Day 4 - Continued
Once in the safety of his room, Alexander bound his captive securely. He stood, surveying his handiwork, and nodded, satisfied.
"Well now, let's see who you are," he said, stripping away the black mask shrouding his captive's face. He drew back in surprise. His captive had the face of a young woman, sun-browned, her hair knotted tightly on the top of her head.
Alexander roused her with a dash of cold water left from his bath. She thrashed against her bonds, glaring.
"Well, the pretty little viper is caught in a snare, now," Alexander taunted. "What is your name, viper?"
"I am Maria, the assassin!"
Alexander laughed.
"You are no assassin. Assassins kill, or die in the attempt. You're a paper mask with the ink running. Who sent you to kill me?"
Maria ground her teeth and kept silent.
"Very well," said Alexander. "I can't turn you over to the town watch, with half the city looking for the villain that absconded with the future empress of the west. I suppose I'll just have to kill you. What a happy chance that I just acquired this new blade today" - he slid it out, three curving feet of gleaming steel - "and have not had a chance to test its mettle."
He rested the blade's edge on the girl's calf as though preparing a stroke.
"I don't think you'll be needing both of these any more. Let's start here and see how it goes. If it works all right we can move up to your hands, and then your head. Maybe I'll try a torso cut before that. Bisection is puts so much more strain on a blade than a simple decapitation."
Maria set her jaw, but Alexander could see her hands start to shake. He lofted the blade over his head with a stern two-handed grip and roared. The blade sang down, slicing through air, and ended with a thud. Maria shrieked and cringed back, shoving away from him as much as her bound limbs would allow. The severed heel of her right boot hit the floor and bounced once.
"So, you were bluffing," she snarled. "You son of a diseased camel's. . ."
The blade came down again, resting on her lips. Maria fell silent, eyes crossing as she stared at its point.
"It would be more healthy to think of it as a warning. Not a bluff." Alexander's eyes were ice. "Few people in this world are given a second chance. Especially not gutter scum that can't even make a decent cutthroat. Don't throw it away."
"All right. All right," she said, eyes filling with tears. "I don't want to die!"
Alexander put the sword away. "A good choice," he said. "A coward's choice, but better a live coward than a dead fool, eh?"
Maria sniffed and nodded.
"I don't know his name." She squeaked as Alexander's hand stroked his sword-hilt. "Truly, I don't! There's a place in the south of the city. They. . . cutthroats. . . we go there in masks to hire our services. Our. . . patrons often wear masks as well."
Her voice became tinged with panic as Alexander began sliding his sword free once more.
"It's true, I tell you! I can take you there! It was a man! I know that much from his voice! He had a likeness of you on a roll of parchment."
"Well, well. A particularly well-informed patron. The city is abuzz with fortune seekers hunting the man called Captain Alexander. Indeed I would be thrice a fool not to abandon that name. But here is someone who knows my _appearance_."
Alexander drew his sword fully, and Maria clenched her eyes, face screwed up with terror.
"But, that's all I know! Please. . . I won't tell anyone about you!"
Alexander's sword flicked twice, severing the ties fastening her wrists and ankles.
"You do not seem a particularly good cutthroat, Maria. Perhaps you would like to try your hand at an honest living. I have a few coins left in my purse, in spite of what the armsman took for this sword." He tossed a silver to Maria, who missed catching it in her confusion, and went chasing after it as it bounced and rolled to the floor.
"Another like it if you lead me true to this den of masked men." He put his sword away again, patting it fondly. "And then you may go free, if you promise to keep silent. Oh, I suppose I could always cut out your tongue and lop off your hands to prevent your spreading tales. But that seems a needless and messy business, when you can be paid for your trouble. So. Shall we be friends for a day?"
Maria climbed unsteadily to her feet.
"Y . . . Yes," she managed.
* * *
"Well now, let's see who you are," he said, stripping away the black mask shrouding his captive's face. He drew back in surprise. His captive had the face of a young woman, sun-browned, her hair knotted tightly on the top of her head.
Alexander roused her with a dash of cold water left from his bath. She thrashed against her bonds, glaring.
"Well, the pretty little viper is caught in a snare, now," Alexander taunted. "What is your name, viper?"
"I am Maria, the assassin!"
Alexander laughed.
"You are no assassin. Assassins kill, or die in the attempt. You're a paper mask with the ink running. Who sent you to kill me?"
Maria ground her teeth and kept silent.
"Very well," said Alexander. "I can't turn you over to the town watch, with half the city looking for the villain that absconded with the future empress of the west. I suppose I'll just have to kill you. What a happy chance that I just acquired this new blade today" - he slid it out, three curving feet of gleaming steel - "and have not had a chance to test its mettle."
He rested the blade's edge on the girl's calf as though preparing a stroke.
"I don't think you'll be needing both of these any more. Let's start here and see how it goes. If it works all right we can move up to your hands, and then your head. Maybe I'll try a torso cut before that. Bisection is puts so much more strain on a blade than a simple decapitation."
Maria set her jaw, but Alexander could see her hands start to shake. He lofted the blade over his head with a stern two-handed grip and roared. The blade sang down, slicing through air, and ended with a thud. Maria shrieked and cringed back, shoving away from him as much as her bound limbs would allow. The severed heel of her right boot hit the floor and bounced once.
"So, you were bluffing," she snarled. "You son of a diseased camel's. . ."
The blade came down again, resting on her lips. Maria fell silent, eyes crossing as she stared at its point.
"It would be more healthy to think of it as a warning. Not a bluff." Alexander's eyes were ice. "Few people in this world are given a second chance. Especially not gutter scum that can't even make a decent cutthroat. Don't throw it away."
"All right. All right," she said, eyes filling with tears. "I don't want to die!"
Alexander put the sword away. "A good choice," he said. "A coward's choice, but better a live coward than a dead fool, eh?"
Maria sniffed and nodded.
"I don't know his name." She squeaked as Alexander's hand stroked his sword-hilt. "Truly, I don't! There's a place in the south of the city. They. . . cutthroats. . . we go there in masks to hire our services. Our. . . patrons often wear masks as well."
Her voice became tinged with panic as Alexander began sliding his sword free once more.
"It's true, I tell you! I can take you there! It was a man! I know that much from his voice! He had a likeness of you on a roll of parchment."
"Well, well. A particularly well-informed patron. The city is abuzz with fortune seekers hunting the man called Captain Alexander. Indeed I would be thrice a fool not to abandon that name. But here is someone who knows my _appearance_."
Alexander drew his sword fully, and Maria clenched her eyes, face screwed up with terror.
"But, that's all I know! Please. . . I won't tell anyone about you!"
Alexander's sword flicked twice, severing the ties fastening her wrists and ankles.
"You do not seem a particularly good cutthroat, Maria. Perhaps you would like to try your hand at an honest living. I have a few coins left in my purse, in spite of what the armsman took for this sword." He tossed a silver to Maria, who missed catching it in her confusion, and went chasing after it as it bounced and rolled to the floor.
"Another like it if you lead me true to this den of masked men." He put his sword away again, patting it fondly. "And then you may go free, if you promise to keep silent. Oh, I suppose I could always cut out your tongue and lop off your hands to prevent your spreading tales. But that seems a needless and messy business, when you can be paid for your trouble. So. Shall we be friends for a day?"
Maria climbed unsteadily to her feet.
"Y . . . Yes," she managed.
* * *
posted by Paganini at 12:50 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home