by Peter Dawes
I hesitated for a moment before picking any further at my food. Regarding the mercenary seated across from me, I replayed the image I held of my father’s killer and wondered if he might have been a mercenary as well, either in practice or in disguise. Yes, I wanted to punish the people who had stolen my father. I wanted to understand once and for all why he had become a target of such senseless brutality. And maybe – just maybe, I thought – sinking into their world might bring me to wherever such a group of men existed.
“Sure,” I said, finally lifting a piece of bread to my mouth and tearing off a chunk with my teeth. I chewed as impassively as I could and swallowed as though nothing else had invaded my thoughts besides Roland’s offer. “It’s as good of a prospect as any.”
“I’ll secure us rooms, then, and we’ll head out in the morning.” Roland pushed out his chair and came to a stand. “Stay here and finish with your supper. Won’t be anything else to eat until after we leave town.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, continuing the ruse of eating, unaffected, until Roland became engaged with business with the tavern’s owner. Within an hour’s time, I had a bed to lie on and a ceiling to stare at as I attempted to settle into to sleep. The scant amount of light which shone into the room kept me company as I made a promise to myself.
I would work on getting good at killing, I said, whispering the pledge out loud. And as the months wore on, I did, not flinching the first time I slit a man’s throat for money. Regret remained as distant of a thought to me as backing down from my vendetta, one death after another desensitizing me to the thirst for blood being wrought in my soul. In my mind, they formed one less obstacle standing between me and my ultimate goal.
For when I found the man who had driven a sword through Father, I wanted to repay him the favor.
Chapter Four
“He doesn't mean to treat you badly, amico mio. Sometimes family doesn't know any other way.”
My eyes shut briefly as I felt Paolo kiss the nape of my neck, one of his hands sweeping up my back in a soothing caress. Half undressed – clad in only boots and breeches while stretched out on my stomach – I could feel the fabric of my best friend’s shirt skim across flesh, causing prickles to form where it touched. “Jeffrey is who he has always been,” I murmured. “I neither expect our tenor to change, nor care if it does.”
“So many lies spoken all at once,” Paolo said, clicking his tongue. I could envision him shaking his head while his hands pressed more firmly into the muscle of my shoulders. “If you want to believe that, though, I won’t try to convince you otherwise.”
A moan threatened to crest the threshold of my lips. “Yes, please. Permit me my delusions and I won’t challenge yours.”
“You’re the only one in this room with delusions.”
His weight settled more against me, causing me to lower from my elbows and lie flat against the bed. The sensation of his fingers threatened to be my undoing, coaxing outward more than mere satisfaction, though I remained uncertain of how much I wished carnal desire to grace us with its presence. The next breath I exhaled betrayed me with the amount of tension it bore. It hitched as his hands coasted from my backside up to my shoulders once more “You’re doing it to me again.”
Paolo laughed. “What is it you think I’m doing?” His tone bore a playful amount of mockery to it.
“Tempting me, you scoundrel. Ruining all chance I might have of brooding.” The internal battle continued its skirmish, leaving me to wonder in which direction I should land. I knew I had no desire to discuss my brother any further, but feared saying nothing would force me to succumb far sooner than I felt inclined. “When did you discover the sort of man you are?” I asked, in an effort to continue our conversation.
“You mean the kind that beds other men?” he asked. When I failed to answer, he took it as my assent. “My cousin and I used to sneak away together. When my older brothers and sisters weren't looking and his parents were busy. We'd run off into the woods and he'd ask to go swimming. That was his signal. ‘Andiamo, Paolo.’” Parting his legs, he straddled my waist, forcing me to shut my eyes again. “One of the times when we swam, he watched me drip dry and I could see where his eyes went. What made me nervous was that I never minded him looking.”
A small grin curled the corners of my mouth. The kneading of his hands into my tense muscles finally coaxed pleasured noises past my lips despite myself. “That isn't fair,” I said.
“What isn't fair? That I know how to unwind you?”
“That you do it so bloody well.” Another groan rumbled from my throat when the massage intensified. I felt him start to dig into my backside and smirked. “You keep trying to convert me.”
He laughed. “I'm not trying to do anything. You were the one who first kissed me.”
“Yes, well… Just so you know, I do still like women. I don't think your hands are going to do anything to cure me of that.”
When he lifted up from me, I was tempted to rise to my elbows again. A powerful grip grabbed hold of my shoulder, though, throwing me onto my back before I could fight against it. Paolo was on top of me within seconds, pinning me onto the bed, a devious grin on his face. “You can like whatever you want. I know what your cazzo is telling me.”
His lips met mine before I could issue a response, tongue exploring my mouth as I found myself responding to the aggressive way he kissed me. My hands lifted to touch his body, arms circling his torso as he lowered to press our chests together. I rolled him onto his back and fought to keep him there. “Don't act smug about it,” I murmured against his lips as I mirrored the mischievous smile. “Or I might have my way and deny you.”
“Fai come vuoi,” he responded before our kisses turned heavier, our touch more searching. His shirt and the few articles of clothing we still wore became forfeit, and landed on the ground in a heap just before our bodies merged. The remainder of my concerns went away for a time, lost inside the throes of pleasure well after we cried out with completion and curled up together. Paolo's arms felt warm, clutching me against his chest as his fingers carded through my hair.
“You'll figure out who these people are, amico mio,” he whispered as he held me.
“I hope so.” My eyes shut, body and mind both given over to exhaustion. “I seem to be the only one who cares.” The last thing I remembered was the sound of his heartbeat while the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulled me to sleep. When we woke the next morning, I put my time with Jeffrey behind me. I needed to face Roland and grovel appropriately for my disappearance.
I found him seated at a table in the corner, as I often did when the inn on the far side of town became our meeting place. Not much had changed about him from the first day I met him, save but for the gray peeking in his hair and the few wrinkles which had twisted his facial expression into a perpetual scowl. He shook his head when I approached, peeling an apple he turned expertly in his three-fingered hand. “Christian, Christian, Christian,” he said without looking up at me. “I don't know what's bound to get you into more trouble, your spontaneous holidays or the way you and your thief fail to cover up what you do inside that bedroom.”
Smirking, I slid onto one of the empty chairs next to him. “Are you afraid the clergy's going to demand my head?” I asked.
He huffed, finally placing the knife down and looking up at me with a raised eyebrow. “I think I might give it to them. Especially if there's a reward.”
I propped my feet up onto another chair and shrugged as I crossed one foot over the other. “I don't expect I'm getting paid for the ambush the other night, so we can forego the lecture on my sexual appetites. Although, I must say, getting the guardsmen drunk was a rather brilliant plan.”
“You're sensitive lately.” Roland took a bite out of his apple. Reaching into his cloak, he pulled out a small, leather purse and tossed it onto my lap. “Is my best assassin being overworked, or is this some personal bollocks that has you acting like a spoiled nobleman’s whelp?”
; Shooting him a look of annoyance, I untied the pouch and shifted my attention to the coins I poured into my hand. I took a moment to compose myself, under the guise of counting, and dropped the coins back inside for safekeeping. “It's personal bollocks,” I said, pocketing the money. “The sort you normally don't like me talking about.”
“Oh, that kind.” He sank his teeth into the piece of fruit again. “You can't go running off every time this becomes an issue. Business is getting busy and there're some jobs I don't trust to the others.”
“I'm going to take that as a compliment.” Raising an eyebrow, I motioned with my hand. “Come out with it. I take it that means you've got another one for me.”
His gaze shifted from the apple to me, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind for a moment before shrugging and swallowing down another bite. “As far as your usual fare’s concerned, this one’s relatively painless. But maybe that’s what you need to get focused on your work again.” Without pausing in eating, Roland reached into one of his belt’s pouches and pulled out a small scrap of rolled up parchment, placing it on the table. “I love when the nobles hand me these, thinking I know what the hell they say. Fortunately, he was kind enough to spell it out with his tongue.”
“You should learn to watch the way you word things around me.” I smirked while reaching for the message, unrolling it once I had it in hand. “Should I offer again to teach you how to read?”
“You can offer all you’d like. I’ll respond the same way I always do. If I learned how to read, what use would I have for you?” He grinned wolfishly as I sighed and glanced at the parchment. It bore a form of shorthand on it, something I couldn’t fully interpret.
Roland saw my furrowed brow and cut me off before I could ask. “It’s a house belonging to a knight in Exeter,” he said. “He was a spy for one side and then defected, so now his former employers are up in arms about what he might have taken with him besides knowledge. They didn’t expressly ask for his head –” He paused to sink his teeth into the apple. When he spoke again, it was with his mouth partially full. “– But let’s just say if he was to wander in while you’re knocking over a lantern, there might be extra pay involved.”
With a nod, I reread the message. Lawrence; Exe. NE of Cathedral. 10 Fire; 15 Other. The latter designation nearly had my jaw hanging agape. I ignored the remainder of the message in lieu of my surprise. “They want to pay that much for this?”
“They want it done, I suppose. I asked to see it, for what it’s worth.”
“Lord Bertrand’s enemies didn’t consider his guards worth more than one each.”
“Those were guards. This is a knight.”
“That he is.” My eyes returned to the ink scrawling for an additional moment. “Is this his description?”
“Must be. Tall? Light brown hair? Barely sired from his father’s loins, acting like he owns a piece of the world?” When I saw him look up at me in my periphery, I nodded. “That’s it, then. They said his house should be easy enough to find, but you can usually make the tongues wag at the taverns if worse comes to worse.”
“Once again, with the wording of your comments.”
“I’ll not change the way I say things just for your benefit.”
When his gaze failed to lift from me, I glanced up at him once more, raising an eyebrow at the expression on his face. There was a measure of severity present, the kind normally reserved for delinquent youths. One finger extended to point directly at me. “Be mindful, lad. Exeter isn’t the place for one of your quests,” he said. “You’re a dog on a hunt and it scares me when you have the look of blood in your eyes. I don’t know what’s crawling around in your head right now. I don’t want to know. I just don’t want you bringing in a mess for me to clean up.”
“I won’t ask you to clean any of my messes, Roland. Besides, I have more fun tending to them myself.” Kicking my feet down from the chair, I rose to a stand, rolling the parchment up once more and using it to salute him. “I’ll be on my way and report back in three days’ time. Will that be soon enough?”
Roland frowned. “I’m sending people if it’s any longer.” I turned to leave, tossing the contraband in the air and catching it as a leisurely stride directed me toward the exit. “Burn that!” he added, calling after me.
“At once, your grace.” I spun on my heels to bow in his direction, winking before continuing to make my way out. The parchment found its way into the hearth and a whistle passed through my lips by the time I reached the stables. It didn't surprise me when I spied Paolo running a brush through his ebony gelding’s mane. His brow furrowed at the expression on my face, a missed stroke causing the animal to shake its head.
I smirked at the way Paolo scowled at the horse, cocking a thumb in the direction of the inn once I had my friend’s attention again. “He calls me spoiled, but indulges me like a favored son,” I said. “How does he expect me to ever learn my lesson?”
Paolo huffed, lowering the brush. He put away the grooming implement after sparing a quick glance at our makeshift home. “Nothing will ever teach you anything that thick head of yours doesn’t want to learn, Sir Christian of the Black,” he said, reaching for the horse’s reins and starting the task of securing them into place. “I learned that within minutes of meeting you.”
I laughed, walking over to Tempest and preparing her for a ride as well. While Paolo’s beast – which he had named Diavolo – endured the securing of his bit with patient stillness, Tempest forced me to pause our discussion to attend her properly. I narrowed my eyes at her once the task had been completed. She responded with a huff. “Funny you should mention Sirs,” I said, finally continuing. “I’m to find a knight in Exeter.”
“Are you working alone?” Paolo hefted his saddle onto the horse’s back.
“Yes, sadly, I am.” As I followed suit, I flashed a grin at him. “Ride with me for a time, though?”
“I don’t think I should, if you’re looking for lessons to learn, amico mio.” The corner of his mouth curled in a sly grin as he mounted his horse, the action in defiance of his words. I mirrored his expression and he rolled his eyes at me as he gave Diavolo a nudge. Together, we bounded for the edge of town, the last vestiges of our village passing in a blur, our pace not slowing until we reached the countryside.
From there, sporadic conversation made up the journey to the largest city in the immediate area. It wasn't the first time fate had brought me back since I had begged for food as a street urchin, but the occurrences had been few and far between. I failed to make mention of it to Paolo. It lingered in the forefront just the same, threatening to bring wisps of memory in its wake as we slowed to a stop and steadied our horses. Paolo glanced heavenward, before peering back at me. “I should turn back, so I can return before it gets dark,” he said. A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t get into trouble. I won’t be there to tell you when it’s time to leave.”
My lips curled in a grin. There was concern in his eyes, yes, but mischief present in his tone of voice. “I might be a lost cause,” I said, my smile broadening. “Mourn my passing when I die from curiosity.”
His dark locks of hair moved with the motion of him shaking his head. A string of Italian preceded him gripping the reins of his horse tight and nudging him at the sides. Diavolo turned and sped to a gallop at his rider’s behest, leaving me there to admire the sight of Paolo riding back toward town. It took until I turned my horse to face my destination again for my disposition to sober. The rest of the ride was spent lost in thought until the city gates appeared before me
There it stood before me, beckoning me the same way it had all those years ago. At once, I felt nostalgia seep into my bones, now that I had the chance to indulge it alone. “What say you we take care of business quickly so we can have a bit of fun?” I asked, leaning forward to stroke the horse’s mane and chuckling when Tempest responded with a neigh. With the first nudge of my heels, she led us forward in a ca
ntor, the sun dipping in the horizon with dusk threatening to take over soon. The air bore a chill, but not enough of one to make the remainder of the journey uncomfortable.
It was forgotten the moment I immersed myself within the walls of Exeter.
Chapter Five
The unwelcome scent of farm animals, human waste, and tanners had made its presence known long before I entered, and became barely tolerable as I guided my horse through the crowd. I had already flipped the emblem of my cloak out of sight, my hood drawn over my head, so I could study the people lingering in front of the shops. The day at an end, they hurried to barter their last transactions before retreating indoors for supper. A gnawing sensation in my stomach told me I'd need a meal myself before I could focus on the task at hand, prompting me to dismount in front of the first inn I encountered. I stabled Tempest after conducting a brief transaction to provide her with her own dinner, and slipped inside where I also purchased a room for the next two nights.
A plate of mutton and a roaring fireplace brought the warmth back to my bones, and a short nap restored my energy just enough that venturing into the night became less of a chore than it might have been otherwise. By then, most of the market traffic and loitering occupants had made their way indoors, leaving the streets an eerie quiet even in areas where more raucous affairs were taking place. The bells of the cathedral chimed, but I hardly needed their clamor to lead me where I was headed.
I needed only the light of the stars, and the ominous glow of a crescent moon hanging in the sky above.
On foot, I paced my steps as though a man about business, not wanting to be bothered. I recognized a tavern as I passed it based on the sounds drifting through the air, and smirked when I saw men entering what I knew to be a house of ill-repute. These offerings faded as the streets widened and vestiges of opulence opened up before me. It took me only an hour to find the first likely place where Sir Lawrence might reside, based on the information given. There were several routes back to the inn, which I tested in the event of needing to make a hasty departure. The slums and alleys provided both the fastest methods of escape and the most conspicuous due to the amount of people with no where else to be, further emphasizing just how attentive I would need to be to the task at hand. Survey complete, I steeled myself for the patience of inactivity and settled in to watch the homes by the cathedral, taking refuge in the shadows.
