The disobedient sewing needle almost pricked my finger for the third time in the last half hour, but this time I was more alert and didn't allow it. Sitting opposite me in a hard chair behind a massive table was young Aun, monotonously reading aloud his father's business papers he managed to find. He was trying to understand who was behind the attempts on his life. I only half-listened, not because I didn't want to save the lad, but because these contracts didn't tell me much since I didn't understand the specifics of Tries' business laws. What occupied me more was the fresh cut in the new travel bag, the very cut I was now trying to sew up.
In my earthly life, it would have never occurred to me to sew something up. I would have either bought a new thing to replace the torn one or handed it over to a repair shop. But the memory of the future hinted that being able to perform a minor repair of my things is a skill that will significantly simplify life in Ain. Since the "future me" mastered this science, the "current me" was fully equipped with theoretical knowledge and seemed to have no difficulties. But the treacherous sewing needle seemed to possess its own somewhat unruly character and was eager to turn a little differently or slip from each of my movements so as to prick the pad of my finger. The theory is the theory, but motor skills in this matter turned out to be just as crucial as in martial arts. And when Aun offered to help me in sewing up the cut inflicted by the unknown killer's knife, I refused, and now, after almost half an hour, I began to regret it. An experienced tailor would have done this work in a couple of minutes, but in my case, it took much more time.
"And yet such little things..." Detaching his eyes from the papers, Aun glanced at the rather crooked, albeit sturdy, seam, the result of my labor, but he didn't finish his sentence and fell silent.
"Go on," I sighed. "I don't like this: if you start talking - finish."
"Well," the lad lowered his gaze as if choosing the right words and then spoke again. "Such little things give you away... they give you away completely."
"Go on." I didn't understand him.
"You present yourself as a simple traveler, but to an experienced eye, your movements and manners make it clear that you are of noble origin. And when you start talking, your speech further convinces your interlocutor of these conclusions. And your inability to handle a simple sewing needle dispels the last doubts about your lineage."
"What's wrong with my speech?" I deliberately try to speak simply, sometimes even overdoing it, and this comment from the lad hurt me.
"Yes, listening to your speeches, at first you can be taken simply for an educated person, not necessarily noble, but..." I hate his habit of stopping in the middle of a sentence and falling silent sometimes for almost a minute, choosing words, but now I'm not rushing him. "It's not so much what you say but how you do it."
I am literally overflowing with the desire to get up from the chair and give the lad a few hefty slaps because he, in his opinion, has finished speaking and is not going to explain his words further. After taking six deep breaths, I counted to a dozen and deliberately slowly and carefully packed sewing accessories into a special travel case. And only after doing that I raised my heavy gaze to Aun and asked as calmly as I could:
"And how do I speak?"
"Huh?" Putting the papers aside, the boy stared at me in surprise.
His facial expression now reminded me of Sherlock Holmes looking at Doctor Watson, who was surprised that someone needed to explain such obvious things.
"Explain in more detail what's wrong with my speech." This is an essential element of my mimicry as a local, and I need to understand my mistakes, which is why I'm so persistent.
"You speak differently." Pushing the papers aside, Aun interlocked his fingers. "Not the words themselves, not the pronunciation, but the way you speak. When you're on the street, watch how ordinary people talk. Even the educated and merchants. We all gesticulate. For me not to wave my hands in time with words, I have to clasp my palms, and even then, it's hard to resist. But you... You talk as if you're an ancient statue come to life, as if you don't have this need to accompany your words with gestures. And what's more, you don't put any effort into it - it's natural for you! Which means you grew up surrounded by people who were used to communicating this way. You absorbed it with your mother's milk." The boy raised his voice, carried away by his arguments, and in the process, seemingly to confirm his words, his fingers unclasped, and he began to gesticulate actively. "And such manners are only typical of the higher aristocracy! I know many rich and influential people who try to talk similarly. They're trying to show their own importance. But it's immediately apparent how hard it is for them and how unnatural such behavior is. My father also tried to teach me to speak exactly like this. Arguing that by communicating with nobles, I would make a much better impression on them and thus get better contracts. And I try, honestly, even at this moment, I try. But it's incredibly hard for me. But you're a completely different story."
Now, when it's advantageous for me to be considered a scion of a noble family hiding his origins, what Aun noticed benefits me. But if I decide to change my "backstory," such a trifle could ruin everything for me.
This young man sitting across from me surprises me. Sometimes he notices such details and makes such unexpected conclusions that are even non-obvious to me. But at the same time, he failed to notice four assassination attempts on his life.
"So, more gestures?" I asked with a smirk, accompanying my question by spreading my palms to the sides.
"Yes, that's already better." Aun smiled forcedly in response.
His facial expression made it clear that I had to work on this more seriously. Despite the fact that I didn't manage to make it to the national team, I was still selected for some international competitions. I didn't show anything extraordinary there and only once made it to the podium, even then only to the last step, and even that tournament was rather regional. But I still remember the Italian team and how their captain waved his hands like a helicopter coming in to land when he opened his mouth. Perhaps I should try to adopt such behavior. At first, of course, it will be a bit contrived, and I can never become as impulsive in speech as an Italian, but this "copying" will bring the missing expression into my behavior.
Turning my travel bag inside out, I checked the strength of the seam I made once again and was satisfied with the inspection. Yes, it turned out a bit clumsy, several stitches were clearly out of line, but the seam was nevertheless quite firm and should not have fallen apart from the anticipated loads.
All this time, I continued to listen as Aun read out the business documents. Occasionally I tried earnestly to understand, wondering if there was any trickery involved, but I quickly gave up. Not knowing the local trade customs and laws, I was simply unable to catch many nuances. The only real way I could help the boy was to try to protect him while I was around. I objectively made for a poor detective in an unfamiliar city and a strange world. If this involved earthlings, I would have honestly tried to delve into and unravel the tangled web of mysterious assassination attempts. But in this case, I could only stumble upon the person who ordered the murder by chance. And honestly, it was far more critical for me to achieve my own goals. Besides, Aun is helpful to me right now, and I like this clever boy, but I'm not ready to risk my own life to save him.
"We need to prepare a lamp," said the young man, setting aside another document. "There are still many contracts here." He sighed heavily and kicked the open chest full of various papers and scrolls. "We won't even finish reading everything by morning."
"No need," I interrupted his thoughts.
"Huh?" the boy was surprised.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"I have other plans for this evening and night," I shrugged, savoring my petty revenge and leaving things unsaid, just as he had done not too long ago. It is petty, I know, but I enjoy watching his face right now. Let him see his behavior from the outside; it'll be beneficial for him.
"But isn't studying these documents the most important thing?" the merchant's son tried to argue.
Of course, I could have come up with many plausible excuses, but it all seemed inappropriate now. So I didn't lie and just told it like it was.
"For you, studying these documents indeed might be the most important thing," I shrugged, demonstratively spreading my hands to the sides, adding some gestures this way. "But I have my own plans for this evening and night. Plans that are no less important to me than yours are to you."
The boy froze for a moment, digesting what I had said. His face displayed a range of feelings from utter incomprehension to resentment and fear, which eventually gave way to a certain angry understanding, and he quickly tried to hide this emotion.
"You don't seem like it." For some reason, what I saw on the young man's face made me a bit more candid with him than I had been before. "But in reality, we are in very similar situations. And my life is also hanging by a thread."
"Oh!" Aun's eyes widened like saucers, and it was clear that he immediately believed me.
"That's why I'm ready to help you, but to hasten my own demise in the process..." My hands spread apart again, and a slightly wicked smile twisted my lips. "Sorry."
My apology even sounded entirely formal. As much as I liked this boy, I was not about to put his problems above my own. It was a stark change compared to my behavior on Earth. Before the "memory of the future" fell on me, I was one of those who often put others' problems above my own. But what the "past me" went through changed my psyche and worldview. Moreover, I am aware of this, and I think it's even better this way. Saving the world while being an altruist is a prerogative of the enlightened and prophets, and it certainly has nothing to do with me.
Knowing Aun more or less by now, I didn't expect an emotional outburst from him after my words. But the lad still surprised me. Setting the scroll aside, he flexed his fingers and asked in a business-like tone, almost without overacting:
"So, what are our plans for this evening and night?"
Barely refraining from retorting with "Ours?" I raised my left eyebrow in surprise and tilted my head. The lad understood my pantomime perfectly and immediately added:
"I don't think staying alone in this empty house at night will be the best choice for me." He leaned back in his chair and demonstratively stared out the window. "There's a protective spell on the house, of course, but it's simple and will only stop drunks or homeless scavengers." His lips quivered in a light smirk, "Or if someone gets bold enough to decide to clear out the entire warehouse at once. But I'm afraid it won't save me from a professional assassin's intrusion." After which, he sighed heavily. "And casting a new one is not only expensive but also time-consuming, and I'd also need to find an unoccupied mage, which I certainly won't manage to do before it gets dark." The boy pondered for a moment, then continued in a more melancholic tone. "And, to be honest, no magical protection will save me from a real professional."
"If you were being hunted by 'real professionals'," I replied, slightly parodying his intonations, "you'd be long dead already, regardless of any blessings."
Since I had crossed paths with members of the Assassins' Guild of Deytran in the "previous Cycle," I knew what I was talking about. After a couple of failures, the Guild would have engaged a specialist a Coil above the target, and the incredible luck of the "client" would no longer matter.
"Do you think so?" Aun exhaled with a hint of relief.
"Correct me if I'm wrong." I interlocked my fingers and leaned towards the lad without getting up from the chair. "There's a Thieves' Guild in Tries, which, however, is not a big secret."
"Yes," the boy nods, "the traders know this; my father even paid them, as he put it, 'contributions'."
"But there isn't a unified Assassins' Guild in your city." Ender had told me about this when he talked about the city-states on the coast.
"I heard that about three decades ago, the Assassins' Guild clashed with the Temple, and this confrontation ended very sadly for the cutthroats." After a short pause, he added, "And these cutthroats themselves had their throats cut. As they say, everyone was beheaded, even the informants. And since then, there has been no such Guild in Tries. But these are rumors, and I don't know the real situation. And hired assassins, not united in a single organization, do exist in the city." He added confidently.
"Really?" I asked again.
"My uncle once mentioned it in my presence by accident..." The boy began to recount but then stopped himself and ended his would-be story with, "However, it's a family matter."
"That fits into my conclusions," I nod at the boy's words.
"Conclusions?"
"I don't know who ordered your elimination..."
"Elimination?" Aun seemed surprised, then clicked his tongue, "I see! How laconic and allegorical. Sorry for interrupting; please continue."
"But I have a hypothesis about a potential perpetrator," The topic was such that this time I decided not to mock the young man and refrained from theatrical pauses and tension. "Most likely, it's not an organization but a loner. But this loner is well-prepared and has at least a Bronze rank. Although, I doubt his rank is higher than Steel."
"Why do you think so?"
Lifting the bag, I showed the cut that I had just stitched up.
"I saw the strike but couldn't discern the attacker," I explain to the boy. "I wouldn't notice an attack by a Sapphire-ranked assassin or higher in such a crowd at all, whereas if he were below Bronze, I would have been able to see him clearly. Also, a fighter on the Spiral Coil higher than you wouldn't have missed so many times in a row, even considering your blessing."
"Really?" The boy brightened up. "So you think I'm being hunted by a loner from Bronze to Steel?"
"I'm not so sure about the loner, but I most likely correctly determined the rank of the potential killer or killers," I raised my index finger, attracting additional attention to what I was about to say. "But! I wouldn't relax if I were you. The one who struck this blow..." My fingers ran over the fresh seam on the bag. "Definitely knows their stuff. Knows it well."
"I see," The smile disappeared from the boy's face, and his lips were compressed into a thin line. "Nevertheless, I still stand by my opinion," he gestured broadly around the room, "It would be unwise for me to stay alone in the house overnight. So, what are our plans for this evening and night?" He repeated his original question.
Heaving a heavy sigh, I carefully looked at the boy's face, weighing what he needed to know and what he didn't. The more I thought, the more I realized that I should not expect threats from Aun. As long as his life is in danger and the Tournament is not over, he will not go against me. It's simply not beneficial for him. But after all the boy's problems are resolved, he might tell someone something about me. Though by that time, it won't matter to me. By then, I will be far from Tries. But hiding everything from him will be problematic, as we will often be together. And my secretive nature might make him suspect that I am plotting something unsavory against him, and that distrust could lead to entirely unpredictable actions on his part.
These thoughts raced through my mind like a single gust of wind. And I didn't like the "aftertaste" of these reflections. Am I now doomed to such a life? Constant distrust of everyone, calculating the behavior of even those I would like to trust? The conclusion gave me a headache. Before me sat a young man, who considered me his savior and only hope, and I could see that he looked up to me as if I were an older brother. Nevertheless, I sat and weighed how he might betray me and what that betrayal would mean for me. Am I turning into an amoral monster because of the "memory of the future"? And a quiet whisper in the back of my mind agreed: "If it's necessary to save the world, then I will become one." And if you recall how I seriously considered killing the Stone Master just to get my hands on a small item, this transformation process has long been underway...
"Ahem, ahem." Aun cleared his throat, bringing me back from my heavy thoughts to reality.
"First, I would like to visit Cristo and find out how he's doing," I started from a secondary matter; in reality, a walk to the harbor was nothing more than an excuse to leave the house for a long time. Although, it would be nice to see the earthling and perhaps push him in the right direction.
"It's better to postpone this until morning," the young man objected and immediately added. "I found out that all the 'Bloody Wave' rebels are housed in one of the fleet barracks until a buyer is found for the galley and the unclaimed goods, and they can afford to pay for housing in the city."
"Really?" I was surprised by the foresight of the local officials. In the West, all former slaves would have simply been thrown out onto the street.
"And in the part of the port belonging to the fleet, outsiders are not allowed after sunset," the boy explained. "So it's better to postpone this visit until morning."
"Tomorrow is the beginning of the tournament," I grimaced in response.
"It starts at noon, and it all begins with the general battle on Iron, so we'll have plenty of time after sunrise to get to the harbor."
"Reasonable," I nodded, accepting his arguments.
And this simple word works on the boy like an Encouragement spell, his shoulders straighten, and even his gaze lightens slightly. Does my acknowledgment, even such a small one, mean so much to him? After all, I'm essentially a stranger to him, a random companion.
"If the visit to the harbor was the 'first,' what's the 'second'?" This smarthead asked, tilting his head.
"I'm interested in the area between the Seventh and Eighth city towers." Putting my bag aside, I get to my feet.
"And what's so interesting there?" Aun also gets up from his chair and asks.
My gaze, like the dot from a laser sight, converges on the bridge of the boy's nose. My voice is as cold as a sudden gust of wind on a winter Sahalin coastline:
"I haven't decided yet if you should know..."