Assassin’s Fate

‘Where have you been?’ I heard myself whisper the words.

With the cub, doing my best to help her. Mostly failing.

She is alive. That means you succeeded. She would be safer if you went back to her.

She is safer if we draw off the hunters. And kill as many as we can.

I had held back three of Chade’s firepots for myself. I reached over my shoulder and took out the cracked firepot that I’d mended, put it back and chose the other two. One had a blue fuse. Long and slow, Spark had said. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to burn slowly. I wasn’t clear on what I was going to do with it. How slow was slow?

I knew the guards would come. Make all ready.

I looked around the darkened room. It was small, perhaps for private meetings. There were two small windows set high in the wall and no other door. A watery grey light told me that outside, dawn was breaking. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a table with two comfortable, high-backed chairs around it. In the middle of the table there was a little pot-lamp made of glass and painted with flowers. A lovely, welcoming room. An assassin’s dream.

I got to my feet, not quickly and not without curses, but I did it. I set my pack on the table and opened it. The folded paper of carris seed was on top. Very little left. I dumped it in my hand, tossed it into my mouth and ground it between my teeth as I set out the fire-brick. The heady rush of the carris seed flooded me. Good. I drew the wick most of the way out of the lamp and set it on the fire-brick. It warmed immediately and soon the wick began to smoulder.

Someone tried the doorhandle. Out of time. I’d planned to have the lamp lit ready to light the fuse. Instead, I uncoiled the fuse from the firepot and set it on the brick. Almost immediately a tiny spark danced on it. A flame leapt and then died back to a steady red glow. The lock rattled once, then turned. I slid the brick along the fuse and lit it closer to the pot. Then I stood. Almost. I leaned heavily on the table. The sword wasn’t long enough to be a walking stick. I put more weight on my bad leg. It folded under me and I caught at the table. One can ignore pain. But when the body invokes weakness, determination is useless. I hopped and lurched toward the door. I wanted to be behind it, out of sight when they entered. They’d come in I’d close the door and keep them there until Chade’s little pot gave up its lightning.

I made it to the door just as it opened a crack. I leaned against the wall and held my breath.

‘Fitz? It’s me, it’s Per. Don’t kill me!’

He stepped in, with Spark peering over his shoulder. I had no time to curse at them. I lunged for the firepot at the same moment that Spark saw it. As I toppled like a cut tree, she stepped past me, slid the fire-brick from under the fuse and flipped the brick over. She evaluated the fuse on the pot. ‘We have enough time,’ she said. ‘Pick him up, Per. We’ll backtrack in his blood and be away from here before it goes off.’ She nodded to me. ‘It’s not a bad plan.’ She seized one of the chairs and dragged it so that the back blocked the view of the table from the door. ‘Nothing for them to see to warn them. Let’s go.’

I tried to think of a reason to argue with her. Per already had my arm across his shoulder. He stood, dragging me up with him. The lad had grown stronger. Spark poked the fire-brick, and then picked it up. ‘It’s cooling already,’ she said. ‘Elderling magic. Amazing stuff.’ With swift efficiency, she resettled it in the pack. I started to object, but she held up the unlit firepot. ‘I’m not stupid,’ she said and set it upright on the cooled brick. She slung it over my shoulder. ‘Go. Now.’

We went, though not as swiftly as I would have wished. I leaned on Per and hobbled. Spark inserted herself under my sword arm. She was barely tall enough to take the weight off my bad leg. She drew the door closed behind us. ‘Wish I had time to lock it,’ she muttered. My heart sank as I saw the next door open and Lant put his head out. Spark made an impatient motion of her hand and he closed it softly. I tried to move faster.

The rhythmic slap of running feet.

‘Drop me. Run!’ I ordered them.

No one listened to me. ‘Hurry,’ Per suggested.

Spark glanced back. ‘No. Stop and face them!’

‘No!’ Per objected, but she held my arm tight to her shoulder and I found myself pivoting on my good leg as she spun me around.

‘What are you doing?’ Per cried out.

‘Trust me!’ A hissed whisper. ‘Swords up.’

I lifted mine with an effort. ‘Get clear,’ I warned Per, and at last he obeyed me. I could not walk but I could balance. Somewhat.

‘El’s balls.’ Per’s voice went guttural. ‘They have bows.’

‘Of course they do,’ Spark laughed darkly.