No Friends

Jonas looked at Valyrion, his eyes wide with terror. “THE great five?! What are you insane? You’re sending me on a suicide mission – no one’s even been able to get close enough to speak to them, much less kill them!”

A sinister laugh rumbled from Valyrion’s ample belly. “Like I already told you, the details are in the letter. Don’t concern yourself with things that my boss and I have already worked out. Just follow the instructions in the scroll and the plan will go off without a hitch. Or do you want out after all?” Valyrion was still chuckling.


Jonas looked at the scroll dubiously. He knew that there was no turning back now. If he were to pull out now, he knew he’d be swaying in the breeze with a noose around his neck. “I have no intention or backing out,” said Jonas.

“I am very happy to hear that, my friend,” said Valyrion with an approving nod. Once again he gazed at Jonas, almost looking right through him, then turned heel and left in the direction he came.
“I am NOT your friend,” cried Jonas after him. “I trust you as far as I could throw you.”

Valyrion stopped dead in his tracks and turned with his face completely enveloped in the darkness of this hood. “I beg your pardon? It’s just an expression. You’d do well to continue distrusting me; I don’t trust you either.” And with that he disappeared around a corner.

Jonas listened attentively to make sure Pontar was really gone – he may have been fat, but he traveled as stealthily as a jungle cat. Suddenly, he became aware of his surroundings again and walked to the edge of the harbor and stood in the sunlight. The bay was abustle with business and the heat made him feel anxious about setting sail …


Dammit He walked around the outrigger and headed for the pier where his little sloop was moored. It took all of five minutes for his clothes to be drenched in sweat and he found himself almost wishing he were still in the catacombs. He slackened the ropes and boarded his modest boat. He knew that getting back to his ship was going to be torture in this heat. Laboriously, he raised the small sail and started to maneuver his way out of the harbor. When he reached the open seas, he headed to the left towards the craggy coast so that the soldiers in the harbor could no longer see him. His ship was anchored a few minutes away on the shores of a small, private beach.

As he spied his ship’s towering masts, he ran through the details of his assignment once again in his mind. Murdering one of the five most well-known, most important lead merchants was a death sentence. Even if he and his crew successfully carried out their mission, they’d be on the lam for the rest of their lives. None of the merchant houses would take one of their leaders being assassinated lying down. Jonas and his crew would never again be able to find a safe harbor. He looked at the small, seemingly harmless scroll that was falling out of his pocket. He didn’t want to open it; at least, not until he’d spoken to his crew about its contents. How his men would react to their assignment remained to be seen. They were not going to be happy, that much he knew for sure. But what other choice did he have?

He stood alone in his diminutive boat and looked at his ship, where the crew was buzzing with excitement for his return. A whistle, clear as a bell, came to him on the wings of a swift wind. This wasn’t going to be easy …