Chapter 11: The Man

The morning sun rose quickly over the horizon, glimmering waves of heat hovering over the seemingly endless sea of sand. The desert would be unforgiving today. Even in the oasis of the Imperial City, the temperatures would soar to unbearable highs in the hottest part of the day. This meant that the people had little choice but to rise early and get their business taken care of as quickly as possible. Even though it was barely light enough to see outside, throngs of merchants were opening their shops, cafes and coffeeshops were already heating up their grills, and people were beginning to mill in the dusty streets. The citizens of the Imperial City went about their lives, most of them oblivious to the rising danger they were facing.

As the sky turned from purple to orange, a tall hooded figure moved along the back alleys and side streets. Even these had their share of shops and restaurants, but most of them were smaller and less frequented. Many of them didn't even have signs above the door, just a strategically placed lamp to illuminate the still shadowy street. Even though the hour was early, shop doors were already open to let air flow through the buildings in the hopes of keeping them from getting too hot.

The hooded figure passed a coffeeshop, where old men in sand-colored robes and turbans, decorative beads lining their long gray beards, sat smoking water pipes while they waited for their coffee. Inside, he could see another man, pouring coffee from a long-spouted, silver carafe into small silver cups. He then skimmed the coffee and poured it back and forth from cup to cup. The hooded figure had no time for coffee, though, and walked on. While most people in the Imperial City did their shopping at the large covered market, where they could buy anything from food to clothing to knick-knacks, there were other markets in the city. These were hastily assembled, temporary markets, with little more than a few stalls, set up in disused buildings or under tarps, usually near the edges of the city, far from the prying eyes of the Royal Palace's sentries.

It was to one of these markets that the man under the hood was heading. He walked casually, but with purpose, glancing around now and then with piercing blue eyes. His pale skin would already be complaining about the soaring temperatures if it hadn't been covered in the breathable cloth used by local craftspeople to sew clothing. Still, the morning was hot, even by local standards, and he could feel himself starting to sweat. As a breeze kicked up dirt at his feet, offering to bring a little mercy to the desert dwellers of Aquilara, the man ducked into a small hole in the side of a mud brick building.

Very few people frequented this part of the city. It sat on the edge, closer to the sea, a dozen or so buildings standing as remnants of an older time, when the citizens of the desert were more dependent on the water. Unless someone looked very closely, it would simply look like a ghost town full of abandoned buildings. But today, one of the buildings was occupied.

Once the man was inside, he pulled a tarp behind him to cover the hole. The market was even smaller than usual, only a handful of stalls. Some of them sold illegal substances like poison and black powder, some sold exotic animals, and some of them traded in intangible wares like information. The merchants were on edge this morning, though, and had only brought what they could carry and easily dispose of. There were fewer customers than usual as well. The man glanced around to make sure it was safe, then spotted the merchant he was looking for. He pushed back his hood and quickly walked to the man's stall.

"Sanja," he hissed as he walked up to the man's makeshift tent.

Sanja was a small man, at least in comparison to his tall customer, with burnt umber skin and large, dark eyes that gave him a perpetually startled look. He glanced up when he heard his name, and his eyes widened even further.

"Caldan, what are you doing here?" he whispered. His eyes darted around the room as if he expected the Assassins to come rushing in at any moment.

"They came for Ablan," Caldan answered, his voice almost a growl.

"I heard. Why do you think the market is so empty? Everyone stayed home. I should have stayed home." He started to gather up the wares he had laid out on a knotted rug that had once been beautiful but was now thread-bare, but Caldan grabbed his hand.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I can't sell you anything, not today!"

"I need what I came for. I'm meeting the others today."

"Are you crazy?" Sanja exclaimed, a little louder than he wanted to. He and Caldan both looked around the crumbling room, but either no one had noticed or they were minding their own business. Sanja took a shaky breath and said, "You should be lying low. Who knows what Ablan told the Assassins?"

"That's why we have to move now, Sanja," Caldan said. "Are you going to give me what I need or not? I can always get it from someone else, someone who might not be happy about your refusal to help me."

"Fine, fine," Sanja said, and dug through the folds of his robes. He produced a key, which he held out for Caldan to take. "You know where it is."

Caldan nodded and took the key. Then he slipped a pouch out of his pocket for Sanja. He watched as the merchant opened it and inspected the gold coins inside. Then the two men nodded at one another again, and without another word, Caldan stepped back into the dusty street. The short time he'd been inside was enough for the sun to finish its rise into the sky. The dry heat choked him, and he pulled the hood up over his copper hair. He'd give anything to be back home, out of this godforsaken land, but he had a job to do, and he couldn't leave until the Royals were dead.