Part Two: Bodyguard
Cedric's heart sank as the dog scampered ahead and sank its teeth into the back of the assassin's calf. Cedric had been turning to run away before the assassin spotted him, but instinctively twisted back to try and catch the dog before it got them into trouble again. Tangling up his legs, Cedric staggered forward before tripping over his oversized boots and falling awkwardly forward, arms flaying, he accidently landed a solid blow to the back of the assassin's skull with the ratter's pole he always carried. All three went down in a heap, the assassin out cold with the dog still worrying at his leg.
Cedric lived in the Warrens, a network of narrow winding roads, hovels and alleyways south of the docks and the river that cut its way through the city of Lundrum like fat running through an old piece of bacon. The Warrens were poor, dark and dangerous and even the City Watch thought twice before venturing out into its tangled web of streets. The only way to survive the Warrens was to pay protection money to the Thieves' Guild. Nothing happened in the city, especially in the Warrens, without the Guild getting its share. It had even taken a cut of Cedric's takings when he was begging and it started taking an even larger cut when he became a rat catcher. This was how he had gotten into this predicament in the first place.
Six weeks earlier, a day or two after the guild's last collection, Cedric was approached again.
"Who are you?" He demanded of the large man in black leather armour and a long hooded cloak. There was no mistaking that he was from the Guild.
"Are you the Rat catcher, Cedric Raw?" The fat man asked in a round oily voice.
"Wag Martin's already been ‘round," Cedric told him, annoyed at being bothered twice in the same week.
"You don't need to concern yourself with that my dear man, not at all, not at all. I'm not collecting." Cedric was not convinced.
"No?" He asked suspiciously.
"No sir, not at all. Quite the contrary,” the man reassured him, “I am actually hoping to offer you a job.” Cedric’s stomach jumped into his throat.
“A job?” Cedric was still suspicious. “For the guild? I won’t be any good to you as a burglar and I don’t like violence.”
“Quite so,” The fat man agreed, “I am hoping to employ you for the other skills I’ve been informed you possess.”
“Skills? I’m a rat catcher, and the dog here does most of that.”
Cedric reluctantly invited The Fat Man into his hovel to talk more of the job opportunity. He hadn’t wanted to, but the friendly fat man had insisted, and there was something about his polite and amenable voice that frightened Cedric more than the usual toughs and ruffians the Guild usually employed.
It was ‘The Fat Man’ who was being stalked when Cedric’s dog decided to interfere. They were on route to meet him with important information and he had noticed the furtive cut-throat creeping up behind.
As Cedric looked up from the floor at The Fat Man’s round sweaty face he noticed a thin smile, just before his obese employer, with surprising deftness, pulled out a long thin sword from under his cloak and swiftly thrust it downwards towards Cedric’s head. Time seemed to slow as Cedric watched the blade approach and imbed itself into the assassin’s body, just inches from his left ear. ‘Nice blade,’ he thought, feeling both terror and detachment simultaneously, ‘clearly not from around here, Eastern probably, going by the ornate pattern around the handguard,’ The Fat Man tugged at the blade, trying to free it from the assassin’s corpse, warm blood started to spray against the side of Cedric’s face.
“Is that a Seprian blade?” He asked as The Fat Man helped him to his feet and bustled him down a nearby alleyway.
Spectacular Tales III Page 11
