The Third Eye Initiative (13 page)

Elias turned to Tsaeris.
“Feel like breaking into a jail?” Elias asked.

“
What? Alone?”

Elias raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t think you can handle it?”

“
No. No, I just...” Tsaeris paused. He had never been alone on a mission before. He knew he was being tested. “I can handle it.”

Elias nodded.
“Good. Make sure you get a lot of rest today. You’ll be going tonight. I’ll make sure to get you intelligence on the jail before you leave.”

Tsaeris nodded. He said goodbye to Elias, and headed up the stairs to one of the rooms in the tavern. He was feeling very nervous. He was being sent on a mission alone
for the first time, and this mission was pretty big. He shook off his concerns. He would not let Elias down. He would pass this test.

As he lay in bed his bravado began to fade. He suddenly wished that he were back in recruitment training. At least those tests didn’t mean death or imprisonment if you failed. Sleep did not come quickly for Tsaeris.

A Third Eye messenger stood in front of the bed in Tsaeris’ room, waiting for him to finish reading his mission intelligence. When he was finished, he handed the parchment back to the man. The agent walked to the hearth and threw the document and another piece of parchment into the fire. When the flames reduced them to ash, the man left the room without a word.

Third Eye mission documents were written in a complex code, and only the messengers knew how to decipher them. They would bring the mission to an agent, decode it in their presence and destroy both the coded copy and the translated copy. The system was designed to keep information secret and safe. A messenger foreman would transcribe the mission in code at the safe house then relay it to a messenger. The messenger would not open or decipher it until they were with the agent that the information was intended for. If somehow they were captured before delivering the message, they knew nothing about its contents and the document was useless to anyone but the messengers.

The mission would be fairly routine. The guards were already bribed, and Tsaeris need only go to the jail and complete his task. A simple job for a novice.

The day dragged on as Tsaeris waited for nightfall. He spent the day at the tavern, though he considered going to see Cyra. He had been considering that a lot lately, yet somehow he never found the time. He wondered if she even noticed. He wondered if he cared at all if she did.

As night arrived, he headed out into the streets. He left his sword behind again, as an obviously armed man attracted too much attention. Better that he looked unarmed. He wasn’t, of course. He had knives and daggers to protect
him, should it come to that. He hoped it wouldn’t. He hoped it would.

He chuckled inwardly at his own conflicted nature. He never knew what he wanted these days. In the past, all that mattered was finding coin and food. All that had changed when The Third Eye Initiative found him. Now he could actually want things, and he could take them if he chose. It was a major paradigm shift and he was still adjusting. How the hell do you decide what you want when you can actually have them?

It was dark out, though people still wandered the streets. Night was just beginning, and the crowds had yet to change. For at least a few more hours, the day folk would own the streets. Working men would find an inn or tavern to wash away a hard day’s work with ale, whiskey and wine.

A strong no
rtherly wind began to blow. The cold ripped through Tsaeris’ skin and seemed to settle right into his bones. He wrapped his wolf fur cloak tightly around himself. He was glad he had brought it instead of the thinner brown one he often wore in the warmer early autumn months.

As if to mock his efforts at keeping the weather away, the sky suddenly filled with large white flakes. The snow had come so suddenly that Tsaeris found himself blinking at the change. The wind whipped the flakes through the air, and Tsaeris knew a storm was coming. The walk home would be a nightmare, but at least the streets w
ould be empty soon.

He made his way towards the district jailhouse where the agent was held, cursing as he wiped large clumps of snow from his face and eyes. The street torches whipped and danced in the strong wind, and Tsaeris wondered how the hell they could stay lit in this kind of weather.

The walk was taking longer than he had anticipated, and he was shocked at how quickly the streets were filling with snow. It was almost ankle deep already, and was only getting worse by the moment. He considered taking to the sewers, but wasn’t confident in his ability to find the jailhouse from underground.

The snow was playing tricks with his eye. For a moment he thought he saw a large cloaked figure standing at the mouth of an alley, but the image vanished so quickly that he was sure it was a mirage created by the darkness of the alley and the stark white of the snow
-filled air. He wanted so badly to get out of this weather.

Finally he arrived at the jailhouse. He wasn’t sure how long it had taken him, but it had felt like hours. The jailhouse was a large stone building which towered above the wooden houses and stores around it. It almost looked like a small castle, and was so out of place within its surrounding as to appear almost comical; the opposite effect from the
designer’s intent, Tsaeris guessed. An imposing building only looked imposing if it matched its surroundings. An imposing building in the middle of a nice street looked silly.

Tsaeris made his way into the alley and took a moment to settle
himself. The buildings kept the wind away, and he took this time to shake off as much snow as he possible could. His hood felt heavy, and Tsaeris removed what he thought must have been a small child’s weight worth of snow from the top of his head.

Feeling he had composed himself as much as possible, he approached the side door and knocked. Three knocks, then two, then one, then three as he had been instructed. He waited. After a few moments, the iron bound door creaked open. An enormous man
wearing the surcoat and chain mail of a City Watchman greeted him when he entered.

“
He’s in the basement level. Follow me,” the man said. Tsaeris followed the main down a long hall, past the main entrance.

The main level was plain but efficient. Several offices lined the hallway, and there was a bench and a reception desk by the main entrance, both unoccupied at this time of night. The guard
led Tsaeris to a large heavily locked door. The man produced a ring of keys, and only took a moment to find the key he needed. The door opened, and the Tsaeris followed him down a narrow flight of stone stairs.

The cell level was damp and cold, despite a large hearth in the wall. This area was small and enclosed
. It also had a desk with another guard sitting there looking tired and bored. A large door stood across from the door Tsaeris had entered through.

“
This him?” the tired guard asked.

“
Yeah,” the large guard replied.

“
Go on in.”

Tsaeris and the guard passed through the large door, and into the cell blocks. The cells were not barred. Rather, they were small rooms with large wooden doors. They passed several of these doors before stopping in front of
one.

“
He’s in there. How do you want to do this? Hit us a few times? Make it look like we was knocked out?”

“
Let me go in and talk to him first. We’ll figure out the details in a few minutes.”

The Guard nodded,
and then unlocked the door. “In you go. I’ll meet you at the desk.”

Tsaeris entered the cell. It was small, furnished only by a small hay mattress in the corner. A waste bucket sat in the opposite corner. Agent Aaron was on the bed, looking cold and miserable. He was w
rapped in a dirty green blanket and his short curly hair was greasy and damp. When he saw Tsaeris, he threw the blanket aside and stood up. His white prisoner smock was stained and filthy. He ran his hand through his greasy hair, and wiped it on his pants.

“
Evening,” Tsaeris greeted in a cheerful voice. “I have three eyes.”

Aaron smiled.
“As do I.”

“
What happened?” Tsaeris asked.

“
Got nipped while stealing some weapons from the dock. Was careless. Didn’t think I was being watched,” Aaron replied.

Tsaeris nodded.
“Tough luck.”

“
I’ll say.”

“
Well, let’s get you out of here,” Tsaeris turned to leave the cell.

“
I screwed up, brother. I gave them my real name. Was scared.”

Tsaeris closed his eye tightly for a moment, then sighed and turned to Aaron.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Aaron said again, sadly. “Was never nipped before.”

Tsaeris nodded.
“Jail can be a scary place, and those watchmen can be rough men. Not really your fault. You should have held out though.”

“
Didn’t know somebody would come for me,” Aaron replied.

“
We don’t leave agents in jailhouses, Aaron. Even I know that and I’m a bloody novice.”

“
Was stupid. Wasn’t thinking. Like I said, was scared shitless.”

“
I know. What’s done is done, and there’s no undoing it.”

Aaron nodded sadly.
“How we going to do this?”

Tsaeris reached into his belt pouch and produced a small glass vile and handed it to
the agent. Aaron sighed, eyes wet with regret and a sense of loss. He removed the stopper from the vial and swallowed its contents, then handed the vial back to Tsaeris.

“
Will it hurt, brother?” Aaron asked softly.

“
No,” Tsaeris replied.

“
Tell Brock I’m sorry.”

“
I will.”

Aaron nodded,
and sat down on his hay mattress. He covered his face with his hands, and the two men didn’t speak for several long moments. Tsaeris wondered if he should say something to the man, but decided against it. What could he possibly say at this point?

Suddenly Aaron looked up from his hands, and stared into Tsaeris’ eye.
“I feel...tired,” Aaron said.

Tsaeris nodded. “It’s almost over.”

Aaron began to say something, but his final words were forever lost as his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell to his side, rolling off of the mattress and onto the floor. Tsaeris knelt beside him and checked his pulse. Aaron was dead.

Tsaeris removed a small knife from his belt and cut both of Aaron’s wrists. He then begin pressing on his chest to try and force more blood from the wound, as his heart had already stopped. His work finished, he broke off the tip of the knife and left it on the floor beside the body, so it would appear that Aaron has managed to sneak in a small blade. He sighed, left the cell and headed back to the guard desk.

“Where’s your pal?” the big guard asked when he saw Tsaeris approach alone.

“
Killed himself in the middle of the night. Snuck in a small blade.”

The guard frowned and nodded.
“When do we find him?”

“
Morning, before your shift ends,” Tsaeris replied.

The guard nodded. Tsaeris made his way through the jail and out into the blinding snowstorm. He was in no mood to make the trek back in this weather, so he had gotten directions to an inn nearby from the guard.

In the warm tavern, Tsaeris drank ale and reflected on what he had just done. He understood why it had to happen. A name meant they could track you, and that could lead to other members of the Initiative. He wished he knew what this was all about. It might make it easier for him to accept how expendable they all were. Then again, it might not.

Winter had come to The City in full force. It had appeared with a mighty roar and the city trembled under
its weight. Large streams of sooty hearth smoke oozed from chimneys and seemed to hang in the frozen air.

Elias read the letter one last time, sighed and stored it in his desk. There was work to be done before he left, all of it tedious. He began by reading a stack of reports on his desk, organized by priority and importance. The Third Eye Initiative intelligence network was his to manage. He had spent years rebuilding it. The Third Eye Initiative had existed long before his time and the network was not created by him, but he had
molded it from a simple yet effective channel of information into a sprawling spider web of secrets and knowledge. There was not a corner of The City that his web did not reach.

It was a mammoth undertaking, with hundreds of agents to help manage it, and many thousands of spies and sources to keep the steady flow of intelligence uninterrupted. It was a
well-oiled machine, and only the important reports made it to his desk these days. All intelligence was stored and filed in a secret location known only to him and a very select group of agents, known collectively as the Archivists. If a report wasn’t on his desk, yet there was information he needed, it was not difficult for him to find.

Any intelligence requests from agents had to be approved by him personally. Some days there were only a few requests. Other days it would take him from dawn to dusk to sort through them all. If a chapter from another district required intelligence, the request would funnel down to him by a chain of messengers. Many had argued that the other chapters should have their own archives, but Elias was wary of tha
t. More copies meant more risk, and if knowledge was power, there was simply too much power here to chance it. Better that he control the flow. The Boss had argued with him several times about this, but ultimately left the decision to him. It was one of the reasons he was here, after all.

His office was simple, containing a desk with various drawers, a seat for himself, and a chair in front of his desk for private meetings. No intelligence was held here, and reports were left for him in a hidden compartment in the safe house. He would either go over them at his office there, or bring them to his home office, where he was now. They were written in messenger code, which he of course could read. He had created the code, after all.

Hours passed before he had finished going over the reports. He destroyed the reports, as copies had already been sent to the archivists, and left his office, locking the door behind him. There was nothing of major concern in the reports. The only one of interest had been the mission report on Tsaeris and his jail rescue, which he had ordered brought to him when it was available.

He was saddened by the turn of events, but impressed with the novice’s handling of the situation. The boy did what was necessary without hesitation. He still felt a pang of concern over the ease of which Tsaeris could kill, but the boy was doing a great job. He supposed that he couldn’t really be sure of how killing made Tsaeris feel. Perhaps the boy only put on an air of callousness and masked his emotions. Elias could relate to that.

Elias regretted the death of Agent Aaron. He had been a good Agent, and was now dead because of a mission Elias had personally assigned to him. That was so often the case. As the head of the intelligence network, it was also Elias’ responsibility to assign priority missions, as he knew best what needed to be done. He didn’t assign every single mission to every single agent himself, that job would take him a hundred hours a day, but he managed the important ones. Aaron had been sent to steal a shipment of weapons that was bound for a crime lord in the Aidrol District. That shipment of weapons, had it arrived, would have tipped the balance of a gang war in way that did not suit the Initiative’s goals.

Eli
as had originally tried to get The City Watch to intervene and take the weapons themselves, but they had already been paid off. So he had sent Aaron. In an unforeseen turn of events, however, Captain Blorick had received word of the shipment himself and the names of the bribed guards. He promptly had the guards executed, the execution involving Blorick’s own hammer and about five minutes time, and then moved to intercept the shipment. By the time Elias had found out about it, Aaron was already acquiring the weapons.

Elias now knew that he should have gone to Blorick to begin with. He was on good terms with the dwarf, and knew him to be a good Watchman. But Elias had made the report anonymously to a lower ranking watchman, believing that something as serious as a gang weapon delivery was something they could not possibly
ignore. That mistake had cost a good agent his life. Elias would pile the guilt of his death with the many others. His shoulder slumped a tiny bit more, but the load was still bearable. It had to be.

The rule that if T
he City Watch learned your name, you had to either end your own life or have it ended for you was a rule he had put into effect himself, adding many other bodies to his pile of guilt. The rule was a fail-safe. A name could be tracked and could lead back to other members of the Initiative, and that simply could not be allowed.

There was only one Watchm
an who knew of their existence, and only because Elias had occasional need to work in tandem with the Watch. That Watchman was trusted and kept their secret well, even though he was conflicted. Elias understood the Watchman well enough to know that he would never betray them, even if he didn’t quite agree with what they did.

The Third Eye Initiative was more important than any one man. If an Agent had not given his name they would be extracted. They all knew that, yet sometimes they didn’t quite believe it. Most captured agents would give false names, or refuse to talk at all, but there were always a few who folded. It was a credit to his agents that they almost always admitted to giving up their names when rescue came. Their loyalty to the Initiative was so strong that they would die for their mistake rather than try to conceal it. The few, the very few, who did try to conceal were killed as well. You couldn’t hide much from Elias.

Elias walked through his living room into his kitchen and cut himself a slice of day old bread and some hard cheese, poured himself a tankard of ale and went back into his sitting room to eat. The room was furnished by two large cushioned chairs facing his hearth, and little else. Elias lived alone, and company was rare. He didn’t need much.

After his meal was finished he took a moment to wash the dishes he had just used,
and then glanced out the window. The snow had stopped, but the leaden sky and frosty windows hinted at an intense cold outside. He strapped on a heavy brown leather jacket, a cloak and gloves lined with bear fur, both brown as well. He put on his heavy black boots, pulled his hood up and left his house.

Despite his warm clothing, the cold air stole his breath away and made his bones ache. City maintainers had cleared much of the snow from the streets, piling in up in large white hills against the buildings. Alleyways were blocked off, and Elias wondered idly how many homeless people would find that those alleys had become their tombs.

Evening was just beginning, and people still walked the cold streets, though in far fewer numbers than usual. Those out in the streets were only there because they had to be and did not linger long.

Elias paused
for a moment, and then continued to walk when he saw what looked like a well to do man being followed by an obviously homeless man. The homeless man looked cold and desperate, and clearly sensed the means to a night at an inn awaiting him in the rich man’s purse. It was obvious to Elias what was about to happen. Elias quickened his pace, and before long he was one step behind the homeless man.

The rich man was still unaware that he had become prey, and Elias watched the homeless man closely, on the off chance that he had been mistaken. He had not. The homeless man reached into his pocket and produced a small knife. Before he could attack the rich man, Elias put a hand on his shoulder. The homeless man jumped in surprise and spun to face Elias, trying to conceal his weapon in the tattered sleeve of his thin, useless coat.

“Cold night, isn’t it?” Elias asked cheerfully.

The man looked nervous, his eyes darting around. He also looked desperate and miserable.
“Yeah. Freezing.” The man’s teeth were clicking together so hard from the cold that Elias thought he might bite off his tongue.

Elias looked up into the sky, and sighed heavily.
“It’s funny what something as simple as cold can do to a man. You don’t think about it much until it happens.”

The man eyed Elias suspiciously.
“What do you mean?”

“
Rich or poor, the cold can get the best of both. We’re all the same when it comes to the cold, we all feel it. You’re not dressed for the weather, friend, so you feel it harder than most.”

The man nodded.
“Yeah. I think it’s killing me.”

“
You’re not wrong there. It’s the kind of thing that can really get into your head, isn’t it?” Elias gave the man a meaningful look. “It can even make good men do something terrible, even if they don’t want to, just for the chance to get warm and live another day, whether it lands him inside an inn or a cell.”

The homeless
man’s eyes filled with shame and tears. “I’m just so cold. I...I didn’t mean to...I just...what are you going to do?” The man was freezing to death right in front of Elias’ eyes, not even attempting to deny what he had been about to do.

Elias removed his fur cloak and handed it to the man.
“Take it.”

The man stared at Elias i
n shock. “But what about you?” he asked.

Elias smiled at the man reassuringly.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m headed somewhere nice and warm,” Elias produced a gold coin from his purse and gave it to the man, “You should too.”

The man began to cry softly, his lips pursing as he tried in vain to stem the flow of freezing tears. The man seemed to try and find words to express his gratitude, but all he could say was
“Thank you.”

“
Don’t drink it all away and that should get you through the worst nights. Be well.”

Elias walked away without another word. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved in that mugging, that was not his life anymore. But he had sensed that the man was not your typical murderer, just a sad man in a cold and desperate place.

Elias quickened his pace, wanting to get out of the cold as quickly as possible. His coat was thick, but not thick enough. Every time he passed a shop he considered stopping in to purchase a new cloak, but he didn’t think he could force himself to come back out into this weather again after getting inside someplace warm, and he doubted the shop owner would be happy to let him spend the night.

His brisk pace helped to generate enough heat to see him arrive alive at his destination, though chilled to the bone and feeling half-dead. Elias opened the door without bothering to knock, and entered the clinic. Tyrier met him on the other side of the door.

“You idiot. Where the hell is your cloak?” Tyrier asked as Elias entered and swiftly closed the door behind him.

“
Forgot it,” Elias replied.

Tyrier sighed, and shook his head.
“I take it you got my letter?” he asked.

“
No, I thought it would be a nice night to take a walk,” Elias replied sarcastically. He removed his boots. “How did it happen?” He asked softly.

“
He just got old, Elias,” Tyrier replied sadly.

Elias nodded,
not sure of what he should say, and feeling slightly awkward.

“
Come on. Let’s get you by the fire. We’ll have a few mugs of warm ale and talk about father. Give him a proper Sydarin send off.”

Elias nodded again, and followed his older brother into the sitting room. Together, the Sydarin men honored their father in the only way they knew how. Tyrier
, with boisterous stories of their father’s life, and Elias, with rapt attention and noncommittal silence.