That blow on the neck could kill, maim or just immobilize the opponent. There was no deadly danger, so I instinctively chose the ‘immobilize’ style, and the man fell slowly under the counter. The shock of his large body hitting the floor made the windows tremble a little. In that strange moment, when the man was sliding downwards, I recognized for the first time that I was a well-trained Assassin. Eight years of training, with one who was legendary among them, had worked secretly for me, a realization that created a new level of confidence. I am better prepared than I thought for this new life. Movil’s eyes widened briefly, but that was all the unusual moment extracted from him. You are accustomed to people fighting here. A dozen pairs of eyes gazed at me from the room, in a silence that was eloquent. What a pity there are not more, to spread word of my exploits. And none is a merchant...
“So, how much do I need to pay for my room?” I asked, as if nothing had happened, while two workers from the inn were carrying out the unconscious man.
“The dog is heavier than a horse,” one of them complained and cursed him heavily. “Half of his weight must be alcohol.”
“Three galbeni,” Movil answered promptly, a newly acquired deference in his voice.
“I need a room with a view of the caravans, and now please send me something to eat to that table.” I magnanimously used a polite form, pointing to an empty table separated from the rest of the room on three sides.
“I apologize,” he said hastily, “but the table is reserved for the highly esteemed…” There was no hint of mockery in his voice, so I believed him.
“That table or bring the food to my room,” I cut in. “With no charge,” I added, and it worked, leaving me the strange feeling that a part of his deference was pleasure driven – Movil had enjoyed the large man’s misfortune. He was the usual troublemaker. A very strong one.
“Everything will be ready in half a turn,” Movil assured me, and he was right.
It was interesting to see how they were using the same measures of time as in Arenia. A turn has sixty minutes, and a minute sixty moments or seconds or heartbeats. The day has, of course, the same length everywhere: twenty-four turns.
“Looking for a protector?” I asked the owner of a small caravan, a day later. The smaller the caravan, the cheaper the protector; and I was ready to sell myself very cheap, just to enter the trade.
“I don’t need more children,” he laughed. “I already have two at home.”
I shrugged and left the place; it made no sense to argue. As the same thing happened with all the other small merchants I contacted, the next day was settled for reflection, and staring from the window of my room at the caravans. Some of them were already leaving. Five days left...
The third day I spent around the place reserved for protectors without entering again; two of the merchants I talked with were still there. Tudor taught me to observe without being caught, to pick out things that did not fit the context, to keep the mind open without prejudice.
“Just observe,” he said to me. “Don’t predetermine. Let things come to you.”
I am not the only ‘observer’ in the place. Three men walked with no apparent aim, back and forth, searching for something still hidden to me. From time to time, on intersecting paths, they were exchanging signals, but never a word. Posing as innocent bystanders, they could not fool me – they worked together. After a half-turn, one of them, a dark-skinned man, entered the Protector’s Arena. The name was misleading, it was not for fighting, just a place where the merchants, away from their caravans, could negotiate with their protectors. I did not follow him, just placed myself closer to his path. He moved for five minutes with no aim again, then stopped in front of two merchants who were Mesters, the heads of the Merchants Guild in their city. Depending on the size of the city a Guild could have up to five Mesters. Going inside, I contacted the closest merchant to the Mesters, settling myself between him and the other pair, at a distance from which I could listen without being obvious.
“May I ask what city you are from?” My question was ingenuous, and I did not look like a real protector.
“Histria,” he said.
“I have three men as sturdy as me,” the dark-skinned protector tried to convince his merchants. And he was indeed well clad. “I am sorry to hear that your protectors were killed, but their loss could be my gain. We are qualified soldiers.”
“I am from far from here,” I switched back to my merchant. “Please forgive my lack of knowledge. Is that far from Arad?” It was one the few Frankis cities I had heard of, and it was relatively close to Livonia.
“Yes.” Having nothing to do, he looked disposed to talk with a young stranger. “One of the two Mesters behind you is from Arad. They lost their protectors. Mesters have their own permanent protectors.”
“I did not know that. They are rich, I suppose.”
“Yes,” he said, with evident envy. “Most of them are crooks,” he spat. “Not hard working people like us.”
“It’s not easy to be a merchant, for sure,” I showed some sympathy. “How were they killed?” I went back to the thing that interested me more.
“I want to see your men,” one Mester said to the dark-skinned protector, behind me.
“Poisoned,” my merchant shrugged.
“Terrible death,” I put as much compassion I could in my words. “They would have preferred to die in a battle.”
“They would have preferred to be still alive,” the merchant said, uneasy.
“That’s a sure thing.” In haste, I agreed with him. “I just wanted to point that it was a cowardly act.”
“I will be back in one turn,” the dark-skinned protector agreed with the Mesters’ request.
“Cowardly indeed,” my merchant agreed with me.
“Thank you for your time,” I said. “You were kind to give so much knowledge to a stranger.”
Not trying to look inconspicuous anymore, the dark-skinned protector left the compound fast and met one of the two men still outside – the oldest one, in his mid-fifties. He cannot be a ‘sturdy soldier’… I walked around again, pretending to look at the caravans. All the strange men disappeared. In one turn, the dark-skinned one came back with three others and, under the old man’s intense scrutiny, they entered the Protectors’ Arena. This time, I did not follow them, but I contacted the Mesters later in the evening.
“I am a stranger, esteemed Mesters Panait and Iaru,” I tackled them boldly, using their names to show at least a respectable ability of acquiring information in unfamiliar places. “Good with the sword and other weapons. I heard in the inn that your protectors are dead in some weird circumstances, and you may need more security than usual. A great and unfortunate loss,” I underlined their unpleasant position. “Strangers have the weakness of being … strangers, and their price is lower.”
“How much?” For the first time the child label did not send me away; there was a faint interest in their reaction.
“Half,” I said. Short, straight answers always give an impression of toughness. A month-long journey to Dorna, passing through Arad, would give a protector seven galbeni. A lot of money for a commoner, yet still less than the ten galbeni needed to hire a soldier for war.
“An interesting proposal coming from such a young … protector to be,” Panait said thoughtfully, with just a hint of irony. He was the second Mester of Arad, the other one the third of Dorna, and Arad was a larger and more powerful city. “We need more time to think of your proposal,” he dismissed me elegantly.
“It may be dangerous to put all one’s eggs in the same unknown basket,” I tried to force them to think better of my offer, and re-evaluate the four hired soldiers.
“We already have six men.” There was a slight irritation in his voice this time, and surprise in my mind from not knowing anything about the other two.
“Should I come again tomorrow?” I went away with their agreement, but the next day came with another refusal.
The last day of the Hateg
Fair ended, leaving me empty handed. With thirteen galbeni still filling my purse, things were not desperate; yet that day was meant for a decision: to go back into the mountains and stay with Gran and her grand-sons; or to stick to our initial plan, running further west, where the dissolution of the state could better hide a fugitive ‘King’, hunted by his powerful rival, sitting comfortably on the throne.
In the afternoon, Fate decided for me when an embassy from Arenia came to Hateg, passing along the Caravans’ Inn. Fifty-eight, I counted, and most of them were soldiers from the Royal Guard. Way too many, and the royal guards do not protect embassies. Hidden behind my window, I even recognized some of them, and all were my uncle’s trusted men. They know I am alive. Lucky me… Long and uneasy, the night was passed in watching, small strings of whispers to myself and touching the cold steel of my sword just to prove that I still existed behind the locked door.
Chapter 5 - Jara
“A tree like a forest,” I whispered at the large cherry tree with the breeze playing gently on my skin, stirring me. I turned, singing softly, arms in lateral, once, twice... Answering me, the wind played like a hundred violins in countless tones; a music that I did not know or understand. A sudden urge to dance went through me, and I stared around, afraid that someone would laugh at my childish reaction. In the other corner of the garden, Saliné and Vio were absorbed by something that I could not see.
What if they see me? I shrugged. The wind changed the rhythm and my body wound left and right, yet my feet remained anchored to the ground. Still ashamed, I smiled. Vio turned her head just after my first dancing steps, and her bell-like laughter filled the garden. Saliné followed her, and there was no way to stop my laugh either. It’s so nice. They waved at me, then clasping their hands together, started to dance too, rotating.
A gust of wind passed through the tree, and myriad of petals left their flowers, floating around. Like small butterflies, they surrounded me in a whirlpool of white and pink wings under the golden-yellow brightness of the spring sun. The warm sunshine gave depth and dimension to everything, and time ceased to be more than a notion. I moved back, to grasp the view, then further back, until the gate stopped me – the huge tree still occupied most of my vista. A few years ago, Milene’s grandfather told me that he had planted the cerise tree as a child, on the place where the old barn was destroyed by fire. That could explain the size – I could not surround its trunk with my arms.
“Jara,” a well-known voice whispered behind me. I turned, feeling a surge of warmth. His hands grabbed my waist, helping my rotation, and we stared at each other with no words.
“Kiss me, Malin,” I said, and a touch of lust passed through me. In that calm moment, I realized my dream, and I forced myself to stay inside it forever.
“You have to wake up,” Malin said in a worried tone.
“Not before you kiss me.” I laced my hands around him trying to draw his body closer to mine.
“Wake up, Jara,” he said again, and pulled my hands from around his neck.
“Malin,” I said, disappointed.
“Wake up,” he repeated, and vanished.
Trying to keep at least the appearance of a dream, I found myself breathing hard, half fallen from my bed. I am no longer dreaming, I sighed, moving back into a more comfortable position. Mindlessly, I clung to the pillow, as always after dreaming of Malin. Still warm, allowed me to linger inside my lost dream, and for a while, I seemed separated from my body, as though split between two worlds. What’s life when dreams are more beautiful to inhabit than reality? Behind my closed eyes, his figure appeared again, but it was just a shadow of my mind, missing the vivid colors of the past dream. Oh, Malin.
A neigh pierced the early morning, erasing the remaining traces of my dream. Under the window, swift hooves clopped on the stones. A horse escaped from the barn. I went to look outside. Colors were changing in the morning light, red shone out bright and clear and the blues merged into the surrounding green of the forest. My mare was galloping toward the forest, and human silhouettes were running through our backyard. Robbers! In a hurry to alert father without waking up the girls, I ran to the door, then turned back for something to cover my naked body. In the stable a horse neighed in pain, much louder, as if it was dying. Then another one. My fingers grabbed the shirt from the day before, and I ran out from my room. Father was already climbing down the stairs, and I stopped to dress and close a few buttons. Veres and the girls erupted from their rooms too.
“Follow me,” I said, running downstairs.
In the entry hall where our weapons were stored, father, Horia and Mugur were already armed, and Meline was shaking in the corner. Even with all that panic, it was hard to stop a smile; armed men dressed in night clothes were not a usual sight. I don’t look much better, I stared down, my shirt was short, unable to reach my knees. I snatched my bow, and the children armed themselves too.
“They want to burn the house,” father said, as the attackers almost reached the house with torches lighting the early dawn. “We must confront them outside.”
They are not robbers, I thought, afraid to speak and scare the children even more than they were. Yes, I nodded to father, and went to pick a sword and knives. After tying the belt carrying my throwing knives my shirt went even more up on my legs, but I no longer cared. Father was the first to exit, his sword rose up. Mugur, Horia and me followed.
“Stay here,” I told my children as I crept through the doorway. “Meline, fill whatever buckets we have.”
Outside, I released my first arrow without thinking, and the first body fell in the grass. Father was already fighting three swordsmen, Horia and Mugur had their enemies too, more were coming from the stable, and the dawn was full of shouts and screams. In that chaos, I counted eight still alive, before releasing my second arrow, killing another robber coming from the stable – it was difficult to hit the ones fighting with Father and our people.
From the forest, an arrow shooed and pierced Mugur’s chest. His hand clutched the shaft as a sword cut him deep. He fell in silence, and my whole world had turned to chaos. There was no one visible in the forest, the archer hid behind a tree, before I could see him. Horia was now fighting three thieves, and he was not as skilled as father who already killed an enemy. In haste, I released another arrow, but the man it hit was only lightly wounded – my eyes were split between the forest and the visible robbers. The one hiding in the forest, came half out, aiming at father. Seeing my bow, he changed his mind and aimed at me. His arrow, scratched my right hip. Released a moment earlier, my arrow pierced his chest. I touched my hip, and blood filled my fingers, yet the wound was light, I could still move at ease. Father’s sword split a skull while I was cleaning my fingers on the shirt.
“Help!” Horia cried, a sword cut deep into his shoulder.
In haste, I released two arrows in a swift succession. One missed its target, but it was already too late, with a last cry, Horia fell too. They are winning... Panicked, I lost fate in our chance to survive. A brief thought of my children steeled me, and I was able to release another arrow into one of those three who killed Horia, yet the remaining two join father’s enemies. In his struggle, father was with his back at me, and I could not hit any of the five robbers attacking him. He turned in a swift half-pirouette, his sword cutting a large arc, forcing the robbers to step back, then he moved out of sight, turning the corner of the house. My arrow put down another robber, before they disappeared, following father.
Four more men appeared from the forest, sprinting toward me and screaming some inarticulate battle cry. I turned to grab my sword, stuck in the ground behind me. One of the thieves was in front and lateral, and to the side of the other three. I sprinted to confront him, and dodging his blow, my sword raked across his face. When he opened his mouth to scream, only blood came out. He was not dead, but blind men no longer count in the fight. I moved back, close to the door, to cover my children, thinking to ask Veres to help. He is weaker than me, and slow, I sh
ook my head.
Grinning and waving their swords they spread out to surround me. One of them wore a mail-ring of good quality, and was moving slower, but the two in front of me did not attack until he joined them too. Staring at them, I slid sideways, trying to keep the slow one between me and the other two. My bare feet moved through the dew of the early morning, and its chill was calming me. They regrouped, then I moved sideways again. In that moment, I saw Vio. She jumped out from the house and his small spear pierced the back of the one trying to sneak behind me. She had not enough force to kill, but the man cursed loudly and turned toward her. She was already gone – her speed was amazing. I lost trace of her, forced to move further with odd, dance like steps, trying to avoid a direct battle and come closer to the man attacking Vio in the same time. From distance, Vio menaced the man stalking her. He could not run, and Saliné came from behind, her dagger piercing deeply into him. The man turned, his sword moving in a circle, trying to cut Saliné in two, but he was deeply wounded this time. Saliné rolled backward, and the sword passed over her head. Vio’s spear pierced him again, and he could move no more. With a swift move, Saliné’s dagger sliced, ending the fight.
In that moment, I sprang, dodging the sword of the man in armor, and I moved behind him. In a wrong position, all I could do was to hit the second one, yet he was not close enough, so the cut on his shoulder was just a scratch. The man in armor turned, and our swords met for the first time. Under his strong blows, I retreated, step by step. I was good with the sword, but I had not enough force to match a man’s blow.
“Take the girls,” he yelled to the other robber. “I take the bitch.”
“Veres!” I cried desperate, as he was still inside. I glanced at the corner of the house, hoping that father will appear soon, but I only heard swords clanging faintly. At least he is still fighting, I sighed half relieved.
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