groan.

  Even more enticing was the simple intimacy of the moment. For Allana, whose hard-built walls were oh-so-difficult to slip through, times like this were some of the few the girl could express the true depth of her feelings for him. It made Tenebres glow inside, and made it that much harder to focus on holding still as she changed the bandages on his arms.

  “Sorry,” she apologized after his soft sound of pain. “The scab held up a bit there.”

  She pressed a warm washcloth down on the next section of bandages, giving it a second to loosen the dried blood before she continued along.

  “It’s not that…” Tenebres felt a little heat in the tapered tips of his ears. “It’s just, you know, having you down there like that… It's a little distracting.”

  “Mhmm. I noticed.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I might have you get dressed first next time, though.”

  Both youths chuckled, and Allana finished her ministrations promptly enough, her deft hands easily stripping the last of the old bandages. She then applied a mild healing ointment Alleghy had provided to the deepest scars along his forearms before wrapping his arms back up in fresh white bandages. Finally, Tenebres slipped on the long gloves he had picked up days before, the tight leather covering his arms up to the elbows and hiding the bandages from sight but leaving his fingers uncovered.

  Fortunately, the more shallow wounds on his upper arms and shoulders had closed relatively quickly, leaving behind only smooth silver scars, light enough that you had to inspect them closely to notice the patterns in them. Otherwise, Tenebres might’ve had to start wearing clothes more concealing than the tight, sleeveless tunics he preferred, and that would’ve been truly unacceptable.

  “Well, while you’re down there…”

  Allana rolled her eyes at the suggestion. “Not today, Seo. Geoffrey wanted to see us, remember?”

  Tenebres brightened. In the week since they had killed Sloan, the assassin hadn’t called on them, giving them the time to recover, as well as enjoy the newfound intimacy that had bloomed in the course of their fight with the necromancer. “Do you think he found something?”

  “Only one way to find out.” Allana casually slapped a hand against his… thigh, and told him, “Now get some pants on so we can go.”

  #

  “There’s good news and bad news.”

  Rather than his office, Geoffrey had directed them to his lounge for this conversation. He sipped from a full glass of his usual gloam whiskey as he spoke, but Tenebres had quickly come to the conclusion that the assassin’s behavior was far from typical. In fact, he seemed mildly drunk, a level of inebriation he had never seen from the normally restrained man, which was only made more alarming by the early hour.

  Tenebres looked at Allana when he noted the man’s slightly unsteady gait and rumpled clothes, but she seemed as confused as he was. They took a spot on the same small lounger, close enough to make casual contact, while Geoffrey sprawled in a plush chair of his own.

  “The good news is that our friend Sloan was a shockingly introspective journaler. That’s a fine and good habit, but it does provide quite a bit of information after you get yourself killed.” Geoffrey gestured at a side table, where a beaten journal, stained by water and Rogue knew what else, sat unattended. “From his writings, I was able to finally piece together our true quarry–a corpse hag.”

  “Is that the bad news?” Allana asked.

  “Quite, and in more ways than one. It does explain some of what we’ve been seeing–hags are habitually more cautious and cunning than actual undead, and so the careful system of cut-outs that has kept us from catching the monster’s trail has begun to make sense.”

  “Is that normal though?” Tenebres asked. “I’m not an expert, but some of Kellen’s books had information about hags. I didn’t think necromancy was one of their skills.”

  “It’s not.” Geoffrey gestured in frustration with his drink, spilling some over the side of the glass. He didn’t seem to notice, instead taking another drink. “I had to go up to Highwalk to find a scholar that could tell me about them. Corpse hags, like fury hags, are hags that have found a way to steal the magic of another outsider. In this case, our quarry managed to kill a true undead and take some death magic for herself. Not only does that give her access to necromancy, it allows her to hand out necromantic favors–just like these gifts we’ve been seeing.”

  The man blew out a breath, shaking his head. “That’s why Sloan caught us with our pants down. Most undead outsiders are only able to grant one type of gift. After Algus had the gift of flesh, I assumed the same would hold true of Sloan. None of us were ready for what his gift of bone meant.”

  Allana started to ask something, but the assassin continued talking without so much as glancing at her, as if he hadn’t even noticed her attempt to speak. “The real bad news is that apparently our hag ran up against Telik’s hag, and the two had a bit of a spat.” Geoffrey chuckled at his own words and took another drink. “Sloan seemed to think there were only a couple others who had gained her favor before she fled. Algus, and perhaps one other.”

  Allana and Tenebres traded another look.

  “Was that… the good news?” Tenebres asked. “Or bad news?”

  “I don’t even know!” Geoffrey exclaimed, his frustration obvious. He drained the rest of his glass in a single swallow and stood up, going to grab the rest of the bottle. The man’s gait was only slightly unsteady, a testament to his high level resilience, but Tenebres couldn’t help but wonder how much alcohol it took to get him even that far.

  “Are… are you okay?” Tenebres asked. He exchanged a worried look with Allana as Geoffrey carried the half-full bottle back to his chair.

  The man pursed his lips as he sat down, studying the two of them. His eyes turned noticeably to the ornate clock ticking away on one wall. “Mmm. I suppose it’s been a few weeks since the last time my supposed students extorted information I don’t want to give them out of me, hmm?”

  Tenebres blinked at the sudden venom in the man’s tone.

  “Geoffrey, it’s not like that!” Allana shot back. Tenebres could feel the sudden tenseness in her as the man’s tone stoked her anger.

  Before she could get much more fuel on the fire, the assassin sagged in place, like a sail without wind. He waved a hand. “Of course not, of course not.” The man heaved a heavy sigh. His downcast eyes focused on the bottle of potent liquor he held in one hand. “Today is the day my family was ruined, you know. Twelve years ago.”

  “Your family?” Tenebres asked.

  Allana was quicker on the uptake, apparently, but sounded even more confused when she asked, “You were a noble?”

  “Your last gift,” Tenebres realized. “‘A remnant of your misspent youth,’ you said, right? Is it a Noble gift?”

  “Quick as always, Tenebres.” Geoffrey smiled lazily and took a sip straight from the bottle. "My family wasn't doing so well, you see." He gestured at his golden hair, then his fair skin. "We had some Arsiletian blood, a few generations back, but not enough to really be in good with Old Gold families. And, inevitably, my father made the worst mistake a noble can. He began to put scheming over improving."

  The two youths stared at the master assassin, stunned. In all the time they had worked with Geoffrey, he had never been so open with them about anything, much less his past. Allana seemed to be staying carefully quiet, not wanting to break whatever spell he seemed to be under, and Tenebres followed her lead.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "So, yes, that's how I got my gift from the Noble. The gift of the spy, perfect for trying to get one up on the other families... Unfortunately, the old man didn’t have the most subtle touch in the world. He was caught soon thereafter, and the King came down on him hard. An object lesson, you might say.” Geoffrey smiled gently, clearly reflective, and took another pull straight from the bottle. "Twelve years… Well, our name wasn't worth dirt after that. Six generations of Gerrots, done. Well, my eldest brother, he couldn't accept that. Last I heard, he took off with what little he could claim as his inheritance to prove himself and make his name in Elliven.

  “I check in on him every now and again–in the years since, he's become every bit the schemer our father was, though admittedly, he’s a fair bit better at it. My little sister, she had barely even come into her gifts when it all happened. She just took right off. Signed on with this silver knight she met Rogue knows where, gave up the family name, and left, never to be seen again. And I..."

  He sighed and gave the bottle of expensive, potent gloam whiskey a mournful look. "I crawled into a bottle for a few years and didn't come out. Of course, I had to make enough cash to keep myself in the drink, but I found soon enough that all my dueling experience and talent for espionage made me quite good at killing people. And as it turned out, no small number of people were willing to pay a pretty penny to see their enemies dead. Eventually, the Rogue saw fit to transmute my old ensouled gift into the gift of the assassin, and," he spread his arms, gesturing wide at the eloquent lounge, "here I am."

  "Only you crawled out of the bottle at some point," Tenebres pointed out.

  Allana dryly added, “Prior to tonight, at least.”

  "Heh," Geoffrey laughed dryly. "That I did, through no fault of my own. No, someone came and pulled me out, gave me something worth fighting for again." The man drew a deep breath–then he slid the stopper back into the bottle of whiskey, the motion seeming somehow forced and more than a little reluctant. "But that'll be a story for another time. Run along, you two, your usual pay is by the door. Hoist a drink or two to my old man, alright?"

  “What about you?” Allana asked.

  Geoffrey waved a hand, the motion increasingly vague. “I’m going to go sleep it off. Not the best way to spend a day, but better than…” His eyes drifted back to the bottle of gloam whiskey. He was silent for a moment, then he shook his head forcefully.

  “Allana. You wanted a bottle of this stuff, right?”

  Allana frowned, but nodded cautiously.

  “Good. Take this one. Better it’s not be here, today.”

  Tenebres frowned at the man, his scars itching underneath his bandages. Once again, he didn’t get the chance to ask the master assassin about the new effects of his gift–but clearly, today wasn’t the day.

  That was fine. There was always tomorrow.

  #

  “Well that was certainly odd,” Tenebres said.

  “You can say that again.”

  After leaving Geoffrey’s, the pair returned to their tiny apartment. Tenebres had expected Allana to immediately open the bottle Geoffrey had given her, but she surprised him by putting it up on a shelf. The girl was clearly as conflicted about his odd behavior as Tenebres was.

  “You really think he’s a noble?” Allana asked, clearly troubled at the thought.

  Tenebres shrugged. “As far as I know, he’s never lied to us before. And his pain seemed real enough.”

  “Yeah…” Allana admitted with a frown. “I guess it makes some sense, with the way he acts.”

  “The way he acts?” Tenebres asked, his lips tugging up into a small smile. “How is that?”

  “So arrogant, you know? Prideful, and bossy, like he knows it all.”

  Tenebres pursed his lips. “Have you ever met a noble before?”

  Allana narrowed her eyes at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  The two sat in pensive silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Tenebres and Allana had both been through plenty of trauma in their young lives, but Geoffrey had seemed so far above all of that–skilled and dangerous and untouchable. In some ways, it tarnished the image of the master assassin to see him just as troubled by his past as Tenebres himself so often was. In a more significant way, though, it kindled some small hope in his mind. After all, if Geoffrey could rise above his past, who was to say that he and Allana couldn’t do the same?

  Abruptly, Allana stood up, moving to the apartment’s single window to pull the curtain closed. The sun was bright enough that the room wasn’t quite plunged into complete darkness from the act, but Tenebres felt himself relax a little in the sudden gloom.

  “What’s up?” Tenebres asked.

  “If we’re taking the day off, I want some more sleep,” she explained. Based on the movements of her vague shape in the dimness, Allana seemed to be disrobing, and even after the nights they had spent together, he found himself wishing for an awareness boon, if only to see her.

  “I’m sure we could come up with something more fun to do than a nap…” Tenebres suggested, his fingers sliding into the waist of his own pants.

  Allana huffed a dry laugh, then he felt the girl’s athletic figure slide into bed with him. “Oh? Like what?”

  “Well, I do recall us being interrupted this morning…”

  Allana chuckled again. This time, the sound was much closer, a warm breath of amusement in one of his long tapered ears sending shivers down his spine.

  “Mmm… I don’t think I’ll be the one on my knees this time, though…”

  #

  The sun had long since set by the time the couple made their way to their usual table at the Blackened Claw.

  In the slums of Lowrun, reputable bars were few and far between, with most being more dangerous than the streets and many others hosting varieties of vices neither of the youths had any interest in. Bors’s establishment, the same place they had met months before, catered to those with the combination of reputation and wealth specific to mid-ranking members of criminal organizations. At one point, it had been Telik’s auspices that had earned Allana her place in the Claw, but of late, word had gotten out that the most feared assassin in Emeston had two neophytes working with him.

  Dinner was simple. It was a weeknight crowd, and a sparse one at that, considering the hour. Normally, the Claw was bustling at suppertime, but today there were less than a dozen others eating with Tenebres and Allana, all of whom were giving the two a wider berth than they were used to. But the hearty stew was still delicious, and after the intimate afternoon they had shared, Tenebres was ravenous.

  “So I was thinking,” he started to say between bites.

  “Good to hear,” Allana teased. “I thought you seemed a little brainless on our way here.”

  Tenebres stuck out his tongue at her, and the wraith girl’s smile grew a shade wicked. “I think we did plenty of that already today.”

  Tenebres turned back to his stew before Allana could see the blush her bawdy joke brought on. “What I was saying was, I was thinking about something Geoffrey said.”

  “Hm?”

  “He mentioned the Rogue changed one of his gifts, right? ‘Transmuted’ it? Have you ever heard of that?”

  Allana frowned. “You’re right. I thought you couldn’t get rid of a gift once you had it?”

  Tenebres nodded. “As far as I know, you can’t. But according to him, he did. After he started killing people, too–that must’ve been how he got his gift of the assassin.”

  “I suppose the gift of the assassin isn’t exactly a nobility-friendly gift,” Allana acknowledged. “But so what?”

  “Well, he said he got the gift of the spy as a noble, right? That’s a gift granted by the Noble archetype, but that means it's an Initiate level blessing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I know enough to know the Noble can only give gifts at Initiate, in the third gift slot. But that’s true of the Rogue too so… how can he have the spy and assassin gifts?”

  Allana frowned, but after a moment, she shrugged. “Just one more thing to ask him about. That and your scars.”

  Tenebres shrugged too, turning back to his stew. Allana was bright, but her mind worked in very different ways to Tenebres. From his hodgepodge studies, he certainly knew more about gift theory than she did, but it was more than that. Allana was a dedicated pragmatist. The specific origin of Geoffrey’s gifts just didn’t matter to her the way it did to him.

  “It’s weird in here tonight,” Allana noted.

  Tenebres looked around the normally bustling bar. In just the short time since they had arrived, more people had cleared out, making the space between them and the few remaining patrons ever wider. “Yeah, you’re right. What’s going on?”

  Allana frowned. “I think I have some idea... Bors!”

  The big man, the bartender and owner of the Blackened Claw started at her call. Bors was a veteran of the streets of Lowrun, with the reputation and connections to enforce the neutrality necessary for his business to thrive. Fights happened at the Blackened Claw, of course–Tenebres and Allana had met in one such brawl–but deaths were rare, and the large bartender wasn’t afraid to ply his cudgel on anyone who tried to push things too far.

  Still, he looked nervous when Allana called him over. He flashed a look at the few patrons left even as two more of them got up and hurried out.

  Apparently that reaction was confirmation enough. Allana stood up without waiting for Bors. “Let’s go.”

  Her tone was low and urgent, and Tenebres followed along immediately. The two walked briskly out of the Claw without a look back, projecting the carefully-controlled menace and complete confidence expected of two young assassins as they left.

  Only once they were out in the night air did Tenebres ask for an explanation, neither of them slowing their steps. “What’s happening?” he murmured.

  “The only thing that would empty the Claw out like that is word of a hit. A big one. None of the people in there were Telik’s–he must be making a move. Rumor got around, enough so that all the others are keeping their heads down until it’s over.”

  Tenebres frowned. “But we didn’t hear anything.”

  “Nope.”

  “That can’t be good.”

  “Nope.” The answer to his comment came not from Allana, but from a deep voice in a nearby alley.

  Allana whirled on the voice, conjuring her daggers, while Tenebres moved behind her and lifted a hand towards the alley.

  That same voice chuckled as a broad shape moved from the deep shadows of the alley and emerged onto the street.

  “Long time, no see,” Vernen said, his voice low with menace. The big man cracked his knuckles as he walked into the light. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”