Chapter Three

The Intruder

A lot of things went through my head as I walked the familiar corridors back to my room in the Lay House.

Though Nicolo had shot down my question about where we were going, I thought I could make a guess as to the purpose of the trip. Surely, we were going hunting for his mother? The Old Queen had revealed the whereabouts of the mother from whom Nicolo had been taken when he was just a little boy. It had been a private meeting, but I'd been eavesdropping at the window and I'd heard the name of a town called ‘Simnel', though I had no idea where that might be. I couldn't let Nicolo know that I knew, so I'd have to keep my wits about me.

Another thing I had to think about was that, as far as I knew, Nicolo and I would be alone on this venture. He would, I was sure, still insist on sleeping alone in a locked room (presuming there were inns and waystations on the road to Simnel) but regardless, it would be an ideal opportunity to assassinate him. If I could fully wrap my mind around the idea again, that is (and I was doing my best to do just that).

I had made so many excuses about why I hadn't completed my mission, but there was no excuse to get me out of this. I either went through with it, or I admitted that I was never going to. Either way, I had to make a decision, stick to it and not regret it. Easier said than done.

Maybe it would all be clearer on the road. Maybe the clouds would part and the great god would reveal the answer—whether I was meant to end Nicolo's life or not. Of course, I didn't expect any such thing to happen (as I didn't believe much in the great god anyway), but it was a nice thought, all the same.

Although I was still angry with Nicolo for the same reason he was angry with himself, the prospect of getting out of Woodfall Gath had put me in a good mood and I fairly tripped into my room. I didn't exactly have a wardrobe full of clothes to choose from, but I could still enjoy packing while casually daydreaming about spending time on the road with my master in the pleasant spring sunshine and then potentially driving a dagger through his heart (yes, that part was decidedly less pleasant).

Reaching underneath my bed, I brought out my green cloth carrying bag. The bag had contained all my worldly possessions when I'd first arrived here from the Guild. I hadn't owned much then and didn't own much more now, but there was still something exciting about getting the bag out, because it meant a journey and a journey meant adventure. And goodness knew I did love an adventure.

I dumped the bag on the bed, turning to the chest by the wall which contained my clothes. As I did so, my muscles tensed. A sixth sense that's developed in trainee assassins at an early age suddenly activated within me.

Something was wrong.

I turned, just in time, to see the blade spinning towards my head and was just able to duck to one side to avoid it. There was barely time for me to draw breath before the blade was followed by a foot, coming as fast as the knife and attached to my assailant.

The kick caught me in the jaw and I went back against the wall, bouncing off to meet a fist coming the other way which knocked me to the bed. I was dazed, but certain sounds are guaranteed to wake a person up and, for an assassin, the ‘ zing ' of a blade being drawn from a scabbard is better than a bucket of ice water to the face.

I rolled off the bed as the blade sliced through the air, piercing into my bedclothes where I'd just been lying.

"Hey, I've got to sleep there!" Not the pithiest comment, but I was genuinely irritated.

It was only now that I got a decent look at my black-clad attacker…

But no. Not ‘black-clad', not really. His costume was mostly an artful blend of shades of gray, dark greens and only occasional splashes of genuine black. It was a color combination that actually hid a person at night far more than jet-black. The reason I knew this was that I had an almost identical costume. Despite the blend of colors, my attacker was wearing what were referred to as ‘blacks', and they were the active uniform of Guild assassins.

I was being attacked by one of my own.

"Wait a minute…" Clearly a mistake had been made.

But I should have known better; assassins do not stop to negotiate, they're there to do a job, they won't be dissuaded from it and they let nothing stand in their way.

Unless, of course, they develop funny feelings for their target…

And then it dawned on me…

I'd been so busy, so occupied with what had happened between myself and Nicolo, I hadn't been paying attention to the passing of the days and weeks. How far was I now over my time limit?

When I'd first been given my assignment as a fully-fledged assassin—to kill Master Nicolo of Woodfall Gath—I'd also been given a time limit in which to accomplish said task. That was standard Guild practice in case something happened (uncontrollable lust; that sort of thing).

The time limit usually was not very long, but owing to the inaccessibility of my target (and the number of people who'd died on this mission already) I'd been given two months. If I didn't complete the commission in that period (or return early, with a valid excuse as to why I needed to be removed from the position), then a second assassin would be sent to kill me and then they'd take over the job. There was no warning, no preamble, the client wasn't informed, because the client hired the Guild, not me personally. It was all very professional, and it didn't feel great to be on the receiving end of it.

Had it really been two months?

"I don't want to hurt you," I said, pretty uselessly.

The sword swung again. Apparently, the feeling wasn't mutual.

I ducked and tumbled across the floor, coming to a stop lying beside the bed, under which I now rolled. Hopefully the assassin thought I was hiding, when in fact I was recovering my own sword from where I'd secreted it. I had an official sword of course, as Master Nicolo's squire, but the one hidden under my bed in case of nocturnal emergency was an assassin's blade—not a showy weapon, but it got the job done.

As I tugged the sword loose from where I'd secured it, I had to suppress a scream as the tip of a sword pierced the boards above my head, coming to a stop beside my cheek.

The sword was pulled out again just as quickly.

I tried to get away and was brought up short as it slammed down again, through the wood of the bed, right in front of my face. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying out and giving away my position. Twice more the sword was stabbed down and pulled out, each time coming horribly close to me.

I think I survived more by luck than judgment. Frustratingly, the space under the bed was too narrow for me to drive my own sword back the other way. So, that was out. Luckily, I was able to roll back out, springing to my feet as I did so, sword at the ready.

Though I could only see his eyes through the slit in his hooded mask (and I was sure this assassin was a man, based on his height and frame), I thought I read frustration as he looked me over to see that there wasn't so much as a cut on me.

Leaping off the bed, the assassin sliced his sword down at me. I was taken to my knees, blocking the blow, and used the opportunity to punch him as hard as possible right, square in the crotch.

That wasn't something I'd been taught in the Guild, but it was a trick Nicolo and Balduin were fond of playing on each other when they fenced together, because there is apparently nothing that young men find more entertaining than seriously damaging the fatherhood prospects of their close friends.

The assassin doubled over in that private world of pain that men always make such a fuss about, but he kept his guard up. He looked a little surprised, and I realized I did have at least one advantage over this man. We were both Guild trained, but I also had experience outside of that narrow world. The Guild offered the best combat training in the land, but there was some advantage to fighting unexpectedly. In other words; fighting stupidly might be my best option.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Both the assassin and I looked up in surprise at the noise from the floor above.

"Keep quiet down there! People are trying to sleep!"

The Lay House was filled with others; there were probably some guards around, so if I shouted for help, then someone was sure to come. The problem was that I'd then have to explain to Nicolo when he invariably asked; ‘ Why would an assassin come for you? '

I could probably lie my way out of said quandary, but Nicolo wasn't a fool and there were already too many things that didn't add up about the story I'd told him when I first arrived here. I had a hunch that if he hadn't found me so attractive, he would have already been suspicious of me, and a pretty face will only get you so far.

The assassin came for me again.

I dodged, and he careened into a table.

"Can you keep it down!" I hissed.

He gave me a look as if I wasn't taking this seriously and came for me again.

Our swords met, the slim assassins' blades making thankfully little noise, zinging more than clashing. He knew his stuff. Every attack I made, he was there to block it, every thrust of his I felt barely able to counter.

As our swords locked again, we grappled, eventually falling over onto the bed, which creaked ominously. He kicked, and I was sent rolling backwards, doing my best to land lightly when I hit the floor. Looking up, I was just in time to see a china water jug I kept by my bed, heading for my face. On instinct, I dropped the sword and caught the jug.

The sword jabbed down at me as I rolled aside and tossed the jug back at my opponent. Ridiculously, the man actually caught it, which is what any person will try to do in that situation, stupid though it is. He had the good sense to keep hold of his sword though, so he still had the advantage as I scooped mine up and got back to my feet.

For a moment we faced off.

I saw his eyes flick briefly to the jug in his left hand.

"Oh no, don't be a dick…"

But dick he was as the assassin threw the jug at the far wall and I made a diving grab to snatch it before it hit the wall and made such a huge crashing sound, the whole of the Lay House was certain to come calling. As I did so, I was aware of my assailant moving, anticipating my position and thrusting his sword towards my heart. With an effort, I twisted my body in mid-air so the blade sliced through my clothing, missing me by the narrowest of margins, though it did nick me in the process and stung adequately.

I landed with surprising grace on one shoulder and kept going, flipping up onto my toes in a move that Mistress Gance (Acrobatics and Eccentric Dance) would have applauded.

But I didn't get long to pat myself on the back. The sword swung, swished and thrust while I executed a series of ducks, splits, pirouettes and somersets to avoid it, still clutching the damned jug to my chest. Sometimes you are just so fearful for your life, your body gets confused. Never mind the fact that my exhilaration was at an all-time high. Not to mention, this was the best acrobatic routine I'd ever performed!

The increasingly irritated assassin swung his blade more and more wildly (ignoring rule one; to keep your cool), this had to be his first mission. He swung again, and I went over backwards into full crab position, feeling the blade pass over me with a swish of displaced air. As it passed, I was already moving, continuing backwards, kicking up my legs, pivoting on my hands and picking up my discarded sword as I landed on my feet once more.

With a few quick strokes, I parried the next blows from my attacker and tossed the jug up in the air to get it out of my way. A well-placed kick snuck through the assassin's defenses and sent his sword flying from his hand so it stuck in the ceiling. I put an arm out to catch the jug to avoid the clatter it was certain to make, then tucked the blasted thing under my arm as I placed my sword point at the man's throat.

That was when I hesitated.

Which is something no assassin should ever do.

I'd killed men since coming to Woodfall Gath, but those killings had always been in the heat of battle. This was different, partly because this man was now defenseless, but also because, as I looked into his eyes, I realized I knew their owner.

With a sharp flick of his hand, the assassin knocked my blade away, taking advantage of my uncertainty. He rolled over the bed, grabbing his sword from where it hung, quivering from a rafter, and sprang athletically through the window.

He'd always been good at that sort of thing.

Almost as good as me.

I rushed to the window, but he'd already vanished into the shades of the night. He was good and I had been lucky. Catching my breath and castigating myself for letting him go, I sat down on the bed, placing the jug down beside me, as if it were a trusted companion in the fight. As the elation drained from me, it left a grim realization of just how lucky I'd been. I was now clear-headed enough to know that I probably should have been killed just now.

Regardless, he would be back.

He had his commission and he certainly wouldn't let our previous association stop him. In that way, he was my superior.

In every other way, I'd kicked his ass on a daily basis.

***

"For how much?"

The back wall of the Assassins' Guild was a regular spot for scores to be decided and the Guild encouraged healthy competition between its trainees.

I sighed. "For whatever. I don't want to do this."

Taurus snorted. "Of course, you don't. You know you'll lose."

"Why can't we just learn together?"

"I'm sick of you parading around like you're the best at everything. You need to know who's boss."

"If we trained together rather than reducing everything to a competition, you might learn something. Maybe then you'd be able to beat me in a fight." Okay, at that point I was just pushing his buttons. But damn it, I was sick of this, and I already knew what he was going to say next.

"I can beat you in any fight!" Taurus snarled. "Any weapon. I just don't, ‘cause you're a girl."

That was his standard response. A lot of young men in the Guild did feel somewhat emasculated by the fact that the Guild favored its girls, because they were generally better. We didn't have the same body strength, true, but we were more agile, and quicker in every way; we learned quicker, made decisions quicker and moved quicker.

Men had their uses—there were certain assignments for which they were more suitable (mainly at seducing women). There were certainly some proficient male assassins, but they were usually the ones who learned from their female colleagues, not the ones who, like Taurus, hindered themselves with inferiority complexes.

"Fine." I stared up at the sheer wall. Far above us swung the famous Assassins' Bell, used as the winning post in this sort of competition for hundreds of years (or so it was claimed). First one up the wall rang the bell and was declared the winner.

Nice and simple.

"Fine," nodded Taurus, curtly. "We'll see who's best."

For most of our education, boys and girls were kept separate in the Guild, because they learned at different paces and because girls learned different techniques to make up for their lighter build and lesser strength.

The sexes were brought together so they could be comfortable around each other; being an assassin was about social interaction as much as fighting skills. It was an awkward age to bring the two genders together though, with emotions and feelings fizzing all over the place; boys never more aggressively eager to prove themselves, girls never more self-effacing and keen to be impressed. It didn't help that while girls were under strict instructions to remain intact (one of the few Guild rules that was strictly enforced), boys were encouraged to gain as much sexual experience as possible.

This was a practical consideration, as assassins were often expected to seduce targets. For girls, being an intact maid was considered a desirable advantage while men were supposed to be skilled enough in the bedroom to negotiate their way past maids, wives and mothers-in-law, all in the same night and leaving all in a satiated post-coital coma, so they didn't hear the scream when their master/husband/son-in-law was killed.

Frankly, I, along with most of the girls, found it to be a frustrating double-standard. But the boys found it irritating too because, while they were introduced to women so they could ‘learn their craft', they were forbidden from touching those their own age alongside whom they were living, and punishments were harsh for any who broke that rule.

Initially, I'd wondered if Taurus's animosity towards me was displaced attraction. Deciding such was most likely the case, I'd been quite flattered because he was handsome in a brutishly masculine sort of way.

But it turned out that he hated me. He'd been top of his class until the sexes merged, and now he was playing second fiddle to a girl who flipped him on his back during unarmed combat, pinned him to a wall in fencing and knocked him unconscious with a quarter-staff.

At first, I'd felt sorry for him, but increasingly I'd come to the conclusion that, just because he had a reason for his petulance, didn't mean he wasn't also a twit.

"And you really want to do this with people watching?" I checked, giving Taurus one last chance to retain his dignity.

"I want everyone to know who's best."

I nodded. "Okay."

We lined up at the base of the wall, and one of the other boys called the start.

"Ready… Set… Climb!"

Taurus jumped with muscular certainty for his first handhold, taking an early lead as I'd known he would, and the boys all cheered from below, shouting on their hero.

It occurred to me that Taurus had far more at stake here than I did. The girls were most likely in my corner. Most likely. Of course, I'd beaten a lot of them as well, and some no doubt felt it was about time I was put in my place. More pointedly, some of them were enchanted by the boys they couldn't have, and wanted to please them, even if they couldn't please them, so they sided with Taurus.

The point was; I could let him win and I wouldn't be letting anyone down; the girls might even thank me for it. I could save Taurus's ego and let him feel good about himself like he used to.

Maybe I would have done it if he hadn't been such a tosser.

But probably not.

Allowing someone else to win just wasn't who I was. I wasn't a competitive person, I just did my best. Furthermore, it would be dishonest not to win. I wouldn't really be doing Taurus any favors because he still wouldn't be best, he just wouldn't know it.

Maybe I was competitive.

Didn't matter; one way or the other I was going to do my best, and that meant I was going to win, because I was better at this than Taurus was.

As Taurus continued to bully his way up the wall, muscles straining, I picked my way after him, nimble as a gecko. The problem Taurus had was that he wanted to win too much, and he'd equated speed with power.

If there was a handhold that was just barely within his reach, he'd hurl himself at it. He'd reach it, yes, but he was expending so much energy with every move, whereas I worked comfortably within my own abilities, never pushing for too much, going at my own pace. The result was that Taurus moved faster but his movement was ragged, as he gulped in breaths between jumps, while I moved at a constant pace, and so the gap narrowed.

By the mid-point, marked by a line painted onto the uneven brickwork, I'd drawn level, and the male voices from below began to lose heart. That just made matters worse for Taurus because he naturally tried harder. He couldn't help himself. The harder he tried, though, the more energy he poured away. For a while, we leapfrogged each other back and forth, his jumps taking him ahead of me, my patient insistence pulling me back in front of him.

But as we reached the final quarter, where the wall was smoothest and the climb hardest, the pain began to announce itself in Taurus's shoulders and arms. He could no longer make those impressive leaps and he no longer had the energy to match my speed. Now I was ahead and widening the gap with every moment, still going at the exact same pace at which I'd started.

With a final spring (because it's good to end with a flourish,) I reached the top of the wall and rang the bell. It was nice to hear the cheers of the girls below, even if they would have cheered just as loudly if the handsome boy had won.

The handsome boy now joined me on the top of the wall, red in the face and gasping for breath.

"You… cheated…"

I hadn't expected him to say anything else.

It was just the way he was.

***

I doubted he'd changed much.

I certainly hadn't; I still liked to be best.

Now the boy I'd humiliated was the man sent to kill me.

That wasn't good because it was personal.

I'd been better than Taurus at mostly everything, but he'd been a close second and a large part of why he'd failed was because he'd been so desperate to beat me. Presumably, he'd matured since then, learned some control, perhaps even understood why I'd always beaten him.

If any of that was true, then he was now definitely good enough to beat me.