Northern_Lights_2016

31 Assassin I stepped into the inn and immediately eyes turned to me. Though they were unable to see my face, a few men leered at me, knowing only a woman would be so small. I threw back my hood and scanned the crowded room. Men and women sat around drinking away the night after a hard day’s work. “Looking for something, dear?” The wench asked, wiping at the bar she stood behind with a dirty towel. I walked up to the bar, my heels striking the wooden floor, and took a stool. She handed me a mug of mead and I took a long drink before setting the empty stein on the bar. “No, just here for a good time.” I lied. No one could know what I was really in town for and the less attention I brought to myself the better, not to mention the guild I worked for preferred to keep our business out of the limelight. “Can I get a room?” I reached into a pouch tied to my belt and slapped a few gold coins onto the bar. She swiped them up with a practiced precision. “Sure thing, it’s yours for the night,” she answered. “Up the stairs, second door on your right.” I nodded my thanks and stood, making for the stairs when a man stumbled into my path holding a mug of mead, some of it spilled out and sloshed onto the floor. He didn’t even seem to notice. “Wherrrre do you thiiiink you’re goin’ prettty lady,” he slurred. “The parrrty’ssss jussst getting ssstarted.” I made to move past him and he reached out as if to stop me. I grabbed his outstretched hand, spinning him around so his back was to me and pinned his arm high up his back, the bones popping as they readjusted to their new position. “Don’t even think about it,” I hissed, applying more pressure, until I heard the bones creaking. He squealed and I pushed him away. He stumbled and fell to the floor, his mead spilling all over the ground. I glanced around and found all eyes on me. Damn. I turned and bolted up the stairs, disappearing into my rented room. Leaning against the door, I reached up and undid the lily-shaped clasp at my throat and pulled off my cloak. I hung it on the hook next to the wooden door before glancing around the room. It was small, consisting of only a bed and dresser, but the only thing I cared about was the window above the bed. It was small and would be a tight squeeze, but thankfully I was tiny and would fit. I slid the straps off my shoulder and reached into my pack, pulling out a different set of clothes, a black tunic, soft leather black pants, boots made of the same leather that never made a sound on any type of floor and a black cowl. I quickly changed and stuffed my pack behind the dresser; it wouldn’t do well if someone found it. Lastly, I slipped on my belt, making sure I had my lock picks, gold, and twin daggers. I would need all of them. Now all I had to do was wait for night to descend on the town. Finally, I found the manor I was looking for. I paused at the gate — making sure to keep out of sight — that would grant access to the grounds that the manor was sitting on. I kept to the shadows as I surveyed the land from the outside, seeing a few moving shadows: the mercenaries my target had hired. I continued walking until I came to the sewer drain I had found a few days prior. It led right under the fence and connected with the basement. It was meant for an escape route, but no one would be escaping tonight. I easily removed the grate, having pulled it up earlier for quicker access, and dropped into the sewer, landing in a few feet of water that I’d rather not know the contents of. I reached up and replaced the grate, making sure it was secure from this side. I took off at a brisk pace, following the path I had marked earlier. I made it unnoticed to the door that would lead into his manor. I knelt down and pulled out my lock picks, picking the lock in record time. There was something about the action of it that made me think of a time when it came harder to me. “You’re doing it all wrong!” Vanya, the guild leader, stated, sounding annoyed. She moved over to where I stood trying to pick a lock that for some reason wouldn’t open. “You have to actually try. You can’t just expect the lock to open.” “Instead of yelling at her, why not tell her what she’s doing wrong?” a voice stated. We glanced over to the doorway that led into the training room and saw Tyrael standing in the doorway. He was wearing the same black tunic, pants, and boots that we all did, stretched tight across his chest, showing off his muscles. “Stay out of this Tyrael,” Vanya ordered, her eyes still on me. “I understand that you want to train her yourself, seeing some part of you in her, but if you don’t train her right and expect her to just know what to do, you will get her killed,” he stated, moving into the room. “Tyrael . . .” It was a warning — a clear threat in her voice, but he made it seem as if he didn’t even notice coming to stand by me. Turn it a few degrees to the left,” he stated, and I obeyed and the lock popped open. I smiled up at him. “There you go,” He turned to look at Vanya, “See?” “Fine, you train her!” Vanya snapped, then left, leaving me to learn from Tyrael. To be honest, his teachings helped me more than Vanya’s did, not that I would admit it out loud. I slipped the locks back into my belt and pushed the door open a crack. Two men were standing a few feet from the door; neither one noticed the door moving. “How long are we supposed to be here?” the taller of the two asked. They were both muscular in a lean way and both wore light leather armor with swords strapped to their sides. Marybeth Pappas