The bar was almost empty, which changed things. His master was much easier to keep alive while there were fewer potential threats, but keeping that protection a secret from the interviewee became harder with each person that finally rolled out onto the street. He leant back on his chair, lifting his tankard to his lips again, looking much like any other half-drunk patron.

"Hello Urd."

The seat across from him was shrouded in darkness; a side-effect of keeping to the worst-lit portion of the bar. He had heard enough to be suspicious, but his uncertainty was a sure sign that she was still as good as ever.

"Wynn."

"How's business?"

He shrugged, keeping up his observation of his boss and the urchin assassin he sat opposite.

"I have steady work, well paid, and you know I prefer protection to the other stuff."

"Even protecting him?"

Urd gave a shallow nod and risked venturing a smile into the shadows.

"Everyone hates him; that makes the protection a real challenge at times." There was a brief pause. "Are you here for him?"

"Maybe. Depends how my conversation goes. I doubt I'll kill him tonight. I suppose you have to try and stop me getting to him."

This time he definitely smiled.

"Yes, I should do, but I'll settle for you putting your weapons on this table; I'd accept that as a guarantee."

There was the sound of a chair scraping the floor as she stood, then slender hands reached out of the darkness and placed two long knives on the table. Finally Wynn herself strode out of the shadows and over the other table with the meeting going on. She glared at the interviewee; barely more than a scruffy boy straight off the street.

"I have business to discuss with Steven son of John. Get gone."

Without another word the young man was gone, leaving the inn quicker than a fleeing gazelle. Wynn calmly took his seat, producing a small bag from a belt pouch and putting it on the table.

"I brought back your gems."

Johnson nodded.

"I see. And you think that's enough?"

She shrugged.

"I failed a mission. First time it ever happened, and last time it ever will; I'm retiring."

"You don't just retire from this business. We made a deal, and you broke the terms. Keep the money; it might buy off the first one who comes for you. It won't last long though, and sooner or later every hired thug in this city will be after you."

She stood, leaning over the table with a glare that ought to have broken the man.

"And I'll slice each one open and leave him to bleed, before I come for you and show you a whole new world of pain. Keep the money: add it to the bounty or spend it on extra security."

She reached out and caught the daggers as Urd tossed them to her, flicking them effortlessly into their sheathes.

"Wynn, wait. There's an alternative."

She turned back.

"I'm listening because I'm intrigued as to what the Hell you think will make me listen to you any more."

"Finish the job. Bring me evidence of the Prince's death, and you can have it all: twice what we offered before and you get your old life back. Whatever you think you have up there is illusory; you belong down here with us, and you should get back here before the house of cards comes down on you."

She sighed.

He's right. It's good now, but I ought to get out before someone realises what's going on.

"I'll think about it."

Steven waited for her to leave, gave a few moments more for good measure, then walked over to his bodyguard.

"Exactly as you said it would be." Urd nodded. "She thinks it was her idea that you let her see me?" Another nod. "Excellent work."


In the shadows of the alley beside the bar - a popular shortcut among the cockier customers - the young assassin waited. The bounty on the woman was big, and was probably only getting bigger regardless of how her meeting went; he'd be rich, but more importantly he'd be a respected killer, having brought down the one everyone else was afraid of.

How hard could she be though? He knew she took this road; she had moaned about being attacked here barely two months ago. He had also heard what happened to them, but they were gutless amateurs. He would keep it simple, no bravado, no tricks, just a simple step out of the shadows before he stabbed her as many times as it took.

The first clue he had that she had arrived was the sliver of cold steel across his throat.

"I don't want to have to kill you, boy, because I really don't think you understand what you're getting yourself into."

He shook his head defiantly, the effort bringing out a line of blood where the dagger touched him.

"You can't be alert all the time. One day I'll find you and kill you in your sleep. Unless you get me first."

"Fair enough."

He hit the floor with an unceremonious thump, his blood rapidly draining from a smooth throat wound as she started the trek back up the hill to the noble districts.


The walls of the Royal Palace were pretty constructions, but the array of different textures in the stonework made for easy handholds as Wynn made her way up a concave corner to get back in. Hands firmly on the top, she got high holds with her feet ready to pop her head up to check for witnesses. When she tried it, she found herself looking up the blade of a gently curved sabre.

"Ah, mistress Wynn." The Captain of the Guard put his sword away. "Kindly tell me what you're doing scaling the walls."



Next Chapter: Chapter 8