Cameo the Assassin (13 page)

“It’s gone!”

“What do you mean?” Opal said.

Kyrian dropped his backpack and stood silently looking at the frame of the Temple of the Sun. It’s beams were still smoking from a fire that had engulfed it hours ago.

The highwayman stared at the building. “That can’t be a coincidence. Someone must know you’ve been traveling with us.”

Kyrian looked at Opal with the same distaste that Opal generally reserved for him and blundered forward toward the smoking husk that was supposed to be his final school of training.

Black Opal sighed exasperatedly as he watched the idiot stomp away from him. He wondered why he was currently not with Cameo, and instead was with this...boy.

Kyrian stepped over some of the fallen lumber, burned down to blackened beams, and through what might’ve been the threshold.

Opal put his hand on Kyrian’s shoulder, pulling him back. “We need to go.”

He shrugged off Opal’s hand. “I’ll be fine.”

For one moment he thought about leaving Kyrian there, then something occurred to him. “This building must’ve been burning for a while.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that. The whole thing is cinders.”

“You don’t think....”

Kyrian met Opal’s hazel eye, waiting for him to finish.

“That vampire....”

The lad’s eyes widened. “He waved at me when he disappeared—”

“And Cameo said he could read minds.” Opal cocked his head to one side, “And...why did he leave when you showed up anyhow?”

“I’m working my way up to priesthood?”

Opal glanced down at the charm dangling from Kyrian’s neck. “The sun.”

“Well, I worship the sun, the soil of Faetta, the moon, and the sky, just like everyone else.”

The dandy chuckled, “Well, yes, yes, like all the rest of us. Perhaps we’re not quite as devout as you are?”

Kyrian turned away, “Maybe when I get as old as you I won’t have any hope anymore either.”

Opal stuck his nose in the air.

“I think he probably just did it because he didn’t like me being an acolyte,” Kyrian said.

“Perhaps he just didn’t
like
you.”

The lad spun around. “Hey, he didn’t attack me.”

“Of course not, you weren’t even in that fight .... Just why is that?” Opal said.

“Because when I tried to get into the fight he ran away. What can I say? Maybe he was afraid of me because I’m an acolyte!”

“He was probably afraid you would start preaching at him—”

“Hey, at least I have some hope.”

Opal walked away from him muttering, “I’m far more optimistic than you are any day. I have hopes—”

“Hopes to get into bed with an undead.”

Opal turned around fast and knocked Kyrian to the floor. “Shut up.” He spun on his heel, wincing as he regretted his decision about purchasing these particular boots. “Come along, Kyrian. We have no other recourse but to catch up with Cameo and Bel.”

The lad watched the swish of his black duster as he stormed out. “Fool.”

* * * * *

Cameo turned around and looked back down the hill. Bel was about a half mile away from her, walking fast on the path to Plunyport. She checked her shoulder pack for any sign of food, but found none. Standing there motionless, a silhouette on top of a hill on a cold sunny day, Cameo couldn’t escape the feeling of gloom that was sinking in as they drew nearer to the place she was being forced to go.

“You walk very fast,” Bel managed between gasps as he crouched down to catch his breath.

He was windblown. She probably looked the same.

Cameo felt to see if her hair was still parted on the side. Beside the missing hair and the scar on her face, she had completely regenerated. “I’m sorry about that. My Master is
compelling
me to go to the place of my task. But I’ve brought that on myself.”

“I have almost no food left,” he said.

“I don’t have any.”

“Can you keep going without food? I mean, I know you are a zombie.”

She fixed him with a dark look.

“Well, you are.”

“No, I can’t.” She took a few steps down the path heading northeast, moving along the Avon toward Plunyport, then Llandyport, then back across the Avon canal and on to Lockenwood.

“Maybe we could acquire some horses in Plunyport. It would make this journey go a bit faster.”

“It wouldn’t help us. I can’t get on a horse; unfortunately, they’re scared of me.”

Bel was still behind her, but she hadn’t outpaced him too badly, yet. “Scared, why? Because you’re a zombie?”

She turned around to face him. “Please stop saying that.”

“Sorry.”

“I think I even prefer
thrall
, or
fetch
, to that unpleasant term, and those aren’t all that flattering. Those are the ones Haffef tends to use when he’s trying to convince me how loathsome I am, as if being a blood-drinking corpse is any more lovely.”

Bel chuckled a bit.

She waited for him to catch up to her and slowed her pace to match his. “You know, it’s not as if I ever wanted to become an undead. It was forced on me.”

He watched her face intently. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Yes, well, how many young women really make that part of their life plan?”

“Good point,” he said.

Cameo looked down the path that seemed to wind and twist for miles. “We’re going to have to stop in Plunyport, even though I’d rather not.”

“Isn’t your vampire going to be mad?”

She smirked. “Worried about being roughed up?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I have to eat, and he knows that. And anyhow, didn’t you want to replace your clothes?”

“You have no idea.”

“I’m walking around with bullet hole in my leather armor,” she said, touching it.

He looked over at the hole in her shirt, then glanced down at the ground. “How did you become undead?”

For a moment, she had thought of the ripped armor as annoying and commonplace, but it was also a visible reminder that she had those incredible healing powers, and that she had just reminded Bel that she was a zombie.

She glanced out over the black waters of the canal. “How well do you swim?”

“What?”

Cameo took several steps down the bank toward the water. “Can you swim?”

He hesitated to follow. “Canals can be tricky to swim.”

She smiled at him. “I’ll help you.”

“Well...my theatrical piece,” he touched his shoulder pack. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

She bounded up the bank and was suddenly beside him. “Give it to me.”

Bel cradled the pack in his arms for a moment before handing it to her, and only then because he was somewhat intimidated. “It’s taken months—”

She threw it across the water and onto the opposite side, where it landed in the overgrowth.

He handed her his pistol, resigned. “Might as well keep that dry, too.”

Cameo hurled it into the brush approximately where she had thrown his pack, then waved him forward, “After you.”

“Right.” He walked down into the canal, the cold water surged over the tops of his boots, threatening to suck them down to the bottom. “Oh, gods! This is cold.”

She grimaced as the water enveloped her painfully. Haffef’s anxious call pulled her onward, so she doubted even the undercurrent could drag her down. “I’ll get you something dry and fashionable when we get to the other side.”

“You’re merciful.”

She grabbed the scruff of his collar as he began to sink.

“I’m not a very good swimmer, actually,” he sputtered.

She towed his flailing body to the other side, teeth chattering.

Bel lay at the base of the bank, exhausted and freezing. “Didn’t you help me carry Opal back from that fight with Gail? I don’t remember you being quite so strong then. I remember carrying most of his weight myself.”

“I was lying.”

“Ah, well, that explains a lot.”

She glanced down at him shivering, his breath encircling his head, and his clothes clinging to his body. “I suppose I really should’ve offered to toss your clothes to this side too.”

He looked up at her defeated.

* * * * *

Opal tossed his rather garish hat onto a hat rack in the corner of the smoke-filled tavern.

Kyrian trooped in behind him.

“Hello, ladies,” the rogue purred at several women behind the bar and found an empty table.

“It smells in here,” Kyrian complained.

Opal ignored him.

“I thought you said we were following—”

“It’s good to be discreet, don’t you think, lad?”

For a moment, he didn’t know if Opal was joking or not. “Okay...sure. Aren’t we supposed to catch up to—”

“Yes, yes. Say, do you have any cash on you lad? I seem to be a little short.”

“Well, a little.”

“Oh good, good. Ladies!” Opal flashed a smile at the women behind the bar.

A somewhat unsavory looking barmaid ambled over to their table and stood between the two of them.

“Hello, gentlemen. What can I get for you?”

“Wine, I think,” Black Opal said cheerily. “Something red.”

“Sure, we have—”

“What kind do you like?” He lifted his eye from a gaudy ring on her hand, touching her hand gently, and looked into her eyes. “I’m certain you have exquisite taste.”

Her lips parted slowly, and she traced the line from his eye to his mouth, then back up again, and she smiled. “You might not think so, I like dry wine.”

He smirked, “My dear, I’m confident your company will make it that much sweeter.”

She laughed and moved back over to the bar.

Kyrian was staring at Opal with his mouth open.

The highwayman stuck his chin in the air, “What?”

“I thought you liked Cameo,” he said in a harsh whisper. “What’s all this about? You’re flirting with some cheap bar wench?”

“It’s not wise to say her name here,” Opal hissed. “Or ours for that matter.”

“Yeah? And it’s not wise for us to be here either. We should’ve left Kings Basin an hour ago.”

“Well, I’m hungry—”

“Oh, yeah. When I’m famished I usually reach for the wine bottle,” Kyrian said.

“When you’re famished, you probably grab for a hair-shirt just for good measure.”

Kyrian felt a soft hand on his shoulder suddenly. It was that barmaid again. She moved in close to talk to him. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I got your order before.”

“Uhh...I’ll have ....”

“I think I got too caught up talking to this gentleman here.” She looked adoringly at Opal.

He smiled at her, then at Kyrian.

“I’ll have lunch.”

“All right, sir,” she said, moving back over to the bar.

Kyrian looked at Opal darkly, “So Ca— our female friend was right about you.”

“Who? Her?” Opal gestured at the barmaid.

“No, Cameo,” the lad whispered harshly.

“Oh.... Whatever do you mean?”

“She said you were a libertine, and she was right!”

“She said that?” Opal asked, indignant.

“Yes.”

Opal sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, you probably misunderstood her. How could she really think that? I mean, I offered to take you to your silly temple, and that wasn’t the easiest decision I’ve ever made. Gods know you aren’t the most delightful boy.” He pulled out his little mirror to check his makeup and watch the barmaid behind him.

“Maybe she can read minds like her vampire friend.”

Opal smiled, “Definitely not.”

“Oh, and what makes you so sure?”

The barmaid returned with Kyrian’s meal and the bottle of wine, “Ester’s best stuff. The innkeeper makes it himself.”

“Sounds divine,” Opal said silkily.

Kyrian looked over at him disapprovingly.

“Why don’t you pull up a chair and join us, dear lady?” Opal said.

She grinned.

The lad cringed.

She poured both herself and Opal a glass, “Did you want some, young man?”

Kyrian shot her an equally displeased look. “Certainly, I am paying after all.”

She looked blankly at Kyrian.

“What was it you said your name was?” The dandy said trying to sound suave after a gulp of terrible wine.

“Evangeline.”

“That suits you,” he said, touching her bare shoulder lightly. “A lovely name for a lovely young woman.”

She beamed, then guzzled the glass she had just poured for herself.

Opal offered to pour her another.

Kyrian choked his down, then focused on finishing his lunch so he could leave that foul-smelling tavern.

“You know what would be really nice, lad? If we could get a bath and a change of clothes, don’t you agree?”

The younger man glanced down at his clothes. “I don’t need new clothes.”

Opal laughed, and Evangeline followed suit.

“Do be serious, lad. You’re boots are covered with some sort of red mud, which you’ve managed to track right into this establishment.”

He glanced over his shoulder; sure enough, there was a little trail that led to his boots, which of course he had to examine. “I didn’t realize that.”

“This explains a lot.” Opal whispered into the girl’s ear.

Kyrian looked up in time to see the two of them heads together giggling. “Hmm,” he sawed his pork a little more ruthlessly than before. “I wonder how your girlfriend will feel about this entire trip when she finds out.”

“Girlfriend?” Evangeline turned to look at the lad in mid-laughter. “What do you mean?”

“Ask him.”

She sat her glass down with a little more force than she had expected. “Do you have a sweetheart then?”

Black Opal lifted the wine, now about half empty and filled her glass again.

“I have a friend.” He looked directly into Kyrian’s blue eyes, somewhat annoyed. “That is what she has reminded me of on several occasions.”

“Oh, just a friend,” she hit Opal in the chest with the back of her hand. “That’s nothing!”

His hazel eye lingered on her, a bit of a sloppy drunk, then at Kyrian. His tone was somewhat less optimistic than it had been when they sauntered in. “We should catch up with our companions before it gets dark.”

“What?” Kyrian set down his silverware.

Opal stood up to go. “Well, pay the man.”

* * * * *