by Ben Cassidy
Joseph and Kara both leapt to their feet.
“Galla’s dead,” the diplomat proclaimed unceremoniously.
Joseph felt his stomach sink. “Kendril?”
Maklavir tipped his hat at two nearby startled women. “For once, no. Someone else beat him to it. Kendril’s chasing after the killer right now.”
Joseph instinctively put a hand to his rapier. “Which way did they go?”
Maklavir looked up an over his shoulder at the far edge of the plaza. “Last I saw, over that way, across the rooftops.”
The pathfinder started to take a step forward, then stopped.
“Rooftops?”
The view would probably have been quite lovely, if Kendril had actually had time to admire it. The Vorten Cathedral hung stark and black against the cold stars to his right, and to his far left was the massive roof of the Great Library, the carved gargoyles lining its top visible even from here. In front of him stretched an uneven landscape of snow-covered rooftops and chimneys, pale and still under the frigid night sky.
If Kendril hadn’t been facing the constant threat of slipping, falling, breaking through the roof, or just shattering his legs, it might actually have been pleasant.
He skidded down the side of one roof with a strangled curse, trying his best to keep his balance. A solid stone chimney raced up to meet him, and he grabbed it with his free hand, abruptly stopping his slide.
He paused for a moment, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve as he inspected the rooftops around him.
There was no sign of the assassin. He had caught only fleeting glimpses during the pursuit (if one could even call it that) across the rooftops. She was fast, and agile, more than Kendril had believed physically possible. He couldn’t remember seeing the killer slip once, while his own trousers were already cold and wet from the snow and ice, his arms and legs bruised from countless falls.
Now he couldn’t see her at all.
Kendril grunted, and stepped carefully around the chimney.
The roof sloped down here to a relatively flat section, then sloped back up again on the opposite side. Two large chimneys stood in his path, their great bulk blocking the view of the stars behind them.
Kendril began a controlled slide, half skating down the last few feet of treacherous surface.
Just as he was nearing the end of the sloping roof, he heard a barely audible click.
Years of honed reflexes saved his life. Kendril instantly threw himself to one side, glimpsing a flash of something metallic hurtling through the space where his head had been.
It was instantly followed by a low thunk and a spurt of sparks from the chimney behind him.
Kendril came up with his pistol ready. He blasted off a hasty shot at the fleeting black shape in front of him.
The bullet went wild and drilled harmlessly into the sloping roof on the opposite side.
Kendril lurched to his feet and reached for his sword.
The assassin swung around, and caught him neatly in the mid-section with a well-placed kick.
Kendril’s back crashed hard against the chimney. Snow and ice tumbled off the brick sides.
The assassin moved with terrible speed and came in again. The starlight glinted briefly off a short blade in her hand.
Kendril dodged back and around, using the solid stonework of the chimney as partial cover as he yanked his short sword free.
Unperturbed by his defensive maneuver, the female assassin cut in low with her long knife, aiming for his abdomen.
Steel rang out on steel as Kendril parried the blow. He slashed out a wild riposte as he struggled to keep from sliding on his uncertain footing.
With a grunt, the woman ducked back around the other side of the chimney, moving surely and quickly over the angled roof.
Kendril made a controlled skid back down the roof, catching up to the assassin just as she leapt onto the flat area below.
She whirled. A long brown ponytail lashed out from under her raised hood.
Kendril planted one foot, testing the slick ice underneath. He swore he could see a smile on the woman’s face. At least, the half of her face he could see.
For one long moment they stood facing each other, mere feet apart, their breath wafting out long and white in front of them.
The assassin stared steadily at Kendril, as if daring him to attack.
Shaking off the sudden feeling of doubt that assailed him, Kendril bounded forward.
The killer took a step back, and flung something onto the ground in the Ghostwalker’s path.
There were two sharp bangs and flashes of light, followed by a choking cloud of oily smoke.
Kendril blinked and hesitated for a moment, his view of the target totally lost. He lashed out twice with his short sword into the pall of smoke in front of him, but met nothing but air.
In another few seconds the cloud began to dissipate.
Kendril took a step back, his sword at the ready.
He was just in time to see the dark shape of the assassin disappear over the low edge of the sloping roof.
Cursing under his breath, Kendril started forward again.
“We could be in trouble when they find the body, Joseph. Kendril was asking the innkeeper about Galla. The authorities are sure to suspect something.”
The pathfinder listened with half an ear, scanning the rooftops above them as they rode down the winding street. “Yes, but we’re new in town. Hopefully they won’t be able to identify you or Kendril.”
Kara gripped her pony tightly with her legs and drew her longbow from the pack on her mount’s back. “You say the killer was a woman?”
Maklavir nodded, glancing up at the jutting rooftops himself. “I’ve never seen anything like it. She jumped backwards through a glass window and landed on her feet on the opposite roof. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself.”
Joseph stopped at a small intersection. A lone glow-globe lit the dark street.
“That way,” Maklavir said, pointing down the street to the right. “Last I saw of Kendril he was sliding over rooftops in that direction.” He nodded his head the other way. “The inn is just down the street over there.”
Joseph turned back to the diplomat. “Get back there and get Simon. Then meet us back in the Central Plaza.”
Maklavir nodded. “You’re going after Kendril?”
Joseph turned his horse around, tugging at the handkerchief around his neck. “Sounds like he could use some help.”
Kara peered down the street. “Especially up there. Those rooftops have to be covered with more than a foot of snow.”
“Yes, well knowing Kendril,” said Maklavir as he turned, “I imagine he has the situation under control.”
For the hundredth time, Kendril found himself wishing he had his long rifle.
He got occasional glimpses of the assassin ahead of him, racing and dancing over the icy rooftops of Vorten as if it had been a summer field. She was fast and skilled beyond anything that Kendril had ever seen. It was amazing to watch her. She was almost like a dancer in her movements, stepping lightly over snow and shingles as if she had been doing it all her life.
Kendril, on the other hand, wasn’t faring so well.
His ribs, elbows and legs burned from countless falls on the rooftops. Twice he had almost fallen off, and once his leg had actually broken through a thin section of the roof, until he had managed to wrench it out again. If he had had his long rifle, he could have at least taken a shot at the fleeing assassin by now, but as it was he knew his pistols would never stand a chance of hitting her at the distance they were from each other.
The worst part of it, he knew, was that she was going to get away. It was just a matter of time. It was taking every ounce of effort on his part just to keep up with her, and she was slowly gaining ground on him.
Kendril knew he had to do something fast. He just didn’t know what it was.
He was halfway up the side of a roof when his leg shot o
ut from under him and sent him sliding back down.
He threw out his arms, grabbing futilely at the snow around him for purchase. With a sinking feeling, he felt his legs go off the edge of the roof into space. The next stop, he knew, was the street twenty feet below.
Kendril thrashed out with his hands and grabbed hold of the frozen gutter.
His whole body lurched over the side and came to an abrupt halt in mid-air.
The metal gutter screamed under his weight. Icicles scattered off towards the street down below.
He made one grab for the rooftop again, and missed miserably.
The gutter continued to groan, giving a sharp squealing sound. It didn’t take a genius to tell that it wouldn’t hold for long.
He glanced over his shoulder quickly at the street below him.
It was a twisty side street, covered with snow like the rest of Vorten. A few modest houses lined the street on either side.
Two men were staring up at him from across the way, their mouths hanging open.
Grimacing, Kendril turned back to the roof. The gutter continued to give a metallic wail, bending a little as it did.
He could try to drop to the street below. Assuming he didn’t break a leg, he could still try to cut off the assassin, track her from the ground.
The problem, of course, was that every second he delayed, the assassin got one more step ahead of him.
Gritting his teeth, and shaking his head again to get the snow out of his eyes, he glanced down again, then over to his right.
The end of the roof ran within an arm’s length of the next building. There, encrusted with ice and filth, was another metal gutter, leading up the side of the wooden wall.
The gutter Kendril was holding on to continued to groan. A bracket tore off to his left and fell down towards the street below.
Kendril began to swing his body, moving his hands down the length of the gutter.
It was a long shot, he knew, but it was the only one he had.
It was hard work to get the horses to go fast through the snow, especially while trying to watch the rooftops at the same time. Joseph found himself hissing out a few choice phrases that would have shocked his old professors back in Kendrake.
Behind him Kara rode on her pony, her bow out and her eyes scanning the rooftops as well.
It was almost impossible, like searching for a needle in a haystack. Their view from the street was limited at best. Joseph didn’t even know if they were going in the right direction.
The few pedestrians they passed stared at them in surprise, probably wondering where anyone was going at a full gallop this time at night.
Joseph found himself cursing again.
“There!” Kara’s voice shot out through the cold night air.
Joseph whirled around, and brought his horse to a stop.
Kara’s arm pointed up and to the right, towards the rooftops above.
Joseph swung his head around in the direction she was pointing.
He saw it briefly, a black figure against the dark sky. It dropped out of view just as he turned, its cloak flapping as it leapt down.
It had been too brief to tell if it had been Kendril, or the supposed assassin he was pursuing.
Either way, though, it was a step in the right direction.
“Good eyes,” he called back to Kara. He glanced quickly up the street.
There was an alleyway off to the left. It looked as if it might just cut through to where they needed to go.
“Come on!” he said as he kicked his horse forward.
Swinging her pony around, Kara followed.
She paused briefly by a snow-covered chimney, glancing behind her. Her breath misted white in the chill air, drifting slowly away like a fog.
The Ghostwalker, whoever he had been, was gone. Not that she was surprised. He had been as clumsy as a lame deer. It was amazing he had made it as far as he had. Most likely he had fallen to his death.
Of course, the fact that a Ghostwalker was in Vorten at all was bad. The fact that he had caught her by surprise was even worse. How many others were there with him?
And more importantly, how much did they know?
She was already moving, prancing down the last snow-covered rooftop. She neared the edge, and fell to her knees as she glanced over the side.
A small city square lay below her, no more than fifty yards across. Several glow-globes stood around the perimeter, causing the snow to glisten white on the cobblestones in their light. At this time of night the square was deserted.
Deserted, that is, except for a black carriage parked on the far side. Black drapes hung over each of the doors, blocking whatever crest or symbol was painted on the side.
The assassin gave a half-smile, then jumped.
She turned once in the air before landing in the snow below, her black cloak billowing out behind her like wings. She paused only a moment after her landing, adjusting her half mask casually with one hand.
Then she rose to her feet, moving swiftly through the snow towards the carriage.
She was halfway there when she heard the sound of hoofs from her right, muffled in the snow.
She whirled around and reached a hand towards her belt.
A horse and a pony careened into the square and pulled up to a panting halt. The riders, a bearded man and a red-haired woman carrying a bow, stared down at her for a moment in surprise.
The man reached for the handle of his rapier.
The red-haired woman went for an arrow at same moment.
They were both too slow.
In a fraction of a second the assassin transferred the throwing blades that were stored in her belt to her hands, then flicked both wrists forward.
Without looking to see what the result was, she dashed towards the carriage.
Joseph had his sword half-drawn when he saw the dull flash of the blades coming towards him, spinning through the air like deadly silver hornets.
He shouted out a warning to Kara as he lurched back on his horse, causing his mount to kick up its front legs.
He felt at least two or three of the small projectiles hit the front of his poor beast, which screamed in pain and terror. Joseph tried desperately to disentangle his legs from the stirrups as the beast fell to the side, its body thrashing as it did.
Joseph tensed his body, feeling his leg pull free at the last possible moment.
He rolled off through the snow, one hand still on his rapier.
His horse turned over completely, its legs kicking in the air as blood gushed from its neck.
Joseph dove off to one side, narrowly avoiding the crashing bulk of the wounded animal. He got to one knee, and ripped the rapier free from its scabbard.
The black-clad assassin was almost to the carriage, moving swiftly across the square.
Joseph started forward when he saw Kara’s pony out of the corner of his eye, galloping back towards the street they had come from.
Feeling a sudden catch in his throat, he glanced behind him.
Kara lay in the snow on her back, struggling to get back up to a sitting position. Her right hand had dropped her bow, and was clutching at her left arm.
“Kara!” Joseph shouted, feeling his grip loosen on the rapier.
Her hand closed on the small metal blade sticking out of her arm. “I’m all right!” she gasped. With one quick jerk she pulled the blade out. She flung the blood-stained object into the snow and clamped her free hand down over the wound. “Quickly, Joseph!”
The scout turned, his feet flying over the snow-covered cobblestones of the square. He felt a sudden fury rise up inside of him, the anger swelling with each pounding step he took.
The black-clad assassin already had the door to the carriage half-open. Her head snapped back momentarily towards Joseph.
He caught a brief glimpse of the white mask covering half her face, making her look like some kind of unearthly demon. In the same moment he saw the driver on top of the carriage pull out a short-barreled blu
nderbuss from behind the seat, cocking back the lock and bringing it to his shoulder.
Joseph bent down as he ran, drawing the double-bladed knife he always kept tucked into his boot. As he straightened up he sent the blade flying forwards.
The metal flashed in the white light of the glow-globes.
The driver of the carriage lurched back and shouted in pain. He pitched the blunderbuss up into the air.
The weapon discharged, blasting out with a roar of light and flame that lit the whole street for a brief instant.
A window in the building behind the carriage shattered completely. Parts of the nearby wall smoked where shot tore into it.
Joseph kept running. He moved his rapier up into attack position.
The driver of the carriage let out a string of obscenities. He yanked the throwing knife from his shoulder and hurled it aside.
The woman leapt towards Joseph’s right. She drew a thin, cruelly curved long knife out in each of her hands. The half of her face that was visible stared at Joseph expressionlessly. Her two long knives twirled.
Against his better judgment, Joseph risked a glance back at Kara.
The red-headed thief was sitting up in the snow, trying unsuccessfully to notch an arrow to her bow with her wounded arm. She saw him looking back at her, and her face blanched with concern.
“Joseph!”
He whirled back to his front, and cursed himself for his momentary distraction. His head had only been turned for a fraction of a second.
Only a fraction of a second, and the assassin had already crossed the distance between them.
Her blades slashed towards his chest and stomach.
Surprised by the rapidity of her attack, Joseph reeled back. He blocked two of her blows in quick succession with his rapier.
She ducked effortlessly under his riposte, snaking aside with amazing agility.
Joseph dodged back another step to avoid the tip of one of her knives, and almost lost his footing on the slick cobblestones.
The assassin spun around, her brown ponytail flying through the air. She bent close to the snow-covered ground, and lashed out a leg.
