by Philip Blood
“How did you know he was a thief?” Elizabeth asked.
“He’s missing a hand; it’s common practice around here to cut off parts of the body as punishment if you catch a thief. Hands are best, it’s hard to steal without hands,” he replied.
“Or do anything for that matter,” Elizabeth added, “Poison is even better than what I hoped for, tough, stylish and streetwise, someone that other people would naturally follow. Even more importantly, she is even closer to what I was looking for than I could possibly have hoped. G’lan was smiling on us this day, Hetark. There is something special about her, no I’ll tell you later, just go hire her, and don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Elizabeth said with conviction.
“If you say so, what story do you want me to give her?” Hetark asked.
“Hire her to guard a wealthy merchant’s wife traveling on her way to Myrnvale, that’s close enough to where we’re actually going, eventually,” Elizabeth answered.
“How much are we willing to pay?” he asked.
“Whatever it takes, I need this girl, badly, but don’t let her know that or she might not believe we’re just normal clients.”
He stood to go and said, “Don’t worry, milady, I can handle a street thug.” He then headed for the tough leather clad woman named ‘Poison’.
He approached her at the bar from behind, but before he reached her she turned as her instincts sensed someone approaching. In one glance of her eye, she appraised Hetark from feet to head, but her conclusions weren’t given away by her expression.
Since it was obvious he was approaching her directly she just waited until he arrived and raised her right eyebrow in a questioning expression that said: ‘All right, I see you, and I’ll listen to your pitch, but don’t waste my time.’
“The name is Hetark and my employer likes your style and wants to know if you’re available for hire?” Hetark said as an opening line.
“What’s the line o’ work, baby-sitt’in?” Poison asked in return.
“In a way, yes, you keep her safe to Myrnvale and she’ll pay you in shine, five and sixteen,” Hetark said, offering her five silver pieces at the start and sixteen when they reached the town of Myrnvale safely.
“Five and sixteen, shine! I’ll taste my blade before I stoop that low, one and four, dull,” she countered, asking for gold.
“Ten in shine now and two dull in Myrnvale, it’s my final offer,” Hetark stated for the record.
"With provisions and horses provided and I start when we leave,” Poison offered up.
“With provisions, you supply the horse and you start now,” Hetark counter offered.
“With the horse and I’ll start now,” Poison finished with an expectant look in her eye.
“Done,” Hetark agreed.
“Give me the shine now, I’ll pay my tab and join you at the table,” Poison told the Knight Protector.
Hetark gave her the coins to seal the agreement and then started to turn and point out Elizabeth, “She’s right, over... ”
“I know where she is,” Poison interrupted, and turned to pay her overdue tab.
Hetark didn’t like being interrupted, or being spotted when he thought he was blending in, so he angrily turned her back around by the shoulder. “Another thing, don’t risk losing a hand, I’ll be watching you the whole trip.”
She stared down at his hand until he released her shoulder, and then her steel eye rose slowly to lock onto his gaze, her scarred face serious. “Two things: First, you can admire me all you want, but I’ll cut off any part of you that touches me again. Second, what makes you even dream you could catch me if I did want to lift someth’in?”
Hetark started to reply but bit off his angry response. He knew that this was not the place to argue, so he turned his back and headed for Elizabeth’s table. As far as Hetark was concerned they could not reach Myrnvale soon enough and get rid of this pesky woman.
“Well, what was that all about?” Elizabeth asked him once he was back at the table.
“I don’t like this woman, she’s arrogant, obstinate and willful,” Hetark said petulantly.
“You mean she acts like she’s a man?” Elizabeth asked, prodding Hetark.
“Exactly, she shows no respect, as if she doesn’t understand her position in life,” Hetark complained.
“And what position is that?” Elizabeth asked in a dangerous tone.
“Women are supposed to be quiet and polite, supportive and respectful to men... ” Hetark trailed off, finally noticing the angry expression starting to shine within Elizabeth’s eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, I mean normal women are supposed to... ”
“Normal women?” Elizabeth asked in a quiet, cold voice, ice starting to form in her expression.
“Not to say you aren’t a normal woman, but a, I... uh... ”
“I suggest you let it go before you jump off the cliff you have so blindly approached. You may know a lot about combat Hetark, but you have a lot to learn about women. I suggest you start unlearning what you think you know and start learning the truth.”
“Yes, milady,” Hetark replied with his face flushing red behind his tight cropped blonde beard.
“Did you hire her as I asked, or did you just enrage her?” the irked Elizabeth asked.
“I hired her, and then we sort of had a few words... but here she comes now,” Hetark pointed out, trying to escape from Elizabeth’s piercing gaze.
Poison walked up to their table, but looked past Hetark’s shoulder to the table behind him as she said, “Give it back.”
She spoke to the two men seated behind Hetark. One of them immediately bolted for the front door; the other just waited at the table.
Poison flicked her arm up to her collar and her body rolled forward in a fluid throw that launched a dagger through the air to ‘thunk’ loudly into a thick wooden beam three feet in front of the fleeing man.
Silence fell once again at the patrons of the bar once again became spectators to Poison’s antics.
“I didn’t miss,” she said conversationally in the now quiet room.
The short darkly cloaked man froze at the sight of the quivering dagger. It was stuck at eye level in front of him; he waited without moving.
Poison walked over slowly, another dagger had appeared in her hand from somewhere on her body. The cloaked man’s eyes tracked the pointy blade as she approached; he could see it was covered along the edge with a dark stain. “Fingers,” Poison began, “I asked you nicely te give it back, now I’m ask’in one more time before I become peeved.”
A squeaky voice with a heavy accent replied from within his hood. “He ain’t local, he’s feer game. Why’s you stick’in your nose in?”
“They’re my new employers,” Poison responded simply.
“Start’in temorrow, check?” he asked
“Start’in before you lifted that purse,” she replied.
From behind her Poison heard Hetark cry out, “G’lan, he stole my coin purse!”
Elizabeth grabbed Hetark’s arm to quiet him, she wanted to observe Poison.
“I need this’in Poison, besides you wouldn’t kill a friend,” Fingers reasoned and started to move slowly toward the door.
“Ever heard of tarslin sap, Fingers? It has no effects on women at all, but certain things on men don’t work anymore once the sap gets them if you catch my mean’in,” Poison said raising the stained blade for Fingers to see. “If I have te use this the ladies work’in Holly street will be disappointed with you, forever. Give the purse back Fingers.”
With a convulsive yank, Fingers tossed Hetark’s coin purse in an arc across the room to land with a thud on the table in front of Elizabeth and her knight. Then the thief ran out of the bar.
Poison retrieved her dagger from the post and then walked back over to their table with a knife held casually in each of her hands. She faced the other man sitting behind Elizabeth and Hetark and said, “You too Broker.”
The man named Broker l
ooked chagrined, “Aw Poison, I didn’t think you saw me.” He tossed a jewel-hilted dagger that Hetark kept hidden in his boot onto the table, it landed in front of the incredulous knight. Broker then left the room after his partner.
“G’lan, we’re surrounded by thieves!” Hetark snarled.
“You shouldn’t come to a place like this if you don’t know how to watch for thieves,” Poison admonished the livid Hetark.
Hetark’s mouth worked up and down, but no words were coming out.
Amused at Hetark’s expression and inability to speak, Elizabeth filled in the words. “I think my companion is at a loss for words to thank you, but I will thank you for him, it was a nice show and I appreciate your style and expertise.
Poison gave her a return nod.
Noise picked up now that the show was over and people returned to their conversations.
Elizabeth smiled and spoke softly, “Answer me a question, if you will; is there such a thing as tarslin sap?”
Sitting down Poison leaned forward and spoke quietly for Elizabeth’s ears only. “Yes, I believe the Siorlians use it te chew on fer pleasure.”
“And the effects on their men?” Elizabeth prompted.
“Worse tast’in mouths? But I’d be guess’in,” Poison responded with a wink.
“That’s what I thought, and what’s on your blade?” Elizabeth asked.
“Just blood, I fergot te clean that one today,” Poison said nonchalantly.
“I don’t want to know,” Elizabeth responded.
“If he’s recovered from his fright I think we should be go’in,” Poison said wickedly, nodding toward Hetark.
“I agree,” Elizabeth replied while trying not to laugh at the new dumbfounded expression Poison’s latest barb had brought to Hetark’s face.
The two ladies stood up together and walked out the side door with the speechless Hetark following behind, one hand on his belt purse and his dagger clutched in his other hand.
Elizabeth, Poison, and Hetark rode out of Roper the next day and took the wagon path toward Myrnvale. It was a hot sunny day without clouds, so they rode at a slow pace to keep from overtaxing their horses.
They started out with Poison leading the way and Hetark following behind Elizabeth. He kept back as far from Poison as he could, but after a short time, Elizabeth moved her horse up next to Poison’s. Hetark sullenly stayed behind.
“It’s going to be a hot one today,” Elizabeth said in way of greeting.
“Yes,” was Poison’s short response.
Watching her carefully to make sure she didn’t alienate the tough girl, Elizabeth continued trying to start a conversation.
“Do you do this sort of bodyguard job often?”
“Often enough,” was Poison’s next brief statement.
“If it bothers you to talk I will leave you alone, but I admire the way you handle yourself and I would like to learn more about you,” she tried, hoping to draw Poison out of her shell with a compliment.
“It’s all right, I don’t mind talk’in... with you,” she said pointedly, glancing back toward Hetark, who was far enough away to hear, but not make out the words they said.
“Hetark’s not that bad, he’s just proud, like you. Two proud people often have trouble when first put close together,” Elizabeth said.
“E’s an arrogant buffoon,” Poison replied.
“Interestingly enough, that’s what he called you, well, at least the arrogant part,” Elizabeth said with a small smile.
“He’s right, I am arrogant, but I have a reason to be. As a woman in the business of fighting, I have to show more confidence, skill and toughness than the men I’m competing with for the jobs. Otherwise, who’s going to choose me over a man they can hire for the same metal? It’s even more important when they hire me to lead a squad of bodyguards. It’s hard to get a group of tough men to follow the orders of a woman during a battle. If they don’t think you’re twice as confident, twice as skilled and twice as tough as they are they’ll ignore you and do what they think is right,” Poison told Elizabeth.
“Then why do you do this work?” Elizabeth asked.
“Because it’s what I know. Besides, I AM twice as good as any man I’ve met, including Sir Tough Guy behind us,” Poison finished.
“Why did you call him ‘Sir’?”
“I’m not sure, ‘is speech is ol’ right, but he acts too haughty like e’s above this scum if ye catch my mean'in. I’d bet ye ten silver ‘e’s been a knight fer some petty noble somewhere,” Poison guessed, “Where did you pick ‘im up anyway?”
“Well, actually, my husband hired him,” Elizabeth answered truthfully, but incompletely.
“Oh, so you don’t know much about ‘im, ‘e probably did someth’in dishonorable and got booted out so ‘e stooped down te take the job work’in fer a merchant,” Poison surmised.
“I really doubt he did anything dishonorable, you have to know Hetark to know that. He may be the most honorable man you’ll ever meet,” Elizabeth answered.
“Figures, ‘e’d probably get me killed to save his honor,” she ridiculed. “And regardless of his postur’in, I know what ‘e’s after; I’ve never met a truly honorable man. Pardon my sayin’, but you know what they all want, no matter what they say. You always have te watch them, carefully,” and with a flick of her wrist, a dagger appeared, then she flicked it again and it was gone.
“There are men in the world who are honorable, Poison, and Hetark’s one of that breed,” Elizabeth assured the tough girl.
“’E just has you fooled, or ‘e’s a fool idealist. Me, I believe in myself, if the rest of the world wants te kill each other, let them. I’m not join’in their crusades,” she said vehemently.
“There may come a time in your life where you have to take a stand for what is right, otherwise you automatically side with evil by default,” Elizabeth explained.
“I’ll not side with either, I make my own way. If someone tries to take what’s mine,” she flicked her wrist again calling forth the dagger, “I handle them,” and ‘flick’ it was gone.
“That’s a neat trick, would you mind teaching me? I’d like to learn how to protect myself better,” Elizabeth asked.
“Well, I’m not sure,” Poison started.
“Hetark’s been teaching me already,” Elizabeth added quickly, knowing that Poison would want to take his place, just because she knew he would be bothered.
“Him, what a waste o’ time, ‘e’ll teach you all wrong. What’s right fer a man, assuming ‘e even knows that, is wrong fer a woman. You have te use yer strengths te make up fer what nature gave te men. They often waste their strength ‘cause they ‘ave all that muscle. It allows them te be sloppy. Now a woman hasn’t got all that power, but if she uses finesse, guile, quickness and grace, she can take away those advantages the men have in brute force,” Poison explained.
“So you’ll teach me?” Elizabeth asked.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll begin show’in you what you need te know, but remember it will only be a start. It takes years of practice te achieve the tim’in and skill necessary te become truly dangerous.”
“I understand, but do I have your permission to observe you completely and learn as fast as I can?” Elizabeth asked, looking to get permission for more than what Poison guessed.
“Sure, no problem, every teacher likes an attentive student. For a good start tell me what he's been teach’in you.”
“Well, mostly about dagger fighting, we were going to get to swords next,” she replied.
“Daggers are the perfect weapon fer a woman, but he probably taught you te fight man style, I’ll have te unteach you a little. Pull out yer dagger and hold it in a fight’in grip,” Poison instructed Elizabeth as they rode.
Elizabeth pulled her dagger out in her fist, the blade pointing out the bottom, the hilt near her thumb.
“Typical male grip,” Poison muttered.
“Hetark said it’s harder to get it knocked out
of your hand this way, and you can punch, slash and stab,” she told Poison. Elizabeth began to read into Poison’s surface thoughts and memories, absorbing her experience quickly.
“Punch’in is a man’s blow; here’s what you should be ready te do with that knife, slash, stab and most importantly, throw. Assume you’re fight’in a male opponent; there aren’t that many female ones. If you grapple with him he’ll tear you apart, so you need te keep him at a distance. The best way te take him out is by throw’in the knife if you can. That way he won’t ever touch you,”
“What happens if you miss?” Elizabeth asked.
“Then you pull out another dagger while he is dodg’in the one you threw,” Poison responded. “The same thing goes fer los’in yer knife te a kick or blow. It’s true that ye’re less likely te lose yer knife in that grip ‘e taught you,” she said nodding her head toward Hetark, “but it’s harder te throw it from that position. Yer best bet, as a woman, is te keep many knives handy and learn te throw them well.”
“What happens if you get into a duel with only one knife allowed?” Elizabeth asked, still reading information directly from Poison’s mind.
Elizabeth’s odd question puzzled Poison and she thought, Why would a merchant’s wife ever get in a knife duel? , but she said, “Yer best bet is te try not te get in any duels, they’re low percentage, but if it happens, keep your opponent at a distance and slice him up. Get him bleed’in and soon he’ll lose much o’ that strength ‘e’s count’in on te beat you. Then it will come down te speed and skill versus his wain’in brute strength. Always shift the rules o’ the game te yer advantage. If the odds are against you, change the rules.”
Elizabeth listened and learned, from the words and from the experiences that had forged the lethal weapon named Poison.
The tough girl’s past battles flowed through her consciousness as she talked to Elizabeth and the Kirnath sorceress experienced them within her mind, learning.
