Hello neighbor," said Wynic casually to the innkeeper of the Scorpion's Tail. The place wasn't half as bad as the ones Wynic remembered from growing up in Avolic; the innkeeper actually wiped the mugs with a filthy rag instead of just reusing them without wiping them. "I'm looking for a carpenter. He has black hair, brown eyes and a scar across his right cheek," he said, using the underground references to an assassin. A cutthroat was an apprentice. The assassin took out a shiny platinum coin and laid it on the rotting bar.

The innkeeper stared at the coin, shrugged and pocketed the coin greedily. "He's in the second door on the right out back."

"Lead the way," said Wynic, taking out another coin.

"Yessar," slurred the greedy innkeep, pushing a busty barmaid out of his way. He eyed the ten minotaurs, which flanked Wynic with suspicion, but eagerly led the way. "Second door on the right," he pointed down the hallway next to the bar.

Wynic tossed the innkeep the coin and the watched him disappear around the corner, and back into the barroom. "Nebonex, stay out of sight, and control your temper. Gisoni knock him unconscious if necessary," warned Wynic, without further communication he turned the knob, and walked calmly in.

"Do you mind? I'm busy," came the muffled voice underneath a pile of cotton sheets, and straw pillows.

"I want to hire you to kill Lord Blackaxe. What's your usual fee?" lied Wynic, sitting down in a rickety chair.

"Now you have my attention! The fee is negotiable, but I insist on knowing the reason before accepting a job."

"He's my elder brother, and I want the estate and army," replied Wynic, noticing an assortment of wine bottles in one corner. "Do you mind if me and my men help ourselves to some wine?"

"Go right ahead," said the man, his head emerging from beneath the cotton sheets. Redhawk heard the faint rumbling in Wynic's chest and failed to look up at the man's face.

"First things, first. What's your name?" asked Wynic, the rumbling growing.

"Pothax Doxon, sometimes called the Owl of the Underworld, elder half brother of Wynic Doxon himself," said the man, stepping out from beneath the covers, wearing a pair of dirty white pants, and two scimitars, one buckled on either side of his waist.

The minotaurs weren't prepared to restrain Wynic, but Redhawk was. He quickly grabbed hold of Wynic, and pinned his arms behind his back.

Pothax jumped back defensively and drew both scimitars in a flash.

"Let me kill the lying bastard," Wynic screamed at Redhawk, accompanied by vile threats and oaths. "I'll rip his guts out, and drown him in it, with my bare hands!" roared Wynic, struggling and kicking at Redhawk.

"Who hired you to kill the Emperor?" yelled Gisoni. The minotaurs cornering the assassin against the wall.

"His brother Kobalix hired me," yelled Pothax, a low rumbling coming from his chest. This time it was Nebonex who lost his temper and Gisoni followed Wynic's earlier instructions and knocked Nebonex unconscious with the pommel of longsword.

Pothax reached behind him and pivoted a stone in the wall. The wall slid away revealing an gloomy passageway. "Com'on ye whore, lets go!" shouted Pothax, stepping quickly through the opening.

A whore, her breasts bouncing against her chest, leapt out from under the cotton sheets and sprinted across the room to join her employer. She drew a dirk from a sheath strapped to her thigh and sent it spinning end over end at Gisoni. The huge minotaur knocked the blade away with ease.

"Brother!" screamed Wynic, finally breaking free from Redhawk. He ran across the room only to slam into a brick wall. Scrambling, he found the pivot rock and regained his composure. "Gisoni, carry Nebonex. Com'on, we have to catch him," he shouted to the minotaurs, drawing his sword as the wall slid open.

Gisoni glanced, unsure, at Redhawk. He didn't say anything, but his face showed his true feelings now. He was scared.

"Let's go," shouted Redhawk, hurrying after Wynic. The minotaurs followed a bit uncertain, but eager to catch the Emperor's assassin.

Victoria followed tentatively. She hadn't seen this side of Wynic, she had only heard what Wynic had told her of his wrath. She wasn't ready for this side of the assassin and didn't know what to think of it.

Wynic followed the dimly lit corridor, a million thoughts racing through his mind. A brother? He ran around a corner only to be punched so hard he fell onto his back, pain thrumming dully through his torso.

What Pothax hadn't expected was that Wynic reached out in midfall, caught the cutthroat's arm and pulled out a dagger. Once recovering from the shock of his fall, in a move so intricate, Wynic quickly pinned Pothax to the floor with the dagger poised across his throat.

"Wynic don't!" yelled Victoria, running up to them with Redhawk at her heals.

"I'm not going to!"

"Pothax," said Redhawk, crossing his arms in the symbol of authority. "You're coming with us and we're going to determine your involvement in this."

"Why don't you just run me through?" snarled Pothax boldly, making an effort to break free of Wynic's grip.

"Because we need to know who hired you, and why," replied Redhawk, taking Pothax's scimitars. "You," he shouted, pointing at one of the minotaurs. "Go back, search the room and bring back all the coins and weapons you can find."

The minotaur nodded and left.

"Okay, Pothax, you better tell us everything you know if you want us to let you live," spat Wynic. His grip on the dagger turned his knuckles white.

"You bastard!" swore Pothax viciously.

"That makes two of us!"

Pothax looked up, utterly confused.

"Our father was quite a charmer when it came to ladies," Pothax explained, more to himself than to Victoria or Redhawk. He looked away from Wynic. "He seduced my mother with promises of marriage, but later left and returned fours years later to take me from her. I was sold into slavery, as was the custom forty-some years ago for bastard sons, or daughters for that matter. I was released from my owner during one of the slave protests though I probably would have lived better out sweating in the desert than living in the rotting slums of Avolic. My life as a cutthroat was pitiful, until I heard of you, Wynic, and since took up the occupation, though I'm a fair bit less experienced in the occupation. Probably since there are very few opportunities for a good assassin."

Wynic nodded. "There still aren't!" He glanced unseeing about the soldiers barracks, which was a crude wooden building built near the city walls. The building was so long that Wynic couldn't see either end of it. The bunks were lined up along the wall,with the horse stalls and firepits in the center. The whole place stank of manure, which made Wynic glad he was staying in the nearby inn with Victoria.

"True. I tried, but I was always refused, because most thought I was making it up, while others really didn't care as long as I lived up to the name," grumbled Pothax, tugging on the chain that bound him by hand and foot. "How'd you get born?" he asked, giving up.

"Same way. Except slavery was abolished and he didn't abandon me, instead he tortured me," replied Wynic numbly, staring at the fire Gisoni had started. He wondered if the lies his father had told his mother were the exact same lies he'd told Pothax's.

"I wonder where he is now," murmured Pothax, looking up at Wynic silently.

"I left his body in a slum in Jaton," said Wynic slowly.

"What? You killed him? How?"

"A sword through the heart always works. I just wish it had been more painful," the assassin mumbled, kicking at a rock.

"You won't say that if you ever get one there!" remarked Victoria, sitting down beside Wynic. She rubbed his back soothingly.

"I see we've both inherited our father's good and bad talents. Our roaring fury, good looks, skill strength, our ability to never panic and our taste for charming and beautiful women. What else do we have in common?" noted Pothax, leaning back against the wall.

"He's not afraid of heights. That's for certain," commented Redhawk.

A groan startled the knight and he looked behind him at Nebonex. "Oh, my head," he rasped, putting a hand up to his head and touching the tender spot between his horns.

"I told you to control your temper," said Wynic, standing and walking over to help the huge minotaur to his feet.

"You're one to talk!" grumbled the Prince, glaring at Wynic as he stood up, a bit wobbly like a new born calf. Victoria noted the irony of saying this about a minotaur and wondered if minotaurs were born knowing how to walk, just like a calf.

"Okay," said Gisoni. "Now that Nebonex s awake, let's get back to business. Who hired you and why?" he asked, turning to face Pothax.

"Kobalix hired me," said Pothax, ignoring Nebonex's grumbling. "He also hired the assassin to kill Prince Nebonex and another to assassinate Empress Gweneleque. He has his heart set upon the Imperial Throne and the conquering of all the western continent, which I truly doubt he can manage."

"He could too! All he would have to do is have all the royalty of the western Kingdom's assassinated. The kingdoms would collapse into chaos and the Minotaur Army would march in, unopposed, they could do whatever they wished," explained Nebonex, leaning dizzily on Wynic.

"So, now what?" asked Pothax. His eyes were wide and he looked to the hanging post near a water barrel used for hanging traitors. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"We take those chains off you and you move onto my estate for the time being.," replied Wynic to the combined shock of Pothax and Nebonex's ears. "I've always wanted a brother anyway."

"Same here, but I didn't believe you were even real when I first heard of you. It sounded too far-fetched!" Pothax agreed, holding out his hands eagerly.

Gisoni took the keys from a peg on the wall and started at the locks.

"What?" cried Nebonex.

"We all know who's really behind this now. Pothax didn't enjoy killing your father! No man I've ever known enjoys stabbing someone in the back. It was a job and he treated it as such, he probably would have preferred killing a slave lord," Victoria explained.

"That's fer sure," slurred Pothax. "I'd torture the bastard first though, by his own whip if I could!"

"But slaving has been banned!" argued Nebonex.

"So?" asked Redhawk. "What does that have to do with it?"

"Let's put it this way. Who would you rather have hanged for your father's death? The hired man, or Kobalix, the same person who sent an assassin after you and your mother?" asked Gisoni, turning the key and releasing Pothax from the last of his chains. "And don't argue about proof, cause I've seen how Kobalix watches your father when he sits in the Throne. To say that he's madly jealous would probably be an understatement!"

Pothax stood up thankfully and stretched aching muscles. The sense of relief on his face was more than enough to show to Wynic that this man had indeed been a slave. The scars on his back was ample proof. Wynic possessed similar scars though they'd come from his own father.

"I suppose you're right. In a realer sense it was Kobalix that killed him," agreed Nebonex, himself reminded of an obscure comment Kobalix had once made about the Throne. "But I still believe we need more proof. Wait! Didn't I hear you say he also sent an assassin after my mother?" he demanded.

"Yes, but I haven't heard any news about that yet," replied Pothax, picking up his scimitars.

"Well, then, if we do receive news of at least an assassination attempt, we've got our proof!" Nebonex explained triumphantly.

"Hey!" Pothax accused Redhawk. "You polished my scimitars?"

"I was going to sell them and buy a keg of Kinian Brandy," muttered Redhawk.