Three girls shaped by the horrors of society find a quiet and lethal survival. They are fire, ice and wonder, they couldn't be more different. Yet their fierce loyalty and friendship is the anchor in the storms that they must withstand. They are not...
Every breath you take And every move you make Every bond you break Every step you take I'll be watching you - The Police, 'Every breath you take'
I woke in the wee hours of the night to scan the city. On the moonless night I could see the vast expanse of the city from the terrace of our home, the slums to the south and the posh District expanding from the north to the west of our home. I soon spotted what it was looking for. A green paper lantern that hung from one of the offices near the clock tower. It was a signal that someone needed to employ my services.
It was an old assasins code I would drop in a broken pice of an mother of pearl disc and keep the other half with me if I am ready to accept the contract. The patron would pick on the piece from the lantern and I'll pick up the name that was left for me in it.
When I was to be done with the job I'll light a red lantern in the same spot and put in the other half of the disc, if the discs fit seamlessly then my payment would be left at whatever place I would have encoded on that lantern.
I travelled a few streets to that green call and picked up the piece. A name and a place, easy enough. I took out the disc from my pocket and cracked it to half, I slipped that piece in the lantern and left.
I knew the small town of Incilies was a small piece of land jutting out of the mainland, stretching out to the ocean. It was mostly bought over by the gambling young sons of the lords.
I did not feel like waiting for the dawn for a goodbye, I wrote a note and left it on the dinning table, the girls wouldn't miss it.
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It took one day from Foxtale, of crossing the Rear hills and reaching the shore, then a four days on the rat infested ferry ride to reach the dock a few miles from Incilies, lesser men were not allowed to dock on the private docks of Incilies.
The last leg of the journey I covered on the sad excuse for a mule that I could hire from the docks. I peeled off the cloak half way through the road because I was suffocated by the moist sea breeze.
I entered the little town and it reeked of fish and salt, I could see the scullery maids running about to secure whatever their masters had deemed fit for the dinner that day.
A few rounds around the market and I sniffed her out, a maid who was not into buying sea-food, rather she was choosing among the sad sickened chickens that hung in a few shops. Bulls eye. A maid from the household of a master who has an allergy of sea food, I picked that about him from a lot of gossip Sofie had shared with us.
I followed her to the beach mansion from a safe distance, I had discarded the mule in market, the hooves sounds would have been too loud and noticeable. I took a turn about the mansion after the maid disappeared through the backdoor. Petticoats, shirts and pants hung in the backyard.
I left after a little vigil and secured an Inn room under the name of missus Colson, I sobbed in my kerchief about the husband who had purpously lost me in the crowded market, the Inn-keeper, squeamish about snivelling women let me have the room without much inquiry. The polished silver coin that I presented readily might have helped too.
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