Shadow of Death (Book 2 of Hanthalah)

Interlude

          637 AD, 15 AH

        6 years ago

Lurking about in broad daylight is far more exhilarating, Sumayya thought with glee, scaling the looming mansion adorned with exquisite images of branches and lush greenery on its walls.

Below Sumayya – no, the Canary now – guards paced about the complex, oblivious and lulling. To them, it was a seemingly uneventful day, a morning like any other.

All the while the Canary hauled herself into an open window.

Years of rigorous training lent her reflexes of caution, crouching, silently moving forward with all the stealth that now came second hand to her.

Al-Khalidun, the Immortals, as they called themselves, had taken her in a broken girl, dead inside and shattered of spirits. They had sheltered her, built her up through seclusion in remote locations as she labored day and night through the arduous trainings she was set to.

And so, Sumayya bint Huyayy, the Jewish daughter of a Banu Nadir chieftain had died. In her place, reborn, was the Canary, who held no beliefs dear nor any emotion close to heart. She was not male nor was did she call herself woman. Hers was an erased identity, loyalties unmarred by shallow human sentiment or the weakness of tethering oneself to friend or family.

The Canary was a tool. A device of mass destruction that served only its brethren in the al-Khalidun agency.

A device that would strike that day. The culmination of all the Canary's training.

The Canary was about to kill a man who had hurt Sumayya bint Huyayy. The man who had once been predator would be prey today. And he would only be the first to fall by the Canary's blade, merely a test of skill.

The man it had known as Twilight, who had been companion to the Syrian mercenary Kunkuz, had done well for himself. The Canary found herself in a lavishly furbished dining chamber, decorated in the Roman style. There were two sleek couches on either side of a massive rectangular table.

And on one of them, lounged Twilight.

The Canary suppressed a pang of emotion akin to a whimper from within. It was a voice from the last remnants of Sumayya bint Huyayy, the feeble woman who had once inhabited the Canary's body. At seeing her oppressor, Sumayya may have cringed away or darted out of the house.

But the Canary relished the challenge. Twilight was her first contract as an agent. Her own personal endeavor, a side quest to the Raven's plea for her, to hunt down the man who had killed Sumayya's father.

It was only here to practice.

The Canary lurked in a corner, conspicuous and unseen, and surveyed the room. Rat-faced Twilight took a bite off an apple. He was dining alone. There were massive doors studded with iron on either end of the room – one to Twilight's face, the other to his back. There was one guard standing vigilant at each doorway.

It would have been an impossible task for a normal assassin.

The Canary grinned.

It tucked a hand into its dark robes and conjured a sleek wooden pipe, greased over with dirt to better blend in with the surroundings. The Canary focused its aim to the tall window on the far wall, spilling light into the chamber and illuminating the contents of the dining table.

It put the pipe to its lips, steadying its hands, and puffed.

The glass shattered instantly, and with it, the attention of the guards. For a split second, both men glimpsed at the disturbance. It was more than enough for an agent of the Khalidun.

The Canary lurched forward at lightning speed in a crouched flash of dark clothing. Traveling across the room, the distracted guards a blur to it, the Canary basked in the thrill of impending murder. Time slowed around it, the slightest of movements by Twilight or his guards sluggish and warped.

The Canary slid one of her daggers out of its hiding place, grabbed a bamboozled Twilight by the collar, yanking him toward the al-Khalidun agent.

And in that brief moment of revelation, Twilight's jaw dropped open. He recognized the face but not the being that it belonged to now.

The Canary dug the blade deeper into his throat and slashed.

Before the stream of blood spurted from beneath his flesh like a flowing fountain, the Canary was away from the guards and out into the open. It scaled the surface of a cliff and reached its peak. Feet dangling from the top, the Canary grinned at the sounds of alarmed men, no doubt disturbed at the sight of their gurgling master.

"You have not joined this organization to pursue your personal vendetta," the Raven's husky voice chided her.

The Canary smiled. "Overseer."

"And I will remain so unless you learn that you are no longer Sumayya bint Huyayy."

"I am not," the Canary agreed.

"Then act like it!"

The Canary scoffed. "Don't act like your contract against Hanthalah ibn Ka'b is not a personal vendetta."

The Raven bristled at that. "It is the deliverance of justice."

"It is only justice because he killed your nephews and niece."

"Speak to your Overseer with a better tone!"

The Canary sighed. "What would you have of me, Overseer? I have infiltrated his life. I have taken him to husband. I am playing my part in this contract, Overseer."

"By my blade! The cheek on you. We sent you to infiltrate his life and identify the weak points, not to be the mother of his child."

The Canary caressed her increasingly swollen belly, one finger tracing down past the bump. Finally, it smirked.

"Do not worry, Overseer. It's all part of the plan."

"Plan? To get pregnant by the man we scheme to destroy?"

The Canary looked up at the Raven with a sparkle in its eyes. "I work in mysterious ways."