Masquerade

Cold light of day

    You look down at your hands, you have to have clean hands, that was a particularity of his. Your hands are rough from holding onto Fidella’s reigns, but they are clean, the nails spotless. As you look you realize that they are trembling. It’s excitement, that’s what you convince yourself, it’s not fear, you’re ready for this. You open the door and smile at Kenjaro.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  He offers you his arm with a cocky smile, always confident, always slightly flirtatious. You feel the warmth of him as you step close, the slightly spicy smell of his skin.

  “Do I look alright?” You ask.

“You’re a foreigner. He’ll notice you.”

  You’re in the marketplace now, you can see your target, you know what you must do. The man is huge, though he would stand out even if he wasn’t. It wasn’t his shockingly pale skin or white hair, it was the way that everybody moved away from him, the strange fear in people’s eyes when they glanced in his direction.

  “Go. Now.” Kenjaro says pushing you lightly on the shoulder.

  You grab the small basket at your feet and walk, head down, making it look like you’re in a hurry, like you’re not watching where you’re going, but you know exactly what you’re doing. You keep glancing up and seeing that you are on a direct path to the man in front of you, and as you get closer the pounding in your chest becomes palpable. A bead of sweat trickles down your spine. You realise that you’re holding your breath. Closer, and closer and then right at the moment where he is hovering above you, your fingers loosen, the basket drops to the floor. The pears roll out and one hits his snakeskin boot. Your fingers reach for it.

  “Gomen-Nasai.” You say, making sure that your voice sounds stilted, unsure, as if you didn’t know this language well.

  Then you glance upwards as you sense him bending down, your eyes meet and his widen slightly. You have his attention, the attention of a man you know has killed dozens, that could kill you without much thought. You’ve planned for this, you know what to expect but as you see the colourless eyes boring into you, the slight furrow of the barely seen eyebrows questioning what a foreigner is doing in these rural parts… you feel a shiver of fear.

  Casandra woke panting. For a moment she didn’t know where she was, she had been at the market, she had been with Kenjaro, then as she looked around the unfamiliar dark room she started to realize where she was. She could still feel the creep of sweat running down her back. The night was still dark, but there was enough light for her to see, dawn must be close to breaking. She threw the covers back and padded on bare feet to the dark shadow of the dressing table. She dipped her hands in the cool bowl of water that had been set out for her to perform her morning cleanse in. She splashed it onto her face, feeling the sudden shock of it, helping to cool her down, helping to bring her back into the present. She glanced up and met scared eyes in the mirror, a pale face, lips apart, panting, shoulders trembling. She frowned.

“You did this to yourself; you chose this.”

***

    “Shush… She is not awake yet.”

   “But I want to see her Mummy!”

  “Is she really a warrior? I want to be a warrior!”

  “Does she like horses?”

  “Shush Hettie. I’m the oldest, I get the first question.”