OoOoO

All was quiet in Castle Armathain. Moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting wane strips of color onto the floors. In the Hall of Thrones, the prince's golden tree gleamed softly even in the meager lamplight. When the guard changed at midnight, the Knights of Amenthis moved slowly, quietly, oddly graceful for men in full armor. Outside no wind stirred. It was a warm summer night, perfect for dreamless sleeps and early mornings.

One soul in the castle would find no rest that night. Moving quickly and carefully, a shadow slipped out of the Tower of the Elements. Her slippers whispered across the carpets as she walked, and even that felt like too much noise. There was no room for carelessness tonight.

Margalee skirted around a pair of servants with ease. Even if she hadn't been an Obad, gifted with keener senses than the average person, it would have been easy for the lithe northerner to avoid them. She couldn't afford to be caught up in any chance encounters.

On the fifth level of the castle, Margalee came at last to her destination; the famed Skybridge of Castle Armathain. Soaring high above the palace gardens and city rooftops alike, the Skybridge spanned the distance between Castle Armathain and the Lair; the great stadium of Amenthere. During festivals and other chief celebrations, the bridge made it easy for partygoers to traverse back and forth between the Lair and the castle, all the better to never miss a toast or a joust. Besides the front gates, it was the only way into Castle Armathain. Like the gates however, the Skybridge was closed for the night. Every night at sundown, the castle guards threw a lever which retracted either side of the mighty stone bridge. The resultant gap dropped away to fatalistic heights above the slumbering city. Only those approved by the king and his Chief of Staff could remain within the palace after dark.

A pair of knights flanked the doorway to the Skybridge. Their heavily embossed armor, ribbed vertically across sculpted chest plates and tapered at the waists, cut an impressive form for the men within. Beneath their featureless helmets no sign of weakness or even humanity could be seen. The Knights of Amenthis didn't intimidate Margalee though. She was an Obad, and no soldier, even one of the castle's hand-picked guardians could stop her.

Only a light trance would be needed for this simple spell. Still, it wasn't one that Margalee particularly liked casting. Taking a moment to center herself, tucked behind a statue in an alcove, she allowed her eyelids to flutter shut. Almost immediately the familiar current of magic came at her call. Margalee dearly hoped neither of the guards would hear nor remember the faint, quiet murmur of her casting hum.

Luck was with her. Neither of the silent sentinels moved. That was, until the effects of the spell reached them. It started as a few snuffles, then a loud sniff or two. Then one of the knights moved his hand as though to touch his helmet. Margalee continued her quiet, monotone hum, nudging just a little more to unleash the flow.

That did it. A trickle of blood ran down the neck of the nearest knight from beneath his helmet. On the other side of the Skybridge door, his companion was likewise struck with a violent nosebleed.

"Argh, I need a moment," the first said.

"You need a moment?! Not before I do, can't you wait a minute?"

"And bleed down 'by armor?"

"Whad, you doo?"

Their voices going progressively thicker as blood clogged the back of their throats, the knights admirably managed another several seconds before both giving up and pulling off their helmets. Red rivulets ran freely down both of their chins, already staining the edges of their gorgets. Swaying slightly, the men made a mad dash for the nearest privy, leaving the Skybridge unattended. Seeing as the bridge was retracted, they probably figured it was a safe enough risk. Margalee hoped they didn't get into too much trouble for it later.

Moving quickly, Margalee went to the heavy door and drew back the bolt. A tiny whisper of night air rushed inside when she pulled the door open, playing with the hem of her deep blue robes around her ankles. She had a small window of time before the guards came back. Margalee mightily hoped her guest wouldn't keep her waiting.

Thank the stars, he was the one waiting for Margalee. As she traversed the castle half of the Skybridge, she could make out the tall silhouette of the southerner on the far side. Far below on either side, the sounds and smells of the city rose up around her. Somewhere a dog howled. Alert as she was, every sound seemed a thousand times louder than even usual.

"Gideo, are you ready?" She called across.

The assassin's voice was calm and oddly reassuring when he replied. "As ready as possible. You're certain of this magic?"

"I am. Think you can trust me enough for it?"

There was a brief silence. Gideo hadn't been very happy when Margalee described the spell she planned to use to get him across the open bridge. This was the least risky approach that Margalee could think of. The southerner's commitment was strong enough to his cause though that he had agreed with surprisingly little coaxing.

"Yas. Do it."

Best to hurry and get it done before the guards returned to their posts, and before Gideo lost his nerve. This spell would require significantly more focus and energy than the little cantrip she had just performed. Standing stock-still on her side of the Skybridge, Margalee took a deep breath and once again closed her eyes.

All Obads felt magic differently. Or at least, all Obads described how they felt magic differently. To Margalee, the reservoir of elemental power which she had been born to channel swirled deep within her gut like a whirlpool. Vaguely she was aware of the steadying drone coming from the back of her throat. It served as a filter, blocking out all distractions and allowing her to sink down into the vortex of magic. Once Margalee felt settled and at home, saturated through and through with the power of water, she sent out a probing tendril of intent. It didn't take her too long to locate the spark of life that was Gideo. Just as Roran had learned to do for the creation of Prince Hithon's tree, Margalee used herself as the channel through which magic flowed to Gideo. This would be even more intense a spell though, at least for the recipient. Margalee was confident in her abilities; she just hoped Gideo wouldn't panic once the spell really took hold.

OoOoO

On the stadium side of the Skybridge, Gideo felt all the hairs on his forearms stand up all at once. A sensation like icy cold water trickled down his spine, making him stiffen. Briefly his mind went to Zaneo. His long-dead best friend had been born like this raven haired enchantress; a child of the sea. When he felt his skin begin to soften and ripple, Gideo decided the only way he was going to manage this was if he pretended it was Zaneo on the other side of the bridge. It was a struggle not to hyperventilate when air suddenly started passing straight through his lungs instead of into them.

It's alright, it's alright, he told himself over and over. Just think of Zaneo...think of Vinie. It's alright.

His feet no longer made contact with the ground. Everything felt strange, as if he were floating in the sea but not actually touching the water. Come to think of it, he couldn't feel much of anything anymore. Daring to look down at himself, Gideo was stunned to realize he could see the bridge and city lights right through his hand. Not that his hand could really be called a hand anymore.

Turning this way and that, Gideo only saw a thick, swirling grey fog in a shape that roughly approximated his body. He had literally become a cloud. Thousands upon thousands of tiny droplets hung suspended in midair where his flesh had once been. It was both the most odd and the most shocking experience of Gideo's life thus far.

That was when he noticed the pile of clothing crumpled on the Skybridge beneath him. His cream colored tunic and leggings, his bronze wrist cuffs, his belt, all items which gave him the identity of a noblewoman's retainer, lay empty on the stone.

Oh gulls' splat, he cursed voicelessly.

A feminine voice suddenly cut across his mind. Coming? We don't have all night.

Turning back to the chasm in the Skybridge, Gideo 'saw' with his ethereal gaze that Margalee was standing in exactly the same position on her side. She still seemed to be deep in her trance. Again however Margalee spoke directly into Gideo's mind.

I cannot move for you. That part is up to you and your own force of intent.

What about my clothes?

Ai...my apologies, I forgot that I cannot transform them too. You are largely made up of water, silk is not.

Wonderful. So now what?

Margalee paused, apparently thinking. If you can stand staying like this for a little while longer, there is a guard room nearby. You are bound to find spare clothes there.

That will have to do then, said Gideo. Remembering that time was of the essence here, he tried willing himself to move. Without solid legs to carry him, he was surprised when he actually did float forward a short distance. It felt like swimming, only easier.

Crossing the open span between the two ends of the bridge was unnerving. Seeing the stone beneath him fall away to nothingness did nothing for Gideo's already thoroughly frazzled nerves. By the time he reached where Margalee stood, still in her trance, his heart would have been pounding if it were not made of mist.

Where to? He asked silently. Even his inner voice sounded somewhat strained.

On your left, beyond the door. The guard room will have a pair of crossed knives above the threshold. Tell me when you are there and I will release the spell.

What of yourself?

I'll be waiting here when you return. Hurry now, the guards will not be away for long.

The Blue Obad's angular eyes were closed, a low buzzing hum barely audible as Gideo floated past her. Gideo both liked and did not like being around Margalee. Every time he saw her memories of Zaneo threatened to break the surface. No two people could have been more unalike in appearance. Still, Gideo could not help but see what Zaneo might have been, if Mahir and his Obads had had any empathy in them.

That was why he was here tonight though. Wasting no more time, Gideo willed himself to drift down the remainder of the bridge and through the door into Castle Armathain. The gilded hallway was empty, the only movement coming from the flickering of the lamplight. Small rays of light caught the droplets he was now built from and made them sparkle. He could not be seen like this.

Gideo found a guard room right where Margalee had described it. After checking to make sure no one was within, he passed straight through the door. It was pitch dark inside, but Gideo could tell that it was a small, enclosed space filled with organized clutter.

I am here, he informed Margalee with his thoughts.

Good, she said. We will no longer be able to speak like this once the spell ends. Good luck...for our homelands.

Homelands. That was an odd notion indeed, almost enough to distract from the sensation of returning to his solid body. If the Factionist cause came to fruition though, it would be true. Gideo imagined for a moment what it would be like to call southern Goran his homeland by its own, self-made name. If what Margalee told him was true, the north of Goran was already firmly set along that same path, even more firmly perhaps than the east. Vinie would want to hear that. He looked forward to telling her.

Once Gideo could feel his arms and legs again, he quickly set to work. After finding a spare set of clothes, too small and in the king's colors but good enough, Gideo stepped out into the castle once again. At least dressed like this he might garner fewer questions than if he were spotted dressed like Kiiss' servant.

The knife he had hidden earlier in the week was still to be found tucked behind the frame of Queen Iselde Amenthis' portrait. Sliding the slim blade up his sleeve, Gideo set course for the royal apartments. This was where things would get trickier.

It had been not to Gideo's liking, but necessary. Playing at romance with one of the royal household's servants had finally yielded this last, necessary secret. Kiiss had been right. He hated how often the rebellion's secret patroness was right, actually, especially when it came to his own person. Maybe next time he would actually let Sula G'Hesh break his nose, if only to retire from espionage duty. Then again, he didn't put it past Kiiss to twist a broken nose into "rugged good looks". Ugh.

Just before turning the corner to the hallway in front of the king's private chambers he stopped. There would be Knights of Amenthis standing guard outside this door too. What looked to be a shallow, nondescript alcove actually opened into a narrow passageway when Gideo's fingers found the hidden latch.

According to the servant he had been pretending to woo, the castle was full of secret passages, long put to use by queens of the Amenthis dynasty for moving their ladies-in-waiting about on the sly. Gideo couldn't help but chuckle as he hunched his way along in the gloom. These faded, plaster spaces were meant for much smaller, capital women, not his broad southern shoulders.

If Gideo had learned anything from this past year spent at court, it was the interconnectedness of the capital's women. No doubt the best-informed, best-connected person in the palace was never actually the king, but the queen. He wondered if the Lady Ellorae had her own network, or if she'd adopted her late mother's informants. Either way, the princess of Goran made Gideo's skin crawl. He dearly hoped he'd been convincing enough in his attentions that the servant would not betray him to their keen-eared lady.

It was to Gideo's relief when he peeped through the hole on the far side of the passage and found the room beyond silent. The disguised door to the listening nook opened without a sound and faded back into the wall around it as soon as it was shut. Straightening with a suppressed sigh of relief, Gideo looked around the royal apartments.

They were sumptuously decorated, bringing the Hall of Thrones to mind with the long, trailing golden curtains from floor to ceiling. The carved wooden panels of the ceiling hung so far overhead that Gideo wondered why anyone would have bothered to carve them so intricately in the first place. A beautiful black statue of a woman in the corner stood surrounded by little yellow candles; a revered effigy or merely décor? It vaguely reminded Gideo of the castoff figurehead he had painted to resemble Vinie for her prison escape. He was wasting time though.

Stepping from the balls of his feet to the heels like the Stargazers had taught him, Gideo stole soundlessly into the next room. The knife up his sleeve slid down into his hand, its hilt cool and hard. Gideo could feel the sheathed blade lying against his skin, deceptively deadly for so small an object. Coated as it was with golden frogs' poison, Gideo was careful to keep the knife within its case until the time came. A single accidental prick would kill him even faster than Gorian law would at this point.

"Not a bad last resort, if you should happen to fail," his tutors had told him when they showed him how to poison the blade. "It'll definitely burn something fierce at the end, but less than if you were lashed to a stake and set alight like a torch." Gideo had said nothing to that, even if the mere thought was enough to make him want to be sick. He had no intention of suffering either fate.

This night was what he had spent the past year preparing for. Even the Stargazers had never known the identity of his target. The intensely secretive assassins' guild asked few questions and answered even fewer. If they had questioned him further, Gideo didn't know what they might have said or done. The Stargazers' loyalties appeared to lie everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Admitting to planning regicide might have gotten him murdered upon his next session with them. Or it might have garnered him more help. It wasn't a risk Gideo had been willing to take.

Slowly, carefully, Gideo approached the enormous four-poster bed. Once he got close enough to see the figure upon it, he stopped short. So many times he had envisioned this moment, but never like this.

King Mahir Amenthis lay on his back, hand-woven white sheets turned down against the warm night. His stern, piercing brown eyes were closed, softening his face and returning the king to a more open, vulnerable expression. Mahir's lips were slightly parted and his hair splayed across the pillow in a dark halo. His nightshirt was slightly hiked up, displaying a narrow strip of skin dusted with curly hair. It was the most normal, comfortable looking picture of sleep that Gideo could have imagined for a man such as the king of all Goran. None of that gave him pause though.

What did was the person next to Mahir. The young Prince Hithon was also in the bed, sleeping tucked against his father's side like a much younger child might do. A faint trail of salt down the boy's cheek suggested a long-dried tear. Mahir's arm rested limp yet close around his son's shoulders. Together the two slept peacefully, unaware of the stranger with bloody intentions standing over them.

Gideo frowned. To kill Mahir was something he'd made his peace with a long time ago. He would have preferred to do it in the Utunman manner; a public challenge on Zaneo and Vinie's behalf, followed by a knife fight down on the beach. This was the king though, and kings were apparently above even custom and honor. Still, Gideo's plans had never involved killing a father while his child slept at his side. That felt a step too far.

Still, what other choice did he have? This was the man who had watched, impassive, while Zaneo and his family were murdered by an executioner's axe. Vinie's screams still rang in his ears to this day. He would never forget nor forgive the man who could make Vinie scream like that, or spill Zaneo's blood. Some things crossed a line, and demanded the same in return.

That wasn't even touching on the conflict that might be avoided if Goran was caught without a ruler on the throne in the face of the Factionist uprising. Would Princess Ellorae be able to assume power quickly enough to recover and defend against Factionist sentiments on all sides? Perhaps, but Gideo doubted it. Mahir's death would be the chance that the south, east and north needed to break free. He had to act, and act now.

Resolved, Gideo leaned over the sleeping pair. Whispering an apology to the little prince, he took his bared knife in hand and raised it. There, right where the nightshirt parted beneath Mahir's collarbone. The black, smooth patterns of dancing seals and setting suns wrapped around his bicep swallowed the candlelight just as the blade he held reflected it.

Gideo let out a rush of breath...and stabbed. Mahir's eyes snapped open just as the blade fell, and for an instant the candlelight reflected across them too. His arms and hands moved with incredible speed, whipping out from around Hithon and in front of him. Gideo felt the impact when Mahir somehow managed to catch his wrist a split-second before the fatal blow.

The tip of the knife hovered, quivering less than a finger's width above Mahir's chest. When the king met his would-be assassin's startled gaze, there was both fear and outrage in his eyes. Hithon meanwhile bolted awake, crying out in shock.

"Father!"

Gideo brought his other arm up, at first to try and force the knife further down. A single scratch was all that was needed. Realizing that Mahir held his arm in a bruising grip though, a terrible thought ran through him. The prince's cry would have guards upon them in an instant. Abandoning any hope of killing the king, Gideo instead put all his effort into trying to pry himself free.

"You...how dare you?!" Mahir hissed, sounding almost offended.

Hithon was kneeling on the bed in his nightshirt, trembling so hard that his childish voice shook. "Get away! Don't hurt him!"

Voices and heavy footfalls from too close confirmed Gideo's fears. He must either flee now or be captured. Mahir was even reaching for his other wrist now, actually intending to hold his attacker himself until the knights arrived. The Stargazers' words came back to Gideo, and he knew he could not allow that. The two men struggled, all the muscles in their arms cording with the strain.

Gideo was easily the taller and stronger of the pair though. Needing an opening, he batted away Mahir's reaching hand and instead punched the king full in the face. The blow landed squarely on Mahir's mouth, splitting his lip and snapping his head back against the headboard. The vice grip on Gideo's trapped wrist slackened just slightly, enough for Gideo to wrench free.

Keeping the presence of mind to remember his lessons on never leaving an incriminating weapon behind, Gideo kept his hold on the dagger even as he spun away. He could hear shouting and the prince's cries behind him. The world narrowed to his path from the bedchamber to the hidden door. Everything seemed to move too quickly and not fast enough. Even his fingers felt numb as he pried the latch open and bolted into the passageway.

With his breathe and heartbeat overwhelmingly loud in his ears he ran. The castle halls blurred past in a haze of marble and red. He could hear boots on the floors, but how close behind they were he couldn't tell. For all he knew someone could have reached out and grabbed him from behind at any moment.

When he reached the door to the Skybridge the two guards were back. Panic rose in Gideo's throat, but he knew he couldn't stop.

"Halt! Stop there!"

Their voices muffled and perhaps made more imposing by their helmets, the guards hands went to their swords. Gideo had never imagined that the hand-to-hand training the Stargazers had given him would be put to the test in such a dramatic, urgent fashion. It was either escape or be caught now, and Gideo knew what that would mean. Attempted regicide did not come with a mere prison sentence.

Flipping the knife in his hand to a fighting grip, he fell into a crouch even as he charged the two knights. They used a high guard. Right, he knew what to do against that. When the sword came down toward his head from the left, Gideo did not dodge to the right like the other knight would expect. Instead he fell into a quick roll, tumbling under the offending arm. Popping up into a spin, Gideo lashed out and kicked the back of the knight's knee where the greaves were vulnerable. The man's leg buckled, and from the way he wobbled forward Gideo could tell that he was light-headed. A few too many drinks at dinner, maybe? Whatever it was, Gideo was grateful for it.

The second knight came for Gideo with an aggressive slash to the gut. Rolling away from the strike, Gideo took advantage of the guard's forward momentum. Grabbing his arm, Gideo pulled him forward by the elbow and was rewarded when this knight stumbled too.

Finally some luck for this miserable night, Gideo thought.

The echoing shouts of the other guards reached him, and he realized that he was running out of time. With the first knight back on his feet and the second knight on his guard after being pulled, there was no chance Gideo could fight them both off plus the rest of the palace guard armed with just a poisoned knife. Giddy with adrenaline, he shrugged dramatically at the pair and offered them a cock-eyed grin.

"I think you two are a little too drunk for dancing tonight. Another time!"

Gideo dashed for the Skybridge door. He just barely managed to slip outside and bar the way behind him. When the impact came, it felt more like a dozen men slamming into the inside of the door than two. Gideo was nearly thrown backward, and staggered away begging all the spirits that the bar would hold for just a minute more.

"You were caught?"

Margalee sounded more than a little incredulous. Gideo caught the undertones of fear in her accusation as he rushed toward the end of the bridge. The Obad glanced back at the shuddering door before fixing a stare on him.

"No. If I were caught, I'd be a dead man," Gideo said. "Can you get us across the bridge again before they get through?"

"Us? You're mistaken, Stargazer. I cannot-"

Gideo gawked at Margalee. "You cannot stay any more than I can now. They'll execute us both for treason for sure."

"I cannot get us both across either," Margalee exclaimed tersely. "I cannot flee and cast the spell at once." Her smooth features suddenly shifted from tense to calm, expressionless. "Go, I will get you across."

"Wait...what? I just said you cannot stay!"

Margalee remained placid, as if she was not suggesting he abandon her to the king's wrath, but merely that he go for a walk to the market. "Go. As you said, you are a dead man if they arrest you. I am an Obad, and not so easily disposed of." A loud bang from the end of the bridge shook the night. "I will not say it again; go."

Gideo opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when he heard the sound of wood splintering. They did not have long. Margalee was right; he couldn't be captured. If he were to be executed as Zaneo had been...he couldn't even imagine what that would do to Vinie when the news found her in Falerik.

Taking Gideo's silence for acceptance, Margalee shut her eyes and breathed once, twice, three times. Then her lips fell open and that strange droning came from deep within her throat once again. The transformation from flesh to cloud was no less disturbing the second time around, but the imminent threat of the palace guard gave Gideo something else to worry over. He felt the stolen uniform fall away from his frame, leaving him oddly free. At the last moment he remembered to throw the knife away. Its blade twinkled briefly in the dark, a poisonous shooting star as it disappeared over the city rooftops below.

Before drifting away across the chasm to the Lair's side of the Skybridge, Gideo paused to look back. Margalee stood rigid and seemingly unaware of her surroundings. Behind her the castle door shuddered and groaned. Any moment it would give way.

If you do not flee now, they may break my concentration before you reach the far side.

The drop to the city below was fatal, no doubt of that. A heavy bubble of guilt sunk to the bottom of Gideo's stomach, settling in for what promised to be a very long time. Margalee spoke the truth, and there was nothing more he could do here. At least, that was what he told himself as he turned his ethereal back and floated away from the Blue Obad.

He was less than an arm's length away from the far side when he felt himself begin to wobble. Desperation shot through him, and he bent all his thoughts on reaching the edge of the bridge. The spell ended abruptly, and he just barely landed on his hands and knees, his feet hanging out over the city rooftops.

Men were shouting behind him from the castle side. Gideo wanted to look back, but knew watching Margalee's capture would not make it easier to live with. Instead he stooped and scooped up the bundle of servant's clothes he had left behind earlier. A clicking noise gave him hand a second's warning, but it was not enough. With an impact like a fist, a crossbow quarrel struck him hard in the back of his left shoulder.

Staggering, Gideo decided not to feel the pain for now. Instead, naked and bleeding hotly down his back, he sprinted for all he was worth toward the stadium. He knew better than to seek shelter with the Stargazers; the guild had warned Gideo that, as a novice assassin, he was little better than an outsider and could expect them to take no risks on his part. Instead he set his course for the upper class district of Amenthere. Kiiss would hide him, of that he was sure. First though, there was the long run through the darkened city streets. The failure, the guilt, and the wound he could deal with later. For now there was only survival.

OoOoO

Back on the Skybridge, Margalee watched Gideo take the shot from the guard's crossbow and continue to run even so. When the Knights of Amenthis took her into custody, she turned away from the dark chasm between them without flinching. Her reasons for wanting King Mahir dead were her own, and she did not doubt that the southern man's motives were just as compelling if not more so to have risked so much. Still, the price for tonight would have to be paid. One did not simply fail to kill a king and go on living.

OoOoO