Finias crouched over the fadeblade lying on the floor of Aiden's shack, holding his hand next to the man's mouth and nose. This one was likely dead, but he'd learned from an early age to be thorough when dealing with assassins, because they made their living by convincing people to lower their guard. He dutifully went through all the tests he'd been taught to do – feeling for a heartbeat, even a slow one, checking for breathing, even jabbing a knife point into the palm of the hand. This guy had passed all of them, which meant he was either dead, or really good at pretending.
He moved to the other body lying motionless on the floor, and reached out to check his breathing. As soon as his hand touched the man's nose, the fadeblade jerked away, and reached for something on his belt. Finias grabbed the man's wrist with his right hand, snatched a dagger from his own belt with his left, and held it to the assassin’s throat.
"Don't move," he whispered. The man kept still, but that meant nothing. Finias knew he was only biding his time until he could strike. He glanced down, expecting to see the dim outline of a dagger in the man's hand, but instead the moonlight illuminated a small glass vial. Poison. He'd been reaching for a way to end his own life.
At first Finias was tempted to let the man take his poison and die. It would be one less assassin to worry about. But then he realized that this was his chance to take back some control. Everyone else kept secrets from him, maybe now he could finally find out something that the others didn't know.
"You want to die?" he whispered. "Fine. I'll make a deal with you. You answer one question for me, and I'll let you take your poison and die honorably." Finias felt the man's muscles tighten in his grip, no doubt expecting some kind of trick. "Or, we can fight. And if we fight, I'll break that vial and then I'll gut you with this knife. My friends outside will hear the noise, come in here, and tie you up. You'll be tortured for a while until we get our information. Either way, I get what I want. The only question is, do you get what you want?"
Neither of them moved for a long moment, and Finias worried that the assassin might be mulling over his options. So Finias decided to put his offer in perspective.
"Remember, if you're found with that poison on your lips, your bosses will know you died without revealing anything. If you die with rope burns on your wrist, they'll have to assume otherwise. And I know what kind of leverage they keep on men like you."
Another long moment passed, and Finias worried that he’d get nowhere with this one. He prepared to knife the man before the fadeblade's body finally relaxed, and he nodded his consent.
"Smart man," he said, not relaxing his own grip - he was still dealing with an assassin after all. "Now who sent you? And I want names."
"I don't know who sent us," he replied in a hoarse voice, "only who paid us."
"Who, then?"
"Caelis."
"Caelis?" Finias repeated, making sure he'd heard right. "Cutter Caelis? He hired you?" Finias could feel his chest tightening uncomfortably. Caelis was one of Caldera’s most notorious fadeblades, known both for his prowess, and for his questionable sanity. His nickname was self-explanatory, and it had inspired an untold number of partially true stories about what he did to his victims. Finias had met the man once as a child and even then he'd known immediately just how dangerous he was. But even with his savage reputation, it wasn't Caelis he feared. "Does that mean... do you know who I am?" he asked breathlessly.
The assassin just smiled back at him. "That's more than one question, Finias."