and
looked down at his face, there was fear in his eyes and his body was
trembling with the effort he was putting into trying to move. She
showed her finger to him, the same one she had ran over his lips
“Venom of the Iris cobra. It causes paralysis and then a heart
attack within minutes. Fortunately it doesn’t absorb by skin
contact, but it will mix with saliva.”
She used the small hand basin to rinse her
hand and then thoroughly wiped it down with a hand towel. She then
put the towel in a sealed bag and pocketed it. “I doubt they’ll
check for it. It’s a rare poison, but better to be cautious and not
leave traces.”
His eyes were now full of anger as he
watched her movements she matched his gaze and said, “I’d be angry
too, staring at my death and unable to do anything about it. You
probably want to know why, but I’m afraid I can’t enlighten you. In
my profession one doesn’t ask questions. I’m given a target to
eliminate, nothing more, nothing less. In your case, whoever wanted
you dead, wanted it to look natural.”
She walked over to the
large ,
ornate closet and opened the door, as she did the girl she had been
impersonating, Darla, his favorite girl at Madam Shard’s
whorehouse, fell out. The assassin pulled her over with and laid
her on floor face down. “I’m afraid your beloved whore was dead
long before you arrived. I took care of her before using a simple
glamour on myself to fool you into thinking I was her.”
She took a pinch from Darla’s
tarcaine supply and sprinkled it around the dead girl’s mouth then
rubbed what remained off her hands and stood up. “That about does
it I think,” she said, “When they find the two of you, you’ll have
died from too much excitement and Darla here will be a drug
overdose.”
Trent suddenly gave out a ragged
breath and his back arched slightly. “That’s the venom kicking in,”
she said. “I must admit for an old man you were spry in the sack,”
and she smirked. He gave off one last gasp before all the tension
went out of his body and his eyes slowly closed.
She scanned the room one more time,
double-checking that there was nothing she could have missed. Once
satisfied, she opened the window and carefully climbed up towards
the roof. She pulled herself up and silently walked across two more
buildings before reaching a fire ladder and made her way down to
empty alley. Now all she had to do was report in on her
success.
Her usual place to meet was a tavern, the
Iron Boot, in the working class Charwood district. She entered
through the main doors and her training kicked in. She slipped into
the mannerisms of a working factory girl that matched her
disguise.
Half a dozen factories were
within a snail ’s crawl from the Iron Boot and many of the workers came
here for meals at all hours of the day, even in the middle of the
night. Most of the factories ran on twenty four hour schedules and
several shifts finishing during the night.
There were only a dozen or so
peopl e right
now and all of them were preoccupied drinking. Most of them were
sitting at the bar, soot and oil on their clothing identifying them
as factory workers. One group of four was taking up a table in the
middle.
At one of the booths to the
side sat a
dignified looking elf. He had the bronze skin tone common to Talfey
elves and wore his hair in the pulled back, ponytail style of Tal
Feros, but it was raven black in color, closer to the elves Ze
Feros, than the gold and silver hair common to Talfey
elves.
He was dressed in an immaculately clean
dark-green blazer and a white shirt and was reading a newspaper,
the Alkos City Chronicle. He had a steaming, hot beverage on the
table in front of him. He looked up at her entrance, placed his
newspaper down and sat back, watching her. She moved over to the
booth and sat down opposite him. “It’s done,” she said, “all
clean.”
“ Good,” he replied. “The client
will be pleased. This is for you.” He passed an
looked down at his face, there was fear in his eyes and his body was
trembling with the effort he was putting into trying to move. She
showed her finger to him, the same one she had ran over his lips
“Venom of the Iris cobra. It causes paralysis and then a heart
attack within minutes. Fortunately it doesn’t absorb by skin
contact, but it will mix with saliva.”
She used the small hand basin to rinse her
hand and then thoroughly wiped it down with a hand towel. She then
put the towel in a sealed bag and pocketed it. “I doubt they’ll
check for it. It’s a rare poison, but better to be cautious and not
leave traces.”
His eyes were now full of anger as he
watched her movements she matched his gaze and said, “I’d be angry
too, staring at my death and unable to do anything about it. You
probably want to know why, but I’m afraid I can’t enlighten you. In
my profession one doesn’t ask questions. I’m given a target to
eliminate, nothing more, nothing less. In your case, whoever wanted
you dead, wanted it to look natural.”
She walked over to the
large ,
ornate closet and opened the door, as she did the girl she had been
impersonating, Darla, his favorite girl at Madam Shard’s
whorehouse, fell out. The assassin pulled her over with and laid
her on floor face down. “I’m afraid your beloved whore was dead
long before you arrived. I took care of her before using a simple
glamour on myself to fool you into thinking I was her.”
She took a pinch from Darla’s
tarcaine supply and sprinkled it around the dead girl’s mouth then
rubbed what remained off her hands and stood up. “That about does
it I think,” she said, “When they find the two of you, you’ll have
died from too much excitement and Darla here will be a drug
overdose.”
Trent suddenly gave out a ragged
breath and his back arched slightly. “That’s the venom kicking in,”
she said. “I must admit for an old man you were spry in the sack,”
and she smirked. He gave off one last gasp before all the tension
went out of his body and his eyes slowly closed.
She scanned the room one more time,
double-checking that there was nothing she could have missed. Once
satisfied, she opened the window and carefully climbed up towards
the roof. She pulled herself up and silently walked across two more
buildings before reaching a fire ladder and made her way down to
empty alley. Now all she had to do was report in on her
success.
Her usual place to meet was a tavern, the
Iron Boot, in the working class Charwood district. She entered
through the main doors and her training kicked in. She slipped into
the mannerisms of a working factory girl that matched her
disguise.
Half a dozen factories were
within a snail ’s crawl from the Iron Boot and many of the workers came
here for meals at all hours of the day, even in the middle of the
night. Most of the factories ran on twenty four hour schedules and
several shifts finishing during the night.
There were only a dozen or so
peopl e right
now and all of them were preoccupied drinking. Most of them were
sitting at the bar, soot and oil on their clothing identifying them
as factory workers. One group of four was taking up a table in the
middle.
At one of the booths to the
side sat a
dignified looking elf. He had the bronze skin tone common to Talfey
elves and wore his hair in the pulled back, ponytail style of Tal
Feros, but it was raven black in color, closer to the elves Ze
Feros, than the gold and silver hair common to Talfey
elves.
He was dressed in an immaculately clean
dark-green blazer and a white shirt and was reading a newspaper,
the Alkos City Chronicle. He had a steaming, hot beverage on the
table in front of him. He looked up at her entrance, placed his
newspaper down and sat back, watching her. She moved over to the
booth and sat down opposite him. “It’s done,” she said, “all
clean.”
“ Good,” he replied. “The client
will be pleased. This is for you.” He passed an
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