“That damn child!” Ariadna hissed to herself, once she was back in the cellar and out of earshot of any potential guards or servants loitering around. The last thing she wanted was for someone to hear her throwing a tantrum over having to change her plans. Ariadna looked around the cellar with hopes that some other grand plan would appear into her head. That was when her gaze rested on the hearth standing cold and unused and she smiled through her scarf.
32 –
Preeya
Time slipped away slowly as Ariadna remained within the manor, doing exactly what she had been hired to do – and exactly what Preeya had begged her not to.
Troian had insisted he go on lookout, as though the assassin was the one in need of looking out for, and that left Preeya all alone with Artus. He had only muttered his intentions before leaving and did not even look back as he had left.
Neither of the mercenaries had said much to dissuade Ariadna from going in. Why would they? To say they did not agree with killing would have doomed them to a title of hypocrites. Both Troian and Artus knew only so much about the assassin’s contract – that she had been hired to kill some politician – and for that they had not even so much as swallowed hard at the sight of Ariadna gearing up to go inside the manor. Although, they would have been lying to say they had not been impressed. In fact, it was only Preeya who had turned her nose up at the entire thought of Ariadna sneaking into someone’s house to kill them whilst they slept in their own bed.
“Think about it this way,” Artus began to the girl. He waited until she looked his way and then continued from where he stood by his horse, gently stroking Thami’s neck. “This man is a politician. Do you know what politicians do?”
Preeya shook her head. They were only taught so much about the outside world back at the convent, for Sister Iyna had insisted everything around them was unholy and so learning about anything other than the word of the gods and the holy books studied within the temples, it was a call for trouble.
“Politicians are people who offer security, prosperity , a better place to live in one hand and then use the other to steal from the people they’ve promised to help right behind their backs. This man, Mallice; whatever his name is, I doubt he’s any better than all the other lying, cheating men who’d ran this city before him.”
Preeya shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she began.
Artus took a step closer to her and he could not help but widen his eyes at the sight of the girl jumping back in fear.
“Preeya.” it was the first time Artus had used her name.
“What do you think you’re doing? Don’t get too close.” the girl warned him. The four of them had not known each other for that long but, already Preeya felt that because of their history as sisters within one convent or another, she and Ariadna were becoming closer than the assassin liked to admit. Preeya knew Ariadna felt protective of her or else she would have left her for dead days ago.
These men, however, they were an entirely different story. Preeya was not sure exactly what to make of them and it embarrassed her to think that if Ariadna could not trust the mercenaries, then neither could she. Perhaps it was the wisest way to think, seeing as Ariadna had experience with any and every kind of person out there. A perk of being an assassin – the ability to figure out what kind of person someone was before they even said a word. Oh, how Preeya wished she could be like that! This man, Artus, was a difficult character to figure out.
Artus did not stop the girl as she shoved her hand into Atha’s saddle bag and pulled a knife out in her defence; the same one she had used to cut the men free in the first place.
“Preeya,” Artus began again. He raised his hands in front of him as he took a few calculated steps towards her and eventually he came near enough to close a gentle hand around Preeya’s wrist. Artus felt her begin to tremble at his touch. With his other hand, he took the blade from Preeya and then just… moved away.
The young girl was overcome with shock. She watched as Artus returned the blade back into Atha’s saddlebag and then took the reins of both his and Troian’s horses; leading them further beneath the tree where they could stomp their feet and chew on the dark grass without causing enough racket to get them all caught. Preeya had been told so many things about the cruelty of men, back at the convent. How, apparently, men liked to do as they pleased with women – young girls in particular - and that they were all nothing but a call for trouble.
“We can’t risk a fire. That will just be us asking to get caught if we build one. I suggest we huddle together since it’s quite chilly.” Artus said to her, without even having looked back. He settled himself against the thick stump of the weeping willow. “It’s supposed to be spring, I think. I can never be too sure – Troi and I travel around so much, mainly amongst deserts, I find anywhere else to be too cold.”
Preeya remained standing by Atha, she clutched the horse’s hair gently, just for comfort, and the beast seemed to sense her nerves.
“You don’t want to be doing that.” Artus said to her.
“Doing what?” she asked.
The mercenary looked to his own horse for a moment. When he returned his gaze to the girl, he cocked his head in her direction. “Horses can sense when you’re nervous and it makes them uneasy too. Sometimes it sets them off kicking, so I’d be careful.”
Preeya looked to Atha with wide eyes. The beautiful dark horse looked fine to her but, she was not going to take her chances. She led the beast towards Artus’ own and allowed her to enjoy the company of the other horses, all whilst she mustered the courage to finally take a seat beside Artus. "Did you use the whole huddling together thing as an excuse to get close?” Preeya could not help but ask. She dusted her breeches off, even though they were not dirty, before finding a place next to Artus.
The mercenary did not look her way as he replied, “Maybe.”
Preeya wanted to roll her eyes at him so badly, like Ariadna always seemed to do with people but, instead she found herself blushing like usual. If there was one thing she knew she needed to learn to control, it was her appreciation of compliments. It seemed to serve Ariadna well enough. She wrapped her waistcoat tighter around herself.
“So why did you choose to become a mercenary then, if you’ve now abandoned this contract of yours? Surely there will be consequences?” she slung her heavy dark plait over a shoulder and folded her arms across her chest. Her large brown eyes darted between the mercenary and Ariadna’s horse, just to keep herself from staring at the man too long. She thought he was rather attractive, with his cropped blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Then again, how many other men had she spent this much time around to even make such a judgement?
Artus brought one of his legs up, bent at the knee for him to prop his forearm against, and in between his fingers he twirled a blade of grass he had plucked up earlier. He let out a breathy sigh. “The money is good. The money is really good, in fact. If you sell yourself to the right buyer.” he replied.
Preeya did not fail to notice what sounded like an ounce of remorse in Artus’ voice, as he made his confession. It was all so ironic, her being a priestess listening to the sins of another without him even knowing who she really was. Preeya felt like she was betraying him somehow, by making him answer such personal questions. Were they personal? Or was it all just part of normal conversation people with lives had, outside the convent walls that is? There had been no point in asking such questions there, all the girls had been brought to the convent for the same reason.
They had been neither unique nor classed as individuals; not once they had been handed over to become Sisters of Atimae. Preeya could suddenly see why Ariadna had hated her childhood there so much and it made her wonder how she herself could have been so foolish. All those years she had not dared to voice the same opinion when it was true. A convent was a horrible place to live and eventually die in.
“Is money the only reason you decided to take up a life of killing? I mean, is it the only thing you t
hink you’re good at or,” Preeya was not too sure what else she wanted to ask him, so she just left her question like that.
Artus looked at her with those cool blue eyes of his. “I used to gamble a lot, when I was much younger. Let’s just say I had some rather substantial debts in need of paying and I was desperate. A couple years into the job I just became used to it, so I decided to settle with it. Plus, I’d found a good friend in Troian.” he kept his gaze on Preeya but, said nothing for some time.
Thinking he was going to say no more, Preeya looked away and only folded her arms tighter across her chest. It was rather chilly.
“And you?” Artus finally asked.
Preeya did not hesitate to look his way this time. She raised a brow at him. “What about me?” she replied. Preeya had to be careful with what she said to him in the next few minutes, should he somehow try to force any information out of her whilst Ariadna was gone. Preeya felt so vulnerable all of a sudden – even if Artus proved not to be a threat.
Artus dropped his gaze to Preeya’s wrists; the way she had hidden them from him as though ashamed of something.
“What made you choose the life of a priestess? I wouldn’t have guessed you believed in the gods, let alone served them.” his question was asked so casually. It made Preeya wonder how he had even guessed she was a priestess.
“I don’t know what-,” she only began.
“I saw the marking on your wrist. I’ve travelled to enough cities and learned enough about them to know that each one has a series of convents for young priestesses. I’ve seen similar markings to the ones on your wrist too; it was the first thing I guessed about you when I saw it a couple days ago.” Artus saved her the effort of lying.
Preeya was ashamed of it. She bit her bottom lip in hesitation and eventually uncrossed her arms, extending her wrist out for Artus to see the black tattoo on her skin. The tattoo had been shaped into a perfect circle, with a moon and sun overlapping each other in the centre. Tiny intricate whorls filled a few of the surrounding gaps; to anyone else it would have looked like an insignificant pattern.
“What’s it supposed to mean?” Artus asked.
“The moon and sun represent life – without them both, we would cease to exist. Without the gods to keep the sun and moon alive, they would both cease to exist in turn.” she fought hard to keep tears from falling at the memory of her childhood in the convent; the many lessons she had sat through, taught by Sister Iyna, about the gods and how they came to exist. Preeya pointed to the sun on her wrist.
“Thousands of years ago, Syun – the god whom the sun is named after, placed a cruel curse upon his sister, Moonara. I think you can guess who the moon is named after.” she shared a brief laugh with Artus. “Both gods were very close, naturally as brother and sister but, as they grew older and Moonara more beautiful, Syun eventually began to fall in love with her. After she refused his advances, Syun cursed his sister.”
Artus furrowed his brows. “That’s disturbing. What was the curse?” he asked.
“Syun decided that if he couldn’t have his sister for himself, then no one could. So he took her soul and enclosed it into what is now the moon, having her beauty only come out in the dark – a time when people are most afraid to go out and appreciate it. When people see the moon came out, they grow afraid of the oncoming dark and what lurks within it. They think it represents many evil things.” Preeya paused a moment. “He’d done it to prove that no one would ever appreciate her like he did – or had, shall I say.”
Artus scoffed at that. “I suppose the jokes on him then. Most people love the dark now – assassins and mercenaries most, I’ll admit. But that was cruel of him, to bask in the appreciation of people and have his sister receive none. Either way, you said so yourself, without both the sun and the moon, the world would cease to exist.” he said.
Preeya nodded meekly and pulled the sleeve of her tunic over the tattoo.
“Do you feel you’ve missed out on life?” Artus asked her.
“Yes. All the time.” Preeya replied and said no more about it afterwards, for she wanted nothing else to do with the life she had finally escaped from; after all these long, miserable years.
33 –
Ariadna
With her original plan now compromised, Ariadna had to think of something new, and quickly. She tightened the scarf around her face once more and hoped (for she prayed to no one) that this would work. It did not take long for Ariadna to find what she was certain were chlorine tablets, likely used by the servants for cleaning. She worked swiftly. Gathering an empty wooden bucket, the assassin dumped all the tablets she could find into it and pumped some water in along with them from a sturdy iron tap beside the cleaning cupboard.
Ariadna heaved the bucket towards the fireplace. Gathering wood by the armfuls, she dumped them into the hearth; occasionally looking over her shoulder for any incoming guards or servants; even though she was working as quietly as she could. The coast was clear. Not a sound came from the staircase she had just come down from. The smell of chlorine was already staining the air; thick and musty.
Ariadna did not falter, she reminded herself over and over again that she wanted to be in and out of here as soon as possible – altered plan or not. Once she got a fire going in the hearth, Ariadna waited until it built up to a healthy size. Soaking a set of towels in the chlorine tinged water, the assassin wrung them out, so they were not entirely soaking and tossed them into the fire one by one; to not extinguish the fire she had just made.
The hearth belched out a flame, which had Ariadna rolling away from in time to avoid being scorched by the fire. If she was correct, the chlorine-soaked towels would soon start giving off a stench that would drift to the upper levels of the manor, poisoning the air – as well as everyone breathing it. She just needed to get out now before she too became a casualty of her own scheme. Her business was done here.
“Ah, that’ll definitely kill those bastards up there for sure.” Ariadna said to herself, her words and occasional coughs alike muffled behind her scarf. She turned for the trapdoor that had allowed her entrance into the manor house in the first place. Footsteps came from the hidden staircase, followed by the voices of two or three men.
Ariadna halted and looked over her shoulder. She could not leave her work unattended like this, not with people coming down to the cellar who could easily sense something was off and extinguish the fire. The smell of chlorine was building up quickly, soon her eyes would start watering from it.
Three guards dressed in simple silver armour, over thick navy tunics and black breeches, came stomping down the stairs. They had evidently grown bored and frustrated from having to patrol the quiet surroundings of the manor house and instead had gone to search for a good drink to keep them awake.
Ariadna caught a few words out of them, from where she had hidden herself away behind a series of crates and barrels.
“Thirsty.” one man could be heard saying.
“Good wine hidden away somewhere.” a snippet of words from another man’s sentence.
Ariadna waited with tested patience.
The men appeared after some time and they headed straight to the barrels lined beside the food cupboard. They most certainly were desperate for a drink as they cracked open one barrel without a care for the consequences of stealing from their own master.
One guard looked away from the barrel he and the others were rummaging through. He crinkled his dark nose and pulled a funny face; no doubt at the smell of chlorine lingering in the air. “What’s that smell?” he asked. Lifting his chin a little higher, the guard paced the room, sniffing around like a hound during a hunt. He stopped before the fire and looked down at the remnants of the towels which had not yet burned to ashes. When he looked back at the others, he tasted blood before a single word could pass his lips.
Ariadna had appeared behind him faster than he could notice and one of her slim blades was already piercing his flesh, from the back of his neck through to his thr
oat, before the others finally took note of their comrade’s sudden silence. The assassin had disappeared into the shadows again; melting into the darkness in time to avoid being spotted beside the now dead guard on the floor.
“What the fuck?” one of the remaining guards said. The bottle he had taken from the barrel slipped from his now clammy fingers and it smashed by his feet, causing him and his companion to yell out and jump away.
Ariadna took their moment of sheer panic to attack. So much for keeping casualties to a minimum. She swooped in from behind one of the guards, clinging to him as they both went flying to floor, and she pinned him against the ground with her knee against his back. As she went to end him the way she had with the first man, the sole of a boot struck her shoulder and she went soaring once more, off the guard, and into the panel of one of the storage cupboards. She kept her colourful words to herself.
The two guards advanced on her with weapons drawn.
Ariadna was on her feet as they approached and she sent her own foot into the gut of the first soldier, winding him enough to draw his attention away from the blade she withdrew from her thigh pocket. He was down and dead as soon as Ariadna’s dagger found its place in the side of his neck; severing the flesh and jugular vein like a knife through butter. She danced around his body.
The final guard was sent into a furious frenzy. He raised his sword over his head and opened his mouth to let out a roar.
Ariadna skimmed her blade towards him. She opened his throat before he could sing and tucked her bloody blade back into her thigh pocket as she went for the trapdoor again.
If an assassin was truly a professional, they would not leave any trace of their being here behind. So Ariadna made sure she had dropped nothing, weapons or strands of hair alike and then left through the trapdoor as she began to splutter at the smell and taste of chlorine sinking through her scarf. She would need to cleanse her lungs with enough fresh air once she was outside and over the damned hedges of the manor house. Away from the chaos she had created; all of it yet to be discovered by the other guards on duty – who might have been lucky enough to survive the chlorine poisoning.
The Anari Page 15
