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'There are Venatori that need killing ,' Lucanis had said.
Illario had agreed with the general principal, but his cousin had then handed him a packet containing several contracts. Each inked, and awaiting his signature. His contract negotiator's notes were included as well.
'These ones, specifically. In Minrathous. I trust you to see it done, cousin."
A week later, Illario found himself in The Lamplighter with Carina de Riva, waiting for a contact of theirs. The beer and food were passable, and the entertainment genuinely good. He'd made note of the acrobatics troupe, who struck him as a little better than one might find in this area, but they did not appear to be actively concerned with either of the Crows. They did seem to appreciate Rook's pun-laden comments about their performance, which he personally found mildly aggravating in the circumstances.
Illario had spent last couple of days getting acquainted with the Dock Town neighborhood in Minrathous. It wasn't hard to find a half-decent place to stay with help from Carina, and he'd visited a rather eccentric tailor near his rooms to get a set of clothes that were far more in keeping with Tevinter style. There were enough Antivans among the populace that he didn't need much to blend in.
Abruptly, a man with short-cropped brown hair and an easy smirk sat down at their table, blocking Illario's view of the stage. "So you're the Crow."
"And you are?" Illario returned the smirk, but with a somewhat sour edge.
"A concerned citizen, naturally," his eyes full of amusement as he nodded to Carina. "Rook. Always a pleasure."
Illario rolled his eyes. Everyone just had to be funny today.
"Illario, this is Elek Tavor. He has a lot of interests, but for today he's here as a friend," Carina ignored their banter amiably, cutting to the point. "A friend who happens to be able to help you find what you were looking for."
"I hear you need a bit of local information," Elek nodded to the table, and their waitress set down a tray with a fresh round of drinks. When she left, the man pushed a small package under the table to Illario's feet. "Gallus had us do a little asking around, and then did some digging of her own. It should get you started."
"And when I am ready?" Illario asked, packet neatly concealed in his jacket in a simple movement.
"Tell me what you need then," Elek shrugged. "I can arrange most things you might need if I have enough time. Money will help."
Three weeks had told Illario a lot of things about Dock Town, and even more about his target. At the very least, he was pretty sure that the city of Minrathous actively hated him, and this part of it in particular. It didn't seem personal, Dock Town hated everyone. It took the blood and sweat and hope of the people that lived there and in return gave them endless rain, crime, and the terrible smell you get when too many people aren't careful about what they throw into the water. He had a begrudging admiration for anyone who could thrive under such conditions, even if he never aspired to that himself.
Ericius Satenti moved through it all like a ghost. Illario had managed to infer his movements from the notes Elek had provided, but even when combined with his own information, the man eluded him. He found it frustrating both professionally and personally, given what he knew of Satenti. Tall, heavyset, and dressed in a very singular style that he repeated each day. Black coat, black pants, white shoes, white gloves, white hat. A single red peony in his cap, and a golden cane with a large ruby at the top, echoing the same lurid color as the flower.
He could not be more recognizable if he had chosen to wear a sign on his person spelling out his name in all known languages. And yet, he remained an enigma.
Thankfully, after a lot of hard work, Illario knew where the man would be for at least one evening in the next week. Following a thin lead from the files Elek had given him, he had made the acquaintance of a very accommodating tea shop clerk a few weeks ago. Illario had been tipped that someone matching Satenti's description had yet another quirk, well known to any reputable tea seller in the city. His target favored Calico Blush, a very specific tea blend which was exclusively available in only one card room in the city.
"So, you need an invite to his game?" Elek asked as he leaned against the outer wall of The Cat's Paw, the Thread-run card room in question. "Are you sure he'll show up next week?"
"Yes, we already went over this," Illario rolled his eyes. "He apparently shows up one night a month, plays a few rounds, drops some cash at the most exclusive table in the place, buys a large amount of tea set aside for him by one of the bartenders, and takes home someone pretty for the night. This repeats every month, with little variation."
"Variation?" Elek raised an eyebrow.
"Sometimes he finds two companions," Illario shrugged.
"What's the plan then, you going to poison his tea? Slip him a dagger while he's betting?" Elek crossed his arms. "I don't know that I like the idea of someone dropping dead during business. It might make people uncomfortable."
"People die in card rooms all the time," Illario replied amiably. "However, that is not my plan. You just need to get me into the place, and I'll take care of anything messy off of the premises. I can't be inconveniencing concerned citizens."
Elek didn't need to know that taking the man's life was only one part of the contract. So few people appreciated what else the Crows could do for clients willing to pay the right amount of money.
"As long as you have money and charm to burn for a few days, I can get you in the door," Elek sighed, giving Illario an appraising look. "Clearly I have an internal problem that can't be resolved until after your little assignment. Show up tonight looking like you're ready to make some expensive bad decisions and we'll get you set up for next week."
Illario had to admit, the tea really was quite good.
He sprawled indolently in one of the private booths off to the side of the main card room, artfully disheveled as he sipped the famed blend of tea, flower petals, spices, and milk. The remains of several indulgences lay scattered around the table in bowls of fruit, decanters of wine and half spilled glasses of some kind of ornate sugar candy mixed with a hallucinogenic grass Illario had never heard of. The curtain obscuring the booth from prying eyes was artfully drawn back just enough to allow most of the room to remain visible, while also showing his features off to their best advantage.
The Cat's Paw was well suited for Dock Town. It was just sleazy enough to be what it was, a place where a mix of hope, danger, avarice, and just a little luck funneled money into the Threads. Small and large luxuries and conveniences made it easy for patrons to spend their money and time like water and leave feeling just the right mix of exhilaration and disappointment to keep them coming back. A perfect spot to find an eccentric mage who made his living on selling lives and despair to the highest bidder.
"Mmmph, olives," a bare foot slid up the inside of his thigh as the woman across from him abruptly sat up. She tipped forward slightly with her dress askew, but didn't open her eyes. Her face was sleep soft, which he found a vast improvement over the arch and pinched expression she had worn for most of the evening.
"I think that is perhaps enough for you, palomita," Illario murmured, keeping his accent a bit thicker than usual. She didn't protest as Illario gently moved her leg back to her side of the booth, and eased her into a less compromising position laying down. Her dress was artfully readjusted so that the position was natural, attractive, and unlikely to provoke anyone into waking her for some time.
Illario stretched and stepped out of the booth, making a show of re-buttoning his shirt and arranging his hair. He'd dressed in the style of most Antivans in Tevinter, with Tevene fabrics cut in a more Southern style. His cover required good clothing, the more conspicuously newer the better. He tugged the curtain closed behind him, ensuring that it would be unlikely for the staff or anyone else to disturb her until closing time around sunrise.
"He'll want you more if you're someone else's," the bartender panted in Illario's ear, shifting their position to press him closer against their neck.
"Oh, like yours, Ennka?" Illario laughed and nipped at their ear in return, letting one of his hands trace up to the point. He pressed closer, pinning them against the storeroom wall and slipping his leg between theirs.
"No. Not what he wants—" the elf gasped and writhed as his other hand slid up under their shirt, then gently pushed back for some space. Their big green eyes were luminous in the dimly lit room. "He likes to take, from someone. Especially if he hates them. That's who he leaves with. His prizes."
After a short but entirely enjoyable fuck with Elek's best bartender, it had taken Illario the better part of the next day to find just the right mark. Cassida Lux, fashion darling of High Town in Minrathous, and the good-time party girl in every Paper's gossip section. Scion of a noteworthy house, indifferent at magic but still a mage, with no discernible talent apart from being tall and thin enough to look good in even the most questionable attire. She was exactly the type of society dilettante that someone like Ericius Satenti would take immense personal pleasure in slighting.
It was almost a pity that Cassida was too blissed out to register the insult to her pride, but Illario didn't want to take the chance that she might actually disrupt his plans. Feeling the kind of tense relaxation he did so often before things really started on a job, he slid through the scattered patrons over to the bar and schooled his face into a mask of mild annoyance.
"Another, if you don't mind," Illario leaned against the bar with his back to the main room, and handed his empty tea cup to the nearest bartender, a dwarven man who looked like he could carry a keg with each arm and not break a sweat. He received a glare in return, but the man did start making his drink. Illario make a brief show of brushing nonexistent lint off of his pants, propping his leg up on the footrest of the nearest stool.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a reflection of black and white in one of the several mirrors positioned carefully around the room. They were artfully arranged as a part of the decor, and allowed the guards positioned through the room to keep an eye on the players at the tables. Of course, they also allowed anyone else to so the same, and Illario took full advantage as his prey walked right into his trap.
"A man of taste, I see. At least in your choice of drink," a low voice rumbled near Illario's ear as Satenti slid up to the bar. The man had a large frame, but moved with an elegance that must have taken a lot of time and work to achieve. He nodded to the bartender who had set Illario's drink down, and immediately started to make another.
"I like to think that my personal style may pass for fashionable in discerning circles," Illario gave the man a half smile before taking a sip of his tea, looking out from under his lashes as the steam wafted the delicate fragrance around his face. "Sadly, my choice of company appears to have been less … discerning than I hoped."
"That, dear boy, can always change," Satenti brushed his hand along Illario's thigh as he leaned out to take his own cup from the bartender with his other hand. He caught a not entirely subtle look between the two as the cup changed hands. Satenti removed his hand from Illario's leg to retrieve a small bag of coins from his jacket, and slid them onto the counter.
"For the better, il produttore lo desidera," Illario flashed him a half smile, and took another sip of the tea. He savored the second taste, taking time to sift the light, fragranced notes of the tea from the drug that had been introduced as Satenti had taken his own cup. No doubt Viago would have some clever name, but he just thought of it as the Venatori Special. Dulled the senses, made someone suggestible, easily counteracted with a small amount of the powdered counter-agent concealed in one of his pockets.
"I have a table set aside for tonight," Satenti gestured towards the back of the room, where there were a few smaller tables with privacy screens around them, then let his hand drop back to Illario's leg. "If you would care to join me. A stake isn't necessary, if you don't wish to risk your own funds. I'm sure Cressida's will do nicely enough."
"It would be …una delizia— a delight, ser," Illario smirked as he made the slip between Antivan and Trade, making eye contact with Satenti. He took another sip of tea and produced a couple of high value chips from his pocket where several more rested in reserve. "She's already provided me with such a generous start."
"Then we go well armed," Satenti laughed and stepped back to allow Illario to stand. "And you must call me Eric. We must be good friends in good company, yes?"
"Alessio Valenze," Illario nodded, placing a couple of fingers lightly on Satenti's arm as he gave him the name that the people in the Cat's Paw would know for him. "I would very much enjoy that."
Moving through the room with Satenti's hand at his back, they were seated quickly with their drinks, some food, and a dealer ready to start any game of their choice. The private tables were still a part of the room, but the privacy screens really did a lot of work to make it feel more secluded. Illario took advantage of the movement of people bringing things and settling in to pop a small pill under his tongue.
As enjoyable as it was to not really care about the game or his odious company, he couldn't afford too much of anything that dulled his senses right now. The counter-agent went to work immediately, and the table and the people around him came back into perfect focus. Illario studied Satenti as he interacted with the other players as they sat, feeling more than his usual amount of disdain for the Venatori mage, which was already considerable. He let his gaze linger on the man's hands as he arranged things on the table in front of him with meticulous detail.
Control.
"Something on your mind, Allesio?" Satenti's eyes flashed another question as he gave Illario an assessing look. The intensity reminded him of Zara, always looking for a sign that her control had slipped. The comparison left an oily trail through his thoughts, offering a distasteful, but shamefully easy set of moves for him to follow.
"No, no," Illario waved his hand absently, letting it land on Satenti's knee, and returned a lazy smile. The man's eyes relaxed as he placed his hand on Illario's, and moved it further up on his thigh without breaking eye contact. "Simply curious about what kind of game you prefer."
"Hmmm," Satenti reached into Illario's pocket and took out the chips he'd flashed earlier, seemingly satisfied when he didn't react to stop him or ask any questions. He handed them to the dealer, who fanned an array of smaller denominations and placed them back in front of Illario, neatly stacked. "I have a few in mind. But if we're going to enjoy losing Cressida's money, let's start with Dead Man's Tricks."
Satenti promised a good time, and he certainly delivered one for himself. Illario wondered at how much the man seemed to take pleasure in controlling those around him. Manipulation, fear, enticement, drugs. He pressed and pushed until every person in their orbit, including the dealer, danced to some tune only he could hear, but the beat was obvious.
Illario lost a lot of money. It wasn't his, of course, but each twist and turn sketched that need of Satenti's in increasing detail. At first, good natured dismay was expected, demanded even. Then just dismay.
"Ah, Allesio! This is not your night to profit at cards," Satenti grinned, collecting his winnings for the latest hand. His eyes were hungry, and Illario gave him what he wanted, a sigh escaping as he cast his own down to the table and the meager remains of his earlier wealth.
"Ciertamente, ser," Illario dipped into his pocket and retrieved the last of the chips he had purloined from Cressida. He didn't let the half smile reach his eyes as he handed it to the dealer, who replenished his stakes a modest amount. "It is not mine, to be sure, but it is not easy to see it go."
"Do not pay it any mind," Satenti slipped his arm around Illario's waist, his large hand splayed across his hip. He leaned forward and into Illario's few, piercing green eyes dark and shadowed at this angle. "And I insist you call me Eric."
"Of course, Eric," Illario nodded, the statements not a request. Squeezing the man's thigh, he looked back at the table. "It is only money. What is the cost of that to good friends?"
Several hours later, the cost was apparently just a little more than six thousand gold, give or take a few pieces of jewelry won off of the rotating group of luckless gamblers that frequented their table. The bartender had been right. Satenti wasn't satisfied with winning, and the gold was little more than a way of keeping score. He wanted to take. A round of cards, attention of a lover, dignity, control. He wanted it all, and Illario made sure he gave just enough.
Watching the Venatori carve through his entertainment, he no longer wondered why the man had bothered to drug him. There is no way Satenti would leave anything to chance when he walked out the door with his winnings in hand, including whoever he had on his arm. Given his taste for inflicting pain, Illario wondered idly how many of those prizes he let live. Ennka had confirmed that some of them did find their way back to the card room, but most didn't.
"Here, finish your round while I settle with the cashier. We'll leave in a minute," a white gloved hand interrupted his contemplation, waving between him and the table. He had made sure to follow Satenti's suggestions, which had included an unfortunately large number of cocktails over the course of the evening. Illario had cultivated a decent tolerance to alcohol, but even he was beginning to feel a little slower than he would like.
"Of course," he nodded with a smile. "Where do you have in mind?"
"My place of course," Satenti picked up his tea and finished the last of the cup. "I can promise better games than these, and more exclusive company."
Illario gave a wink of reply and picked up the sour whisky concoction on the table in front of him, grateful that the place had decent drinks. Satenti threaded his way to the small window near the bar, and Illario fished in his pocket for the other two pills, and downed them with the rest of his drink. The last thing he needed was to have the man asking questions, and given how handsy he had been at the table, he expected at least one stop on their way to wherever they were going.
He stood abruptly as the man returned, making sure to take the arm he offered to steady himself as unnecessary as it was. Satenti guided him out through the maze of tables, making light talk with the dealers and patrons he was familiar with, treating Illario much like the package of tea and money he carried in his other hand. The night air was warm and stuck to his skin as they walked out into the city at a brisk pace, Satenti quiet for the first time as his eyes roamed from Illario to the path ahead. Dock Town never truly quieted, like most large cities, but their presence was almost entirely unremarked by the few residents out of doors.
A few blocks later, Satenti abruptly steered Illario into a nearly invisible passage between two irregular buildings. Illario was genuinely surprised to find himself in the close space between the buildings, concealed only by the irregular construction and a bit of clever paint work. No wonder he hadn't been able to track the man. Unlike Treviso with her endless rooftop escapes, Dock Town offered both the open paths above and what looked like an endless warren of twisted corridors below.
Illario's mind whirled with possibilities as Satenti took his hand and drew him forward through the dark. The hideous ruby at the top of his cane provided a faint red light, more than enough for someone with sure steps, and after the first few turns, Illario began to see a pattern in the walls. Nothing as obvious as the marks Crows left, but certain architectural features seemed to hide the diverging branches of the passages well. His eyes caught the consistencies where they chose to walk, and noted the differing indicators for the other.
When he had time, he was tempted to come back and find out what they meant. It would be useful to more than just him, if he could bring this back to Lucanis as a bonus on the contract.
Illario was growing impatient the further they went, but everything he had learned about the Ericius Satenti for this contract had told him one thing. Go slowly. Take his time. Anyone who tried to move too quickly against the mage found that he slipped easily from their grasp, often doing devastating damage in the process. Killing the man was paramount, but the more time spent with him, the more he understood why the client had asked the Crows to track the man back to his lair if at all possible.
"I didn't even know this existed, what a wonder," Illario said quietly after a time, his eyes taking in as much as he could as they walked. If he was right, they had traveled through at least a third of Dock Town, though the path doubled back in several places, so he could be mistaken.
"Not many get to see this part of my city," Satenti laughed, a tinge of something darker in his tone. He stopped just at the edge of another corridor and turned to pin Illario against the wall, twisting his hand up and over his head. He leaned close, his eyes reflecting the dull red glow now pressed against Illario's shoulder with the cane, challenging. "Even fewer seem to appreciate it."
Illario didn't answer, but trailed his free hand up to the back of Satenti's neck as he maintained eye contact, and drew him slowly into a kiss. That seemed to be the right response as the Venatori lunged forward, crushing his mouth onto Illario's with a rush of heat. He let go of his hand, and instead threaded his fingers through Illario's hair, pulling roughly back to give him a better angle as he ran his tongue roughly along his.
Stone from the wall pressed into his back as Satenti leaned against him with his full weight. Illario forced himself to still, letting him press with increasing force against his shoulder. He felt Satenti's hand slip from his hair and trail down to his neck, thumb pressing tightly enough at the front of his throat that he gave an involuntary groan of pain. His grip tightened cut off the Illario's air, as he entertained the idea of killing the man here and throwing his plans to the wind.
Just as he was set to act, Satenti pulled back his hand, still pressing Illario at arm's length with his cane.
"There's time enough for that later," the red light made his grin look feral. Satenti roughly recaptured Illario's hand and started down the passage again at a faster pace.
It didn't take long before they stepped out into a street that Illario recognized. It ran behind the Chantry, under the back of a few scant houses that were some of the oldest left in the neighborhood. Satenti tapped his cane at a section of wall and it swung outward to reveal a spiral staircase inside. Illario suppressed a grin as he followed up the stairs and into the house itself.
"Leave your jacket," the mage shrugged out of his own, revealing a sharply cut shirt as he tossed it onto a chair with the bag of his winnings, and placed his cane into a waiting stand. Illario watched him carefully as he took off his own, using the motion to slide the two daggers hidden in his belt into place to be quickly drawn. The man had not relaxed as they entered the house, but this wasn't surprising.
Satenti motioned for Illario to follow him further in and so he did, taking care to make sure his steps would sound at least a little uncertain. They wound through the bottom of the house, which appeared to be a kitchen and basement, clean and neatly organized. No staff, but that was hardly surprising. Illario had not been able to tie anyone to the man, so if there were people who worked here, they weren't aware of their employer, or found him unremarkable.
They started up the stairs into the house proper, and Illario slowed his pace a little more. The trip through the tunnels helped burn off some of the alcohol, but Illario knew that the drug Satenti had used would have only heightened some of its confusing effects. Especially after such a twisting, narrow path. Any Venatori would expect him to be pliable, a little disoriented, and a little sluggish.
"I promise we are almost there," Satenti turned back, and placed a hand on Illario's upper arm to steady him as he reached the first floor, just inside a small, but well-appointed dining room. The grip was far too tight. "It's quite a walk from The Cat's Paw."
"It is a nice house," he looked around the room, taking things in. Taking Satenti in, as he could see the man barely conceal a smirk in his peripheral vision. Good. He needed him sure of himself. "And those… pasillos— passageways? Incredible. I cannot think how you find your way."
"They can get me almost anywhere in this part of the city," Satenti smiled, using the grip on Illario's arm to steer him into the nearby hallway, and up another flight of stairs. Like the house below, there were lights set at regular intervals along the wall that lit as they approached. He would never get used to how casually magic was woven through the lives of so many in this city.
"Would you like a brandy?" Satenti asked as they reached the second floor and turned into a nearby room. While the sunken floor and couches were undeniably Tevene, Illario could tell by the feel of the room that this was a study of some sort. The mage let go of his arm and pointed to a couch while he strode across the room to a low table piled high with books and papers. He gave a pile a cursory glance, then looked back at Illario.
"Oh, yes," he said after a pause, as he took a long look at the couch. Drawing out the illusion. "Though I do warn, I have been told that as an Antivan, my high standards for such things are absolutely unsupportable."
"Of course! You have actual taste," Satenti barked a laugh, and picked up a decanter from a nearby shelf, pouring out two glasses. "Which thankfully I do not have to offend tonight, as this is one of the few examples of a Morales black bottle vintage left in Thedas. I do not share it lightly."
"Eric, you jest," Illario looked up in genuine surprise as the man approached. "I do not know much of the truly rare brandies, but even the most casual fancier knows that the Morales stores were stolen or burned by the filthy Orlesians. Even the bottles they took with them are long since lost to the inferior palates of their thieves."
Illario knew everything about the Morales bottles.
Not simply out of Antivan pride, but because the Dellamortes had quietly bailed out the family after the disaster of the Exalted March against the Qunari. It had resulted in Treviso being burned to the ground, and the Morales estates had been thoroughly sacked by the 'liberating' armies in the process. The investment in their future was one of the ways the Dellamortes had solidified their hold in the city when the Valisti could not protect their own territory. The Morales family still provided a decent amount of income to his House even now. Not to mention a steady supply of the best brandy in the world.
Caterina was rumored to have an unopened bottle of the black vintage, bottled during the occupation and saved before the city fell. Illario could not say whether that was true, but he had never seen it, or heard hear mention of it as anything other than a myth.
"I promise you, it is genuine," Satenti took a sip, and handed Illario the other glass. "I have not played host to someone I thought might genuinely appreciate it in quite some time."
Illario swirled the amber contents of his glass gently, letting his hands warm it just the slightest amount. He inhaled lightly, and the deep, caramel and tobacco scent hit him like a warm wind in the summer. He took a small sip, and the flavor deepened into something truly rich and complex, like sunlight in the grapes had somehow been captured in the distilling, with just a hint of the signature blackberry notes at the end that had given the family their name.
"That is—" Illario paused, savoring the moment, and caught the gleam in Satenti's eye just before the man's fist would have connected with his mid-section. Instead, it glanced off of the side of his arm as he dropped abruptly to the floor in a crouch.
"Oh, come, Alessio," Satenti moved a hand towards Illario's face, now at a level with his waist. "Don't stop being fun now. It is so much better if you let me start things off right. You might even survive if you can listen and suffer properly."
Illario surged upwards in a sudden rush, throwing the brandy in the man's face and grabbing both of his daggers from his belt. Wiping at his eyes, Satenti managed to stumble back just enough that the right dagger caught him across the collarbone rather than the throat, neatly cutting through the shirt to slice into his skin. The left missed, but Illario was able to use his momentum to swing it back around and into his side.
"NO!" Satenti roared, and a blast of magic radiated out, catching Illario on the jaw with the force of a punch and pushing him back on his heels. It wasn't enough to knock him down, but Illario could tell the mage was gathering for something a lot nastier if he didn't kill him quickly. He used the brief moment to push forward again, leading with his left, and when Satenti dodged, he plunged the other dagger directly into his throat.
This time as the mage moved, Illario dragged the blade the other direction, blood spraying out in a spectacular display behind him as the blade sliced cleanly through Satenti's throat. Fingers grasped at his arm weakly, but by the time Illario had finished his spin, Ericius Satenti was teetering backwards towards a couch. His other hand scrabbled pathetically at his throat as he stared into Illario's eyes, disbelieving.
"Oh, be still," Illario pushed his chest gently with a finger and watched as the mage collapsed backwards with a horrible gurgling, wet, gasping sound. Piercing eyes struggled to focus on him as they went dull and blood frothed at his neck. "The Crows send their regards, Ericius Satenti. Not that Venatori deserve much consideration."
Illario looked around the room as he cleaned his blades, waiting for his blood to cool. He had plenty of time to do his work, and he didn't want to rush anything, or leave anything to chance. A last sigh escaped the body next to him, and he shifted his eyes to his empty glass of brandy, now shattered on the floor.
"I should have killed you for that alone," he muttered, leaning over to carefully rifle through Satenti's pockets and run through his checks to ensure the man was dead. No pulse, no breath, no trace of reaction in his eyes, or when poked viciously with a sharp pin. A few gold, a set of keys, a packet of powder he assumed was the Venatori Special, were all the contents of his pockets. Illario stowed the powder packet in an inside pocket to give to Carina and Viago when he got home. Perhaps it would get a better name.
Illario straightened up again, and stretched, taut muscles and bruises telling him the story of his night's work so far. His job was not done, but with the rest of the night ahead, and no one to avoid, the rest would be easy enough.
The Lamplighter was the same as it was weeks ago, but it felt different to Illario with the weight of that many days spent in Minrathous. He waited in a booth off to the side of the stage, actually enjoying his beer. One of the women at the tea shop had let him know that throwing a local spice blend in with most ales made for a really refreshing drink, and he hated to admit she'd been right. It was almost like drinking a slightly bitter version of the spiced cakes Lucanis favored around Wintersend. Unusual, but delightful in its own way.
He wasn't sure who was he was expecting to see, but when Neve Gallus sat down at his table in a whirl of burnt coffee and spices, he shot her a careless grin to cover his surprise. Not that he minded, she cut a figure in her stylized coat and fascinator, unique even among the flashier patrons at the bar. That she seemed to see through most of his charms represented more of a puzzle than a problem now that they were apparently working towards the same ends.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Neve Gallus?"
"Didn't your cousin say when he sent you here?" Neve quirked an eyebrow as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "I'm the one you get to report to when your work is done. I read the Papers this morning, but hadn't heard from you yet. It seemed like it was time for us to meet."
"Lucanis often omits details he doesn't find essential," Illario shrugged, a little surprised. He would usually give a report directly to his Talon for work like this, but the contracts Lucanis had assigned were all highly specialized. It made sense that the client, or someone representing them, may want to confirm the work. It certainly hadn't come cheaply.
"I only lament that I didn't realize I would be meeting with such a lovely companion," he smiled at Neve and gestured to his impeccable outfit. "I would have put in a much better effort. The Threads weaselly errand boy isn't exactly someone I pull out the stops for."
"I'm sure Elek will be thrilled at the comparison and the demotion," Neve snorted, giving him a half smile that almost reached her eyes. "You're alive, so I assume things went well? The Papers are reporting everything from a burglary gone wrong and a whole household massacred, to the unfortunate, accidental death of a reclusive, eccentric mage. I assume the truth is somewhere in the middle."
"Of course," Illario responded easily, noting that she was making little effort to conceal their conversation from listening ears. He had suspected that this bar was a bit more than it appeared, much like the coffee houses back home, and was gratified to be correct.
"I was able to track down the target, find what our client asked for, and deliver our regards. I've brought the additional materials and I have also added a couple of minor bonuses as a gesture of thanks for entrusting me with the work."
Neve gave Illario an assessing look, but didn't reply as she reached under the table to pick up a bag, closed at the top with a ribbon to look just like one of those favored by some of the better tailors in the neighborhood. She looked inside, and pulled out several thin books, flipping through the pages slowly enough to glean their contents.
"You found the manifests? And the sales records? Are these recent?"
"Yes, those are the newest books, and I found others that date back several years," Illario responded, taking a drink of his beer. "I can have the boxes securely delivered, or you can have someone pick them up. He appears to have kept quite meticulous records. You should be able to trace every person he bought, sold, or otherwise trafficked for the Venatori."
"And this?" Neve pulled out a folded piece of paper with Illario's handwriting, as well as a couple of hastily sketched maps. "These look the like the catacombs, but I'm not familiar with the location."
"They are similar, but unique to Dock Town," Illario thoroughly enjoyed the look of surprise in Neve's eyes. "I am certainly not the only one who knows of them, or how they can be used, but I sketched out a couple of routes and the markings I saw in use. I imagine they can be of use."
"You could have kept this to yourself," Neve remarked shrewdly. "They would definitely be useful for a cadre of assassins."
"I did keep a copy for myself," Illario acknowledged. "I am sure that my Talon will approve of the extra time taken to gather the information, though it was not in your agreed price. Consider it a gift."
"And his staff?" Neve asked, looking pointedly at the cane so conspicuously leaning at Illario's side. "I can take that today, if you can bear to part with it. I know at least one person who would like to take that back to where he looted it from."
"I am delighted to send it to a good home," Illario smiled, watching Neve as she opened each of the books in turn. Thorough, discerning. He felt far more at ease watching her dissect piles of information than when that gaze was directed at him. "The rest is for whoever our mysterious client may be."
"Do I want to know?" Neve studied the unmarked wooden box, sealed with wax along the edge where it would slide open. "I can't imagine that they would love anything treasured by the Venatori."
"I promise, it will be well received," Illario smirked, thinking of the identical box sitting in his rooms, waiting to return to Antiva. If the rumors around Caterina's bottle had not been true before, they would be now. Illario had taken the liberty of retrieving the decanter, as well as two additional bottles Satenti had concealed with his rather impressive wine collection.
"It isn't often one gets to give a gift of this rarity," Illario said with unprompted honesty. "If it makes you feel any better, I am bringing one back to my cousin as well, and you know his feelings about them."
"Must be something special," she looked at the box again, this time with genuine curiosity. "I don't usually like surprises, but I'll have to look forward to delivering this one later."
"So, are you satisfied, detective?" Illario leaned back, and threw his arm over the back of the booth. He noted the brief glint in her eye at the familiarity.
"Oh, this is great work, Illario," Neve smiled, leaning forward with her arms crossed on the table. "I wasn't sure what to expect, but your work was clean, we got what we wanted, and Elek and his friends didn't have to clean up anything messy. You are every bit as good as Lucanis promised."
"Thanks," Illario blinked, briefly nonplussed. He couldn't help but look for something else in her words, something flawed, meant to cut, but didn't find it in her open expression. Neve returned a smirk, but the only thing he could see was clear amusement at his own reaction, nothing more. It was unsettling.
"I simply did what was asked," Illario demurred, schooling his face into something more neutral.
"Well then," Neve smiled and stood, taking the bag and held out her hand for the staff which Illario handed to her wordlessly. "If that's the case, I look forward to your next contract in Minrathous, Illario Dellamorte. Who knows what you might do if you really tried."