That Moment
'A blade is only as sharp as its
wielder.' Sounds profound, but doesn't quite work. Mostly because the
effectiveness of a blade is not solely in its sharpness, so using sharpness for
effectiveness and measuring that with the wit of - No, never mind. That's not
what I want to cover today.
What I want to go over is, well.
You know that moment - the one right before you strike, or a plan goes into
action? The perfect moment for it to begin and you take it, flipping the
situation on its head. In a fight you might slip through a gap in someone's
defences. In a plan the actions you take bring immediate victory or an
unassailable position. In a game of chess you move one piece and your opponent
realised that they're defeated.
It's a glorious moment. Whether
through planning or insight everything just clicks into place and go! Your
opponent is down, paralysed, beaten. They never saw it coming.
These are my thoughts as I
scamper through the dusty, tangled mess that makes up the tavern's roof. It's
the largest tavern in town and the mess is the result of countless expansions.
Over the years it has grown so large that it now covers four entire city
blocks, a mass of corridors, rooms, bars and more. Some small parts are
forgotten or abandoned, subject to rumour and mystery.
I am here because one of the
city's richest merchants is having a secret meeting with her mysterious
business partner. My employer wishes two things: firstly, to know who she is
meeting; secondly, the elimination of them both (though only if possible).
The job pays well but I'm unsure
how I'll manage to take down two people. Or more, if they brought guards.
Thinking about it, they'll certainly have guards. With luck, they'll be left
outside while the meeting goes down inside.
My plan for now is just to get
to the room. Quite how my employer learnt of the meeting I don't know. He isn't
the most organised of people even at his best, and his network of agents can be
summarised as 'a couple of cousins with bureaucrat jobs'. Maybe one of them
found out via the watch?
As I get closer I start to worry
about what might happen if the watch show up. More than anything else it would
be messy. I might get a chance to strike if I'm lucky, tossing a poisoned blade
at an exposed back...
But I probably wouldn't. If the
guard show their faces I'll bail, probably take a less sneaky route out.
Getting out would be far more important than getting out undetected at that
point.
I'm wanted by the watch, of
course. They don't approve of assassinations, and plenty of people with plenty
of money don't approve of skulking around for information either. Luckily for
them I don't even need to be framed; just a little bit of outrage about my par
for the course crimes.
Outside the room there's
nothing. If there are guards they're inside - or maybe one or both haven't
arrived yet. It's unlikely; the meeting was meant to start ten minutes ago. I'm
meant to catch them mid-deliberation in theory.
I creep through the ceiling
above the room, squeezing through the tiny crawlspace. It's tight as heck and
occasionally a literal pain in the butt. I press my ear against the roof, right
above the middle. Faint voices; whispering. I can barely hear them. It sounds
like two women; probably the merchant and her mysterious partner.
To get myself a peek into the
room I shuffle over to the ventilation that sits high on one wall. Someone has
been here before - the duct is damaged already. I slip a mirror through and
squint at what I can see through the grate.
Two people are in the room - a
woman in fine robes and another woman wearing a hooded cloak. Turning the
mirror a little I can see a third woman in the corner, armoured and armed. It
turns out she's the only guard - and she must be trusted to be allowed to stand
in the room.
Actually, I'll need to try to
kill her too. Maybe she's the partner? She isn't talking, though, the cloaked
woman is, then the merchant. I pull the mirror back up and think. There's only
one source of light in the room. If that were to go there'd be nothing to stop
me knocking them all out with a series of poisoned daggers - I'll be able to
see in the light coming from the window since my eyes are adjusted, and theirs
aren't.
The light in the room comes from
two orbs set into the ceiling. I find them easily enough - screwed in. Lucky. I
twirl the screws out of each carefully and tie them to a string that holds them
in place until I decide otherwise.
After I get myself into place -
squeezing down inside the wall is rather unpleasant - I go over my plan.
Lights, daggers, deaths. I smile, and release the lights.
Darkness. I strike. Three yelps,
little struggling.
Perfect.
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