Masters of Deception Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintended.

  Copyright © 2018 by Dragonstone Press, LLC

  http://www.jckang.info

  [email protected]

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this work or portions thereof in any way whatsoever, as provided by law. For permission, questions, or contact information, see www.jckang.info.

  Cover Layout and Maps by Laura Kang

  Logos by Emily Jose Burlingame

  Cover Art by Amalia Chitulescu:

  http://www.amaliach.com/

  To my wife Yuki, for putting up with me.

  Maps

  Tivaralan

  Map of the Estomar

  Map of Tohakia

  Mafia Territory

  7. De Lucca’s Office

  Entertainment Dist

  8. Seafarer Inn

  Megalith Circle

  9. Bovyan Compound

  Iron Avatar

  10. De Lucca’s Home

  Pyramid

  11. Orchid Fountain

  6. Cassius’ Mansion

  12. Colliseum

  Prologue:

  A Thousand Years Before

  The whip seared across Tatiana’s back, just as she’d seen in her visions.

  “Kneel.” Priest Krzz snarled the word, exposing the full length of his tusks.

  Tatiana dropped to her knees, the moist ground warm in the afternoon sun.

  The other villagers pointed and muttered. She knew the next words from her vision.

  “Daydreaming again,” one whispered.

  “No, just crazy,” said another.

  Before bowing her head, she snuck a glance to see if the crystalline Dragonstone atop the pyramid had gone dim.

  As she’d foreseen, its blue light flickered and blinked out. The Whispers of the True Gods went silent. Which meant…

  She covered her ears, even though the others stared at her as if she were stupid.

  An ear-splitting squeal pierced the air. Around her, everyone dropped their shovels and hoes, threw themselves to the ground, and covered their heads. Only Priest Krzz remained standing, his turquoise skin glinting in the afternoon sun.

  The surrounding farmland darkened in an instant, lit only by the flaming chariot that appeared overhead. The ground shook, vibrating through her.

  The priest’s jaw wiggled, sending his tusks shifting back and forth. His gaze raked across all the workers. “On your knees! Show obeisance!”

  The chariot of the gods passed above. Its crackling flames tortured the souls who bore it through the skies.

  It was so loud, Tatiana’s ears still hurt through her hands. Her chest squeezed around her racing heart, choking out her breath.

  Then it passed, revealing the sun. The Dragonstone at the pyramid’s summit flickered and lit. The True Gods’ Whispers resumed, though she only understood a few words. She blew out a breath.

  Priest Krzz harrumphed. “On your feet. Back to work. Laziness in life means—”

  “Eternal labor in the afterlife,” the villagers all finished in unison.

  He bobbed his head. “Yes. The laziest of you will pull Tivar’s chariot for all eternity.”

  So they’d been taught for time immemorial.

  Tatiana knew otherwise. Once she deciphered the Whispers of the True Gods, mankind would overthrow the Tivari.

  Chapter 1:

  Dueling Fates

  Cassius Larusso consulted an astrological chart, knowing damn well he could answer the merchant’s question without it. Still, the longer he made a show of diagramming constellation positions, the larger the crowd would grow around his megalith circle, and the further his fame would spread.

  The merchant, standing on the other side of the central altar, first adjusted his orange hat, then his sleeveless purple longcoat about his rotund belly. “Well?”

  Cassius held up a hand. “The future is a volatile thing. You paid for the best. The best cannot be rushed.”

  Around the circle, the crowds clapped and laughed, the bright colors of their longcoats, frilly dresses, and stockings threatening to give Cassius a headache. The merchant pursed his lips, making his pig face look more like a duck’s.

  Satisfied, Cassius peered west through a dwarf-made scope, past the flickering Dragonstone at the pyramid’s summit, to the Iridescent Moon. Never moving from its reliable spot in the heavens, it now waned toward new—indicating an auspicious birth hour for expectant mothers, but more importantly that it was close to lunchtime. Of course, his rumbling stomach proved more reliable than the dance of stars in this regard. It was time to end the charade.

  He turned some of the gears on his star disk. Placing it over the map on the stone altar, he spun it.

  Eyes expectant, the merchant tapped his toe. “I need to get a consignment of glassware to Cathay before my rivals.”

  It was too easy to make money off these money-grubbers. Cassius raised a hand. The spectators went silent. He steepled his fingers under his chin, and then beckoned the merchant closer so that the jostling crowds could not hear. “Then you must contract Expedient Shipping. Their ship, Ocean’s Breath, departs for Korynth in three days.”

  “Expedient Shipping?” The merchant slapped a hand over his deposit. The rings on his fingers clinked on the coins. “They lost a barge to the Pirate Queen last month.”

  “Ocean’s Breath will make it safely to Korynth...” …if only because Expedient Shipping had paid Cassius to find an auspicious day for travel. Of course, Cassius had later made arrangements with the Pirate Queen to leave the Ocean’s Breath alone.

  The merchant’s hand pulled back from the deposit. “And then?”

  “The Ocean’s Breath will arrive in time to unload and transfer your precious cargo to the Tarkothi Royal Ship Indomitable.” Something Cassius knew from bribing a clerk at the Tarkothi trade office. “It will take your goods to Ayudra, where you should contract Victorious Trading’s Wild Orchid.”

  Muttering curses under his breath, the merchant furiously scribbled notes in some coded language. He sighed. “All these damn shipping companies, siphoning a bit off our bottom line.”

  Cassius shrugged. “That’s the price of doing business. Just be happy you live in prosperous times, when there is a market for your glassware, and that trade agreements between Cathay and Tarkoth keep shipping lanes open. As per our contract, your cargo is guaranteed to arrive safely.”

  The merchant snapped his fingers at his two guards. With a flourishing bow, he stomped off through the crowds with his men and heavy cologne in tow.

  Stashing his scope and measure into his longcoat’s inner pocket, Cassius adjusted his hat and beckoned to his own guards. “I’m off to lunch.”

  Hands on their rapier hilts, they helped push through the throng, shoving away anyone who tried to touch him. The only assaults they couldn’t fend off were the peoples’ puffy, garish clothes burning his eyes, and the cloying perfumes clogging his nose.

  As always, the barrage of questions began.

  “When is a good date to get married?”

  “Which gladiator will win the summer tourney?”

  “Where is the best place to bury my father?”

  A run-of-the-mill astrologer could answer these questions. Cassius snorted. Being a thirty-seventh generation descendant of Tatiana, the lover of the Elf Angel Aralas who helped win the War of Ancient Gods, came with the benefit of high-paying clients. It also came with the hassle of fortune-seeking freeloaders.

  “Signore Larusso! Cassius!” A stunning blonde waved as she jostl
ed to the fore and batted her eyelashes.

  Her! The money-grubber. What was her name again? Ella? She was the latest in a long list of women who’d proclaimed their love for him, when in fact they only loved his money. His chest tightened at the thought of the first one, when he’d been young and naïve. He hurried on, but not before glancing at Ella’s cleavage, which peeked out from the low neckline of the frilly red dress he’d bought and stripped off of her one too many times.

  Once he’d cleared the crowd, he ducked into an alley between the daub-and-wattle row houses. Two of his guards held back to keep anyone from following him on the path to his favorite noodle shop, while the other two trailed after him.

  No matter how many twists and turns he took, Tatiana’s Eye atop the pyramid sparkled above the shingled rooftops. The Dragonstone magnified the Gods’ Whispers, fueling the Divining power he rarely deigned to use.

  A few blocks into his stroll, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He searched the heavens. Unseen in the noon sky, the constellation of the Hunter was rising to face the red star of the Conqueror, usually indicating safe travels for him; yet something—a shooting star, perhaps—had just passed between them.

  An ill omen; unavoidable, but ameliorable.

  Sometimes, real magic was worth the cost. He took a deep breath and drew in the Whispers of the Gods. His shoulders slumped for a split second as the Whispers coursed through him. Reaching into his vest pocket, he withdrew a single card from his tarot deck and looked down.

  Death.

  His heart lurched into his throat. Given his birthdate and the position of the stars right now, it meant his own demise. Still, there were likely ways to avoid it. With the Whispers fading in his core, he drew another card.

  The Knight.

  Brave. Solitary. This was a problem he’d have to face by himself, or make the situation worse. He held up a hand to his guards. “Stay here.”

  They all bowed. Like all good help, they knew not to question him.

  He continued without them—all the better, since he wouldn’t have to feel bad about eating while they looked on, hungry. Up ahead, a heavy-set man with a pointed beard and a long mustache was leaning against a building. A rapier jutted from his black longcoat. Dark eyes peered out from under his hat.

  He stepped into the alley, blocking the way. The sword swept out of its sheath, tip pointed at Cassius’ throat. “Signore, you are a fool to walk alone.”

  “I’ve been told I’m a fool for love.” Cassius shrugged out the listlessness in his limbs and squared his shoulders. The interloper was no common ruffian. No, everything about him screamed Mafia. However, for one to appear in this part of town violated the unspoken agreement between the Signores and the crime families. Cassius tipped his hat. “To what do I owe this visit?”

  “To inform you, we know how to find all the signores unguarded like this. Call off your secret attacks in our territory, or else our cold war will get quite hot.”

  Secret attacks? What was this goon talking about? Weren’t the crime families engrossed in their own turf war? No matter, he was now standing between Cassius and lunch. He harrumphed. “Whatever you say.”

  “I’m sorry,” the man said, with a grin that suggested he was anything but. “I’m supposed to leave a message. A cut on your cheek will do. If you resist, the message will be much stronger.”

  Cassius covered his cheek with a hand. No one would scar him, Mafia enforcer or not. “If you wish to mark my cheek, you will have to kiss here.” He patted his ass.

  “I’m glad you said that.” The man’s grin broadened as he lunged with a stab.

  It hadn’t taken magic to predict the move. Cassius had already reached across his waist, and now whipped out his dagger and rapier. His sword deflected the incoming attack. The mobster parried Cassius’ riposte. Metal rasped on metal in a cacophony of clinks and clangs. After three exchanges, the man proved to be talented, perhaps even more skilled than Cassius insofar as swordplay was concerned.

  The risk of injury was too great, enough to risk the fatigue of Divining, even if changing the future would raise the ire of Heaven’s Accountant. Disengaging, Cassius took three steps back, rooted his feet to the ground, and took a deep breath. Again, energy fled his arms and legs, longer this time than the first; but in that moment, the Gods’ Whispers revealed the man’s next six moves.

  A normal duelist might’ve fallen for the two feints, but armed with foreknowledge, Cassius sidestepped the real attack. In a different future, the stab would’ve caught him in the gut and very likely led to his death. Instead, he drove his rapier into the man’s chest. The blade slipped between two ribs and penetrated his lung.

  Sinking to his knees, eyes wide, the thug clawed at the wound with his free hand.

  Cassius took two steps forward and slashed the assailant’s sword-arm with the dagger. The rapier clattered to the ground. Cassius kicked it out of reach. He stepped back, slipping his own sword out from between the man’s scarlet-slickened fingers.

  Somewhere in the Beyond, Heaven’s Accountant no doubt frowned as he adjusted his holy scales and tore pages from his Divine ledger. There would be an accounting; perhaps in this life, but most likely the next.

  For now, though, Cassius wiped the blood from his rapier on the man’s sleeve. “Go back to your don, and let him know how you met my blade. Though with that punctured lung, your only message will be the wounds on your body.” Not like anyone would believe the renowned Cassius Larusso had done it.

  Each shortened breath heaved in the man’s chest, and his eyes bulged like a goldfish out of water.

  Bile rose in Cassius’ throat. Fortuna’s quim, he’d just dealt a mortal wound. The man wasn’t going to make it.

  He’d deserved it, right? He was a criminal, with ill intentions. There was no choice, right?

  Cassius turned on his heel and continued on his way. As long as he didn’t see the man take his last labored breath, who knew what would happen? Maybe the wound wasn’t that severe. Maybe a True Akolyte would pass by and heal the man with the holy magic of foreign gods. With each step, the guilt lightened. Of course the man would survive.

  As he worked his way through the side streets, Cassius’ energy trickled back. By the time he pushed open the door to the dimly lit tavern, his stomach was growling again.

  As always, it was near-empty, even at noon. No matter how delicious its food was, the building occupied an inauspicious location…for now.

  “Signore Larusso.” The owner’s pretty young wife curtseyed in her plain grey felt dress. It lacked the puffy sleeves and blinding colors that were now all the rage. Her faint honeysuckle perfume was muted compared to the popular musks and perfumes. A true classic beauty. She extended an open hand to a chair right by the window. “I have your favorite seat ready for you.”

  Cassius nodded. Sitting would be good right about now. “Thank you, Misha.”

  She offered him a friendly smile as he took his seat in a chair worn to his butt cheeks’ shape, at a weathered table. “Business is so slow. We’re just scraping by. Perhaps you’ll tell your clients about us?”

  “As I have said, no amount of promotion in the world will help you in the near future. Don’t worry, you’ll make it.” In three years’ time, after the Godseye Conjunction, the owner’s fortune would change for the better…as long as the world didn’t come to an end. In the meantime, Cassius would enjoy his favorite meal in peace and quiet.

  Misha poured a glass of cheap wine from a metal pitcher and curtseyed again. “I’ll be back with your chicken sauce over noodles and sautéed spinach.”

  “You always know what I want. Maybe you should be the Diviner.” Cassius flashed his admittedly devilish grin, the one which had women flocking to his bed. Of course, wealth and charm helped as well.

  “You always order the same thing.” She winked back and left.

  He watched the sashay of her hips, daydreaming about what could never be. No wealth, no charm in the world cou
ld overcome Ayara’s Eye looking over this woman, nor Solaris’ light shining on her husband. The couple’s undying love, like that of the two gods, would persist over several deaths and rebirths. He wiped the wistful expression off his face. How silly, to cling to such silly ideas as undying love.

  The flourish of a black cape brushed by him with a whisk of air, blocking the magnificent view of Misha’s ass. A large man with an olive complexion and dark hair lumbered into the seat beside him. A prominent chin emphasized his chiseled features, though a jagged scar marred his forehead.

  Cassius’ stomach leapt into his throat. Fortuna’s quim! Nothing in the star charts spoke of meeting strangers today, and yet this was the second in half an hour. That one shooting star had ruined his well-planned day. He kept his face impassive. “Excuse me, sir, that seat is taken.”

  “By me.” The man’s Northern accent, as well as his sheer size, could only belong to a Bovyan warrior of the Teleri Empire.

  There’d been an influx of the brutes in the last half-year, as several of the crime families had recruited them as muscle; and to keep up, many signores had hired them out as caravan escorts and bodyguards. They’d yet to approach him… until now. Was he here to send another message on behalf of the Mafia? Or to market his services? Too much uncertainty hung over this interaction, where a stranger held the upper hand. Curse that shooting star.

  Cassius sucked in a breath, ignoring the aroma of roasting potatoes, and drew on the Gods’ Whispers for the third time in a day. He’d be so drained, he’d have to call off his afternoon appointments. With an innocuous brush of his hand, he knocked his glass. Some wine sloshed out before he caught the handle. He peered at the splash pattern on the wood.

  Fatigue crept into his limbs, yet it was worth it. The wine splatter resembled Death and Fortuna embracing. Wealth, at the risk of death. He grinned. “You are here to extend an offer. Tell me.”