Asio Copin
A tall, incredibly fat man in luxurious robes flashed through a gap in the crowd and then vanished, swallowed by the loyal bodies of his guards. For a fleeting instant, his astonishing, magnificent beard was visible—parted into two thick cascades, lavishly oiled, and gleaming with gold.
Asio smiled calmly and counted the beats of his own heart. The magister was surrounded on all sides, but Nadeo stood far above and had a clear line of sight to his target. Still, there would be time for only a single shot.
Even through the noise of laughter and shouting, Asio heard a sharp rustle. The very next moment, a thick arrow struck the magister's fleshy neck just below his left cheek with a wet, smacking sound. Asio caught a glimpse of its bluish-golden fletching.
His nephew had never cared for crossbows—powerful at close range, but lacking in precision. He always chose the bow: an expensive piece crafted in the Summer Islands, deadly and elegant, a gift Asio himself had once given him.
For a heartbeat, the square fell silent. Then chaos erupted. Women screamed, guards shouted orders, and the air filled with the frantic flutter of pigeons taking flight. The captain of the guard drew his sword, assessed the scene in an instant, and slashed the air with his blade, pointing out where the soldiers were to run in pursuit of the assassin.
The crowd, fearing that the search for culprits might begin at any moment, surged away from the fallen magister. Asio merged effortlessly with the onlookers, watching from the outer ranks.
Magister Illyrio—huge, like a whale cast upon the shore—lay motionless on the dusty cobblestones. A thin stream of blood, sinuous as a living serpent, slowly crept between the cracks of the stones. His fleshy fingers, heavy with rings and resembling thick sausages, had clawed weakly at the pavement in his final moments and now remained frozen in that futile grasp. Several guards still held their shields around him, but from the depth of the arrow's wound and the complete stillness of the body, Asio knew the deed was done.
And done magnificently.
Moreover, the arrowhead had special barbs, making it very difficult to pull out of the body, and the poison coating it increased the chances of success.
A couple of dozen guards rushed toward the direction from which the arrow had been fired, hunting the killer. Asio felt no particular concern for his nephew. The boy was quick, and the escape route had been planned down to the smallest detail. Nadeo would cross the rooftops, use a prepared plank to reach a neighboring building, then pull it after him. From there, he would climb a secured rope to another roof, haul the rope up, traverse several more buildings, conceal his bow and clothes in a cache, and finally slip through an attic into one of the dens below, emerging onto the street unnoticed.
After some time, satisfied that everything had gone according to plan, Asio left the square at an unhurried pace.
Well, the first step had been taken—an important one, and the right one. His life was safer now, and the good foundation for the future had been laid.
There was no time to linger. The next steps awaited him—steps that, he hoped, would one day lead him to the throne of Pentos. Not as a hollow prince, appointed and discarded at the whim of the magisters, but as a true lord, powerful enough to hold them all in his fist.
King Joffrey expected him to weave a web across the entire eastern Narrow Sea—from Lorath and Braavos to Lys, Volantis, and farther still, all the way to Slaver's Bay. The king demanded information, and Asio knew exactly how to provide it.
And while open dominion over all Pentos was still far off, the King granted Asio something else—secret authority. From that day forward, Asio was Harald Orm's aide, responsible for everything that transpired on this side of the Narrow Sea.
The Narrow Sea was a strange thing. For some—like the late Varys and his friend Illyrio—it truly was narrow, no wider than a shallow stream. These men learned of everything that happened along its shores almost before the events themselves took place.
For others, like King Robert and most of the puffed-up lords of the west, the Narrow Sea was vast. They never knew, never wanted to know, and could not know what the Free Cities lived and breathed for.
King Joffrey wanted to know everything. He wanted the Narrow Sea to become narrow in truth—and Asio intended to help him achieve that, especially since it aligned so neatly with his own ambitions.
Once, long ago, when he and Varys had realized that only the strongest and most powerful birds could cross the watery expanse between continents, they tried to experiment with gulls or ducks—creatures able to rest upon the waves. Yet nothing worthwhile came of that idea: the birds proved too foolish, and nearly every second letter failed to reach its destination. Thus they were forced to rely on crows, striving to breed a stronger and wiser strain.
Now, however, even with the crows there were certain troubles.All that remained were the old, proven methods—people. Some gathered secrets with sharp eyes and attentive ears. Others carried those secrets to the right hands.
It was simple. He only had to find such people.
Asio knew where to find such men and how to bind them to his service. Moreover, under Varys he already possessed his own sphere of responsibility and his own people. All that remained was to inform them of the new rules of the game.
(End of Chapter)
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