Feeling out of place in the Blue Dolphin's main room being covered in alley smudge Ticca made a quick check of the room. Nobody cared. Dirt was part of life. Still, it was a little embarrassing, especially after working for cycles to establish herself as a real Dagger.
Shrugging, she decided it was too late to do anything about it. And she was still dealing with her first murder of another sentient.
No rush tonight, and I earned this.
She leaned against the wooden back of the bench, which was smoothed and rounded from years of customers doing just that. Ticca finished the rest of her meal and savored the last half of her mug of hyly.
Standing, she maneuvered over to the bar. After a minute, Genne, the owner, came over. He looked her over slowly from head to foot.
Any other man, and I’d be pulling my dagger for taking that long a look. But from Genne, I know it’s an assessment of performance.
“Trust d’work was good tonight. D’ya wanna bath or jus’ t’bed?”
She felt taller at his tone.
“Is the water hot?” She pulled a pence from her purse and held it where he could see it.
“Ah, d’boy c’n add more coal if’n ya want.”
She handed over the coin with a smile. “I want. Let Ellar know I’ll be there shortly.” Genne closed and opened his hand, and the coin was gone, replaced by a silver key stamped with a pattern. Where the coin had vanished to, she wasn’t sure.
I know Genne was raised in this inn. His family has owned the Blue Dolphin for generations, and he is an important part of Dagger actions here. Still, he must have had an interesting past, to be able to pull little tricks like that.
Ticca took the key from Genne’s palm and then turned and started climbing the six-foot-wide stone steps, which started next to the bar and circled all the way up to the platform, four stories overhead.
She climbed three stories to the pair of large warehouse-style, sliding doors at the top, which had an aging sign warning people to clear the platform as fast as possible, should the Emerald Heart pull into port.
She smirked at the sign. As if that would ever happen again.
Down the hall was her room, but she stopped to inspect the door first. Seeing her hair check still in place in the upper corner, she unlocked the door. As she opened it, her left hand gripped her knife hilt, and she cautiously checked for intruders before stepping in.
A little paranoid tonight.
She lit the small oil lamp that served as the only light source in the room. She pulled out some cleaner clothes from her pack on the floor. Laying the newly acquired boots, belt, and pouches on her bed, she exited again, putting the hair check in a different spot as she closed the door. Ignoring other patrons on the stairs she went down to the baths.
She found the door with a matching symbol to the key Genne had given her. She unlocked the door and stepped in quickly so as to not let too much steam out. Ellar was there, pouring some steaming water into the tub. Finishing, he turned to go down the back stairs to the kitchens. He let out a small squeak of surprise at seeing her in the room, which made her giggle.
“I...I...I...um, I’m sorry m’lady. I...I didn’t hear you come in.” He wanted to move, but his body was frozen in fear.
“Ellar, relax.” She sighed and stepped towards him. That unfroze his body, and he jumped through the back door.
“I...the...I mean, the bath is full an’ hot, lady. Jus’ put your clothes through the panel, and I’ll have them clean for you by morning.” At the mention of clothes, he went an amazing shade of pink and he closed the door so quickly, it caught his foot.
Smiling, she stripped and put her clothes through the panel, into the waiting basket on the back wall. Then she stepped into the hot water. After a good cleaning, she examined herself. She had a huge bruise that went all the way around her arm, where her attacker had grabbed her. Her right shoulder was swollen, with a number of broken blood vessels, causing more areas of darkened flesh. Most of her front was a patchwork of discoloration. She was sure her neck was just as ugly, and the constant ache in her back told her there was a large purple area where he had planted his knee.
She massaged her shoulder and back in the hot water, then relaxed and soaked in the warmth. When the water became cool, she stepped out and rubbed herself down with the coarse towel. Feeling much better, she dressed and went back up to her room.
The hair check was right where she left it. Unlocking the door, she checked the room again, and her eyes fell on the small pile of stuff she had left.
Sula should be coming up soon. Now is as good a time as any other. Besides, if I don’t keep busy, I’ll fall asleep.
Since she had light and time, she could see right away that the equipment she had taken from her attacker was not simple fare. The belt was a fine grade leather, expertly stitched. The inside of the belt was a soft cloth, in which were various evenly spaced pockets and bulges. Removing the knife sheaths and pouch from the belt, she knelt on the floor and laid the belt out the length of her bed, with the cloth side up. Feeling along the stitching, she located each item and removed it, placing it on the bed above the pocket it had come out of. Once done, she looked over the assortment of tools. They were all metal with a dull black patina. She tested each one. Some were flexible and smooth edged, others had teeth, some were sharply pointed, and others had stiff, but thin, points or teeth of various sizes.
I’ve heard of thieves’ picks, but these are amazing. I doubt this is a beginner set, or even a common set.
She went back down the row of tools, picking each up and examining it again before putting it back in its assigned pocket.
Not sure what I should do with these. I am pretty sure that getting caught with them would be a criminal offense. She rolled the belt up and put it on the bottom of her pack. I am not even sure if I can sell them for anything, or even where it would be safe to try to sell them, except at the Night Market.
Next were the knives. There were five total: four small, identical-looking ones and one that might be considered a sword, as it was too long to be a dagger. It was made of an unusual metal with dark, wavy lines running irregularly down the length of the blade. It had the same black patina as the thieves’ tools.
It is very light. Adjusting for the length, I could use this in a fight as easily as a fighting dagger.
The knives were typical small ones that could be used as hand tools or thrown. Those, she knew how to use. She checked the balance and edge of each one, smiling the whole time.
Very fine. I can use these for sure.
She spent a little time figuring out how to best arrange them on her belt.
This might work, or I could get one of those cross-chest belts with some hold points for them. Her tiredness ebbed as she got a rush of adrenaline imagining how she’d look with four fine throwing blades on a cross belt. I’ll definitely look more experienced, or at least, more impressive that way.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
She pulled his pouch over. It, too, was fine quality. She admired the clasp, which was silver with a geometric pattern. It was slightly distressed with age and use, giving it an antiqued look.
This is nice; I like the pattern and the look.
Opening it, she sat and stared in disbelief.
It’s empty! Where did the things I felt in it go?
Looking around her room, she couldn’t help feeling worried.
If someone got in here and stole this, why not take everything else? Why leave the pouch?
Her mind buzzed with a rush of even more adrenaline when a knock on the door made her jump. As she went to the door, the real worry dawned on her.
Whoever did this was able to put my hair check precisely where it should be and at exactly the right length!
The next knock was louder and broke her out of the stupor she was in, staring at the closed door. Shaking her head, she put her key in the door. “Yes?”
Sula’s voice came through the door. “Was the bath hot?”
She opened the door, and Sula stepped inside. Closing the door again, she tried to regain her composure. “Yes, it was extremely hot, and I really needed it.” She locked the door, leaving the key in the lock.
Sniffing the air, Sula nodded. “Yes, you did. What happened to get you so filthy and not even notice it?”
Shrugging, she stepped back to the bed and plopped down on it. “I was mugged on the way back by the Knife from three days ago.” Sula’s eyes brightened. Is she curious or mad?
“You were tagged. Are you sure it was the Knife?” Her voice was as steady and calm as ever, but her eyes narrowed.
“Absolutely positive; he asked who I was working for and what the spell I tossed was.”
“What happened? Would you please tell me every detail?” It sounded like a question, but it was an order, like many things Sula said. She always sounded so polite and never demanding, but there was never any doubt, one should do as she asked. Sula sat down in the room’s only chair, by the small table. Her back was as straight as a sword, feet tucked just so, and her hands were folded perfectly in her lap.
She has to be from a high family. That kind of relaxed perfection is trained over a lifetime. Shrugging, Ticca explained, starting at the market. She had been expecting it and had put together the narrative while bathing. Sula listened, only interrupting to ask for more details or to double-check a fact. When she was finished, Ticca reclined on the bed, and Sula sat, thinking quietly for several minutes.
“This might not be a total disaster.”
Ticca said, “Look, there was no way anyone could have been more careful…”
“No, no. That isn’t what I mean. He must have been better than we estimated. He probably only picked you up because of the spell. That he sensed it is a real surprise.” She held her hand up to prevent Ticca from interrupting again. “If the Knife sensed the spell, then the Hand might have sensed it, too.” She shook her head. “I doubt he had time to tell anyone, which is the one really good luck point here.” Looking at Ticca, her eyes softened for the first time in the cycles Ticca had known her. “You’ve never killed anyone before.”
Again, it was a statement, not a question. Ticca couldn’t help it. She looked down as her throat closed up, and her eyes watered at the thought. She tried hard not to let Sula see the slight tremor that occurred in her hands, as she first looked at them as the hands of a killer.
Reaching over, Sula put a hand on her knee. “I am truly sorry. But you should know you did the right thing. I am sure he would have killed you without any remorse.”
Sula withdrew her hand and pretended to think for a few minutes, giving Ticca time to regain control.
Ticca straightened up. “It was bound to happen sometime.” Instead of the never-you-mind tone she was aiming for, it sounded more like a squeak.
Smiling, Sula pretended it had come out as Ticca had intended. “May I please have the spell vessel back?”
Ticca pulled the small bronze-colored cylinder from her pouch by the bed. In the light, it looked like an ordinary metal tube, but when holding it, Ticca could feel where her fingers should go, and it was sized perfectly for her hand. Ticca knew that was no accident, as Sula had measured her hand the day she hired her. She held it out, and Sula accepted it without touching it with her hands. Instead, she took it using a shiny white cloth, which she then wrapped around it before putting the package in her belt pouch.
“May I please see this elixir the assassin was going to use on you?”
Ticca produced the glass vial and handed it to her.
Sula examined it and sniffed at the seals. After holding the vial upright and tapping it, she pulled the stopper off. Ticca jumped up in surprise and moved away. Sula looked at her with amusement. “If I was going to kill you, I’d do it someplace less obvious and in a way that would give you no chance to react.”
“Yes, well, that stuff is likely dangerous, and you just broke the seal.”
“True, but this particular vial is designed to be opened and resealed many times.” She continued to examine the liquid, cautiously smelling it from a distance before putting the seal back into place. “Vanedicha.”
“Huh?” Ticca looked at the resealed vial and sat back down.
Tonight has had way too many surprises.
“Vanedicha is a poison that induces a kind of trance if a small amount is inhaled. It kills if you get a large dose.” Sula handed the vial back. “A couple of drops on the upper lip, under the nose, are enough to cause one to become like an empty shell for about three marks. When you start to wake up, you are amazingly cooperative, forthcoming, and honest for about a mark. Three or four doses within a week will cause death. It is sweet and will mix with hyly or a sweet wine almost imperceptibly and cause a painless, sleeping death in about three minutes.”
Ticca sat there, holding the vial, staring at Sula. “How...? Why would you...? Am I to use…?” was all she could manage to say.
A charming, musical laugh filled the room. “Oh, my dear, no. I just don’t want you misusing it or experimenting with it.”
Shaking her head to clear it, she stared at the lady. “Why not take it?”
“Well, that would be impractical. It does answer some questions, though.”
“What questions?”
“For one, if he had told anyone of you yet, and the answer is no. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be trying to capture you.” Sula’s smile turned a little knowing. “If he had, they would have told him to kill you outright.” Sula stood up. “I have to report in myself, and there are a number of things to be done.”
Ticca stood, as well. “I’ll pick up the Hand tomorrow and start tracking him.”
Sula walked to the door and held up a hand. “No, I think it best if you find something else to do for a while. We have to determine if the Hand sensed the spell. It will take up to a week, possibly a cycle, to determine if anything has changed. In the meantime, it would be best if you went about your business as usual, so as to not attract undue attention. In fact, it might be good for you to take on small tasks while we check on the results of this evening’s turn of events.”
Ticca felt a sharp pain of concern. “You mean I should put up my dagger?”
Sula reached into her purse and produced a fistful of something, holding it out. “Yes. However, I am in no way finished with your services. I promise I’ll be a repeat client.”
Ticca held out her hand. Sula dropped four small gold coins into it. Ticca’s skin tingled and she felt slightly dizzy at the flash of gold. “Four crowns! Are you serious? I was only expecting a cross.”
Sula smiled. “Of course, I am serious. I want you to keep a room here at the Blue Dolphin, where I can find you when I need you. Only the really talented Daggers can afford to rent a permanent room at the Dolphin.” Sula turned and unlocked the door. “Doing so will let me find you and will get you some nice local jobs with silly nobles, both of which will help when I come looking for you again.”
Sula slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Ticca locked the door. She laid out the coins on the table. Touching them in order, she counted again.
Four crowns so she can find me again! If I get a small room here, this will last almost six cycles. If I start Daggering, I can probably earn enough to stay here as long as I stay alive.
Touching the coins, she thought, Gold crowns. Now I know she is nobility. Even high-earning merchants don’t carry gold.
Ticca took the coins, put them in the new pouch, and set it aside. The glass vial sat on her bed.
How did Sula know all that about the poison? Where could someone with such an obviously good upbringing go to learn such things?
She examined the stopper again. I can safely open and close this many times. With an average dose being only a couple of drops, there is enough here to last almost forever.
She put the glass vial on the table and picked up the new boots. She loved boots, and those were unbelievable. The leather felt soft and warm. She ran her hands over every inch, examining all the beautiful handiwork. The stitching was fine and even, running together in an endless string. The interior was lined with an unusual kind of fur. She wasn’t sure what it was. Being raised as a trapper and skinner made her wonder how far the boots had come.
A real shame, they were made for a man’s foot. I bet they’d be comfortable and warm year round.
Looking at the boots more closely, she noted that they really weren’t much bigger than her own.
Slipping her foot into one was like putting on a well-worn and loved shoe. It fit perfectly. She slipped on the second. They fit like they had been made for her alone.
How can this be? It was dark, but what are the odds, a random Knife bent on capturing and killing me would have feet exactly the same size as mine?
She moved around the room. They really did fit, and they felt amazing. The unique fur lining made them comfortable. It was on the interior bottom too, which she thought was odd, as it would wear quickly. But it didn’t compress as much as she thought it would, and it felt almost like walking on soft, grassy ground.
I am too tired to reason this through. Feeling warm, clean, well fed, and comfortable, she lay down on the bed and fell asleep, still wearing her new boots.