Versions of Diplomacy

"You're never going to get promoted at this rate," the officer muttered as Sino brushed against his shoulder, pressing a key into his hand.  The two were in the official district and to a casual eye the exchange was nothing more than a Swerthian not watching where he was going and bumping into one of the ambassadors.  Maybe a pickpocket.

"That's the plan," Sino whispered in response before turning sharply and walking away, slipping the key that had been handed to him into a pocket.  The Cadre ambassador watched him go, thinking fondly of when he was a brash young officer going on covert missions.  That was fun.  Now he was neck-deep in politics… much of which he should really get a start on.  After all, Sino was already en route to create the very political mess he needed to take advantage of.

There were a handful of routes a Cadre officer could take during his career.  He could do his job, do it well, and eventually grow a bit older and mellower in his tactics.  This usually led to promotions and positions that involved more politics and less breaking in through windows in the middle of the night with a sword in one hand and a ‘mancy component in the other.  Or he could attack every problem with all the ingenuity, daring, and skill he had and remain as a field officer doing the so-called dirty work of Alannis.  This was the career track Sino preferred.  Of course, there was also retirement, honorable and non-honorable discharge, and retirement by means of death.  Sino sincerely hoped to avoid all of those for a long time, especially the last one.

It would be tricky.  Sino hadn't broken into a guarded facility by himself before.  There was the raid in his first year at the Cadre… but he was merely support at that time in his career.  Not the point (and only) man.

The key he had was for the servant's entrance.  He'd still have trouble getting past guards, as security was extra tight on the manor on account of the two very prestigious guests this slaver merchant was entertaining.  Two representatives of other slaver merchants that hoped to form an alliance.  Them and their personal bodyguards.  Sino blew out a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves.  Get in, get it done, get out.  Try not to think of what could go wrong; as he'd already thought up his backup plans in the days leading up to now.  They'd kick in when something went wrong – not before.  He had to concentrate.

There was a guard at the servant's entrance.  Sino walked up and as the guard stepped forwards to question him, not recognizing his face, Sino grabbed hold of his pike and used his other hand to slide a knife into the base of the man's neck.  A neat, clean kill.  Not messy like slitting a throat.  Just a simple thrust that broke the spinal column connection and made no noise.  The body and the pike went into the nearby bushes – a convenient thing about expensive manors.  They always had such nicely laid out gardens with plenty of hiding places.  Then, acting as if he were doing something perfectly normal, he opened the gate and made his way to the manor itself.

The guards would be at the gates and inside the manor.  Mostly inside the manor, as even with a potential alliance the three slavers didn't trust each other.  And representatives were sometimes expendable.

Sino had studied the layout of the manor while making his plans.  There were plenty of corridors used exclusively by servants and he followed these through the wings and up to the third floor.  He met two people on his way up and both of them ignored him, assuming he was someone they simply didn't know.  The servant staff would be a bit larger than usual right now on account of the guests.  When he finally left the back corridors and into the part of the manor the occupants and visitors saw it was merely a hallway down from his target.  There would be the most guards there.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment, the signature and seal on the top done so it appeared hastily scrawled.

As it was, there were twelve guards.  Six were dressed in the uniform of the owner of the manor.  The other six were divided evenly between the colors of the slaver merchant they represented.  A captain stepped forward as Sino approached.

"Message, sir," Sino said, trying his absolute hardest to fake a Swerthian accent, "From the market."

"Lord Roate doesn't have time for messages," the captain snapped irritably, "And who let you into the manor?"

"Front gate, sir."  C'mon.  The timing was right so far.  Langley had messaged him over the relay.  Any minute now… he just had to stall for it.  "Said I could try."

"No messengers until Lord Roate is finished with his business," the captain replied firmly, "You can leave the letter with his secretary.  Down the hall."

The captain gestured and Sino nodded and walked away, slowly.  He thought he heard the sound of frantic footsteps pounding up the main stairwell.  Perfect.  Excellent timing.  The Stormriders had come through so far.

A young boy skidded to a stop before the captain, who looked even more annoyed now.  He was small and dirty – a street kid – and clutched a bag of coin in his hand.  A small gift from Langley to ensure the message got here quickly enough.

"Sir," the boy blurted out, not giving the captain a chance to speak, "Got a message for the master from the market."

Sino waited, half-turning to watch in feigned interest.  He knew what the message would be.

"Owner of the master's slave market says there's been an attack, he barely escaped, and that master has lost all his slaves and property there.  Said it was a slave escape.  And there were… uh… sheep."

The boy faltered over the last bit.  He hadn't been there.  He'd just been paid quite handsomely by Langley to deliver this message.  Langley had been coached for hours until she was able to recite in Swerthian what needed to be said to the nearest street kid willing to run messenger.  That had been the hardest part of this task.

The captain furrowed his brow in confusion and after a moment took off his hat and smoothed back his hair, a movement meant to give himself time to think.  Slave market attacked.  Sheep.  Owner barely escaped with his life.  Sino with a message from said owner, scrawled and hastily sealed.

Of course, if Langley's pet sword was anything like Sino suspected it was, the owner was dead.  But that didn't matter.

And then the last bit of his plan fell into place.  Not one that he was counting on, but one that he desperately hoped for.  If only to see the captain's reaction.

A third person came bolting up the stairs, badly winded.  One of Lord Roate's hired guards.  He caught his breath for a second and then wheezed out, "Sir.  There's… a herd of sheep heading this way, sir."

"Sheep?"

"They're on fire.  And dead.  I think they're dead."

"But…"

"Flaming zombie sheep, sir.  I saw it myself, I swear."

That was too much for the poor captain.  The men started muttering around him.  He had to do something.  So he pointed at Sino, who looked shocked and walked forwards, the letter clutched in his hand.

"You!" the captain barked, "Let me see that seal."

He inspected it, briefly, and nodded.  It was a good enough forgery to fool him.

"Your message comes from the owner of the market, then?" he demanded.

"Yes sir," Sino replied, "Said it was urgent.  But I didn't see any sheep, sir."

"Get inside and deliver your message.  Make sure to include the rest of this too and I'll make sure you get paid well in return."

And the captain wrenched the door to the room open, letting Sino into the parlor in which negotiations were being conducted.  The boy stared in awe, the guard was still muttering about sheep, the captain was floundering in confusion as to what procedure said to do in a situation like this, and Sino was having trouble hiding a smile as the door shut behind him.  In his confusion the captain had neglected the most important step of admitting someone – searching them for weapons.

The room was exquisitely furnished with expensive oil paintings, overstuffed furniture, and end tables made from exotic wood.  Probably the elven isles, by the look of it.  A buffet of nuts, fruits, and wine was laid out on one side of the room.  In the middle sat three overweight men, the most elaborately dressed of them being Lord Roate himself.  The other two were merely representatives.  They all stared at shabbily dressed Sino as he entered.

"I have a message," Sino said and this time he didn't fake the accent, "From Alannis."

There was a ‘mancy ward at the door.  Sino had seen it as he entered – it would muffle any sound coming from the inside so that there wouldn't be any spies on the other side of the wall trying to find the details of the agreement the three were attempting to make.

"You're not-" Lord Roate began and Sino cut him off.

"An ambassador, no.  But I am an officer of the Cadre."

And he drew a knife in one hand from out of his sleeve and a lodestone in the other from his pocket.  The three men leapt to their feet.

The dagger was made for throwing.  Sino landed it in the eye socket of the first representative.  The second attempted to flee past him and Sino triggered his ‘mancy, long hours of practice allowing him to skip the vocal component, and the man staggered as his personal gravity shifted and threw his balance off.  He fell into a table and landed with a crash.

Lord Roate had his sword out and was sizing up his opponent, ignoring the screaming representative that was clutching at his ruined eye.  Sino flicked and had another knife out.  This one was made for throwing as well and by Roate's stance Sino estimated that he had a very good chance of hitting.  Especially if he pulled the gravimancy trick again.

The slaver made to bat the knife out of the air as it flew at him but the sword pulled in an odd direction, off to the side where Sino was pointing the tip of the lodestone.  So the knife landed in his throat instead and the man went over backwards with a gurgle.  And Sino allowed himself to smile and drew his last set of knives – the set he used for hand-to-hand – and dropped back into the relay with Langley.

"Finishing up," he said calmly, stooping over the first of the representatives and stabbing the knife down into his other eye, then the shoulder, then the stomach, and finally the neck.

"I-uh – I'll have things ready," Langley replied weakly, sounding rather ill.  "I'm at the rendezvous."

"Good.  See you there."

And he broke relay.  Walked over to the second representative, who was crawling to the door, struggling under his own weight, which was unnaturally heavy, and finished him off in a manner just as brutal as the first, slashing with his knife and ignoring the screams that resulted.

Lord Roate was already dead.  The knife had hit an artery and bled him out.  Sino simply took the man's sword, spun, and stabbed it dead in the center of the table, where a contract waiting to be signed sat.  There were drops of blood across one corner of it, spreading into the parchment of the paper and turning into deep crimson blots.  Briefly, Sino surveyed the rest of the scene.  There was nothing that would indicate the Cadre directly but there were enough marks of their intervention after an investigation was conducted.  Lingering traces of ‘mancy.  Superior ability to infiltrate and kill.  Cadre trademarks.  Not enough to condemn, enough to implicate.  Enough to create some leverage born of terror and a message that Alannis was not to be defied.  By anyone.

All that was left was getting himself out and to the rendezvous place.  He was spattered in blood and could never exit the way he had come.  Thankfully, that was what windows and gravimancy was for.  Hopefully the guards on the ground were lousy shots with the bow.

After all, Sino didn't want a promotion just yet, but he didn't want a sudden retirement either.

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