�t hike her skirts when the rats swarmed from the cellar after the floods but rather chased them with a butcher knife. They made fine stew, and their fur kept my hands warm in winter.
“Quickly now. In the cubby,” she admonished before leaving me alone. Trepidation blanched her features as she went to confront the invaders, rendering me terrified, too.
I couldn’t lose her. With Father dead and the creditors, those scavengers, stripping our things one by one to pay a thing called debt, she was all I had left. Her and the leaky roof over our heads. Perhaps that was why the intruders banged around so much downstairs. Even tucked in my room with the door closed, I could hear things breaking, the distinctly male voices cursing and yelling, the softer murmur of my mother as she tried to calm them.
Poor Mother. Nothing had gone well since Father’s untimely demise. I should be by her side, supporting her.
Despite her warning, I exited my room and crouched at the top of the stairs, pausing first for a listen.
A gravelly male voice barked, “Where is the brat?”
They had better not be speaking of me.
“She is not here.” My mother lied to protect me, and I eyed the door to my room. Perhaps I should return and hide. The cubby I could access by wiggling under my bed would be tight but secure.
All thought of hiding fled as the sharp crack of a hand slapping flesh brought a sharp cry from my mother. They’d hit her!
“Let’s try that again.” The man’s voice might sound calm, but I could hear the menace. “Where is the brat?”
“Sleeping at a friend’s house.”
“I don’t believe you. Check upstairs.” The male in charge snapped the order, but before anyone could even take that first step, my mother reacted.
“Leave us alone. Isn’t it enough you killed my husband?”
My eyes widened. Why did Mother claim that? She’d told me Father had died in an accident.
“I’m told he died because he got greedy.”
“I’ve kept to my part in the bargain,” my mother exclaimed.
“The terms of it have changed. Where is the child?”
“I’ll never tell you.”
“You will. People always talk with a bit of fisted persuasion.” I could hear the cold glee in his words. “Restrain her.”
My mother cried out again, and despite her last command to me, I had to help her. I flowed down the stairs, the hem of my nightgown fluttering. I paused at the bottom as I took in the scene I burst upon. There were two men, both bigger than me and my mother, not brigands but soldiers of the emperor. I recognized the black and silver livery. My gaze focused on my mother, her arms yanked behind her back by a soldier with a beard. “Let Mother go.”
Mother saw me, and her eyes widened. So much terror in them. Not for herself but for me.
The man in front of her turned and noticed me standing there. “You must be the brat.”
My chin lifted. “My name is Ilyana. Release my mother.”
“You don’t get to give orders, brat. Especially not in this matter. Your mother lied to an emissary of the emperor.”
My young age didn’t make me stupid about the events unfolding, but I remained immature enough to think my two clenched fists and stubborn demand might sway them. “She lied to protect me. I am here now. Let her go. You’re hurting her.”
“You will come with us.” The man reached for me, but I retreated. I didn’t like being touched. Only Mother ever hugged me.
“We’ve done nothing wrong,” I insisted. Soldiers only arrested bad people. We weren’t bad people.
“I have my orders.”
A grunt from behind had me half turning to see my mother struggling in the grips of the bearded one. She yelled, “Run, Ilyana. Run and don’t look back.”
Leave her? I couldn’t—
The dagger that slid across her throat had me gaping. The blood spilled in a thick torrent that couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be hers.
Her lips opened and shut, not a vowel escaping. Then stopped moving entirely. The soldier holding her released her body, dead before it even hit the floor.
He killed her.
Shock. Anguish. Anger…
He killed Mother.
Inside, something burst, and I launched myself at her killer. I don’t think he expected my attack and so I hit him full speed. He didn’t even wobble. I attacked like a creature frenzied, screaming and clawing, a wild thing with no reason, just grief to fuel the violence.
The soldier yelled, “Get off me!” He shoved me away with enough strength I sailed until I hit the counter where I’d prepped many a meal with my mother. The impact caused a grunt, and pain bloomed through my torso. I hit the floor in an ungainly heap.
“Grab her!” the leader commanded. “Don’t let her—”
The leader never did finish that sentence because, without thinking, I’d grabbed a kitchen knife and ran at him, plunging it where I could reach, which proved to be a rather unfortunate location.
For him.
He squealed, much like the pigs under the butcher’s knife. I felt no remorse.
An arm wrapped around me and lifted me off the ground. I kicked my feet, twisting as best I could in the grip of the man holding me. I couldn’t fight the strength of that arm. It banded me too tight. It left only my sharp teeth to tear into flesh. I bit hard enough to taste blood.
A shrill scream accompanied my sudden drop to the floor, where I dove for the fireplace poker. My fingers scrabbled to grab, and I swung wildly. The rod connected, and the soldier I’d hit smirked, unimpressed with my feeble blow.
He tore the poker from me and advanced with an ugly scowl. “Stay still and this doesn’t have to hurt.”
If I listened, I’d be dead. Not today.
I darted to the left, but he proved quicker than expected. He grabbed hold of my hanging braid and my feet jerked out from under me. I gasped at the sharp pain in my scalp. Tears pricked my eyes as he dragged me upright. He dangled me and leered. “Maybe I’ll take a minute to show you what it means to be a woman before I send you on your way.”
I was beyond the point of terror and desperate for a way to survive. “Please,” I begged, needing more time. A chance.
He threw me to the floor, and upon impact, I lost my breath. I’d landed beside my mother, and I couldn’t look into her lifeless face. I turned my head as I rolled and got to my knees. The killer grabbed my ankle and dragged me closer.
My fingers dug uselessly at the floor, looking for something, anything, to help. The kitchen knife remained buried to the hilt, out of reach, and yet I stretched my fingers as if it would magically get closer.
Rough hands pushed at my nightgown, exposing my legs. I ignored the touch and kept staring at the knife. If only I could grab it. It would give me a chance. I could fight.
The hands disappeared only because they worked the fabric of his trousers. I’d run out of time.
I needed the knife.
Now!
Inside my head I screamed and closed my eyes as my legs were wrenched apart.
A hilt hit my palm, and the moment my fingers curled around it, I swung. The blade entered the man’s side, but I didn’t stop with just one puncture. The soldier threw himself away from me, but I followed, driving the knife into his body again and again.
By the time I’d stopped, he lay across the ruined threshold of the door, bloody, his eyes unseeing.
Dead, just like my mother.
I crawled to her and cradled her head in my lap, sobbing. I was still sobbing when too many soldiers to count filled the room and took in the carnage.
I was arrested. A mere child of nine. And I couldn’t even deny the crime, not with the blood on my hands and spattered on my face.
They threw me into the dungeon along with the other criminals, hardened men and women who eyed me with curiosity. With an intensity that made my skin crawl and my gorge rise, one whispered, “Ain’t you a pretty thing. I think I shall play with you.”
I didn’t think I’d enjoy his idea of fun. Perhaps I should tell him what happened to the soldier that just tried to force me. It proved to be unnecessary. For all his subtle threats, he remained far from me, most likely because one of the women—older than the rest and missing most of her teeth—murmured something to him.
The bells outside tolled the late hour, and one by one, the prisoners slept. All but me. I sat huddled, my arms around my bent legs. Shivering. Not so much in cold but misery.
Mother was gone. Killed before my very eyes. It would forever haunt me. I’d loved her, unlike my aloof father who’d rarely had a kind word for me. She was my everything, and without her, I had no one. Not that it would matter. I’d probably hang for killing the emperor’s men.
No one around me stirred when the soft scuff alerted me of someone’s approach. A single torch remained burning, only barely enough light to make out the person that arrived swathed head to toe in a voluminous cloak. They stopped in front of the bars and said nothing, but I could feel the stare despite the deep cowl.
The voice emerged distinctly male and smooth. “You are the Jaamanian girl who killed two soldiers.”
Should I deny it? Not much point since I was the only young child in the place.
I nodded.
“How?”
“I stabbed them.”
“Two grown men?” he questioned.
I shrugged. “They killed my mother.”
“What did she do?”
As if she’d have broken any laws. She’d always been strict on obedience. “Nothing. They wanted me.” Or so it seemed even as it made no sense.
“And yet you foiled their kidnapping.”
“And rape,” I interrupted softly. I’d not forgotten that terrifying moment.
“You pose an interesting dilemma. Do you want to live, child?”
Stupid question. “Of course, I do.”
“What if you had to leave this place, this country, and never return?”
“I have nothing here.”
“Are you willing to work hard?”
A burning curiosity filled me. Better than the apathy I’d been sinking into. I stood and approached the bars. “Who are you?”
“A man in need of an apprentice.”
I stared upward and shivered. Not in fear but sudden anticipatory hope. “What’s your trade?”
“Death.”
Receive death or deal in it. Those were my choices.
“I accept.”

Chapter One

Decades later, far from Jaaman, in the country of Zcania …
The rooftop gaped empty and unguarded, which, given the sizeable bounty on the wharf-master’s head, surprised me. But I wouldn’t complain, as it would make collecting easier. These days we were fighting for jobs, with me completing most of them. My fellow assassins hated that I kept beating them to the kill. Too bad. I saw no reason to downplay my skills. They should take it as an indication they should improve.
My soft-soled boots made for a quiet tread across the clay-baked tiles, still warm from the day’s sun. The winters were as cold as the summers were hot, hence the massive chimney that serviced the large building consisting of warehouse storage on the main level, living quarters on the second.
I’d scouted ahead of time and knew exactly which window the wharf-master slept behind. Indiscreet idiot had messed with the wrong nobleman’s son.
Not my problem.
The rope with its clawed end wrapped around the chimney, and I used it to drop down over the edge of the roof until my feet found purchase on the sill outside the window. The shutters had been left open, as had the glass-paned window, to take advantage of any breezes coming off the sea.
Not even a squeal warned of my entry into the bedroom. My feet landed with the barest of thuds. I paused and listened, only to hear the distinctive snores of two people.
With a soft tread, I made my way to the side of the bed and saw the two huddled shapes. The description I’d gathered made it easy to know which of the two required killing.
Unfortunately, the one I didn’t eliminate slept light and woke as I wiped off my dagger. I hated sheathing bloody weapons. It took forever to clean the leather.
“Who are you? What are you doing?” The young man’s query led to me eyeing his lover, a woman who could have been his grandmother. No wonder his parents were upset.
“Taking care of business.”
“You killed her!” A high-pitched panicky huff. “Are you going to kill me, too?”
“I am only being paid for her. I don’t work for free.”
The young man clutched the blanket as if I would ogle his skinny chest. “What will happen to me?”
“Nothing because you’re going to go home and I will collect my payment.”
“I am never going home. They want to force me to marry some simpering girl.” He grimaced as if it were the worst thing in the world.
“So what if they do? Easiest solution for you is to marry a girl they like, put an heir in her, and have your old mistress on the side like normal married couples do.”
“But—”
I waved a hand. “Figure it out. I’m done here.” I left the same way I arrived, climbing the rope back to the roof and only managing to barely miss the swinging sword.
“That was my prize,” complained an idiot named Zherman. A recent addition to the guild, he thought himself more talented than he was.
“Too late. I took care of it.”
“Did you? Because if you’re dead, then it could easily be me collecting.”
He lunged, and I swayed to the side, using his momentum to toss him over the edge of the warehouse. The water, while filthy, wouldn’t kill him—although if he swallowed it, an infection might.
I coiled my rope. The thin, yet strong spider silk cost me a pretty coin. As I walked the length of the building, a motion distracted me. I glanced to see something fly across the moon.
Could it be one of the famed fire salamanders? Supposed winged lizards that lived on the volcano islands far out to sea. An unverified legend since no one actually went out that far and returned to tell the tale.
A whistle of wind had me looking around, left, right. Too late I glanced upward just as something large slammed into me and knocked me off balance.
I fell from the building and landed with a splash.

Chapter Two

My dip in the wharf didn’t kill me; however, it left me in a sour mood. Especially since I had to do an embarrassing squish-walk back to the guild because I’d lost a boot. My favorite boot, custom made, comfortable, practical, and difficult to replace. At my age—thirty-three years and with three plucked gray hairs that I’d told no one about—it was less about style and more about comfort.
At least no one bothered me as I stomped into the building wet, very annoyed, but, at the same time, triumphant. After all, I had accomplished my task. As I entered the guild, I slapped the massive desk to the left of the entrance.
Despite wanting to ignore me, Benji, the guild’s notary and accountant, couldn’t without looking like a horse’s ass. Sporting an expression of disdain, he glanced at me, his spectacles perched on the end of his nose. Lips pursed in disapproval.
“You’re dripping on the floor,” Benji complained.
“Glad to see you’re concerned about my wellbeing. I’m fine, thank you.”
“My only concern is if we’re going to be presented with a bill for damages.” Benji only paid attention to the financial bottom line, tight-fisted to the extreme, but I could grudgingly admit he managed the almost impossible and kept us afloat.
Times were tough these days, hence why I was killing people whose only crime was falling in love.
Hmm. When thought of in that respect, that made it sound tawdry.
Beneath me.
I’d get over it. The coin I’d earn would vastly help in that area.
I reported. “The wharf-master is dead, as per the contract request. Although a certain lord’s son might be traumatized.”
The most dramatic sigh surged from Benji. “Why must you insist on being indiscreet?”
“First off, the parents were supposed to have locked up the young lord. And second, if I’d not done it, it would have been someone else.”
“I’d have preferred anyone else, because then I’d not have to deal with the lord who is supposed to be paying us. You’ve probably cost us a portion,” he rebuked with a scowl.
“Only if the little lord complains.”
“I’ll send someone to waylay and remind him how foolish he’d appear if word were to get out he’d done nothing to protect his lover.”
“Cheaper I assume than what daddy lord would cost us?”
“Much.”
“You always find a solution to ensure we can enjoy a lavish lifestyle,” I complimented. We might not like each other, but I needed Benji to keep the funds coming.
“Speaking of lavish, you might want to tone down the spending. In case you haven’t noticed, the jobs are coming in less and less frequently.”
“I was thinking of that earlier. It’s been kind of quiet. Do I need to kill a few random people to cause some panic?”
“That would draw the sultan’s attention. You know he allows only very little crime to happen. Just enough to remind people why they still want his soldiers around.”
“They wouldn’t even know it was me. I could frame someone and really start some trouble to get business going.”
His lips pursed. “You’re too old to still be acting like this. And the only reason you’re getting away with it is because of your relationship to the master.”
I snorted. “The master hasn’t been around in months. Admit it, you love what I do because I am good for business. Speaking of which, has there been further talk about electing a new master?”
“No need since we already have one.”
My brows raised. Only one reason he’d say that. “Benji, you sly bastard. Is Jrijori back from his sabbatical?”
My teacher, the one who’d rescued me from a prison so long ago, had left months ago to reset his mind and spirit. Not the first time he’d done this. I had to wonder what he did during those excursions because, whatever it involved, he returned looking healthier, usually richer, and ready for life changes.
“Master Jrijori has indeed returned and is in his office going over the reports since his departure.”
I pushed away from Benji’s desk. “He’s probably anxious to see me.”
“The master asked to not be disturbed.”
“By everyone else. He won’t mind a visit from his top journeyer and adopted orphan. Don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you.” I winked. “Be sure to have my funds deposited in my account before morning. I might have some shopping to do.”
A caravan had recently arrived with goods. Maybe some new blades. I could always use more. Maybe some armor, too.
I could feel Benji’s glare burning into my back. The man never did like me even as he used me. He hated the master, too, because he’d been positioned to become leader until Jrijori arrived. He’d transferred from another guild and took over as master. Benji couldn’t rise any higher without fighting. He bided his time, which was why he didn’t deserve the position. Only the strongest should lead a guild of killers.
This wasn’t the first guild Jrijori took over since he’d rescued me. In the beginning, he’d freelanced in a city, only to realize the steady gig would profit us more in the long run. He joined a guild. Didn’t like taking orders so he rose in the ranks and took over. Once master, it wasn’t hard to transfer that reputation when we moved to new places. As to when and why we moved, it was random, with Jrijori suddenly announcing the relocation. Aluztha had been the place we’d stayed in longest. A steady home with a few friends. The ones I’d carefully allowed to get close had moved on from the bounty hunting and the assassination game to form families and start boring businesses. How did a man who could accurately shoot a bow farther than should be possible sell cheese and look happy?
I had no interest in settling down with anyone. No children desired either. They made me uncomfortable. Especially the small ones. I preferred the older ones, the teens who could understand if I gave them an order.
The main guild hall held a few long rows of tables and chairs. Most were empty, but not because the mercenaries living here had jobs. Recruitment numbers were down. Lack of work because the city had gotten too nice. Stupid sultan, bringing peace and order to the country.
My steps took me to the middle of the room, where a set of stairs rose, zigzagging to the next floor and the sleeping quarters for those who lived inside the guild. Not me. I had my own place rather than a closet-sized room.
The stairs went up another level, the third floor being turret-like with an excellent view of the city. But I eschewed the climb. Why knock on the master’s door like a normal person and wait for him to bid me entry? He’d expect better from me. After all, he’d taught me Don’t ever be predictable.
It reminded me of the first time we met in that dungeon.
“I accept,” I’d said with no hesitation. After all, he offered me a way out of that cell.
“It won’t be an easy life, nor a gentle one,” he countered.
“Still better than dying. And I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“You will have to work hard. There is much to learn when it comes to being an assassin.”
My eyes widened. “You kill bad people?”
Apparently not the right thing to say, which resulted in a chilly reply. “That would be a vigilante. I am an assassin.”
“What’s the difference?” I’d asked, curious because the two seemed the same.
“An assassin acts for money, not a cause.”
At the time, my nine-year-old self didn’t grasp the difference and didn’t care. I glanced at my hands, still stained in blood, my clothes crusted in it. I should probably feel remorse about what I’d done. I didn’t. Just wished I’d been faster so my mother didn’t have to die.
“Teach me how to kill,” I said. Because, while young, I understood only luck kept me alive.
“First lesson is that the meting out of death is an art.”
My nose wrinkled. “I’m not good at art.”
He actually chuckled. “And yet you painted a vivid canvas from what I heard. With my guidance, I’ll teach you how to conduct masterpieces using the right tools.” And as if to compound his point, he pulled free a short blade comprised of a strange, dark substance that didn’t glint despite the single torch left lit.
“What kind of metal is that?” I’d only ever seen the gray kind, dull or shiny depending on its use.
“It’s elekium, an element so strong it can only be forged in the heart of a volcano.”
“Is it sharp?”
“You tell me.” He’d swung his blade across the bars. Once high. The second time, low.
It barely made a sound, and nothing happened. “Did you miss?”
“Do you often ask stupid questions?” As if his disdain were a signal, the bars he’d sliced across fell out, tumbling to the floor in a clatter.
A glance over my shoulder showed everyone still sleeping. Odd. Then again, this entire evening hadn’t gone as imagined.
The hole, big enough for me, gaped in welcome, but I hesitated.
“What are you waiting for?”
I glanced upward, trying to see inside the cowl. “Who are you?”
“You may call me Master Jrijori. As my apprentice, if you work hard, one day maybe you’ll be as good an assassin as me.”
My thin chest puffed. “I’ll be better.”
He snorted. “Doubtful. Shall we, little blade?” He stepped aside and gave me room to emerge.
I followed and never looked back.
Almost twenty-five years later and we remained together, a master and his student, who not long after my rescue became father and daughter. He was a strict man who had me calling him “master” in public because he was perverse that way. He was lucky I tolerated him. Good thing I loved him. I especially loved trying to surprise him.
I eyed the closet in the room I entered on the second floor. It had a secret passageway in the space between the walls. I could have taken it to the closet that emerged in Jrijori’s private quarters beside his office. Too easy and not the only secret entrance the master’s office had. The plaster medallion in his office ceiling could swing down and offer a quick access to the crawlspace of an attic. Then of course there were the windows, which could be barred to secure the room as well.
Everything in the guild, in our lives, came with an escape route or defense plan. The life of an assassin meant sleeping with one eye open and trusting no one. Although it had been years since anyone tried to kill me. Used to be ours was a precarious profession. And then, between us, Father and I scared everyone into leaving us alone.
Be the best or be dead. The rule for anyone who dealt in a deadly currency. Now I killed boring folk in their beds.
I missed the days we went after pirates. I’d had a grand time for several years, sailing the seas and infiltrating the pirate settlements. Not only did we make a fortune off of the pirates, we collected a massive reward from the king for securing the seas. As a souvenir, Jrijori kept the eye patch he used to wear during those days.
The good ol’ days. I hadn’t gone sailing in a long time. Probably a good thing. Rumors indicated there’d been issues with boats disappearing. People claiming it was monsters suddenly rising from the deep. The sailors certainly claimed the waters had gotten more dangerous. Still, a tentacle wider than a man?
More likely a storm. And yet, I couldn’t help but recall the giant bird that slammed into me on the roof. Could it be some creatures thought extinct had returned?
That was as ridiculous as the rumors magic was now surfacing. I’d heard claims the Jaamanian emperor’s grand vizier wielded power. More like he knew how to manipulate events to his advantage. The rumors also stated the grand vizier had the emperor dancing like a puppet on a string. As if I cared. I’d left my homeland with Jrijori a long time ago and never looked back.
I glanced out the window of the room I’d entered and tilted to peek upward. The third floor, smaller than the second, was mostly office, with windows on three sides. The private bedchamber and bathing room were closed off on one side only. The roof and its chimney were my destination. To get there, I’d have to climb between the bedroom and bath area windows. So long as the master remained in his office, I’d not be seen.
I was counting on Jrijori not knowing about recent repairs. We’d had the chimneys rebricked, the new stuff a little more expensive but sturdier. Also less than half the size of the previous bricks. It added a bit more space around. Tight for a full-grown man, but someone slim like me? I inched partway down the chimney and then dropped, hitting the cold hearth with bended knees and dagger out.
The master had the tip of his sword at my throat even before I’d blinked. “About time you joined me, daughter.”
“Father.” I bowed my head in greeting as he pulled back his sword. I never did manage to surprise him. “I see old age hasn’t rendered you incapable yet.”
“More like you’re just too slow.” Pause. “Still.”
All my life he’d been telling me to go faster, and I improved at his urging, yet he always remained a little bit ahead of me. If I believed in magic, I’d think he used it.
My lips curved. “It’s nice to have you back.”
His craggy features twisted into his version of a smile. “Is it? I hear you’ve been taunting Benji again and that you embarrassed the latest recruits.”
I snorted. “Benji shouldn’t be whining, what with the percentage he gets from my profits. And as for the latest batch of newbies, they’re useless.”
“Surely there’s one with potential to be more than a mercenary?”
“Only if you want to be known for being sloppy.” I wrinkled my nose.
The guild my father currently managed was known as the Guild of Excellent Blades. Publicly, we hired out mercenaries to whoever had the coin: caravans, lords and ladies feeling a little targeted. Less well known, we also dealt in assassins. Not many since most didn’t live long. As to recruiting more, the skill set required was rare, and few recruits, if any, survived the training phase.
It was a source of pride that I was the youngest trained assassin of record, although Jrijori beat me on the longevity in the field.
My father drummed his fingers on his desk, agitated. “Today’s children lack the hard edge of yesteryears. The wars of their forefathers are too far away. There is plenty of food and shelter. The sultan is annoyingly good.”
“If you don’t mind a foppish fool.” I’d seen him a time or two, a jolly fellow who talked to everyone with a smile. One of his laws was that no one went hungry.
“The people like him. They enjoy living their lives without worry or strife. They’re happy, which means less work for us and the reason why we’re relocating.”
I blinked. “What?” Talk about sudden.
“As if you didn’t guess that was why I left. I was scouting out new possibilities, given the jobs we’ve been receiving of late have been mediocre and a waste of our talent.”
“We make steady coin guarding caravans.” I could also do it half asleep.
“Any idiot with a weapon can do that. You and I are too skilled to be content with that.”
“Because those trained in death can only be satisfied if they stalk the night.” An oft repeated mantra of my teacher. Jrijori taught the older ways of the assassin’s guild.
“You are not being fulfilled. Neither of us is.”
“Speak for yourself. I killed someone tonight.”
“That was a pathetic job, and you know it. There was a time we never would have entertained it.”
“Things are a little slow,” I admitted.
“We are wasting away. Which is why I am relocating. You coming or not?”
As if there was any question. He was my only family. Only friend. Only person I trusted.
“Where?” Because while a form of mercenary guild existed in practically every major city, only a few dealt in the deadlier arts. Some places, like Varyy, had banned assassins entirely. Even mercenaries could only visit with a contract showing their purpose, and it better be legitimate or they might find themselves arrested and sent to the mines.
“Varyy.” Stated, not asked.
“Is that your idea of a joke? It’s the one country in the center of three fighting factions that has a law against assassins and an instant death penalty to those caught breaking it.” A big reason why we didn’t do business there.
“Their very laws are why it’s perfect. Think of the advantages on all sides. The threat of skirmishes all around. Power plays and positioning. So much opportunity.”
“With a constant threat of arrest,” I added. How exciting. “When do we leave?”
“How long do you need to say goodbye?”
I snorted. “None since we’re going together.” There was no one else I cared about. The few friends I had were all retired or dead.
“Then we’ll leave within the hour.”
It didn’t take me that long. My saddlebags with my spare clothes, armor, and knives thumped down the steps, drawing eyes. It scraped as I dragged it over the floor. No one offered to help. They’d better not and imply I was weak. More like I’d accumulated a lot of stuff.
As I headed for the door, I realized there was one person I wanted to say goodbye to. Whirling, I marched over to Benji, grabbed him, and dragged him close enough to smash a slobbery kiss on his lips.
The man couldn’t stand bodily fluids of any type, which made his choice of where to work all the more confounding. He jerked away and rubbed his face furiously, cursing and spitting.
Jrijori stood cloaked by the door and shook his head slightly as I neared. “Was that necessary?”
“Totally.”
“Try to behave once we get to Feoria.” The capital of Varyy and soon to be our new home.
My lips quirked. “I thought the point of moving was to spice up our lives.”
“Preferably with our heads intact.”
We squabbled good-naturedly, but only where no one could hear us. Anyone looking would have seen two angry people waving around sharp knives. We did have an appearance to maintain after all.
Our horses stood saddled in the courtyard. I glanced down at my very heavy bags and the poor mare I couldn’t torture. I looked at the boy handling the reins to our steeds and heaved my belongings in his direction. “Have this sent to—” I eyed Jrijori. “Give him the address.”
“Sell it and get new stuff. We both know you’re wearing your best.”
True. I sighed. “Fine. Boy, tell Benji to sell this and keep twenty percent for his troubles.” I flicked him a coin, and we were on our way. As we exited the city walls, the traffic lessened enough to talk.
“Who’d you leave in charge?” I asked.
“No one. Thought we’d give ourselves a little time to fit in before we made our departure official.”
That roused a snort. “Please, we both know we’re not going back.”
He’d lowered his cowl so I could see his amusement. “True. Even living on the road would be preferable to that dull trap we fell into.”
“We were getting practically domestic,” I agreed. My sheets were laundered once a week. Cook served bacon every third day.
“We’ll have to be on our guard in Feoria. They are strict about enforcing their laws.”
“And yet people still commit crime.”
“Because it’s profitable,” he said.
“Meaning there are probably already assassins in the city.”
“Yes, but not many. Our services will be in demand.”
“Only if people know to hire us,” I pointed out.
“That won’t be a problem.”
It took a week of travel to make it to Varyy, a well-protected country comprised of a massive island surrounded by a sea of deadly tar. It bubbled too hot for flesh and too thick for boats. The only way to get there was via the single land bridge bisecting the boiling black pitch guarded by the Varyy army at both ends. A polite group of soldiers but nonetheless there to ensure we didn’t intend to cause trouble or bring trouble with us to the neutral country. I had to let them count and make note of all my weapons.
When the captain asked why a pretty girl needed so many knives, I held one to his chin and said, “Call me pretty again and I will show you.”
Lucky for him, he accepted Jrijori’s bribe rather than arrest us. We were granted passage with a warning about not starting trouble. As if. We usually were the people sent in to end it.
Once within the Varyy borders, it took several more days to make it to the capitol, most of it over flatlands so boring I snoozed in my saddle. I probably deserved being dumped out of it because I’d never heard Jrijori get close enough to shove. The easy life I’d been leading of late had ruined my natural instinct. I needed to hone it, or I’d be taken out by the first pickpocket.
When we finally arrived at the city of Feoria with its twenty-foot-tall and five-foot-thick walls, I would admit to being impressed. Not just at the sturdy construction of the palisade but the beautiful city within. White stone rose in fluting combinations that were graceful and worked harmoniously with the greenery prevalent on every street. There were cleverly disguised holes for archers and grates by front doors that sat above pits of spikes.
In Aluztha, where we’d spent the last decade, the homes were built to withstand the harsh storms that rolled in from the sea a few times a year. The exteriors, chewed by salty wind and rains, always appeared pitted and discolored no matter how often and brightly residents painted.
But Feoria didn’t appear to have the same natural disasters affecting it. Here was beauty and functionality in one.
Blame the mixture of people. Since our oceans disgorged nothing but marine life to eat, there wasn’t much diversity of origin, but a place built in the center of many distinct nationalities offered a pool of accents, appearances, and opinions, although everyone behaved in public, where the soldiers kept a close eye. Those with arguments did it away from prying eyes in buildings or alleys.
I took it all in as we made our way through the neatly ordered streets. Saw the wealth as we neared the center of the city where the nobles resided, including us, the merchant and his daughter.
Jrijori, dressed for his role, had to ditch his dark cloak and wore a rich blue jacket over dark pants a and dark shirt. My clothing was just as rich, if a dress, given that was what a proper lady would wear. I suffered the skirts but only because they had pockets for my knives and poison.
Eyeing my new home, a building of three stories with a shop on the main level, I smiled.
Here’s to a new and exciting life.