Forgotten Realms Anthology 02 Realms of Infamy

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probably would have wound up with his own entrails publicly displayed from
the tower of the nearest thieves' guild hall.
But I had watched Han for Renek. I knew that he had few regular habits
and fewer weaknesses. After several tendays of watching, I alerted my master
to his opening. The thief, for all his stature in the thieves' guild, paid tithes to
the order of Tymora. I saw no logic in a thief worshiping at the shrine of the
goddess of good fortune. Maybe he'd made a habit of gambling. Or more
likely he was trying to appease the goddess on behalf of someone for whom
he grieved. I could only guess his motive, but my master's good fortune rested
in the fact that on the sixth day of nearly every ten-day, Han could be found
casting the crescent moons of fate and drawing lots before paying his tithe to
the cleric at the shrine.
I pondered long over the method of death, and I chided myself for not
seeing the possibility sooner. Like so many others seeking luck or blessing,
Han would rub the wooden moons in his hands, then blow on them and kiss
them before casting them to see which way they would land.
Dressed as a traveling cleric in the faith, my master had easy access to the
crescents. A part of Renek's smoothness, his talent, resulted from his ability to
blend unnoticed into even small groups of people. He is of ordinary human
height and weight. His hair is a medium brown of medium length. His eyes are
dark but not unusually so. Even his nose, a telling feature for many, is
unobtrusive and indistinctive. Truly, he hasn't a single physical characteristic
that would draw attention or set him apart from anyone in a crowd.
I wish I could say the same for myself. I'm tall, awkwardly so, and gaunt.
My skin is pale enough that in my youth it was the subject of jokes and cruel
comparisons to fish bellies and other pallid things. No amount of exposure to
the sun has ever improved my pallor. In fact, when I was young and more
concerned about such things, I would stay out on bright days, scalding myself
to the color and crepe-like texture of red poppies. But within days my parched
skin would peel off in gummy layers to reveal more of the same milky hue I
started with.
I also used to gorge myself repeatedly over many days in hopes of filling
out my tall frame. Always, I would grow a rounded, ball-shaped paunch but
experience no satisfying increase in overall bulk or brawn, and so I would
return to my former eating habits.
Renek would not understand such measures. He's not handsome or even
striking, but he'd never be the subject of stares or surreptitious snickers.
That's why he could move unnoticed through the temple, as he did through
every other assassination site.
But anonymity alone would not have put Renek in a position to kill Han. He
had another important advantage going into this job: I had given him the
perfect poison. Han felt, I'm sure, a faint tingling in his hands within seconds
of rubbing the two crescent moons between his palms. And no doubt his lips
had begun to tingle a moment after he'd kissed their smooth wooden surface.
As Renek told it to me later, Han had, as a matter of curiosity, sniffed his
hands and the crescents themselves, inhaling the odorless poison. He
shrugged and cast the crescents. My master told me they landed with their
points at odds. "A bad omen," Renek had noted, chuckling. As Han walked to
draw a lot from the bin indicated by the opposing crescents, he no doubt felt
the tingling intensify to a mild burning, extending from his hands to his wrists,
from his lips to his tongue and throat, and from his throat into his lungs.
By then, of course, Renek had exchanged the tainted moons for two
harmless objects of worship. He told me how he feigned concern as Han
staggered to the priest to have his lot read. And when Han began ranting in
poison-induced lunacy, Renek asked a brother of the order if he could help.
But two other clerics waved him off as they carried Han to a trough and began
splashing him with water a kind but pointless act. Not long after, as Renek
disappeared into the shadows, they would have noticed grotesque and
darkening blisters forming on Han's lips and hands. He probably started to
heave then blackened spittle and blood. Renek told me he heard the
screams of "Plague!" as he left the site.
I accompanied Renek when he collected his fee. I remember that I was
staring at my hands on the saddle horn as he spoke giddily of how smoothly
the task had gone. I was thinking about what the Red Wizard had said when I
became conscious of Renek's words.
"You should have seen him, Tine," he said to me. "He came in meek as a
bug, the way he always does " I'd told him that. Yet Renek acted as though
it was firsthand knowledge " and walked to the offering table. I've never seen
him look so humble pious almost. Can you imagine?"
He went on like that, providing each detail as if he had observed it first, and
describing the action of the poison as if he understood it. At one point I asked
him, "Do you suppose you should have used an even slower-acting solution?"
"No. No," he answered. "I had just the right combination. And plenty of time
to make the exchange, get out of there, and know I'd accomplished what I set
out to."
His words and his pompous, thankless attitude jarred me more than the
rough gait of the horse I rode. He had just the right combination not "you
provided" or "because of you." He actually credited himself with the success.
When he took his pay for the task, I felt sure he would offer me a share. In
my two years of service for Renek, he'd never been overwhelmingly
generous, but he had occasionally rewarded me when, as in this case, the
craftsmanship was of exceptional caliber. When my master mounted his horse
and reined it around to where I sat, waiting astride the old bay, he handed me
my wage and a paltry amount extra hardly more than a barmaid might
expect to earn in tips for half a night's work.
I tried to take some consolation simply in the fact that Han was dead.
Unlike most thieves, who take great pride in doing their work with stealth and
cunning, Han based his pride on and earned his status from the sheer volume
of his plunder. I'm sure he had far more murders to his credit than my master,
but he had none of Renek's reputation for finesse. He'd left a trail of gore and
mutilation that buzzards and monsters of the twilight appreciated. Strangely,
though, proof of his crimes was elusive. Gnomes in the Arch Wood had tried
him for killing one of their princesses in conjunction with the amazing robbery [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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