The Bloody Rebellion of Farris Grimholt

The Assassin

Nell reached out a hand to take the pendant from Han as they passed, their palms touching for no more than an instant. Her fist closed around the cold silver. They had performed this same routine so many times it was almost second nature as she turned and mingled into the crowd. She moved the chain and pendant into an inner pocket as she made her way down the main street. The cloak she wore was heavy, moth-eaten, with ragged tails that dragged in the dirt, but plain enough that it attracted little attention; and inside were sewn a number of pockets that were perfect for concealing various items.

It was warm and the streets were full of people buying and selling. Most people never noticed them at work, their eyes constantly looking over the heads of others, rather than down at their pockets. She moved through them as swift and invisible as a vole through a field of long summer grass and was soon far away from the hubbub of the square and the long shadow of the Tower of the Reese. The city was a dangerous place and the wise amongst the travellers kept their purses fastened on string or leather straps around their necks.

There were often scuffles and fights over the smallest of trinkets. But Nell had nothing, so she feared nothing. The first thing that the Cat had told her was to carry only what you can easily discard, when you have food, eat it; when you have wine, drink it; and when you have coin, use it to buy food or wine. All they could take from her was her life, and there were very few people who would miss that.

Nell entered the Holly Bush, a low tavern in the north-eastern quarter, settling herself down to a cup of strong wine that was provided free of charge. In her eleven years she had lived more lifetimes than many who were grey and grizzled. The place was empty as it was early in the morning, but for their regular customers the bar was always open. Nell sipped at her rough wine as she sat, her fingers brushing the cool metal in her pocket. Several more young girls entered the bar, some older and some younger than her.

The Holly Bush had a reputation for violent, disreputable, customers, gruff men of the lower professions. Disputatious as they were, they didn't dare to mess with the young girls who came into the bar and passed downstairs. They would soon have regretted it. Besides, the brothel was always open, where they could have their fun without the risk of having their throats slit afterwards. Nell felt safe there, but she felt safer knowing there was a dagger beneath her cloak.

Most of the girls she recognized: Han, Eve, Ros; but there were always new recruits, their faces gaunt and dirty, with hungry eyes and mean scowls. They were all settled at the bar and given a cup of the evil tasting wine. Outside Nell could hear the ringing of the bell of the White Cathedral, which could be heard across the city, faintly even at the outer walls. Nine O'clock. The bell was the one way that they knew when to be at the bar. It was one of the many things they were required to remember: times, places, dates, names, faces. If they did not appear at the set time, then they had either been arrested, or killed, or had died. Either way, they spent little time worrying about those who did not turn up.

There were fifteen girls in all at the bar now, and no other patrons. The serving woman crossed over to the door, sliding the latch across to lock it. That done she moved to the door that was beside the bar, opening it. Without a word the girls got to their feet and trooped through the doorway. Nell was sixth in line to pass through into the darkness beyond. The steps led down into a large basement room. The only light in the room was from a single oil-lantern hung at the ceiling. In one wall was an alcove, with a bed set in it. There were small barrels of wine and ale for the patrons upstairs and a large barrel standing in the centre of the room, around which the girls gathered.

Nell could hear the other girls' pockets clinking with ill-gotten gains. One by one they came forward and deposited what they had cheated or stolen that week on the top of the large barrel. Nell came forward and dropped the silver necklace onto the small heap of treasure. The other girls gasped when they saw it. A magister's chain was a rare prize. Han grinned at her across the barrel. Beside the chain and pendant there were plenty of broaches, delicate ivory combs and pins. From a dark corner of the room they heard a shuffle of feet.