Exploitable Weaknesses
The Kinsman
Book Four: Exploitable Weaknesses
by
brian keller
Copyright Brian Keller 2020
All rights reserved.
This book a work of fiction. All characters and events within this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Content may not be copied or reproduced in any way without the expressed permission of the author/publisher, with the exception of brief quotations included in reviews.
To obtain permission, the author may be reached at Kinsman Series - Cooper’s Page on Facebook or found on Goodreads.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1.......................................6
Chapter 2......................................11
Chapter 3......................................16
Chapter 4......................................26
Chapter 5......................................34
Chapter 6 ......................................41
Chapter 7......................................48
Chapter 8......................................56
Chapter 9......................................65
Chapter 10.....................................73
Chapter 11.....................................82
Chapter 12.....................................90
Chapter 13.....................................100
Chapter 14.....................................109
Chapter 15.....................................119
Chapter 16.....................................128
Chapter 17.....................................137
Chapter 18.....................................144
Chapter 19.....................................154
Chapter 20.....................................162
Chapter 21.....................................171
Chapter 22.....................................176
Chapter 23.....................................183
Chapter 24.....................................189
Chapter 25.....................................198
Chapter 26.....................................206
Chapter 27.....................................219
Chapter 28.....................................226
Chapter 29.....................................230
Epilogue.........................................233
Chapter 1
As much as he might enjoy admiring Master Loril’s craftsmanship, he placed the casting dies back into the small wooden box and replaced it all back into his pack. He slid the newly forged blade into the pack as well, leaving the pommel near the top. It almost perfectly matched the blade he already had, with the upswept guards and double edged blade. He’d need to either buy a scabbard for the blade, or make one himself, before he could hang it from his belt but he’d get around to that. Right now, other matters took priority.
Doubtless, the City Guard as well as the Army would be watching roadways in and out of town, in an attempt to capture any Guild members fleeing the city in the aftermath. The prevailing breeze came in from the east, carrying the sea air across the city, but it wasn’t uncommon for the breeze to be slightly from the south; every time the breeze shifted, he could smell the smoke of the burning Guildhouse… his home.
He knew who to blame. He could, and would, thank Master Loril for that, assuming he still lived. Knowing the only names of those at fault wasn’t enough. The Guild’s library was concealed in a lower level, below the Guild. It might be discovered, but finding it purely by accident was highly unlikely, bordering on nearly impossible. He'd need information before he could act, but right now the Library might as well not even exist. He'd have to come back later and hope it was all still intact.
He recited the remaining names from the list that Master Loril had left for him, “Royal Spymaster Yoren Aporigh and Lord General Hennit Arkady.” Planning to kill or coerce either of them without having access to the Guild library…? Well, he wasn’t suicidal. To learn all he needed, for such high-profile targets, would take months, perhaps even more than a year. As much as he felt the need to ‘redress his grievances’, those plans would need to wait as well.
He had no doubts that some Guild members had escaped. He’d already seen and spoken with Rukle, and Rukle had told him that Dailen had made it out. Cooper had gone back into the Guild house, despite Rukle’s protests. He’d passed along a few hallways and been in a few rooms and he hadn’t seen anyone except soldiers… certainly no one he felt belonged there.
Rukle had also mentioned several cart loads of his classmates and colleagues being hauled away. It’s possible that some of them would simply be carted to the gallows, but more likely, they’d be shuttled to Serpent Tooth Prison. The prison had been built on one of the two islands that shielded the entrance of Paleros Bay. Those two islands were the primary reason the water of the bay remained relatively calm almost all year. He’d need to learn what had been done with the Guild members on those carts. Rukle had said that Aden might be one of them.
He considered trying to find where the carts had gone, by himself, but decided against it. He was trained as an Assassin, not a warrior. He might be able to fight his way through several foot soldiers, but he was not immune to arrows and crossbow bolts, and if those foot soldiers were fully armored… well, armor presented additional challenges as well. No, this was something he shouldn’t attempt alone. He needed reinforcements, and he needed guidance. He knew of only one place where he could currently go to find both, but he’d need assistance getting out of the city first. He felt certain that Mardon, the First Merchant of the Wharf City, could get him out, but he needed to get across the Whitefoam River in order to ask him. He cinched up the straps on his pack and checked the canvas wrapped around his bow. He might need to confront, or outrun, the Guard on one of the bridges. If he needed to move fast, all the bindings on his gear would need to be snug.
Once he was in sight of the bridges, he was forced to re-think his options. Each bridge was being manned by three guards and a few Army soldiers for good measure. He altered his path to move toward the Trade Quarter boardwalk. He considered trying to simply merge with the crowd, the way he had years ago, but now he was several years older and had a bow slung over one shoulder and a pack over the other. He assumed this might make him stand out from the usual pedestrian to an extent that might prevent him from blending effectively. When he reached the boardwalk, he turned south and continued walking. His eyes skimmed over the crowd as he considered whether he might simply continue south through the Dregs and on out of the city. The further south he walked, the more viable this route appeared; right up until