Page 4 of Poisoned Empire

The upper crust affectation in the hooded man’s voice caught Selene’s attention. Beneath the rather obviously dirtied cloak, she caught sight of a clean silk tunic. Beautiful prey. It was clearly his first time in such a place. He carried himself too proudly, spoke too cryptically, wore clothes too good for any commoner, and his dyed leather shoes were too well made for a man amongst dregs. A lighter band of skin on his darker finger pointed to a missing ring. Perhaps a noble down on his luck, recently disinherited, his family crest repossessed.

“Well, I have a great variety here today. Something to kill silently? Gruesomely? Painfully? Or maybe you just want to teach someone a lesson? I have poisons that mimic any number of debilitating, humiliating or just plain unpleasant ailments. What did you have in mind?”

“I need something rare, lethal and exotic. Maybe from the jungles of the Emerald Province.”

Selene hemmed and hawed for a moment, her heart racing all the while. Much as she would love to sell the man her newest poison at an outrageous price, a slithery feeling of danger crept down her spine. Another glimpse through a small part in his cloak revealed the glint of a breastplate. The magister’s man?

Beside her, Iliana was chatting up a customer asking for a sharp sword, and not just ‘normal sharp’, but ‘magically enchanted sharp’. Iliana’s skill as a blacksmith was honed to exceptional degrees by her years of experience, making her blades the sharpest, her armour the sturdiest and her shields the best at deflecting blows.

Except her friend never boasted that her wares were enchanted.

Iliana fingered a blade beneath the booth.

“I may have what you need.” Selene bent down, an eager saleswoman rummaging through her bags, and surreptitiously tapped Iliana’s calf twice—their signal for danger.

“Ouch! Be a dear and hold this for me.” Selene placed a small bottle on Iliana’s side of the booth, “I think the bottle’s chipped.”

“Of course,” Iliana replied.

Gods, she loved that woman’s poker face. After years together and much practice, Iliana could finally bluff with the best of them, at least some of the time.

Beneath the booth, Selene had wiped the edge of Iliana’s blade with a painful poison so intense the victim usually passed out before uttering a scream. The bottle on the desk would be for the man beside her, numbing his limbs and debilitating him with vertigo.

“This is a blade you may appreciate. Sharpest edge in the Topaz Province, guaranteed.”

Iliana proffered it for the man, who foolishly ran his finger along the blade. He froze, mouth twisted in a scream that never escaped his lips before he dropped to the ground. Selene used the distraction to smash the fragile bottle of poison onto the hand of her own suspicious patron, whose face turned a sickly green as he clutched the booth. He fell to his knees but refused to collapse. Good. They needed answers.

Business went on as usual in the market.

It was that kind of place.

“How unfortunate.” Selene pouted in mock sympathy. “Say, why come all the way here formypoisons?”

“Answer her or I’ll start cutting off precious parts.” Iliana held a blade to the slumped man’s throat.

“R-retrieval of two bastards,” he groaned.

“For what purpose?” Iliana asked.

“Don’t know. Just know both Magister Amethyst and Magister Sapphire want a wayward daughter each. Big payday for whoever delivers.”

Other vendors began to eye the two women. After all, it was that kind of place.

“Try it and you’ll die choking on your own guts!” Selene glared the lot of the vendors into submission. Her prisoner’s triumphant smirk at her threat was too much. He knew as well as she they would turn on her the moment she blinked. “These sorts of threats are always best punctuated by a good exemplar.” And she made good on her threat. In seconds, their would-be captor was choking on thick, pink bile.

“I hate it when you do that,” Iliana complained as she began packing up her side of the booth with neat precision.

“Whatever. Let’s get out while we can,” Selene retorted, sweeping her wares haphazardly into her sack.

The noble was still scratching at his throat in vain. Selene kicked him over as she walked out from behind the booth. No sense pitying a man sent to deliver them to certain death. Iliana stepped over him and cringed, almost apologetically. They left by the back entrance, blessing their luck—until Selene felt a pressure plate sink under her foot.

Before she could react, thick metal bars slammed down from above.

Chapter 2

Everyday,Lethe,theEmpire of Mages, teetered on the brink of chaos. Some days, Crown Prince Belisarius was required to do no more than soothe the ruffled feathers of a few nobles or distribute extra grain. Other days, maintaining the balancing act required drastic action.

Today was not a good day.

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