31. Bloody Den

Alistair had made a very stupid mistake.

He had never seriously considered that one of his enemies might have a similar class to Shade’s, or at least a skill that let them remain unnoticed until they came too close. He could not know whether considering that possibility earlier would have changed anything. But if he had considered it, he would have kept a tighter connection between Escapee and Misgiver. A warning even a breath earlier might have stopped the blade from pressing against the clone’s throat.

At least it was only Escapee. The clone had already done his part by opening the door, so losing that body was acceptable; losing the whole operation was not.

Spread across multiple bodies, Alistair reacted almost instantly. He saw the cloaked figure from multiple angles, near and far, and even then he did not dare move Shade. The hidden attacker could be waiting for that. If not, keeping Shade unseen for one more moment still had value.

Escapee did not answer. Instead, he threw himself backward into the attacker, ruining her balance and forcing the struggle to turn badly for both of them. The blade still moved. It cut across his throat in a fatal line. The pain came intense and immediate, but Alistair held onto part of it. He held it long enough to make use of it.

He pushed the panic, shock, and dying urgency through the shared connection and into Survivor.

Survivor’s Improvise caught the moment. The woman fell awkwardly because Escapee’s collapsing body dropped on her. She hit the ground under awkward weight instead of landing cleanly, and that single detail gave Alistair the opening he needed. Survivor rushed in low, dropped onto hands and knees for leverage, and buried the dagger straight into her throat before she could twist into a shout.

The sound that came out never became more than a wet, muffled grunt.

Alistair froze everything else. He held the dagger there, kept Survivor still, and did not even let the clone lift his head. Seven other sets of eyes were already watching every angle around the house, the yard, the lane, the shadows between buildings, and the nearest windows. If anyone had heard the struggle, they would come now.

No one came.

The woman thrashed for a while, then weakened, then stopped.

After she stopped, Alistair allowed himself a slow breath. He still did not know who she was. She was not on his list, and as far as he knew, she was not among the five gang members inside. That fact bothered him. Remorse had nothing to do with it. The problem was that he had been missing a piece. She could have been a lover, a watcher, an ally, or something else entirely. Innocent? He doubted it. An innocent person would not approach a stranger with a blade resting against his throat. But she had not been part of his plan either.

Dwelling on it would only cost time. Once he was sure no one was coming, he sent a clone outside the village to begin the relay for a fresh replacement body. He did not care about the extra wait. An hour lost was better than entering the house one body short. Every clone counted now.

By the time the replacement arrived and the count returned to nine, Alistair had calmed and could think clearly again.

The door was already unlocked.

Shade went first. He slipped through the entrance and into the former chief’s house without sound. The lower floor smelled of drink, grease, and smoke. The front room had been turned into a common den, with a heavy table, mismatched chairs, overturned cups, and bits of cards still scattered where they had been dropped.

The lower floor was empty of sleepers. That simplified things.

The stairs rose from the rear of the common room, and from there the real layout became clearer. The house had five rooms on the lower level if he counted the kitchen, storage, common room, back room, and what had once been the chief’s office. Upstairs there were three actual bedchambers. Seeker entered next and used the mental images Alistair had built from observation to map the sleeping positions.

The answer came back quickly. Two men slept in one room, two more in another, and one slept alone.

Surprisingly, not a single bedroom door was locked.

Alistair hesitated for only a few breaths before deciding on the approach. Divide and conquer. It would strain his control, but much less than facing all five together would. The man sleeping alone was the leader, and by every instinct Alistair had, he was also the most dangerous. So he chose his lineups carefully.

For the leader’s room, he sent Shade, Carver, and Survivor. He did not need his heaviest combination there if the man was alone. Keeping Shade hidden in the room showed proper respect for the danger.

For the second room, where he expected the stronger pair, he sent Rattler, Cadencer, and Seeker. Seeker was the weakest hand there in a fight, but he still had reach, and Cadencer, though not a pure combat class, could keep himself together under movement better than other clones.

For the last room, he sent Roughhand, the refreshed Escapee, and Misgiver. Escapee still offered little in a fight, but Misgiver’s warnings could bridge much of the gap.

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The approach was simple. Surprise would do the first half of the work, and speed would do the rest. If the leader fell quickly, whatever remained could be crushed by numbers.

Now, with proper weapons in hand, Alistair felt more confident in assigning value to each clone. Spear where reach mattered, knife for precision, and baton where disruption mattered.

The next minute unfolded in a tense contradiction. He needed the clones to move quickly, but he also needed the bedroom doors opened without waking the others. Every step felt both too slow and too rushed.

He stretched his attention across all three fronts and held himself ready for the first sign of trouble. If one man woke in one room, the others would not be far behind.

The doors opened in near-perfect synchrony. The precision lasted only a heartbeat.

The first problem came exactly where he expected it. One of the men in the second room sat up in alarm before the clones were even fully through the threshold.

Everything moved at once.