A young boatman hurriedly walked the deserted path of the water brigade following it from the Wayfarer camp, across to the canal, and down the stone stairway to the water. At the waterfront, he jumped over the discarded pile of reed buckets and sprinted along bollards crowded with the newly arrived boats of the ambassador’s flotilla.

Reaching the end of the quay, he halted at the mouth of an underground aqueduct and listened. Behind him, the cool water currents lapped against the row of barges, and they could be heard bumping and jostling against their moorings in the quiet morning. The nearest sentries were on the councillor’s boat anchored in the middle of the canal. From there, the sentries were to halt all water traffic, but their morning had been quiet and had long ago started a dice game.

They had noticed the lone boatman dart along the shoreline, but they had not given him a second look. Most likely, a shipmate involved in his own much better game of chance that they, too, would be seeking out once allowed ashore.

At the mouth of the tunnel, the boatman crouched and studied the maze of footprints in the shadows. The grating had been left open and unbolted, and the heavy lock still swung ever so subtly from the hasp.

The last person has passed through very recently.

A distant noise came from the tunnel, and the boatman disappeared into its opening. The cool tunnel was an arch of bricks over soft mud and moss that made one quickly forget the desert sun. He stood still and listened, his dark shape silhouetted in the opening. Whoever was in the tunnel would have easily seen him enter.

Hearing another noise, he suddenly strode quickly into the tunnel. The bright arch of daylight receded behind him. He continued at a steady pace until he began to draw up closer to the second figure, making their way back to the canal and the barges. The figure dressed to appear as a boatman going in, and a slender cloaked figure coming out. As they approached each other, the figures slowed and then stopped.

“Go back,” the boatman said.

“Move aside,” the woman replied.

“No. Turn around and go back to them. Drop your pretense as a Wayfarer and become a real one. I will not let you sound the alarm of their escape disguised as a water brigade. You can disappear amongst them. Become a true Wayfarer. Stay with them and never leave. Give them the trust that you have deceived them into giving you.”

“You know more than you should. You should then also know that I am on business for important people. If you delay me, those that are waiting for me will have your head.” The woman was young, dressed in the garb of a Wayfarer. Her short cloak hood was up and concealed her face in the dim light.

“I have another suggestion,” the boatman said.

The woman answered with a threatening tone. “Don’t even try it. If you touch me, I’ll take your hands off and feed them to you. Now let me pass.”

“You misunderstand me.” The boatman’s voice changed. The deep affected register climbed lighter and changed into a woman’s voice. “I only wore the disguise of a boatman to access this aqueduct without notice. That is not who I am.”

“Who are you then?” the woman asked with a much less resolute tone. She recognized the skill in such a change of voice. This person was a chameleon. “You are assassin trained.”

“I could have said nothing, left you thinking I was an ambassador’s boatman, and killed you as you tried to rush past me just now in the tunnel. You’d be left right here in the mud. But the high priestess has asked me not to kill you. You’ll notice I have obeyed her. Now, your only choice is to turn around and join the Wayfarers that you are attempting to betray. You have settled in with them, spied on them. To build your deception, you have built their trust. I know this because it is what our kind must do. I give you the option to join them. Live in their trust. Never betray them. Never come back. Have a nice life. Maybe even fall in love, if that’s your thing, see the rest of the valley. Maybe try to have children. Live long.”

“Step aside,” the woman said, anger in her voice this time.

“I was hoping to convince you with words.”

“You have not. Step aside or die.”

“Ah. Well. We’re back to that killing part again. The high priestess only wants you delayed. Detained. But we both know how very difficult that will be. And something else you should consider. If I am able to delay you, what will you do once you can proceed again? Go and tell the ambassador, ‘Sorry I’m late, I was delayed, you understand, but the Wayfarers have snuck away into the city, so you can’t use them as a bargaining tool anymore.’ I hear he likes feeding people to the giant field marshall.”

“If the high priestess truly sent you, she is an idealistic fool, and you are a fool for thinking you could stop me. I was hired for this, and I have done these jobs before. Now, get out of my way. Last chance.”

“Of course you were. It saddens me that our conversation has already moved to the stages of ‘last chance.’ Go. Become a Wayfarer.”

“If you wanted to delay me, you should have locked the gate instead of attempting to blabber at me like an idiot.”

“You would have picked the lock or alerted the watchmen. You intend to go and inform the counsellor on the airship that the Wayfarers are escaping, and you intend to reveal the identity of the agent working for the high priestess.”

“The Wayfarers are fools led by a child. I will kill you, and the Wayfarer people will still be trapped.” The sound of a pulled blade snicked through the darkness. “The counsellor has repaired an old tech weapon to destroy any drone. There will be no vault to find. You are on a fool’s errand. You should be the one to come with me and join the ambassador. We could use someone like you. The old woman, the high priestess,” her voice spat with ridicule, “she and the Sisters are weak. They make their movements in the shadows while bowing to the ambassador. The counsellor is no fool.”

“Everyone should serve the ambassador. Everyone should be absorbed?”

“Yes. And you. I give you the same choice. You can serve him now or die. It is all the same to me.”

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“Did you even talk to the high priestess? Did she tell you of the miracle?”

“A stupid story from so long ago. A meaningless tale to give children and fools hope. A tale of shadow puppets in the village during Thanksgiving to trick them into obedience to the Sisters and the great reclamation of the valley. There is no truth in any of it.”

“But it is true. All of it.”

“You are a believer of miracles?”

“No. To be honest, I didn’t believe it until very recently. It was only last night, while I stood with the high priestess inside the pyramid, someone spoke to us from on top that very tower in the City of Glass. Now, I believe. Completely.”

“Parlour tricks. Smoke and mirrors. Voices sent through old technology from the before times. Boxes filled with wires and lights. I have seen such things employed by mummers to beguile idiots like you. You were tricked. That is all—a sham to create complete devotion in you. I am done talking. I will not let you delay me any longer. The field marshall will still be able to capture the Wayfarers. They will not have gone far.”

Her lunge was blindingly quick. Combined with a special acrobatic move, she had never before failed to sink her blade on her first strike. She had been trained in the unarmed fighting style of the Sisters and then further in the acrobatic moves of the assassin’s guild. Her fighting style had been designed specifically for her stature and natural abilities. Pendulum sweeps and arcs to build momentum were combined with the speed of a point strike. This was the highest level of the snake form; “hands slaked with blood.” She had also attained an equal level of blind fighting called “ghost bird.” The darkness of the tunnel and the uneven, slippery ground would not impede her.

Her blade was deflected out of her hand as if she had struck a stone wall. It was alarming how easily she had been disarmed, and at first, she didn’t react. She heard her blade thud to the soft ground. She wouldn’t try to pick it up. Her hand and wrist were numb from the impact, and regardless, to attempt to pick up a blade in mid-fight was certain death.

Fear was a rare thing for her, but she felt it now. But with her fear, just as quickly came another blade ready in her other hand. She could fight just as well with either. She tried to puzzle through what had just happened. The block against her knife blade had come too quickly and far outside her opponent’s reach. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between them.

“You can’t win,” the large woman said.

“You use technology against me,” the assassin stated.

“Yes, I do.”

“Let me pass.”

“You need to go join the Wayfarers now. Forever. Remember? Just like we were discussing. Some day you might enjoy a nice desert wedding. I’m told they are a very pretty celebration. Go back to them. The high priestess and I will keep your secret. You can have a good life if you try.”

“What are you?”

“I’m just like you. Learned from the Sisters and then the assassins, and then I went further than you, and learned from the monks, my grandfathers.”

“They are no more.”

“True. The field marshall took them, and, like you, his time will also come. My grandfathers taught me everything. I learned their fighting style and can incorporate it because I am built like a man. I also was blessed with the ugliness of a man, but we never get to choose our form, do we?”

“They taught expendable fighting. They stood their ground solidly to strike. To block, they attacked. The Sisters move and evade. The assassins are subtle. The monk style was prideful, like a soldier, and that’s why they are gone now.”

“You speak truth. But before they were defeated, they passed their prized weapon on to me. You just encountered that weapon. You cannot win.”

“What is it?” the assassin asked—doubt in her voice for the first time.

“The glove of flowers. It carries the mark of the round black and yellow flower. The invisible flower that turns the healthy into the dead. The hand of a ghost.”

“Get out of my way.”

“No. Last chance to choose.”

“I choose your death.”

“Your choice will not be today.”

The assassin stepped in to attack, lower and even quicker this time, far outside the other’s grasp, and impossibly she felt a grip on her neck. Nothing was close enough to touch her. She struggled against the barrier, and it bore down with an impossible, crushing strength. She was a small, slender woman who killed with surprise and speed, and this was a giant's hand gripping her. She countered the grip, and let her full weight drop against the hold in an attempt to break free, but instead, her feet came clear of the floor. The force plunged her backwards, driving her to the ground and pressing her neck and shoulders into the muck, pinning her.

She arched her back and clawed at the thing on her neck. Something was there. A mass of grip that only grew even stronger and tightened. Dropping the knife, she clawed against it. Silver specks of light appeared in her vision. She had plenty of air; it was the blood flow in her neck that was being stopped. Unconsciousness would come soon.

She pulled another blade and pressed its tip against the thing. The blade was razor sharp; all her blades were, and she forced the tip against the mass harder and harder. Her vision was going dark. The knife seemed useless.

And then the force was gone. She nearly plunged the blade into her neck, but she let it fall from her hand and ended up with only a gash. She blinked and rolled off her back to crouch on her knees in the mud. With her head down, she took a few slow, deep breaths. The killing strike should be now. It would be when she would do it. She felt the warmth of her blood seeping from her neck. She could tell it was not a bad wound. She would not die from this wound. The next one, though…

“Three? That is all of your weapons?”

The kneeling assassin nodded and, looking up, saw that one of her knives was hovering in the air in front of her, the tip pointed at her face. Then the knife dropped from the air, and quicker than she could see, another one of her knives was at her throat.

She didn’t move. She only breathed. A few more breaths of the nice, cool, damp air before she died. She had been trained hard long since before she was a woman. She knew she was good. Very good, but this thing she encountered now? There was no way to fight this thing.

“Now we really are on the last chance, aren’t we?

The assassin sat motionless for a few moments, then nodded, her head still down…

Waiting.

“Go. Become a Wayfarer. Maybe we’ll meet up someday. We could do good things together.” The knife dropped in the sand.

“Who are you?” Her voice was rough, raspy.

“The Grandfathers of the Brotherhood. They were my grandfathers. They gave me their name. That’s all I will tell you for now. If you care to learn, ask about them, and you will understand my name. Go and do good from now on. Use your training for good. Live the life that you have just been granted.”

“You may regret this.”

“Not I. The high priestess and the voice from the tower; I will let them regret this.”

The boatman returned to the entrance of the aqueduct, swung the grating closed, and locked it.

Things had changed on the canal. Figures moved along the barges as if searching for something. Shouts were bellowed from the wall above. The screech of metal on metal rang out across the water.

She turned to the bright desert sun and saw a slender form sitting cross-legged in the shadows. Long, dark kinked hair hid much of her face, but it couldn’t hide the large eyes and the feline muzzle. She raised a hand that was built from a blue droid forearm and let a chain slither from her fingers. On it swung a key.

“Now it seems to me like you’re on our side,” she said.

“You’re the Wayfarer cat woman.”

“Yes, and I’ll thank you for not referring to me as a beast-face. I hate that term. They call me Biter.” Cam caught the glint of sharp teeth.

“No doubt,” she said.

“I was just wondering if I could get your help.” And he handed her a scrap of folded cloth.

“What do you need?”

“Well, you see, it’s daylight, I look conspicuous, and I have a list of things to do. You, on the other hand, seem to blend in quite well. I need to free the counsellor’s prisoner and destroy his boat. I promise both will be fun.”

“And dangerous.”

“That’s what makes it fun.”