The Swordsman of Tanosa: A Short Tale of the Middle Sea by Duncan M. Hamilton

1
    The City of Tanosa
    B afion hesitated before deciding where to strike, annoyed that it had come to this. Some people were too stupid to be left in charge of their own affairs. The man opposite him was one such person. Bafion chose the left shoulder. Not fatal, but hopefully enough to satisfy his obligations without killing. He thrust his rapier quickly, accurately, and to the man’s surprise.
    ‘Ow,’ the man said. ‘Why in hells did you have to go an’ do that?’
    Bafion stood a few paces from the shabby little man. They were in the living room of the man’s small apartment, which was just as shabby as he was. The man’s reaction was dictated by shock, and Bafion knew it would take a few moments before the fact that he had been stabbed with a sword took hold.
    Bafion didn’t like having to do it, but he was supposed to maim the man; something visible, something gruesome, something that would send a message. This cut was far less than he would have received were someone else meting out the punishment. Bafion’s instructions stated that if the man died, it would be of little consequence. Bafion’s employer seemed to have given up hope of ever being paid. As it was, Bafion had directed his blade through the fleshy part of the man’s arm and it would heal well enough.
    ‘You know bloody well why I did it,’ Bafion said. ‘You had your chance. You brought it on yourself. You still owe the boss five crowns. I’ll be back to finish the job if you don’t pay by the end of the week.’
    The man clutched at his left shoulder with a look of sullen indignation that irritated Bafion. The man had brought this on himself; everyone that Bafion visited did, and yet somehow he still believed that Bafion had wronged him. If anything, Bafion had done him a favour, but he would get no credit for it. When he went to get paid he would have to explain why the man was not missing his nose, an ear, or an assortment of fingers. He wondered which of them was the bigger fool.
    ‘Go and see a physician,’ Bafion said, ‘before the wound goes bad. And pay up. Soon, or I’ll be back.’
    The man stared dumbly at Bafion but said nothing. Bafion turned to leave and noticed a small child peering around the edge of the doorway. The man’s child? Debt collection always left him feeling sullied, but having a child stare at him and wonder why he had hurt her father made him want to vomit. He had to eat, though. Sometimes he wondered if it would be better if he didn’t bother. It was a fine existence for a gentleman, a banneret, and a leading blade. In reality however, he knew that he was no longer any of those things.
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    J acco Nozza was a busy man . Tanosa was not a big city, but a city it was, and he liked to think of it as his city. His rivals were long since crushed, and those who remained were small and of no threat. He had as much influence in running it as the Count or any of his ministers. He also reckoned he was more worthy to run it; he had come to his position on ruthless merit, while they had come to theirs by happenstance of birth.
    Despite the demands on his time, there were some things that deserved his absolute attention, and some moments that he refused to share with anyone. The subject of those moments had varied over the years, but that day it was a letter that had just arrived. It came from Ostenheim, which could only mean one thing. He rarely had any dealings in Ostenheim. He was not so vain or conceited to think his influence extended there, and he was smart enough to realise that any of the larger figures of Ostenheim’s underworld could crush him with little effort. Nozza was a big fish in a middling sized pond, and he was content with that.
    Nozza broke the black wax seal on the letter with a sensation verging on glee. He had been waiting for the information contained within for some time. His anticipation was such that his hands shook as he unfolded the paper. He held his breath as he read the contents. A