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People. There were people everywhere. Anticipation hung over the whole square as men and women pressed as close to the stage as they could get. Faces popped out of every window and even the lower roofs nearby were being used as vantage points. Eager voices chatted everywhere. It seemed as though the shock from yesterday had been replaced by exhilaration as the crowd looked forward to the impending duel.
I slid through the crowd like a snake. Two tents had been erected on either side of the large platform in the middle of the square and inside, the two fighters waited. Weaving through a group of cheerful young women, I made for the one to the left. Marcellus’ tent.
Yes, yes, I know. They did say not to cheat. But see, cheating is only a crime if you get caught.
Dark red fabric flapped in the warm breeze as I closed in. It was no more than a small rectangle of cloth and poles holding it up, but it was enough to give the contestants somewhere private to get ready for the battle. I skirted around the structure. The main opening at the front was the intended door but as I reached the back of the tent, I noticed that the fabric overlapped there as well. It might not have been meant as an entrance, but it could most certainly be used as one.
Coming to a halt, I tore my gaze from the red cloth and took in the scene. The audience buzzed around me. Everywhere I looked, eyes roamed the area, waiting for the General and the assassin to appear.
Damn. With this many eyes, I would need a distraction. Placing soft hands on the packed bodies around me, I edged back towards the front of the tent. This would require careful scheming. I cast an impatient glance at the sun high above me in the sky. Or some brute force. Or maybe a bit of both.
While gliding between two groups of young men, I lowered a deft hand into an unguarded pocket. My fingers wrapped around a pouch. Drawing it out, I set my sights on the unattended pocket of a man from the other squad.
He turned around and stared straight at me. However, I was too much of a professional to stop dead in my tracks. Instead, I simply continued forward with a vaguely disinterested look on my face. Twisting my body as I passed him, I stuck my fingers in his pocket.
The stage was set. Now, all I had to do was tip the pieces in the right direction. I slunk through the crowd until I arrived next to a plump lady talking loudly to her friend at the edge of the two gangs.
“Did you see that?” I whispered to the woman.
She jerked back slightly at the sudden comment. “Did I see what?”
“That guy in the blue shirt, he took a pouch from that man’s pocket when he wasn’t looking.”
“He did?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Youngsters these days,” she muttered and crossed her arms. “Hey! You in the blue shirt, give back what you stole.”
When the talkative lady raised her voice to call him out, I was already slipping away. The man I had pickpocketed soon discovered his money missing and an argument broke out as the accused man defended himself after finding the stolen pouch in his pocket. Safe on the other side of the two groups of young men, I decided it was time for some brute force. Just as I passed on the edge of the two squads, I threw an elbow into the side of the closest man.
“Ey!” he called and whipped around.
Since I had already ducked away, he only found the confused face of a completely innocent man from the other group who had just turned around.
“Watch it!” the guy I’d hit warned, and gave the other man a hard shove.
That’ll do it. The crowd cried out in alarm as the two groups of young men broke into a brawl. I rolled my eyes as I stalked around the side of the tent. Amateurs. With all eyes currently focused on the commotion at the front, I slid unseen through the gap in the fabric at the back and into Marcellus’ tent.
I dropped to the ground. Rolling in behind a chest, I tried to slow my hammering heart. Marcellus stood in the middle of the cloth-covered structure, stretching his muscled arms. Fortunately for me, he had his back to me.
Moving with deliberate care, I edged my head up. Apart from the chest I used as cover, only a table and a chair furnished the space. Not much to hide behind. My eyes continued darting around the room. The table was completely empty, as was the floor. I would bet my whole fortune that whatever weapons he was going to use were stored in the wooden trunk.
General Marcellus dropped his arms to his sides and turned around. I jerked my head back down. Oh, shit. The weapons. In the chest. The one behind which a very shady member of his opponent’s team currently hid. If he found me in here, he could just kill me on the spot and claim I’d been there to assassinate him.
Blood pounded in my ears. If I didn’t move before he got to the chest, he would see me. On the other hand, if I did move, he would also see me. Damn. Regardless of what I did, I would get caught. My heart beat against my ribcage. Reaching behind my back, I let my fingers snake around the handle of a hunting knife. If I was to be framed as an assassin, I might as well do the job.
“General!” someone called from outside the front of the tent.
“What?”
Clothes rustled faintly above me as I assumed Marcellus turned around. I was not about to let this brief opportunity slip by. Before the man calling had a chance to enter the tent and before Marcellus could turn back around, I darted from my cover.
“There’s a disturbance outside,” the man said. “Two groups are fighting over something.”
“So? What do I pay you for? Deal with it,” Marcellus muttered as the tent cloth fell back into place behind me. “And then get me my sword and shield!”
I didn’t dare stop moving until I was past the stage on the other side. Leaning my back against the large platform, I closed my eyes. That had been close. What was that thing I’d said? Cheating was only a crime if you got caught. I blew out a soft chuckle. Good thing I hadn’t been. After sending a quick prayer of thanks to Nemanan, I pushed off the tall stage and moved towards the other tent covered in dark red fabric.
This one was much easier to get into. I simply walked through the front door. Slim eyed me as I passed but didn’t make a move to stop me, so I assumed Shade had instructed him to let members of our scheming group pass. When the soft cloth rustled shut behind me, I drew up short.
The athletic assassin was in the middle of getting changed. I stared at the lean muscles covering his chest and stomach while his toned arms were busy pulling off a shirt. By Nemanan, he really was fit.
“Enjoying the view?” Shade said as he finally got the shirt past his head and away from his eyes.
Oh, I was. As much as I hate to say it, I was enjoying the view. A lot. But I would die before admitting it to that arrogant bastard, so instead I let a smirk settle on my face.
“Actually, I was admiring my own strength. Hauling all that through the streets while dying from some weird poison was no small feat, you know.”
Amusement flashed past on his face. “That right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Shade folded up the shirt in his hand and placed it on the neat pile next to him. When he turned around, I got a full view of his body. I ran my eyes over it. Not only his arms but also his chest, abdomen, and back sported evidence of fights. Pale scars, some faint and some prominent, decorated his skin. There was no question that he, too, had lived a life full of violence and bloodshed.
“Did you want something?” he asked while lifting another black shirt from the pile.
Crossing my arms, I strode forward until I reached the large center pole. I leaned my shoulder against it. “So, I snuck into Marcellus’ tent.”
“I thought you were told not to cheat.”
“Yeah, well, doing as I’m told isn’t exactly my forte.”
After putting on the tight-fitting black shirt he’d picked up, he advanced on me. I rolled my eyes. Oh, here we go again. A knife appeared in his right hand while he planted his left on the support beam next to my head. Putting the blade under my chin, he used it to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.
“I can’t have people going rogue on me and disobeying my orders.”
“First, I don’t take orders from you.”
Shade pushed the knife higher up under my chin, his black eyes glittering. “Wanna bet?”
I shot a stiletto blade into my palm. Putting the cold metal to the inside of his wrist, I moved his knife hand out of my face. “And second, that thing about not cheating...” I narrowed my eyes and gave him a knowing smirk. “They weren’t exactly your orders, now were they?”
While twirling the knife in his hand, he let out a short chuckle. “No.”
“Exactly. The others said not to cheat but they aren’t underworlders. We are. And we do whatever it takes to win.”
“We do indeed.” His intelligent eyes peered down at me. “But?”
“But... there was nothing I could tamper with. No food or drink to drug. Even his weapons were stored away safely. He’s careful, I’ll give him that. Short of slitting his throat, there wasn’t anything I could do.”
Shade removed his hand from the wooden pole next to my head. “Yeah, and killing the General of Pernula the day before the election wouldn’t have ended well for us.”
“Probably not.” I lifted my free shoulder in a one-sided shrug. “I overheard his choice of weapon, though. A sword and shield.”
The wheels were already turning behind the assassin’s black eyes. “Sword and shield, huh?”
I peeled my shoulder off the support beam and made for the door. “Don’t lose.”
“I don’t lose.”
Stopping, I twisted around and repeated his own words to me from so many months ago. “Humility isn’t your strong suit, is it?”
“Neither is it yours.”
He remembered. I blew out a soft chuckle before turning back to the opening in the tent. Holding the flap open, I cast one last look back at the Master of the Assassins’ Guild.
“Whatever it takes.”
His mouth drew into a lopsided smile. “Whatever it takes.”
Outside the tent, the crowd had gotten even more excited. It seemed as though members of every faction were there. Lords and ladies were mixed in with bakers in stained aprons, sailors smelling of seaweed, and soldiers in full armor. Perched on the roofs around the stage, I even recognized some underworlders I’d met in different taverns while I’d been out spreading rumors. This duel was definitely a spectator sport.
Drawing a deep breath, I started weaving towards the spot where the rest of my companions waited. We were about to find out if the muscled General really was more skilled in the art of swordplay than the cunning assassin. For all our sakes, I hoped to Nemanan that Zaina and Norah were wrong. Otherwise, we were all dead.