Silk and the Assassin: Divine Fingerprints Book One

Chapter 1

Reyn entered Oblick as whistles and bells echoed across the city.

"I walk into a city and all hell breaks loose. That's not a bad omen at all," muttered Reyn. He was sixteen, and he rarely entered large cities.

Oblick was a large city, but it was not the largest in the province. An ancient and rarely used remnant of wars, Oblick’s walls bounded the inner city. Horsedrawn carts and crowds bustled through the wall’s open gate as Reyn passed through.

The bells didn’t worry him, even though it meant fire in a crowded city. The dozen or so sorcerers living in the city would quench the flames.

However, the whistles were an oddity. They signaled a sorcerer breaking the law. Even sorcerers who could barely cast a spell lived comfortably, so there was little reason to be a criminal. If caught, the sorcerer would be sentenced harshly, maybe even to an arena where death was common.

Navigating through the tight crowds, Reyn’s lanky frame slipped through the city almost as fast as it did the woods. His favorite place of all was anywhere but school. However, he felt happiest in the woods. The wilder it was, the more Reyn loved it.

A stench hit Reyn’s face, making him gag. Reyn knew cities were like this, never knowing what was going to hit you. And that made Reyn prefer the forests even more. Reyn and the crowd scattered, fleeing from the smell as many of them started coughing and one of them puked.

Reyn turned onto the first avenue he could, and it happened to be filled with a street market. Sweet smells of fresh bread and ripe fruit calmed his stomach.

Walking and looking for something to eat, Reyn soon saw a small boy stealing a half-loaf of bread.

In a blur, the baker whose bread was stolen grabbed the frail boy. The boy, maybe six or seven, cried out.

“I’ll pay for him. Let him go,” Reyn said, stepping forward and intervening only because he saw how thin the thief was.

“You’ll pay for him?” the baker asked, malice in his voice, “Or do you mean the stolen bread he has in hand?” The baker was a young, fit man with a full beard.

“Yes, the bread. How much?” Reyn asked. He wanted to get to the herbalist before they closed for midday.

The baker shook his head, “No, I think I’ll just keep the lad and turn him over when I see a constable,” the baker said, “I’m tired of having my goods snatched.”

“How much?” Reyn repeated.

“Ten,” the baker said.

“Ten?” Reyn said, not believing the price, “That’s—.”

“Robbery, I know. How does it feel?” the baker asked, smiling.

“Not great,” Reyn smiled too and pointed at the boy. “The boy does seem a bit thin though.”

The baker glanced at the boy before looking back at Reyn, “Alright, six coppers then, but only because he’s scrawny.”

“Six?” Reyn grimaced, knowing that was triple the bread’s price.

“Let the constable take care of him. This is none of your business anyway,” the baker said.

“Fine, six,” Reyn said, handing over six coppers. That left Reyn two coppers.

The baker let go, and the boy fled with the bread in hand. Stunned, Reyn stared at the boy flee.

The baker pointed at Reyn and laughed, “Not even a thank you for saving his hide. You’re naïve, letting that boy go. He’ll just rob again. Better that he got caught now.”

“Maybe,” Reyn said before he headed off. Reyn felt a little foolish and walked slowly to the herbalist as he thought about what the baker had said. Maybe he was naïve.

By the time Reyn got the herbalist, he saw the lady putting up the closed sign.

He rushed up the last few feet, but the shopkeeper was already walking away, disappearing into the darkened store for midday break.

Reyn raised his fist to knock but thought better of it. He wanted to keep good relations with the shopkeeper as she had a pretty daughter his age. Maybe he could knock and have a pleasant conversation with her and her daughter, but then again, the shopkeeper may give him what he wanted to shove him out, not even allowing a drop of a chance to see her daughter.

Reyn turned away sad. The shop would be open again after a midday break, and maybe the daughter would be there working! He wondered if the daughter liked working there.

He decided to sit at the plaza fountain and eat an apple. He didn’t know what to do for three hours.

The alarm whistles from the constables grew louder, but Reyn was not worried.

The constables would catch whoever they were chasing. And the bells would stop clanging.

He took another bite. Sitting on the fountain’s bench, Reyn’s lanky frame sat hunched over in typical teenager posture with an apple in one hand. His mind drifted off to a stable girl in his village. She had the prettiest eyes, and she sometimes looked at him as he looked at her. He would be walking through the woods into the village, and he would catch her looking at him. But he didn’t have a horse. How could he ever talk to her?

Midday-heat rippled across the plaza while Reyn thought about the stable girl and waited for the shops to reopen after midday meal.

Reyn heard shouting, and he turned his head to the street corner nearby.

There, rounding the corner, were nine teenage boys. Thick black oil covered the leader from head to toe. The others trailed behind him. One of them nearly lost his footing on the cobblestones.

All the boys had sweat-stained shirts and red faces—except for the disguised leader. They sprinted towards him, and Reyn looked at them with a mild sense of disgust.

The leader who may have been carrying a wand—Reyn was not sure—passed Reyn. The leader saw him and flung a blob of grease towards him. It would have hit Reyn’s apple if he hadn’t moved it aside. Instead, the large globule smacked Reyn across his nose and cheek.

Reyn saw the leader’s eyes before he was splatted: they were of the deepest black just like his. Reyn almost ran after the leader but thought better of it. There were nine of them.

Instead, he simply shouted, “Hey!” and as the last boy in the convoy passed by, he threw his spindly arm out, punching the boy’s ribs. The boy didn’t even fall over, but instead just wavered a little sideways and kept running. They soon disappeared around the bend.

Reyn touched his face and looked at his fingers. Black. Reyn made a low grumble as he doused his head in the fountain. As he raised his head up, he saw a constable staring at him from across the street from where the boys had first appeared.

Reyn almost ran, but he didn’t. He hadn’t done anything wrong. The constable’s face was red; sweat could be seen running down it. Tempting Reyn to run even more was how sizeable the constable was. Reyn couldn’t believe that this man, dressed in a dark gray uniform, could be on a beat.

Reyn smiled and waved at the constable. The constable ignored Reyn’s gesture but did walk slowly towards him. Reyn touched his face and realized it still had oil on it. He once again dunked his head underneath the water and started scrubbing it.

When he raised his head up again, the constable was frowning beside him.

“Do you know those boys?” the constable asked.

“No,” Reyn said, running his hand over his head, ridding it of excess water.

“Well, did you see them run past?”

Reyn pointed, “They obviously just ran past here, but I don’t know them.”

“If you don’t know them, how come you’re rubbing that oil off your face like it was poison?”

“They splashed me with it, and I don’t like oil on my face—especially when I’m trying to eat an apple,” Reyn held up his apple.

“So a boy the same age as them, with oil on his face, sweating like a pig out in the midday heat is sitting innocently at a fountain? I’ll give you one chance, or I’m bringing you in. Where do they live?”

“I don’t know. I’m just eating an apple.”

“Alright, we’ll see what the witnesses say.”

The constable grabbed Reyn’s arm and started dragging him, all the while wrapping a cord around Reyn’s wrist. Reyn once more thought about escaping.

It’d be so easy, he thought, to struggle and get away. But he also heard the whistles continue sounding all around him. Doubt seeped into his thoughts. The other boys were likely going to get caught also, so what hope was there for him? He was no criminal. It was then that the thin cord was reinforced with an iron chain. Thoughts of escape left him.

Reyn and the constable came to the end of their journey after forty minutes of walking.

Reyn heard the station far before he saw it. The commotion radiating from the edge of the great square thundered. The constable station was a gargantuan building, standing out amidst the flat, cobblestoned plaza. Surrounding the plaza were residences and businesses four-stories high, most with balconies looking over the plaza. Reyn wondered why there would be balconies, but then he noticed the large gallows peeking out from the station’s side, only a sliver of it visible to him.

Would people sit on the balconies and watch others be hung? Would thousands gather upon the plaza to watch a hanging amidst street vendors selling fresh bread, cakes, and fruits?

At the front of the constable’s station, people entered and exited, clogging the entrance. Constables were leaving, and criminals were being escorted inside. Reyn saw one skinny criminal slide away through the crowd and start running. The nearby crowd cheered while multiple constable whistles blew. Another constable who had left the station not a minute before turned around at the sound of the whistles and tackled the man. It was a brutal tackle; the constable weighed twice as much as the criminal. Reyn grimaced.

The crowd cheered as the constable stood up, but the criminal writhed on the ground in pain, hardly moving.

Being pushed inside the station, Reyn looked up. Five stories of air lay overhead, topped by wooden vaults, painted blue. Ahead of him lay a sea of wood desks almost as far as he could see.

The red-faced constable towed Reyn along until they came to a pair of empty chairs. Quickly, the constable shoved Reyn into a chair and then settled himself down next to him. On the other side of the table sat an officer.

“May I help you with your suspect?” asked the officer.

“Uh, yes,” answered the constable. He glanced at the nameplate on top of the desk. “Officer Feez, I need to identify this lad as being one of the lads that ran away from those inn fires.”

Middle-aged and bearded, Officer Feez squinted at Reyn and then at the constable. “Ah, well none of the witnesses are here yet. As such, we’re going to have to wait until one shows up.”

The constable and Reyn waited patiently as Officer Feez stood up and disappeared into the sea of bureaucracy.

When Officer Feez came back, a thin, elderly woman followed him. When they neared, Reyn looked directly at the elderly woman.

Almost immediately the woman grabbed Feez’s arm, tugged it and said, “He’s the sorcerer boy. He has coal-black eyes. Those deep black eyes that stare at you with a meaning. Yes, a meaning. I don’t recall ever seeing a boy around these parts having those eyes before, or since, so it must be him.”

“Excellent,” said Officer Feez, a smile curling up his cheeks as he shifted his attention from the woman to Reyn. “What do you have to say for yourself before I bring you to the judge?”

Reyn had thought of all the things he was planning to say when he had a chance to speak. Things like how long it takes him to eat an enormous apple and how his shirt and face weren’t really all that wet. He was also going to mention how malicious the leader had been to fling a glob of oil onto him. His mind never believed he’d actually be accused of something he was completely innocent of.

“Well sir, I was eating an apple and then a constable came and grabbed me and led me here through all these streets, and here I am. I never did anything wrong. I was eating an apple,” explained Reyn.

Officer Feez shook his head disapprovingly, looked over to the constable, and asked, “What is his name?”

“He said Reyn.”

“Reyn,” Officer Feez said, looking back at the boy, “You are being accused of many offenses, the most serious of which is the attempted murder of those inn patrons. We're still not sure if any died. We haven't been able to fully check the inn yet. If you have nothing to refute this lady's testimony, I will have to bring you to the judge with many charges against you. Do you have anything else to say?”

Realizing the seriousness of the situation, Reyn said, “Sir, I have done nothing wrong. I was on the fountain eating an apple, and these boys ran past me and then I saw the constable. I am not with those boys at all like I tried to explain. I am no magician at all, so I couldn't have set fire to the inns. I was waiting to buy some salve from the herbalist shop.”

The officer smirked and looked at the woman who had accused Reyn, “It’s called sorcery; everyone knows that. So, this is the boy that set fire to the inns, eh?”

“Yes, I'm positive,” the woman said.

“Well ma'am, if this is the boy that did it, we'll soon find out. We have ways to tell whether a person is a sorcerer or not. But before we test him in front of the judge, we need to get some basic facts, Reyn. Where do you live?”

“Uhh… Lamm.”

Officer Feez nodded, “What are you doing in Oblick?”

“I’m on an errand for my father. I’m getting a salve for Mr. Eggot.”

“What occupation is your father?”

“He’s a bricklayer.”

“Bricklayer?” Officer Feez asked. He looked back at the woman and then back at Reyn, “Then who taught you sorcery?”

“No one.”

“So, you taught yourself?” Officer Feez nodded, agreeing with himself.

“No,” Reyn said. “I didn’t teach myself, and I don’t know any sorcery. I’ve never even seen a sorcerer before.”

Officer Feez said, “Well, it is fortunate we have someone here that can test to see if you can indeed do sorcery, because otherwise we would have to pronounce you guilty. And it is funny that you say you’ve never seen a sorcerer when one would have passed you by if your story is true,” said Officer Feez.

After a long cross-examination, Officer Feez led Reyn and the constable down to the end of the long line of desks to a side room. Reyn’s wrist was still bound to the constable, and Officer Feez left to deliver some paperwork. Reyn and the constable waited until they were called into the courtroom an hour later.

On one side of the square courtroom sat four grim judges, somber and young. Three were in their mid-twenties and one was in his late thirties and fully bearded. All four sat at a shared desk that bore each of their nameplates. Beside each nameplate, a small orb of fire spun above a marble coaster. The older judge's orb was larger by twice than the others. Reyn thought it looked fantastically awesome.

The chamber proper was lined with finished pine accented with a few violet curtains. The judges’ Fodzen desk was especially wide and deep with a natural charcoal color. Fodzen was known throughout the kingdom, and you could tell a Fodzen by its inset brass ‘F’ on the center bottom.

Opposite the judges, Reyn sat on a thin hard bench where Officer Feez, the constable and Reyn all touched shoulders. Behind them, a filled gallery sat watching Reyn. Reyn supposed that he’d watch himself too if a sorcerer was accused of a capital crime.

“What is the charge and preferred judgment?” asked the older judge whose nameplate read ‘Chief Judge Dayohver.’

“The charges are many but the most serious are three counts of arson by sorcery and multiple counts of attempted murder. The preferred judgment is death if the accused is an unranked sorcerer. However, as he was accused of using sorcery, yet has denied having the ability to do so, we require a magic test.”

Judge Dayohver frowned more and more as Officer Feez spoke until he heard the words ‘magic test’. At this, he smiled widely and stood up from his chair. Judge Dayohver asked, “His name is?”

“Reyn,” said Officer Feez.

“Reyn, can you do sorcery?” asked Judge Dayohver. Dayohver walked out from behind the Fodzen desk.

“No, sir.”

Judge Dayohver pointed at Officer Feez, “Officer Feez, can he do sorcery?”

“I don't know, sir.”

Judge Dayohver approached Officer Feez and said, “Why are you bringing him here if you, in fact, have no idea whether or not he is talented in sorcery. The law states clearly that you cannot be accused of malicious sorcery without witnesses.”

Officer Feez’ face turned red, “We do have a witness who swears that she saw him set fire to the three inns.”

Judge Dayohver sighed audibly and turned to Reyn while saying, “Fine, let's do the test and dismiss him. If he could set fire to three inns in a short span, then he surely wouldn't have been so incompetent as to get caught and then not escape. But no matter, if he's guilty, he's not getting away from these chambers or our jail, and if he's not, I'll see to it personally that you, Feez, are demoted for wasting my and all these other fine people’s dinnertime.”

Officer Feez's smug smile left his face.

Dayohver approached even closer to Reyn. Reyn felt like running away, but after seeing the criminal get flattened by the constable, he remained still.

“I will ask you a final time if you can do sorcery, before I proceed. Some people find it painful,” said Dayohver.

“No sir, I can't do any,” Reyn said, knowing it to be true. He was no sorcerer. He didn’t know anything about sorcery.

Dayohver said, “Good, good. This shouldn't bother you in the least.”

Dayohver walked briskly to the far side of the chamber to a cabinet, opened it, and removed three objects: a sword hilt and two very small glass orbs. One orb contained sand; the other swirling fire. Dayohver headed to the opposite side of the courtroom where two large paintings were hung on the flat wall. Dayohver signaled Reyn to follow him over.

“Stand right against the wall.” Dayohver waited for Reyn to comply. “Excellent. Can you see the sword hilt?” Dayohver asked, holding up the sword hilt.

“Yes,” Reyn said.

“Excellent and can you see the ethereal blade?” Dayohver’s voice rang with clarity, authority and a little excitement. Dayohver’s wrist rotated the hilt back and forth, as though he were warming up for a sparring match.

“What blade?” Reyn said, not seeing anything besides a sword hilt in Dayohver’s hand. Reyn felt confused about Dayohver’s reference to an ethereal blade. What did that even mean?

“Excellent, and can you please hold out both your arms in front of you with your palms up?”

Reyn obeyed, and Dayohver placed the orb of sand and orb of fire into Reyn’s outstretched hands.

Dayohver then stepped back a single step. With a smirk on his face, he glanced to Feez. Feez sat in his chair with his hand covering most of his face, anticipating his coming demotion with dread.

The courtroom, with fifty onlookers, was silent. It was as though they all anticipated the failure of Officer Feez, and as a collective, were holding their breath waiting for the hilt to plunge into Reyn’s hand revealing nothing and that Reyn was a nobody.

Reyn knew he was a nobody, and in those silent seconds, Reyn weighed what he’d want more: to be a sorcerer and to be hung or to be a normal nobody. Reyn wished with all of his heart to be a normal nobody. That’s who he was. Maybe marry the herbalist’s daughter. Maybe marry the stable girl. Have four kids or five or three. This trial and getting dragged into the courtroom was too much for him. His heart pounded. He was normal. Everything was fine. Feez was going to get demoted.

After carefully gripping the hilt with both his hands and raising it over his head, Dayohver paused. Reyn did not know what Dayohver was doing. Why would Dayohver pause? Reyn kept his eyes on the hilt. Reyn did not believe there was an invisible blade attached to it. He squinted a little, but saw nothing of the ethereal blade. Reyn glanced at Dayohver’s face. Dayohver’s eyes were focused on his.

Reyn glanced over to the crowd, saw their faces transfixed on his.

Reyn’s palm felt stabbing pain and a smack against it.

Reyn looked to his hand, and there was the hilt resting on his palm. His other palm had an intact sand-filled sphere, but on the other, the hilt or blade or both had crushed the glass sphere, leaving tiny little wisps of fire.

Reyn felt relief except for the pain in his hand. He was not a sorcerer. Nothing had happened. He felt a little sad. He wasn’t a sorcerer.

It was then that a little wisp of fire from the glass sphere ignited, launching a fire tendril that grew as it traveled. It scared Reyn as it ballooned to the width of a man as it snaked around Reyn and slammed into a painting, setting it ablaze. Another one ballooned and hit Dayohver right after the first hit the wall. Dayohver’s expression was shock, but Reyn did not look at him for more than an instant—he knew not to look. Instead he looked down at his hand. A gush of fire erupted down and up from his palm. Rushing fire pushed all across the floor, and simultaneously, another pillar of fire rushed to the ceiling, pushing outward across it. Both fires rolled forward after encountering the floor and ceiling, speeding, curling, rolling with the speed of an arrow towards the entirety of the courtroom.

Within the blink of an eye, everyone screamed in alarm while Reyn turned his palm upside down, trying to free his hand from the hilt, but the hilt stuck fast—the ethereal blade was real and invisible. Reyn flung the orb of sand from his other hand and yanked the hilt out of his other.

By the time Reyn looked up, everything was ablaze and hot and hard to see. Smoke and fire obscured every inch of the courtroom, and a cacophony of screams horrified him.

Reyn stood there dazed. He knew what the screams meant. They were high-pitched wails of women dying, or men breathing in fire. Time seemed to slow as the black clouds swirled and billowed before him, bright orange gleams shining through the smoke.

Paralyzed with fear, he stood transfixed by the destruction. He looked down. The crawling fire beneath his feet and the flying embers seemed to slow. His mind was frozen, not a single thought came to it. Not a curse, not a word, not a thought. His mind was blank, but he tried to think. But his mind couldn’t operate—nothing came to mind.

He took a deep breath for the first time, and he coughed and gagged on the foul smoke—snapping him back to consciousness, his mind thinking about escape. He had to escape.

He ran forward blindly, embers stinging his flesh. He bumped against the desk he had sat at, and bouncing off, he ran forward once more, bumping and feeling his way past the courtroom’s wood divider separating the courtroom. He ran down the main aisle, tripping twice over chairs in the path, and ran out through the doors, bursting through, his shirt on fire.

He flung his shirt off, only to be nearly pushed back into the inferno by a rush of constables and clerks. He pushed against the crowd and sprinted down a hall. As he did so, he checked himself over, trying to make sure he wasn’t on fire anywhere else. His hands and arms were wet with sweat and red with burns. He just had to run and make it to the station exit. No one knew him in this city. Shirtless, he burst through the doors of the cathedral-like main hall, sweat dripping from his chest and head.

A lady clerk behind him asked him, “Here, sit down.”

He looked behind her and shook his head. He sprinted away from her outstretched hand but started to walk after a little ways. He had felt eyes focus on him when he sprinted. After he was walking on the edge of the room, the constables’ gaze turned to the doors issuing smoke. Almost all of them rose from their desks and ran towards the doors, emptying the room in a matter of a minute. The prisoners kept seated though. A couple guards stood at the door with crossbows.

Reyn walked slowly towards them. He hoped to use his appearance to escape.

“You there,” one of the crossbow guards said, pointing at him, “Stay right there.”

Reyn stopped.

A guard from the inner hallway on the way to the courtroom appeared and yelled at the two guards with the crossbows, “Ring the alarms—we need everyone, especially Puugi.”

The two guards ran off.

All of the criminals seemed to stand up at once and start walking to the door. Reyn followed their lead.

Four constables, all with clubs in hand, appeared at the main doorway. “Get back to your desks,” the biggest one growled—the guard was covered in tattoos of knives and droplets of blood.

Reyn took a step back, looking for the nearest desk.

At once, all of the criminals rushed the four. It was the opposite of what Reyn expected. They cursed at the guards, and the guards cursed back. Reyn was late on the rush. He was surprised at the speed of the criminals.

Reyn squeezed amongst the criminals. The crush of them trying to squeeze through was intense—he tripped once and was almost trampled by a man his height but twice his weight. One of the others gave Reyn a good pull by the arm to get him back on his feet.

The guards were now six, swinging with hefty swings at anyone they could. Reyn tried to stay in the middle—safest of the lanes to escape.

The man to the right caught a club’s tip, and Reyn could see blood and a bit of skin fly off the man’s forehead. Suddenly, Reyn was pushed the other way by an elbow into his ribs. He ran straight into a constable with a thud.

“Sorry,” Reyn said, as he pushed himself off the constable’s chest, but as he thought he’d gotten away, he felt pain on his neck. It didn’t feel bad—just particularly sharp. He was alright, but his legs felt weak and didn’t want to move. He saw himself falling. He reached out to catch himself on the person in front of him, but his arms seemed slow. Far too slow—his arms weren’t working either.

He fell hard, his head bouncing off the stones just outside the station.

After his head hit, his vision faded to black.