Chapter 6 Part 9

Tyson had been with the Blackheart clan for only a little over a year. Even so, his favored status was recognized by most of the servants and minor nobles who were allied to the dynasty. This allowed Tyson to travel openly in the city, and it gave him access to many places where access was restricted for one reason or another. The drawback, of course was that his face was rapidly growing popular and even the lowliest beggar would know him on sight. This made for difficult snooping.

Snooping was Tyson's immediate concern. He had noticed a steady stream of messengers and emissaries who he had never seen in the courts before being sent out to various cities, some of which Aspberg had no dealings with at all. This of course made him very suspicious.

Tyson was presently dressed in rags with a scarf covering most of his face. He had stolen an old musty cloak from the dirty laundry and waded through the sewer with it on to complete his disguise. This enabled him to masquerade as a bum or drunken rogue in the streets of the town. It allowed him to tail a mark without getting caught. He had to know what was going on.

He could not ask Morteous. Morteous was wrapped up in his own plans. That left either Miguel, or a house official. Miguel might enlighten him, but he did not want to seem nosy. A city official might try to have him removed. Such were the ways of the servants of Blackheart.

Tyson crept near a wall in the half light of the morning dawn. The official he had chosen to interview was bound for Tycho. Now that was a conflict of interest. Tyson was almost sure that the ambassador's news would be given less than a minute's consideration by that bunch of goody-goodies.

Serpent had often spoken of his desire to conquer the cities of Seron, Allentown, and Tycho. The wealth of Allentown's knowledge and economical power was a prize indeed as was Seron's strategic placement and Tycho's natural resources. Serpent even had plans for the campaign drawn up, but they were set aside when the Tome of Creation had been found.

Tyson ducked down an alleyway. He sprinted up a back street; aware that he himself could get ambushed at any moment. But, the hundred Aspbergian gold tokens he had paid to the thieves guild the day before seemed to have been honored as several dark side passages passed by without incident.

Finally Tyson had run far enough to get ahead of the lone official riding towards the western gate. Tyson turned back to the main street and cautiously awaited his mark.

The wait was not long. The official walked boldly down the center of the street. The city was beginning to wake as lights were shining from within buildings to illuminate the street and cast weird and erratic shadows across the intersections.

Tyson took his place near one street corner. He slumped down in a heap as if he were a drunk. Under his cloak, his practiced hands quietly set the garrote he had been carrying ready for the attack.

As the official drew near. Tyson covertly stole one last glance about the street to check for signs of the city guard. When he was certain all was clear, he sprang. With an expert twist of his arm, Tyson artistically looped the garrote about his victim's neck, and then a quick jerk sent body and head to the ground separately.

Tyson shook the garrote from his right hand, and quickly dragged the body off to one side. The head he kicked beneath the boardwalk of a nearby shop. Its odor would ensure its discovery within a day or so.

In the illusionary safety of the side street's darkness, Tyson rifled through the body's belongings. The valuables, he discarded for the thieves to get after he left. That was a part of the bargain. The satchel of paper, however, Tyson tucked under his cloak and then departed the scene.

The first thing Tyson did upon returning to the citadel was to take a bath. The old clothes he had worn were thrown on the fire. No evidence, save the satchel and its contents remained of his nightly activities. Even the garrote, one of the best he had ever owned, had been disposed of in a wagon load of dung. It might be found, but he doubted it would be inspected too closely.

After cleaning himself up, Tyson returned to his chambers and retrieved a small chest from the shelf over his desk. He opened the chest and allowed the mist within to creep out. It was a magical mist. Mechanical magic native to the world, so it would not draw Morteous' attention very easily.

Tyson knew that there were many small and useful magical devices at work within the citadel at all times. One more would not draw the warlock's attention. He had been using the chest for several months. The mist it emitted would hide him and what he did from scrything eyes or ears.

Tyson waited for the mist to fill the room than he drew the satchel from its hiding place and opened it. He flipped through the documents and scanned their message. After a few moments he smiled and then laughed. "So that's what Ragnera is up to," he chuckled to himself.

It was a fantastic plan, Tyson admired. Ragnera was using his priests to move about in the world with false documents, accusations and claims that would put the various cities at each other's throats. The satchel he had intercepted was a notification of taxation the Twin Cities were going to levy against Tycho for transport of imports bound for Tycho. It also stated that all goods exported were going to be boycotted until Tycho started forking over a considerable sum as compensation for the amount of space its ice boats take up at the Twin Cities' dockyards. It was the breaking of an agreement that was hundreds of years old. Tycho would go nuts.

Another document--obviously to be accidentally seen by Tycarian officials--stated that the Twin Cities were in the process of drawing up a treaty with the city of Freon to replace Tycho as the Twin Cities' trading partner. The document stated that decreased pirate attacks against the Twin Cities and an increase of attacks against Tycarian ships were a part of the agreement's terms.

Tyson thought back at all the fake officials he had seen coming and going over the last several weeks. They, undoubtedly, were setting up the supporting evidence and infiltrating the administrations of these city-states. Ragnera would have the Twin cities and Tycho ready to wage war on each other within a year at this rate.

"Keep telling the lie, and eventually people will begin to believe it," Tyson recited the old saying. From the volume of support he had seen for these false documents, it was going to be very difficult for anyone to disprove them.

Tyson wondered how many other cities Ragnera had targeted. In a few months, if the other cities were in the same situation, a handful of men dressed in Seronian guard uniforms might attack Allentown and start a major conflict.

Tyson saw only one part of the plan he could not fathom. What about High Branch and its massive army?