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The first time Daud met Corvo-
Well, it was the first time, was the thing, though they'd been moving in the same circles for more than a year. Daud hadn't even known his name at the time, though that was as much down to Corvo's paranoia as Daud's disinterest. The Ghost, as they called him, was something of a cipher: a supposedly-sorcerous thief who had no problems targeting Dunwall's wealthiest citizens but otherwise largely kept to himself. Daud had sent Billie off to do the usual vetting, she'd come back with the news that the Ghost belonged to the coven recently settled down at the waterfront, and that had been that.
Daud didn't trust witches, and he especially didn't trust witches in groups. Some might have called that hypocrisy, considering his situation with the Whalers, but that only meant they'd never met an actual witch. In more than twenty years he'd never met one that gave him reason to change his mind, and he had to figure it wasn't likely to happen any time soon.
All of which was to say, he wasn't exactly happy when his broker threw out the Ghost's name for a job. Daud didn't much like working with outside contractors at the best of times, and he especially didn't like the idea of working with a fucking witch. But if he could have done the job himself he would have done it already, and the broker swore up and down that this Ghost was the premier second-story man in Dunwall. And Daud didn't, at the end of the day, have all that much to lose, so he gave the nod and resigned himself to a wasted evening.
The meet was set for third bell at the top of the Clocktower, which was only about forty percent pettiness; the other sixty was tactical assessment. If this witchling was even half the thief he claimed to be, he wouldn't have any problems getting himself up there. And if he balked at meeting Daud alone in a secluded location… well, that would say something too, though whether it'd be a commentary on his untrustworthiness or Daud's was beside the point. If he couldn't handle the meet he couldn't handle the job, and that was that.
(Rulfio had it at about fifty-fifty odds that the Ghost would even show up. Billie had her coin on him making it to the meet, but weaseling out the second he got a look at some real magic. Killian was the only one willing to bet he'd take the job, but he hadn't put much on it, either.)
They got there early, as always, and set up as best they could in the limited space. Daud had to admit he might have overdone it a little with the posturing: he liked his high ground as much as the next throat-cutter, but this was a bit more confined than was entirely comfortable. The problem with having only one way up was that there was only one way down, too, and while Daud was mostly sure he could chain enough transversals to make it safely to the nearest rooftop, he'd never actually tested that, either.
"At least we'll see him coming from a mile away," Billie murmured, her thoughts obviously following the same track as his.
"If he bothers to show up," Fisher said above them, a little less quietly. "At this rate you're gonna owe me double, Lurk."
"Quiet," Daud said, though he privately agreed. The only thing moving out here was a bird circling overhead, probably a gull hoping for a handout. "Keep your eyes peeled."
"Sir," Fisher muttered, abashed, and pulled her head back in. Billie only gave Daud an amused look before pacing back to the other side of the platform.
Daud enjoyed a peaceful few minutes of silence, smoking a cigarette off the railing and watching the boats wind their way down the river. Eventually, though, he felt the floorboards below him quiver with the grind of mighty gears, and stubbed out his cigarette in preparation. It'd been a while since he'd been up here at turn of the hour, but if memory didn't deceive-
The first toll of the bell crashed over him like a cresting wave, a solid wall of sound that vibrated him from the top of his head right down to the tips of his boots. He took a breath in the quick beat of silence and then exhaled on the second toll, flexing his gloved hands against the rail. The third seemed to grind through his jaw and into the backs of his ears and seemed to go on even after silence fell, echoing out into the night sky. Daud shook it away and reached for another cigarette-
-and realized that they were no longer alone on the platform.
Billie seemed to notice at the same time, judging from the speed with which she drew her sword. There was a sucking sound of transversal as Aedan appeared behind the stranger, blade already in his hand; above them Fisher sucked in a surprised breath but held still, waiting.
Daud lit another cigarette, taking his time shaking out the match and breathing in the smoke. "The Ghost, I presume."
The stranger tipped his head in acknowledgement. His hands were loose and empty at his sides; if he was carrying a blade, Daud couldn't see it. "You were expecting someone else?"
He spoke slowly, probably to accommodate whatever injury had ground his voice so coarse, a hitching rasp that almost managed to disguise the faint Serkonan accent. He looked to be about six or seven inches taller than Daud, with a swordsman's lean build and powerful shoulders, though that last could have been an effect of his heavy overcoat. Under the shadowy edge of his hood gleamed a steel mask, worked loosely into the shape of a skull with a wire-frame mouth and lenses set into the sockets. They clicked faintly as he tilted his head, an alien mechanical noise like a beetle's call.
"Wasn't sure to expect you at all, to be honest," Daud said, exhaling a plume of smoke with deliberate casualness that belied the furious calculations running at the back of his mind. How in the Void had the bastard gotten up here without them noticing? They'd had eyes on every part of the structure, and his men weren't the type to get distracted. Even transversal couldn't have gotten him up undetected, not unless the slippery bastard had figured out some way to turn himself invisible. "Was starting to think you might not show."
"You looked like you were enjoying your smoke," the Ghost said. The set of his shoulders seemed to radiate amusement. "I didn't want to interrupt."
At his side Daud felt Billie shifting, not missing the implications of that statement any more than he had. It could have been a bluff, a reasonable deduction based on the cigarette in Daud's hand and the lingering smell of smoke, but he doubted it. The Ghost had been watching them. But how? And from where?
"Thoughtful of you," he said, deciding to let that rest for now, and stubbed out his cigarette in order to offer his hand. "Thanks for agreeing to meet."
"Welcome," the Ghost said. He had a good grip, firm without compensating, and if he was nervous to put himself in arm's reach Daud couldn't see it on his body. "You have a job for me?"
Straight to business, then. Daud could appreciate that. "Need to get inside a vault," he explained, signalling Aedan to withdraw. If the Ghost caught the soft sound of transversal behind him, he didn't show that, either. "It's new, some fancy design out of the Academy. Supposedly uncrackable."
"Rodin?" Daud nodded, moderately impressed - the man knew his craft, at least - and the masked head tilted slightly in consideration. "It's good. Not uncrackable, but good. You need it intact when you're done?"
"No, but it needs to be fast. It's a tight window, in and out."
The Ghost hummed faintly in agreement, clearly a man who liked to conserve his words. "And the target?" Daud hesitated, and the Ghost rocked back on his heels, seemingly amused again. "Come on. Who'd be fool enough to cross the Knife of Dunwall?"
The kind of fool who had the backing of a full coven behind him, if he was so inclined. But Daud couldn't think of a strong reason not to tell him, either, so he said, "Alderdice."
His shoulders loosened in recognition; either he was well-versed in Dunwall's politics, or he'd already cased it. Probably both. "The family estate? Right off the canal?"
"That's the one."
"Mhm." The Ghost was silent for a moment, clearly considering the problem. Billie shifted impatiently, then stilled again under Daud's warning look. Right now, they were being friendly. If that changed, he'd be sure to let her know.
"I can do it," the Ghost said, after a moment.
Daud couldn't help his raised eyebrow. "Just like that?"
"Have to scout the site to be sure," the Ghost said with a shrug. "But I've hit Rodins before. He's good, but I'm better."
Well, he certainly wasn't shy, that was for sure. "That mean you're willing to take the job?"
"Said I'd have to scout it first," the Ghost said, a little sharply. "I don't work blind, and I don't take jobs I can't finish."
As mottos go, Daud had definitely heard worse. "Admirable," he said, and it came out sounding only about halfway sarcastic. "So what do you need from me?"
"Blueprints, if you have them." The upward lilt of his voice was questioning; Daud nodded in reluctant assent. It wasn't much of an admission, anyway. "I'll take another look at the site first though, tell you if it can be done."
It was probably stupid, but Daud couldn't resist needling him. "Don't you mean if you can do it?"
It was impossible to tell behind the mask, but Daud thought the Ghost might be smiling. "If I can't do it, it can't be done."
Billie let out an audible snort at that, but it made Daud inclined to like him, just a bit. The Ghost hadn't been cocky about it, bragging like some jumped-up street thug with a chip on his shoulder; he'd said it with the calm arrogance of a man who knew his worth. Daud could respect that.
"We'll see about that," Daud said, and knew as he said it that he'd made up his mind. "How do I get in touch?"
"Leave word with Shandy, he knows how to reach me." The Ghost was sidling backwards, towards the edge of the platform. "I'll have an answer for you by the end of the week."
If he didn't know better, Daud would think the Ghost was fixing to jump straight over the railing. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, playing for time. The Ghost paused, head cocked in silent question, and Daud told him, "I don't work blind, either. The least you could do is give me your name."
The Ghost stood there for a long, quiet moment, the eerie blank lenses of his mask seemingly fixed on Daud's face. Then he nodded, as if accepting the fairness of the request, and said, "Corvo."
"Well met." Corvo, that was definitely a Serkonan name. Rumor said his coven had moved here from Karnaca, but Daud hadn't put much stock in that since folk tended to blame heretics on the other Isles, like Dunwall wasn't perfectly capable of growing her own. Maybe that judgement had been hasty. "I'm Daud."
"I know." There was definitely a smile lurking in his quiet voice. "I'll be in touch, Mister Daud."
And then, before Daud could think of a sufficient rejoinder, Corvo took another step back and vaulted over the railing and into the open air beyond.
Daud strangled down a shout of surprise and lunged after him, transversing to the railing between one breath and the next. But there was nothing to be seen from the other side of the platform, no flicker of transversal or dark figure clinging to the side. Just an empty night sky, broken only by a bird winging its way seaward, silhouetted against the moon.
A series of quiet pops announced that the others had joined him at the railing. "He can't have just disappeared," Fisher said, uncertain. "Can he?"
Aedan had his spyglass out and was studying the street below. "Well, he didn't go splat, at least."
"Neat trick," Billie said. "How come you never taught us that one, old man?"
"Enough," Daud growled. Speculation wasn't going to help anything. "Back to base, all of you. And I don't want to hear a word about this to the others."
"Sir," they murmured obediently, and transversed off, Billie giving him a sardonic look as she went. It wouldn't stop them from gossiping, of course, but it might slow them down a little. Enough to keep them off his back while he worked.
The next time they met, Daud intended to be better informed as to exactly who - and what - he was dealing with.
By the time word came back that the Ghost wanted to meet, Daud had managed to put together a reasonably thorough dossier.
The rumors about Serkonos turned out to have been true: the coven had gotten its start in Karnaca, and had only fled to Dunwall because the Overseers were on their tail. And not from the usual trail of bodies, either. No, they'd built up quite a racket down south, peddling miracles to the rich and foolish, and they'd been successful enough that eventually the Abbey couldn't afford not to notice. They seemed to have learned their lesson on that front, at least, judging by the fact that they'd been here more than a year and Daud had to go looking for information when he wanted it. In fact, even his most useful informants couldn't turn up more than a few names, and of those only two appeared with any frequency: the Ghost, and the coven's leader, a witch they called the Black Rose of Bastillian.
If Corvo was something of a cipher, his mistress was very nearly an enigma. Daud couldn't find anyone who was willing to admit they'd met her in person. She wasn't even from Bastillian, as far as anyone could tell; rumor said she was Morleyan, but they said that about every white woman in Karnaca, so who the fuck knew. She was supposedly some kind of brilliant alchemist - self-taught, presumably, since he couldn't find any record of her ever attending the Academy - who claimed to 'push the boundaries of the possible' by mixing magic and philosophy. Which sounded like a bunch of horse shit to Daud, but she'd amassed quite a following with it, and to the best of his knowledge not a one of them had ever flipped. Whatever else you could say about this Rose, she certainly had a gift for inspiring loyalty.
Still, whoever she was and wherever she came from, there was one thing that was clear: any real magic the coven held, beyond all the smoke and mirrors and snake oil, came from her. And while there were a handful of reasons that might be the case, the most obvious - and most likely, knowing the Outsider and his sense of humor - was that she was Marked. And that wasn't exactly good news for Daud's peace of mind. Heretics were rarely lacking in ambition, and in Dunwall that ambition had an unfortunate tendency to fix itself on Daud. That it had been more than a year without so much as a peep from their direction wasn't the comfort he'd have liked it to be; it was just as likely they'd been using the time to build up their strength.
Problem was, knowing that didn't change anything, not really. Whether this was the first step of a move against him or just an uneasy coincidence, the only way for Daud to figure it out was to let it play out. So when Shandy got back to him with details for a meet, Daud gathered a squad and the promised blueprints and headed out to find out which.
The address was in the heart of the Old Port district, squarely in the middle of coven territory. Which certainly didn't seem to bode well for the Ghost's peaceful intentions, but in fairness could have just been his way of retaliating for Daud's previous choice of meeting. Daud got there early and set up his men within easy reach of his summons, then took Billie and headed down into the pub.
Inside it was noisy and crowded, filled with what looked like a whaling crew fresh off the boat. Daud went to the back to secure a table while Billie made a beeline for the bar. The likelihood that someone would recognize him here was low, and even lower that someone would be fool enough to call for the Watch, but he wasn't inclined to take any chances. A glare and a flipped coin was enough to scare a lone drunk out of the chair in the corner, and Daud took a seat with his back to the wall, scanning the room with a practiced eye. He wouldn't know Corvo's face, of course, but he thought he'd probably be able to pick him out of a crowd anyway, just from the set of his shoulders and the ready way he held himself.
"Don't bother," Billie said, appearing out of the crowd with two overfull mugs and a disgusted expression. "The bartender gave me this."
'This' turned out to be a scrawled note, which read Top floor -C in a blocky tradesman's hand. Daud looked up at Billie with a raised eyebrow, and she tipped her shoulder in a shrug.
"His hands were bare. If he's one of theirs he's not marked. Probably just a local in their pocket."
Made sense; Daud did the same in his own territory. He nodded at Billie and shouldered his way back to the front, depositing his mug on a random table near the door. Outside the air was cool and still, the noise from the pub dulled to a muted roar, and Daud slipped around the corner to a convenient bit of shadow before transversing up the side of the ruined tower by the river's edge.
Monty and Finn were waiting, hands on their hilts. "Change of plans," Daud said, before they could ask. "We're meeting on the top floor."
"Attic," Finn confirmed immediately. "Mostly empty, looks like they use it as a meeting room. No one's been up there since we got here."
Daud nodded at the building, where a light was now glowing in the window. "Looks like someone's up there now."
As Finn winced, a tall silhouette moved in front of the window and opened it. Daud pulled on the void and sharpened his gaze: aside from the expected scattering of weapons, there was something metal in the sleeves that might have been a picker's rig and the dense green glow of a mask. Corvo.
"Hold position," he told the boys, and jerked his chin at Billie. She nodded and pulled on her mask, and they transversed across together.
If the Ghost was surprised to find a pair of assassins appear out of thin air in front of him, Daud couldn't see it on his body. He'd shed the heavy winter woolen of last time in favor of a sturdy canvas splitcoat, and his hood was pushed back, revealing thick dark hair just starting to go gray at the temples. He wore a crossbow hanging from one side of his belt, and an empty hilt from the other, strapped at an angle like it was a regular sword. Daud gave it a narrow-eyed look, but decided to leave that mystery for later and instead offered a nod of greeting. "Corvo."
"Daud," Corvo returned agreeably. His voice was just as unsettling as Daud remembered, coming as it did from that silent steel scream of a mask. It wasn't hard to guess how he'd earned his moniker. "And- Billie Lurk?"
Alright, so I'm not the only one who's been doing his homework. "My lieutenant," Daud introduced, with a careless wave of his hand. At least Corvo wasn't likely to offer up the usual protests about a woman in this line of work, given his own situation. "We waiting on anyone from your end?"
It was hard to tell with the mask, but Daud thought Corvo might have been amused. "No one else," he said. "I usually work alone."
Daud couldn't resist giving him a look for that gambit. "I'm flattered you're considering an exception," he said, a little dryly. "And I assume you wouldn't have called me here if you didn't have something. You finish your scouting expedition?"
"I did."
Daud wasn't sure whether to be amused or irritated. Mostly irritated. "And can you do it, or are we all just wasting our time here?"
"Depends," Corvo said evenly, not rising to the provocation. "You bring me the blueprints?"
If he was planning an ambush, he was sure as fuck taking his time about it. Daud reached into his coat, noting as he did so the subtle flex of tension that drew Corvo up onto his toes. Daud had no doubt that if he'd drawn out anything but the roll of parchment the reaction would've been quick and violent, but as it was Corvo only took the blueprints with a murmur of thanks and moved away to the table. Billie moved up at Daud's look, holding down one side when Corvo unrolled it and pinning the corners with the weights scattered at the table's corner. Daud waited a few beats and then moved up on Corvo's other side, peering over his shoulder.
If Corvo was bothered to be flanked by a pair of assassins he didn't let it show, just traced a thick calloused finger down the faint line of a hallway, unerringly going right to the vault entrance. Daud wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, since he obviously hadn't been lying about scouting the place himself, but he must have found it because after a moment he gave a grunt of satisfaction and straightened.
"It could work," he said, almost to himself. "Depends, though. Are you just there for the vault, or Alderdice, too?" When Daud hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to reveal with things still unsettled, Corvo made an impatient noise, the first sign of dissatisfaction he'd shown so far. "I don't give a shit about some noble's slit throat. I told you, I don't work blind."
"His sister," Daud admitted, after a moment. It was a fair enough question. "She's moving into his guest house. Divorce," he added at Corvo's look.
"Good for business," Corvo agreed. Well, that probably applied at least as much to his line of work as Daud's. "Guess they've got some idea what the husband's planning, though. Saw double patrols when I was scouting, guards on every balcony. Lots of ways for it to go sideways."
He wasn't wrong, particularly, but it took a lot of damn nerve to lecture a man like Daud on his own damn business. "We can handle that," Daud said, with only barely suppressed impatience. "What about you, can you crack that vault or not?"
"I can get through the lock. But I'll need at least five minutes uninterrupted." Corvo nodded at the blueprint, one neatly trimmed nail tapping the choke point at the end of the hall. "Is that something you can ensure?"
Daud made an ambivalent noise in the back of his throat, thinking of Corvo's question about whether or not the lock needed to stay intact when he was done. "Not if you're going to make a bunch of noise blowing the door."
Corvo was already shaking his head before he'd even finished speaking. "The process I use isn't loud, just delicate," he explained. "And once I get started, I can't stop until it's done." He looked up, the blank lenses of his mask fixed on Daud's face. "If it's not something you can do, better to count me out now."
Daud bit back a grunt of irritation - it was a fair point - and studied the blueprints again, doing some fast calculations. It'd be a lot easier if they could clear the guards first, but the client wanted a clean hit, and the grounds were too tightly patrolled to risk crossing it more than once. If he split the squad, though, sent two in after the target and the rest to clear the basement…
"I can do it," he said finally. Billie was giving him a dubious look over Corvo's shoulder, obvious even through her mask, but Daud ignored it, focused on Corvo. This didn't feel like the first step of an ambush, but he couldn't let go of the tension that itched at the back of his neck. Witches just didn't play nicely with others, not when they could use and discard them instead. "But what about you? That's a lot of trust for you to put in a stranger."
"No less than you, I think." There was a kind of rueful tension in his hoarse voice, a match to the wariness drawing his body tight like a bow. Maybe Daud wasn't the only one who'd considered this might be a trap. "I appreciate the concern, Mister Daud, but I can take care of myself."
Daud almost wanted to smile. "You know, I've heard that about you."
Something about the angle of Corvo's head seemed to indicate there was an answering smile lurking behind his mask. "So, I'm willing to risk it if you are," he concluded. "Your job, your call."
Daud exchanged a look with Billie. They could get into the vault on their own, probably, but not easily and certainly not quietly. A different thief might have less motivation to cross him, but might not handle the more sorcerous aspects of the Whalers' work, either. And Corvo hadn't been the one to set this up. If this was a trap, it was a needlessly elaborate one. Daud couldn't say he knew much about Corvo, but 'needlessly elaborate' didn't seem to be his style.
"You know," he said slowly, watching Corvo's hands and shoulders as much as the blank faceplate of his mask, "my mother always warned me - never trust a witch."
"Then it's a good thing I'm not a witch," Corvo replied easily, and offered his hand. "Do we have a deal?"
Daud hesitated only a second longer. Then he reached out and clasped Corvo's hand in his.
"A deal," he agreed. "C'mon, then, let's talk payment."
Nine days later they gathered on the edge of the estate district, Daud and a handpicked squad of four, with Connor manning the boat. Corvo wasn't with them, which had been a topic of some debate back at the base. Billie thought it was a stupid risk to take, that he was an untested quality that might fail to show up and blow the whole job. Daud thought that Corvo didn't seem to have any problem finding his way into and out noble's houses whenever the fuck he felt like it, and what did she want them to do, carry him around by force? That'd be an embarrassing way to start a war with his coven, for sure. In the end they'd agreed to disagree, but Billie still looked unhappy about it as they climbed into the boat.
"I'm not saying he's planning to cross us," she muttered, low enough that the others couldn't hear. "I'm just saying, what if he fucks up? The client needs those papers, we're not getting paid for this job without it."
"I've got acid and explosive bolts in my pack," Daud replied, equally low. "It might not be quiet, but we'll get it done one way or another. Focus on your job and stop worrying about mine."
Billie gave him a frustrated look he could read even through her mask, but she dropped it and moved up with the others, which was all he could ask. He tolerated a certain amount of insubordination from Billie because her criticisms were generally useful, but there were limits. And since the plan was already in motion and there wasn't much to be done about it now, she was complaining just to complain. He'd rather have the silence.
They split up at the water's edge, Billie and Rulfio cutting around the outside toward the garden wall while Daud led the rest of the squad up to the main house. The entrance to the vault was down in the basement, with no exterior exits on that level, but the stairway down was off the same hallway as the laundry, and that's where Corvo had agreed to meet them. Daud had of course scouted several alternate entrances in case Billie was right and Corvo let them down, but why go to the effort of breaking in when you could have someone open the door?
Daud signaled for Vladko and Quinn to wait at the hedge and approached the servants quarter alone, sticking to high ground and keeping a weather eye on the upper balconies. When he'd gotten close enough to the house that it was in range of his vision he pulled the void over his eyes and crept up to the laundry, scanning for any inhabitants.
Nothing but a void-damned rat.
Daud cursed softly to himself and flattened against the wall, trying to calculate how long he had before Billie and Rulfio got into position. The balcony off Alderdice's study was the closest to the stairway, but also the most likely to be occupied, which would force them to backtrack. He could try and force the laundry door, but if he made too much noise he'd get the attention of the guard patrolling the garden-
A soft whistle pulled his attention back to the laundry, where the door now stood open. Corvo stood on the other side, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the doorway and the familiar macabre leer of his mask glowing green in Daud's sight.
Daud cursed again, this time in mingled relief and irritation, and followed him into the cool soap-scented dark of the laundry. "You cut that a little close," he growled, tugging at the Bond to let the others know it was safe to follow. "Thought for a moment there you'd left us to the dogs."
"I told you, I don't take jobs I can't finish." There was a knapsack slung over his shoulder, hanging heavy with bundles that gleamed a sickly blue-purple in Daud's void-sight, and the strange empty hilt was back on his belt. Daud eyed the latter warily: it was obviously a weapon, even if he couldn't figure out exactly how. More witchcraft, probably.
"How'd you get in here, anyway?"
"Flew," Corvo said absently. Daud glared at the side of his head, but Corvo wasn't paying attention; he was straightening up to the door, his hand dropping to the hilt. A moment later the soft pop of transversal announced Quinn and Vladko's arrival, and Corvo relaxed, stepping back to allow them past. "Is this all of you?"
"The other two are taking care of the sister," Daud said, because trying to shake answers out of the bastard was probably unproductive. "Probably as we speak, so we need to get moving."
Corvo merely looked silently back at him, one of his lenses clicking faintly in the socket in a way that seemed almost sardonic. "After you."
The journey down the steps was moderately more fraught than it might have been otherwise: they couldn't transverse without leaving Corvo behind, and while they were all being friendly Daud had the feeling that anyone who tried to haul him over their shoulder would be drawing back a stump. But the Ghost was just as quick and quiet as his namesake, and they made it to the basement without drawing any unfriendly attention.
Quinn and Vladko fanned out at Daud's look, flickering in and out down the hall as they checked the rooms. Corvo waited patiently, watchful and quiet at Daud's elbow, for them to return and signal the all-clear. If anyone was left in the basement, they'd be waking up tomorrow with sore heads and none the wiser.
"Keep watch," Daud told them, low-voiced. "Nobody in or out."
"Sir," they chorused, and split up. Daud jerked his head at Corvo.
"You're up, Ghost."
Corvo nodded and strode to the storeroom, stepping absently over the unconscious servant Quinn had left sprawled in the doorway and making a beeline straight for the enormous steel door set into the far wall. He knelt in front of the wheel lock in the center and started unloading things from his knapsack: small vials, bundles of powder, and what looked for all the world like a small stone mixing bowl.
Daud eyed the spread with disfavor. "You couldn't have cooked that up before we came?"
"Very much no." Corvo moved unerringly despite the dim light, combining two of the powders in the bowl and adding a thin stream of what smelled like whale oil with a steady hand. The contents gave an alarming hiss and startled to bubble angrily, and then quieted at a very precise three drops from one of the other vials.
Corvo let out a short breath, almost like he'd been holding it, and pulled out a paintbrush. Daud watched with unwilling fascination as he gave the mixture a quick but vigorous stir and started painting a series of incomprehensible symbols directly onto the door, working in a circle around the outer edge of the wheel lock.
"Pretty work," Daud said, not bothering to hide his skepticism.
"It's not done yet." Corvo picked up one of the other bundles with his right hand, stripping the glove from his left with his teeth as he did so. Daud caught the faintest edge of shadow on the back of his hand, and then Corvo was tipping it over to pour the powder into his cupped palm. He closed his eyes, seeming to center himself, then took a deep breath, brought his hand to his lips, and exhaled in one steady, controlled rush.
The powder blew outwards like dandelion fluff and seemed to hover in the air for one long instant before it settled across the painted steel. The symbols began to glow faintly, and Corvo let out a grunt of effort and closed his left hand into a fist. The back was indeed Marked, a dark smudgy shadow not unlike the more talented among his Whalers, and after a moment it began to glow a faint blue-purple to match the symbols on the door.
The temperature in the room immediately dropped about fifteen degrees.
"Two minutes," Corvo said, through gritted teeth. Whatever sorcery he was channeling through his gifted Mark, it clearly wasn't done without cost. "Three at most."
"Understood." Even from the door Daud could feel the cold emanating from the rune-marks, and as he watched a delicate tracery of frost started to crawl inwards towards the lock. "You need anything else?"
"Quiet," snarled Corvo, so Daud shrugged and left him to it. He recalled Quinn and left her on the door to watch Attano's back while he was occupied, then did a quick patrol around the basement, checking for stragglers as the clock ticked down in the back of his head. Billie and Rulfio had finished their half of the job already; if he concentrated he could sense them working their way back to the canal, a smear of movement on the outer edge of his perception. Patrol on that part of the estate was tight: every half hour, of which they had twenty-three minutes before the next pass. Attano would be finished in less than a minute and a half, assuming he wasn't lying, the trip back to the canal should be only four, which left them just over seventeen minutes to search the vault for Alderdice's papers in order to be gone when their incursion was discovered. The client had wanted a clean job and was willing to pay extra for the privilege, so if at all possible he'd like to be done in ten-
Voices. Not coming down the steps, which would be bad enough, but from the far end of the hall, already in the basement, how in the Void did they get down here? He'd literally just checked for fuck's sake, there was no way they were already down here-
-unless they'd been in the wine cellar which was too heavy for his vision to penetrate and for fuck's sake Vlad I told you to double check-
Too late now. They were rounding the corner, three of them, off-duty guards by the look of them, obviously well in their cups already and laughing, flushed with drink and the pleasure of sticking it to their boss. He could avoid their notice - they hadn't spotted him yet - but he couldn't risk the chance they'd try their luck in the store room for a stolen snack to go with their stolen wine. They were clustered tight enough to make it tricky to take them out without spilling blood. He could try throwing some chokedust but couldn't guarantee one of them wouldn't get off a shout. Simpler to just drop them, but there was that bonus to consider-
Before Daud could decide, a fucking wolfhound rounded the corner, huge and dark and moving at full tilt, paws scrabbling for purchase against the slick floor. Daud didn't bother wondering where this one had come from; he only cursed and closed his fist, agony spiking up his arm as he hauled the world to a stop around him.
The hound didn't stop with it.
It bowled into the frozen guard at full speed, a snarling blur of black fur and white teeth. The guard hit the ground with a flail of limbs that turned into a spasm as the hound's muzzle closed around his neck and wrenched, ripping through the vulnerable white flesh of his throat. Blood splashed upwards and froze, suspended in time as the hound gathered itself once more and leapt, launching itself at the second guard with a surge of its powerful haunches. At the apex of its leap it dissolved into a cloud of inky black Void-smoke, resolving between one breath and the next into a lean human form, hood back and mask gleaming in the lamplight.
What in the Void-
Corvo hit the second guard's chest feet-first, riding his flailing body down to the ground as he pulled the hilt from his belt. He flipped it over his wrist, extending it out into a full fucking sword with a quiet chime of steel, and brought it down through the second guard's eye with a single dispassionate thrust. He pulled out his blade, stepped nimbly away from the resulting fountain of blood, and spun on one heel to face the third guard, blade snapping out with brutal precision. The smoky lantern light perfectly captured his startled expression as Corvo severed his head from his body.
The world wrenched back into time with an almost audible snap. The twin arcs of blood hit the wall just as the guard's head hit the ground. The rest of him followed a split second later, accompanied by the wheezing rasp of the second guard's death rattle. The whole thing had taken perhaps six seconds.
"Hmm," Corvo said, looking from the belated blood splatter back to Daud. "That's new."
"You could say that again," Daud growled. The bastard wasn't even breathing hard, for fuck's sake. But as unbelievable as that had been, they had other priorities at the moment. "The vault?"
"Open." Corvo drew his sword across the crook of his elbow, first one side then the other. "Your men are searching it now." With the worst of the blood wiped away, he triggered the mechanism and flipped it back around his hand, folding it back down into the hilt.
Daud very badly wanted to get his hands on it and figure out how it worked - the blade didn't even seem to have a seam - but that was going to have to be a conversation for later. "That's fast work. You live up to your reputation."
"Likewise," Corvo said, a smile in his ruined voice. "Can think of a few times that might've come in handy."
"Likewise," Daud echoed. Nobody looked twice at a stray, even a big rangy fellow like that. "Is it just the hound, or-"
Corvo wasn't listening; he'd straightened abruptly, his head cocked toward the end of the hall. "There's someone coming down the stairs."
Senses stronger even in human form, Daud noted, tucking the fact away in his back pocket even as he pulled the void over his eyes and tipped his head to peer up through the stone. A slim figure, no weapons, a metal square gleaming green in his sight. A servant. Daud nodded at Corvo and flickered away, transversing in behind her with arm extended. He choked her out carefully, catching her tray with his free hand to prevent a betraying clatter. She gave a muted gasp and went limp in his arms, and he eased both her and her tray to the ground, checking her pulse to make sure she was out before he transversed back to the vault.
The door stood open, as promised, a gaping hole where the lock should be standing as silent testimony to Corvo's effectiveness. Daud touched one of the jagged spikes of sheared metal and felt cold bite at him even through the glove; a single twist and it snapped in his fingers like a matchstick. He looked up to see Corvo efficiently rifling through a stack of framed portraits while the others searched through the cabinets.
"Any luck?"
"Found one," Quinn said. "Vlad's doing the second cabinet now."
"Good. Grab whatever looks sellable, we just shot our bonus."
"Sir," Quinn said, and pivoted to the chest, which looked like it had already been visited by Corvo's dubious attentions. The man himself tipped his shoulder in acknowledgement when Daud pivoted to look at him, his head tilted at what looked like an apologetic angle as he selected a portrait from the stack.
"You had it well in hand. I wouldn't have interfered if I'd known."
"It's fine. I probably would have had to drop them anyway." Daud moved to hold the frame steady as Corvo knelt in front of it, earning an appreciative nod. "Neat trick you've got there, by the way. Can everyone in your coven do that?"
"No," Corvo said, slicing the canvas from its frame with a practiced hand. "I'm special."
"Mmhm, and so humble too." Daud took the painting Corvo handed him - one of Sokolov's early works, the thief had a good eye - and rolled it up carefully. "Earlier, when you said you 'flew-'"
"Got it!" Vladko said. Quinn was loading up her pockets with a handful of what looked like emeralds; Daud handed the rolled canvas back to Corvo and caught the case Vladko tossed him.
"Good work, both of you. Let's get out of here."
Corvo was right behind them on the stairway up, Daud would swear it on every bone in his body, but somehow by the time they slipped through the laundry door he was gone. Daud cursed internally but shook his head at Quinn and Vladko when they hesitated; Corvo could clearly take care of himself. If he wanted to go out the same way he got in, that was no skin off Daud's nose.
Billie and Rulfio were already waiting, just as Daud had predicted. She looked past him as they transversed into the boat. "The Ghost?"
"Found his own way out." Daud nodded to Connor. "Get us out of here."
"Sir."
Billie was still frowning at him. "There's blood on your sleeve. Everything go alright down there?"
"Had to drop a few guards," Daud said, electing not to mention that Corvo had been the one to do the deed. Daud probably would've done the same in his shoes, and the rest could wait until they'd gotten a payout to sweeten her disposition a little. "Picked up a few things to compensate for the lost bonus, though."
"Fuck," she said resignedly, but the sight of the emeralds seemed to cheer her somewhat. "How'd your thief make it into the vault, anyway?"
"Fuckin' froze it," Vladko said, before Daud could answer. He almost sounded impressed. "Smashed right through a half-foot of metal with one good blow."
Billie cocked her head at an angle that meant she was raising her eyebrow behind the mask. "So the witch made himself useful after all," she said to Daud, low-voiced.
"You don't know the half of it." The head-cock deepened another few degrees, and he shook his head. "Tell you about it back at base. Let's just say I've got a good idea how the Ghost made it off that clock tower."
"...alright," Billie said slowly, and withdrew to the front of the boat. Daud sighed and dropped down into the seat, letting some of his tension dissipate into the cool night air. Tonight had gone, if not smoothly, then at least well, he decided. You could never plan your way past every contingency, but they'd handled things and kept the job moving, which was all you could ask. Mostly down to Corvo, honestly. When Billie complained about it later - and she would - Daud planned to remind her of the fact.
It took a few days for Daud to collect the payment and find a fence for the emeralds, but Corvo didn't seem to be in any hurry, setting a meet nearly two full weeks after the job was done. Daud used the extra time to review the scant intel he had on the Ghost's previous jobs, matching a few previously improbable details to new possibilities. He'd known that shape-shifting existed, of course; he'd heard some stories about Granny Rags and her rats, and he'd run across a few bone charms that could do the same with flies and such. But to become an animal between one breath and the next, and then to return to human seeming just as quickly, still fully dressed and fully armed… that was new even to him.
More concerning, though, was his apparent immunity to Daud's own powers. Only the most gifted of the Whalers were able to walk through his pockets of bent time, and they were bound directly to his Mark. In Daud's experience it was only the Outsider's chosen who were immune to each other's gifts, but he'd seen Corvo's hand himself and that wasn't a true-born Mark. His bond with his mistress must be powerful indeed.
The meet was in the heart of Draper's Ward, neutral territory for the both of them. Daud was a bit curious to see how Corvo would handle a crowded bar - surely he couldn't wear that mask all the time - but he wasn't destined to find out today, because Corvo met them on a rooftop. Or more accurately, met him: Daud had come alone, without even Billie for backup. She hadn't been quiet about her disapproval for that, either, but Corvo had been courteous enough with his choice of location so it only seemed fair to return the favor. And besides, if things went sideways, time wasn't the only thing he could hold in the palm of his hand. Corvo was good, but Daud knew how his magic worked now, and he was confident he could counter it if necessary.
It didn't seem like Corvo was inclined to make it necessary. When Daud got there he was lounging on a rusted steam vent, leaning back in his hands with his hood pushed back, the picture of nonchalance. Daud almost wanted to laugh. The bastard knew exactly what he looked like.
"You're early."
"You kept complaining about my timing." There was a smirk in Corvo's voice to match the one on his body. "Thought you were trying to drop a subtle hint."
"That your idea of subtle?"
"No," Corvo said patiently, like talking to a small child, "but I figured it was yours."
Daud did give in and laugh this time. "Anyone ever tell you you're an asshole?"
The masked head tilted. "Usually not to my face."
Daud almost made a joke about his mask, but figured that was probably what Corvo was angling for and damned if he'd give the bastard the satisfaction. "You have any trouble fencing the painting?" he asked instead.
Corvo shook his head and sat up, shedding the studied nonchalance for a businesslike briskness that was starting to feel familiar. "Won't even try for a few months yet. Need the right buyer, and I can afford to wait. How about you, make out alright on those emeralds?"
"Well enough," Daud said dryly, and tossed him a coin pouch. Corvo caught it one-handed and measured the heft in the palm of his hand. "Won't take it personally if you want to count it."
"No need," and Corvo made it disappear with an easy twist of his wrist. "If you were going to stiff me you'd just shoot me and save yourself the coin."
"Don't worry, I don't work for free."
"Admirable," Corvo said solemnly, a smile in his voice. "Meant to ask, you get any guff from your client over the guards I dropped?"
Daud shrugged one shoulder. "Wasn't thrilled, but not going to make trouble over it." Billie hadn't been thrilled either, by far the more annoying of the two conversations, but that wasn't Corvo's business nor his problem. "We made out alright."
"Mhm. Glad to hear it. Still, this might help sweeten the sting."
Daud took the slim portfolio Corvo handed him, unwinding the catch and frowning down at the sheaf of papers contained within. "What's this?"
"Went through Alderdice's office safe on the way out. No, I didn't pick it," he added, at Daud's faintly skeptical look. "Maid tipped me he had the combination on the back of the Sokolov painting. Figured it'd be a nice bonus if we made good time."
Daud rolled his eyes - should've known the bastard was up to something there - and rifled quickly through the documents. Even on a brief skim he recognized a few names not often seen together, enough to know he held a fair bit of very dirty business in his hands. Billie would be thrilled. "Nice find. How much you want for it?"
Corvo shook his head. "We already took what we needed, the rest is better off with someone who can make use of it. Call it an apology for jamming my oar in before."
Daud raised an eyebrow as he slowly folded the papers back into the binder. "Pretty generous for an apology I didn't ask for."
"You strike me as a man who takes his business seriously - well, so do I. And I don't like making mistakes." Corvo exhaled sharply and ran his hands through his hair, maybe the most unguarded gesture Daud had seen him make. When his hands dropped to his lap, there was something rueful in the slumped line of his shoulders. "I did warn you I'm used to working alone."
"That you did," Daud murmured. It said something, that Corvo's first reflex when something had gone wrong was to step in and handle it himself. One thing Daud had learned over the years: you could teach a man to hold a sword, even to use it, but you couldn't teach him not to flinch. Corvo hadn't flinched. "Does your coven not help out?"
Corvo tipped his shoulder in a shrug. "Not really their line of work," he said vaguely. "Anyway, I just wanted to make sure we were square, no hard feelings."
"None from me," Daud assured him. "You did good work - fast, clean, and quiet. If you're ever interested in more, let me know. I could use someone like you."
"Already spoken for," Corvo drawled, though he seemed more amused than anything. "But I'm always looking for work. You have a job that needs a thief, you know where to find me."
"And if you need an extra blade, you know where to find me," Daud told him, and offered his hand. "Good doing business with you, Corvo."
"Likewise," Corvo said, and shook firmly. "Walk with the Void, Daud."
This time Corvo didn't make a show of vaulting off into thin air; instead he stood at the edge and seemed to stretch up, the edges of him going hazy before he dissolved into the formless mass of black smoke. It compressed down into a small figure: a bird, wings spread in flight, feathers black and gleaming in the lantern-light. A crow.
Daud watched as it circled once, either in farewell or just showing off, before it turned on a wingtip and flapped away toward the river.
"Well, now I've seen everything," he sighed, and tucked the papers away in his coat. Time he headed home to find out what Billie would have to say about this little development.