fic: Ask For The Fireman
Jul. 22nd, 2020 08:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Ask For The Fireman
Series: Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance era
Character/pairing: Heather, Volke, Ocs,
Word count: 4,452
Rating: Pg-13.
Summary: After her father's death, Heather supports her mother by stealing and begging like any other street kid. However, one day, she targets the wrong man. It isn't long before he tracks her down with an offer. And so, Heather begins the path of an assassin.
Author's note: Precedes The Hangman's Knot. For Kiu22.
Content notes: One dude is legit implied to be a creep, onscreen sexual harassment which gets shut down pretty quickly, off screen gore, death and mentions of execution.
Heather could hear the laughter as she pushed the door open. The dim light mixed with the alcohol, and made the drunks see wondrous things, like this little tavern was a palace, and the people beside them were princes.
Or so she heard. Lady Alaine wouldn't sell her any, not until she was at least past her eighteenth year. Though she'd seen her serve people far younger than that at the edge of the bar.
But, Heather had no plans of taking Lady Alaine up on that offer anytime soon. What she knew of drink was that it made them the perfect target. The dulled and often incoherent men would be reduced to weepy messes, and loose with their coins, and guarding their wallets, so a night working the room could make twice as much as begging out in the daylight, and keep her dignity intact, too. Lady Alaine had been teaching her little things. How to make small cuts, and let the gold spill right out into her waiting hands, and how to untie a purse string without making the coins clatter, and how to charm men with false flattery.
There is nothing so fragile and easily manipulated as a man's ego. Remember that.
And with how expensive her mother's medicine was, she'd have to take all the gold she could get.
Heather hadn't gotten new clothes since father had died. Her clothes had turned a mottled brown with street dirt, and what had once been pants now came up to her knees.
But, it helped in many ways. People would pity her, think she was an orphan and press a coin into her palm. Or, they'd simply treat her as invisible.
And when it came to her craft, Heather wanted to be completely invisible as much as possible. She'd seen what happened to thieves who got caught.
Lady Alaine leaned over with a plate of new ale to deliver. Her gold curls fell down in ringlets from the bun. Heather knew that each messy wisp of hair was done artfully, a controlled disorder. Even her appearance could manipulate.
Many questioned Lady Alaine's right to the title--Some even called her a common woman of the night, and got the taste of her knife for their gall. Heather would've given then a feel of a knife in the side as well, if she had anything more than a dulled bronze knife taken from the kitchen. It barely even could cut through food, let alone protect her, but it felt nice to keep about.
Strings tied her blouse up. Her skirts were voluminous, and Heather knew she had at least one knife hidden there, strapped to her leg.
At the bar, Lady Alaine lifted up the large mug with grace. One of the drunks leaned forward. She looked down at him with utter disdain. "Touch them, and you'll pay more than gold. Tell me, do you like your hands still attached to your body?" She said, her voice sugary, and yet with a completely cold undertone. Should any of them mistaken it for a joke, the knife at her waist was a clear promise.
The drunks laughed uproariously at this. Some slapped the uneven bar, lodging splinters into their broad and calloused hands. Others called for more drink. Wine, mead, beer, the amber liquid spilled out from many of the kegs in the back.
One more brave reached out to touch her dress. She lifted up her hand gracefully, and the sound of a resounding slap came through the room. The drunk clutched his cheek and this only made the others laugh more.
Heather surveyed them. The man at the end was the most far gone. His speech already slurring into sobbing. At the moment, she doubted he remembered his name, let alone what she looked like.
She looked up at Lady Alaine. The teachings circled through her mind. Remember, Heather. Eye contact is key. Make them feel like the only man in the room, and they'll be begging to give you all their gold. You must know when to dress to gain attention, dress to avoid attention. Make them think they're the most important man in the country and then some; men's ego's are so fragile and easily stroked.
Heather smiled as she noticed Lady Alaine slip a few extra 'tips' from the patrons. Any of them should feel proud to have the gold liberated from their pouches by her.
She worked down the bar, and crawled under the bottom. The easiest pickings were the sloppy drunks, who spilled their wallets out in a drunken stupor. She could gather whole fistfuls of gold in a single night, if they were enough fools in the bar.
And there were always fools within these walls.
At the end of the bar, one man in black robes was slumped over between many glasses. She came up behind him.
"Mister, do you need a refill?"
No response. What a sucker. Ah, well. He'd be easy prey, and an easy meal at that. A good enough take could ensure she would have more than enough to buy her mother's expensive medicines.
Heather didn't bother targeting the people with only a few coins. Not out of some misguided honor, but the mere fact that stealing from the poor netted little gain.
(Of course, she had no particular fondness of the rich, outside of their coins.)
She reached out and carefully, carefully, carefully slipped her hand towards the man's belt.
A hand gripped her wrist tight. Coins fell to the floor. Heather's mind whirled in confused arcs as she tried to figure out something, anything. Lady Alaine's teachings blended together. Nothing had prepared her for this moment. The dulled knife had been knocked free, useless beneath the tables.
Her marks weren't supposed to wake up.
The man's face was hidden away. His clothes were dark, until he was obscured by the shadows, like he belonged to them. He was the face of her nightmares, a creature not quite human.
She let out a gasp and tried to pull back. But, this man was far more sober, and far more strong than the row of drunken warriors and farmers. Apparently, his drunkenness had been a ruse all along. She tried to sink her teeth into his arm, but found only leather and thick cloth. She spat it out and drew back.
"Let go--"
"What do we have here?" He said.
"N-nothing! I..."
"Who sent you?" the man said in a low voice.
"I just work here, mister. Nothing more. I-I don't know what you're talking about--"
The din of laughter had settled. Lady Alaine's face stood tall, an imposing goddess. Except, there was no mercy or wrath in her gaze. Just an expression so enigmatic that Heather couldn't read it.
The sound of metal being unsheathed drew his gaze away from her.
"Is there a problem, sir?" There was a silky coldness to her voice. Unfailing polite, yet with a warning deep within.
"This little one was after my coins. Hopefully that was all," the man said.
"I'm sure it's a mistake. After all, she is only a child. Not even in her twelfth year yet."
Technically a lie. Heather would be fourteen this summer, but she was thin enough to pass as younger often. Lady Alaine had taught her to use this. Make them think you're younger and more innocent. It offers a good alibi. And it is a useful task for any woman.
Lady Alaine brushed back her curls with one hand. She held a dagger in the other. "Besides, so what if she takes a couple coins? She's just a child, and she needs to eat too. Consider it the tax you pay to eat here."
"She can have my coins—and a drink, if she wants it," said a voice from the side.
Several other men laughed at that.
"Sure, any cute girl like that could have as many coins as she wants," piped up another voice.
Lady Alaine turned and faced the drunk with a steely, cold gaze.
"If you ever so much as look as her, I'll cut your member off clean, and force it down your disgusting lips, Jared," Lady Alaine said. "This is no idle threat. Remember."
"I've had enough," said the man in black.
He left a few pieces of gold upon the bar and pulled up a mask about his face, even though it was only fall and not yet that cold. The door closed behind him, and a chill flooded her, even though the true depths of winter hadn't come yet.
"Heather, would you help me get some ale from the back?"
"Of course, Lady Alaine," Heather said.
Stone walls surrounded them. Lady Alaine pushed the bucket to a large keg, and began to fill it with an amber liquid. The laughter of the drunks was more distant, less distinct.
"I misjudged our clientele. I hadn't counted on that new man coming in. Usually these are such easy pickings...I thought I could wait a little longer until I taught you what to do if you are caught."
"You did a pretty good job, all things considered."
"He seemed so out of it, so groggy, and yet..." Heather said. She trailed off. "I thought he was the perfect mark."
"Yes, he was surely acting. No one comes out of a drunken stupor that fast," Lady Alaine said.
"But why?"
"There are many people in the world. He could've been a thief himself...or something worse."
"Be careful, little Heather. For every useless boor, there's a monster among them. But remember, monsters fear the light. Expose their flaws, that will be their undoing."
She nodded.
Lady Alaine bent down and hugged her. Heather closed her eyes. Lady Alaine always smelled like the finest perfumes. Distilled rose oil fit for a queen.
"Why don't you go home early? It's a long walk until home," Lady Alaine said.
"All right..."
"You aren't in trouble. I'll make sure the drunks forget this ever happened, by giving them enough to black out and forget their name. No one can turn down a free drink or two, after all."
She forced a brave smile. Just as she'd kept back the tears as her father hung from the gallows. Just as she promised herself to keep the one promise to protect her mother. And to always make enough money for her, no matter what.
*
The next day, Heather strayed outside the city limits. Most drifters would pass on through, and she hadn't recognized him. He'd be gone eventually, and then the bar would be hers again. Or at least, that's what she kept reassuring herself.
There were other taverns she could hit up, but none of them had Lady Alaine.
Maybe he'd gone. Maybe she wouldn't see him again. Either way, she wouldn't return just yet.
The trees were heavy with new apples. Heather gripped a rough branch and began to climb. It was only when she'd leaned up there, high in her perch between the leaves that she dared to reach out.
The red fruit slipped so easily into her grasp. She took a bite of the juicy apple and lingered on the taste. Up among the green leaves, she was almost completely hidden. Occasionally she would hear cows lowing in the distance. Her leg hung down from the branches and she kicked at the air.
Someone cleared their throat and looked up.
She hadn't expected anyone, but this was just a girl about her age. Long teal hair was swept back across her back. A frayed straw hat obscured her face. A short tunic came to about her knees. It looked as if it'd been made from a bag of grain, and probably had.
"Meemaw says there's varmints up there, but you don't look like a varmint."
"That's cause I'm not," Heather said. She tossed the core away, and reached for another apple. "Nobody owns these."
"We do."
"You can't own trees. That's like owning the sky. Not even the king owns the skies," Heather said.
"We own this land here, we grown 'em. We watered 'em and made paste to keep the pests away," the girl said.
"That's ridiculous. These fields are wild. Just look at them," Heather said.
"Those are wheat crops. They're supposed to look like that."
The girl reached into her pack. "You look like you ain't had a meal for days. You all right? Meemaw always packs lots of cornbread," the girl said.
Her mother hadn't made cornbread since the illness had come on. After she'd been caught lifting food from the far end, Heather rarely dared to go in that quarter. Much easier to steal bits of food off of drunk's plates.
Heather grabbed another apple and dropped down from the tree. "I certainly won't say no to cornbread."
She leaned against the tree and took tiny bites. The taste reminded her of better times. Her mother cooking in the kitchen. Her father would lean in to kiss mother's cheek roguishly. He always had some treat in hand that he had found that day.
It was only later that Heather knew where all those treats came. Only when he was being hung from the gallows for thievery.
(She had begun to forget the features of his face, and his voice. The features of how he looked at death, however, would never leave her.)
"I ain't never seen you around here. You work in the fields, too?" the girl said.
Heather sniffed indignantly. "I work in the tavern," Heather said. "I was just here...getting some air."
She'd polished that lie over the years, whenever her mother asked where the coins had come from. She'd learned fast that she'd couldn't just come home with a huge pouch filled with coins she'd lifted without facing consequences.
She pretended to be a carrier girl most of the time. She even did just enough to keep the lie plausible.
"I won't tell Meemaw about this. You look like you needed those apples," the girl said.
"I did, thank you!" She gave the girl a wink, and ran into the wheat fields. One last look at the girl, and her face was sunkissed and red with a deep blush.
*
Heather pulled her knees to her chest. For once, it wasn't just a ploy to seem that much more miserable and get a bit more pity gold from passersby. She hadn't gone to the tavern in days since then. Lady Alaine had taught her so many things, and she'd gone and forgotten them in one misguided attempt to steal a bit of gold and impress her.
She'd traded a few pieces of gold for the cloak of a beggar. With her face down, not even he could see the glint of her blond hair.
Of all the drunks to pick, she'd gone and bumped into that man. Her grip at her knees tightened, and she rocked herself for comfort. She'd gone and humiliated herself in front of Lady Alaine. A simple lift---she'd done it dozens of times---and she'd had to appeal to the entire bar to save her. And they'd let her out of pity. All the moments she thought she'd been brilliant, she'd only managed on her manipulation.
She heard a thick clunk noise. Heather looked up, and saw black clothes, and dark boots mottled with dust.
A dagger had fallen in the middle of her hat filled with gold. The sharp edge pinned it to the ground, so she couldn't grab her gold and run. At least, not without losing her entire day's work.
She tried to move, but her back was to the wall. The alleys nearest were dead ends. And she'd been so proud to pick this place, where no one could sneak up behind her. She hadn't expected a frontal attack. What kind of scum would think to fight a child beggar?
"You...how did you find me?"
"Be calm; I'm not making you my mark. There's no gold to be had in killing a child, let alone an orphan from the streets," the man said.
"I'm not an orphan! And I'm hardly just a child, I support my mother and me. I'm far more adult than some of the boors in the tavern drinking away all their money," she said.
"If you say so," he said.
Heather took one quick sideways glance to check for escape routes. He could lunge forward and shove a knife between her ribs before she could even push herself up. Even if she screamed, this wasn't the Treasure Chest. It would take minutes for guards to come, and by then she would nothing more than a pool of carved meat. Another corpse for alley dogs to feast on.
"I see you've already figured out there's no escape. Smart girl. You've got skills already."
She lunged for the dagger and held it out in defense.
"Come any closer and I'll---I'll..."
He chuckled. "I thought so."
He took a step closer. "Your stance is off. You're holding it too tight. You could be disarmed quite easily now. But there's a certain talent, and promise to you."
"I warned you! I-I'll cut you up! Don't come closer!"
"Like a hissing kitten," he said.
With a rapid heartbeat, and a rush between her ears, she swiped at him. He leapt back, with feline grace. She hadn't even nicked his cape. He suddenly gripped her hand, and the dagger fell to the ground. Heather let out a cry. He let go of her, but still blocked his path.
"I didn't come to hurt you. I've got an offer to make. Work for me, and I'll pay you more than you can make in a week's worth of picking. I'll teach you how to really wield that weapon."
The promise of gold made her ears perk up, but she could not quite overcome the wariness that made her hand tremble. She couldn't read his expression past the mask.
"What would you get out of it?"
"I have my own reasons."
If she accepted his deal, she could double her take as well as working at the tavern. Plus, if she came across another rowdy customer, she could disarm them.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't. That's the first rule in our profession. You can't trust anyone," he said.
"You're mistaken. I could always trust Lady Alaine."
"Can you really?"
"Of course!" Heather burst out. "Lady Alaine is incredible! She's smart and pretty and runs the bar all by herself! I've...learned so much from her!"
"If you say so," he said.
"Think on it a while. I'll be in this town for a few weeks yet. If you need me, go to the Treasure Chest Tavern, and ask for the fireman."
"Consider the dagger a parting gift."
And those were the last words he said before he headed out. She tried to follow with her gaze, but he disappeared so expertly into the crowd that she lost track of him immediately.
She remembered Lady Alaine's words: He could've been a thief himself...or something worse.
*
Heather slipped into the tavern late at night. No sign of the man, but he still might show up. She repeated over and over what Lady Alaine had taught her.
Look innocent, even if you aren't. Luck is on your side, few people will want to harm a child.
Heather held back. The door was in sight, and unlocked. She'd been sure to check it twice before she came in.
Lady Alaine swept up a bit of dust from the back, and Heather slipped in behind to the stacks of kegs.
"There you are, child. I was afraid he'd done you in. I was about ready to slash his throat myself," Lady Alaine said.
"Oh, Lady Alaine, I was fine. I was brave, I even fought back."
"Fought back? You saw him again?"
She nodded. "He said he wants me to work for him. He even gave me this dagger," Heather said.
Lady Alaine's gaze lingered on the dagger.
"Should I go? I've never had an opportunity like this. He even said he'd pay me more than I could make in a week."
Even though she felt fear at the prospect, the possibility of more medicine for her mother made her consider the offer.
"This is your own choice, Heather. I can't make it for you. I can tell you one thing: he won't simply be teaching you how to steal, like I have."
She reached out and took the dagger from Heather's fingers, and stroked the hilt.
"This is the dagger of an assassin. I would know; this was a path I chose not to take."
The light reflected off the dagger. Heather couldn't stop looking at it, or touching it since she'd gotten it. It felt so right in her hands, like the one thing she never knew she needed.
"I thought it certainly a possibility. That night, he was staking out his prey. That'd explain why one of the patrons disappeared suddenly," Lady Alaine said.
"Someone disappeared?" Heather said.
"Yes, Jared. Remember him?"
Heather scrunched up her nose. "He made...comments."
She always had to keep a distance from him, because the more he drank, the more likely he would be to reach out and try and touch her.
"I hardly mourn him. If anything, the man beat me to it. Someone must have hired him, or he simply chose to take him out himself. All perks of the job, I suppose," she said.
"This man will teach you how to kill. I need you to understand, this is what he's offering by giving you this dagger."
Heather remembered the scent of death. Her father had hung from the gallows for such a long time, until his flesh rotted, to be an example to any other thief in their country. All for stealing bread so they wouldn't starve, when every penny he made went to mother's medicine.
The rich lords about here had more than enough wealth, but they'd never spared a coin to help her mother. So, father had been forced to steal to get enough. Not even a year of farm work could net enough for the medicine mother needed.
Every day when she had to go to the market, she had to pass his body.
If she'd been stronger, she could've saved him. She could've kept the sadness from her mother's face.
Even though it scared her, Heather nodded.
"When you meet him, tell him that Lady Alaine sent you. And that he will deal with my reckoning if he ever hurts you. I will unleash a vengeance upon him that would make the Goddess Herself blush," she said.
She pulled Heather into one last quick embrace.
"Remember what I taught you," she said. She patted Heather upon the shoulder.
"I'll still come back. I'll only be better," Heather said.
"Heather.... One day, I won't be here anymore."
In this moment, she felt the same way as when the gallows gave way. That horrible numbness and shock of something horrific, something unavoidable.
"You're...leaving? Or are you...?"
She couldn't bring herself to say the word dying. She'd already lost her father, and every day was a moment she was closer to losing her mother.
Lady Alaine gave her a grim smile. Her frilled skirts brushed against the dirty stone floor. "It's never good for a thief to linger in one place for so long. I remained, because I had such a promising apprentice to teach. But, it seems that there's little left to teach you."
Heather clung to her long, poofy sleeves. "Lady Alaine, no! There's still so much to teach me! I promise I'll be a good girl and I won't be caught again!"
She patted Heather on the top of her blond head. "This is a lesson I'm teaching you right now. The art of having to say goodbye."
But Heather already knew that art all too well.
Lady Alaine glanced away. "One day, we may meet as enemies. I pray that never happens."
Tears dropped from the side of Heather's eyes. "I wouldn't fight you. Even if I had a knife to my throat, I'd never do it."
"I hope not, I surely hope not."
Lady Alaine rose and tended to the ale. Heather looked up, dizzy as she turned to leave. Even in this moment, her mind was already made up.
*
Heather's hand shook as she knocked at the door.
"I'd...like to see the fireman, please." Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to stand up strong and tall. Her blond hair fell down her back. Her clothes were dusty with street dirt, but she lifted her chin as if she were royalty.
For her mother, for her father. No matter how difficult, no matter how much it hurt, she'd find a way to protect them.
"You came after all," he said. He motioned her into the small apartment. It was clean, and barely lived in. Outside of one satchel at the wall, there was little to show that anyone even stayed there.
She recited the words that Lady Alaine told her to say in a rush.
"I don't make it a habit of attacking my apprentices. Though, you're the first I ever took on."
"Why?"
He glanced down at her. "There's a task I've been paid for. If I cannot complete it, someone needs to do it for me," he said.
"A task?" Heather said.
"One day, I'll tell you. But for now, I'll teach you how to hold that properly."
A bit reluctantly, she handed over the dagger to him.
He put it back in her hands, but he put it right. Her grip tightened.
"Don't grip too tight. And you'll have to start wearing gloves. I'll have some tailored for you."
She stared down at the dagger in her hands. She could've cut her father free with this. She hadn't been strong enough then, but she would be now.
Series: Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance era
Character/pairing: Heather, Volke, Ocs,
Word count: 4,452
Rating: Pg-13.
Summary: After her father's death, Heather supports her mother by stealing and begging like any other street kid. However, one day, she targets the wrong man. It isn't long before he tracks her down with an offer. And so, Heather begins the path of an assassin.
Author's note: Precedes The Hangman's Knot. For Kiu22.
Content notes: One dude is legit implied to be a creep, onscreen sexual harassment which gets shut down pretty quickly, off screen gore, death and mentions of execution.
Heather could hear the laughter as she pushed the door open. The dim light mixed with the alcohol, and made the drunks see wondrous things, like this little tavern was a palace, and the people beside them were princes.
Or so she heard. Lady Alaine wouldn't sell her any, not until she was at least past her eighteenth year. Though she'd seen her serve people far younger than that at the edge of the bar.
But, Heather had no plans of taking Lady Alaine up on that offer anytime soon. What she knew of drink was that it made them the perfect target. The dulled and often incoherent men would be reduced to weepy messes, and loose with their coins, and guarding their wallets, so a night working the room could make twice as much as begging out in the daylight, and keep her dignity intact, too. Lady Alaine had been teaching her little things. How to make small cuts, and let the gold spill right out into her waiting hands, and how to untie a purse string without making the coins clatter, and how to charm men with false flattery.
There is nothing so fragile and easily manipulated as a man's ego. Remember that.
And with how expensive her mother's medicine was, she'd have to take all the gold she could get.
Heather hadn't gotten new clothes since father had died. Her clothes had turned a mottled brown with street dirt, and what had once been pants now came up to her knees.
But, it helped in many ways. People would pity her, think she was an orphan and press a coin into her palm. Or, they'd simply treat her as invisible.
And when it came to her craft, Heather wanted to be completely invisible as much as possible. She'd seen what happened to thieves who got caught.
Lady Alaine leaned over with a plate of new ale to deliver. Her gold curls fell down in ringlets from the bun. Heather knew that each messy wisp of hair was done artfully, a controlled disorder. Even her appearance could manipulate.
Many questioned Lady Alaine's right to the title--Some even called her a common woman of the night, and got the taste of her knife for their gall. Heather would've given then a feel of a knife in the side as well, if she had anything more than a dulled bronze knife taken from the kitchen. It barely even could cut through food, let alone protect her, but it felt nice to keep about.
Strings tied her blouse up. Her skirts were voluminous, and Heather knew she had at least one knife hidden there, strapped to her leg.
At the bar, Lady Alaine lifted up the large mug with grace. One of the drunks leaned forward. She looked down at him with utter disdain. "Touch them, and you'll pay more than gold. Tell me, do you like your hands still attached to your body?" She said, her voice sugary, and yet with a completely cold undertone. Should any of them mistaken it for a joke, the knife at her waist was a clear promise.
The drunks laughed uproariously at this. Some slapped the uneven bar, lodging splinters into their broad and calloused hands. Others called for more drink. Wine, mead, beer, the amber liquid spilled out from many of the kegs in the back.
One more brave reached out to touch her dress. She lifted up her hand gracefully, and the sound of a resounding slap came through the room. The drunk clutched his cheek and this only made the others laugh more.
Heather surveyed them. The man at the end was the most far gone. His speech already slurring into sobbing. At the moment, she doubted he remembered his name, let alone what she looked like.
She looked up at Lady Alaine. The teachings circled through her mind. Remember, Heather. Eye contact is key. Make them feel like the only man in the room, and they'll be begging to give you all their gold. You must know when to dress to gain attention, dress to avoid attention. Make them think they're the most important man in the country and then some; men's ego's are so fragile and easily stroked.
Heather smiled as she noticed Lady Alaine slip a few extra 'tips' from the patrons. Any of them should feel proud to have the gold liberated from their pouches by her.
She worked down the bar, and crawled under the bottom. The easiest pickings were the sloppy drunks, who spilled their wallets out in a drunken stupor. She could gather whole fistfuls of gold in a single night, if they were enough fools in the bar.
And there were always fools within these walls.
At the end of the bar, one man in black robes was slumped over between many glasses. She came up behind him.
"Mister, do you need a refill?"
No response. What a sucker. Ah, well. He'd be easy prey, and an easy meal at that. A good enough take could ensure she would have more than enough to buy her mother's expensive medicines.
Heather didn't bother targeting the people with only a few coins. Not out of some misguided honor, but the mere fact that stealing from the poor netted little gain.
(Of course, she had no particular fondness of the rich, outside of their coins.)
She reached out and carefully, carefully, carefully slipped her hand towards the man's belt.
A hand gripped her wrist tight. Coins fell to the floor. Heather's mind whirled in confused arcs as she tried to figure out something, anything. Lady Alaine's teachings blended together. Nothing had prepared her for this moment. The dulled knife had been knocked free, useless beneath the tables.
Her marks weren't supposed to wake up.
The man's face was hidden away. His clothes were dark, until he was obscured by the shadows, like he belonged to them. He was the face of her nightmares, a creature not quite human.
She let out a gasp and tried to pull back. But, this man was far more sober, and far more strong than the row of drunken warriors and farmers. Apparently, his drunkenness had been a ruse all along. She tried to sink her teeth into his arm, but found only leather and thick cloth. She spat it out and drew back.
"Let go--"
"What do we have here?" He said.
"N-nothing! I..."
"Who sent you?" the man said in a low voice.
"I just work here, mister. Nothing more. I-I don't know what you're talking about--"
The din of laughter had settled. Lady Alaine's face stood tall, an imposing goddess. Except, there was no mercy or wrath in her gaze. Just an expression so enigmatic that Heather couldn't read it.
The sound of metal being unsheathed drew his gaze away from her.
"Is there a problem, sir?" There was a silky coldness to her voice. Unfailing polite, yet with a warning deep within.
"This little one was after my coins. Hopefully that was all," the man said.
"I'm sure it's a mistake. After all, she is only a child. Not even in her twelfth year yet."
Technically a lie. Heather would be fourteen this summer, but she was thin enough to pass as younger often. Lady Alaine had taught her to use this. Make them think you're younger and more innocent. It offers a good alibi. And it is a useful task for any woman.
Lady Alaine brushed back her curls with one hand. She held a dagger in the other. "Besides, so what if she takes a couple coins? She's just a child, and she needs to eat too. Consider it the tax you pay to eat here."
"She can have my coins—and a drink, if she wants it," said a voice from the side.
Several other men laughed at that.
"Sure, any cute girl like that could have as many coins as she wants," piped up another voice.
Lady Alaine turned and faced the drunk with a steely, cold gaze.
"If you ever so much as look as her, I'll cut your member off clean, and force it down your disgusting lips, Jared," Lady Alaine said. "This is no idle threat. Remember."
"I've had enough," said the man in black.
He left a few pieces of gold upon the bar and pulled up a mask about his face, even though it was only fall and not yet that cold. The door closed behind him, and a chill flooded her, even though the true depths of winter hadn't come yet.
"Heather, would you help me get some ale from the back?"
"Of course, Lady Alaine," Heather said.
Stone walls surrounded them. Lady Alaine pushed the bucket to a large keg, and began to fill it with an amber liquid. The laughter of the drunks was more distant, less distinct.
"I misjudged our clientele. I hadn't counted on that new man coming in. Usually these are such easy pickings...I thought I could wait a little longer until I taught you what to do if you are caught."
"You did a pretty good job, all things considered."
"He seemed so out of it, so groggy, and yet..." Heather said. She trailed off. "I thought he was the perfect mark."
"Yes, he was surely acting. No one comes out of a drunken stupor that fast," Lady Alaine said.
"But why?"
"There are many people in the world. He could've been a thief himself...or something worse."
"Be careful, little Heather. For every useless boor, there's a monster among them. But remember, monsters fear the light. Expose their flaws, that will be their undoing."
She nodded.
Lady Alaine bent down and hugged her. Heather closed her eyes. Lady Alaine always smelled like the finest perfumes. Distilled rose oil fit for a queen.
"Why don't you go home early? It's a long walk until home," Lady Alaine said.
"All right..."
"You aren't in trouble. I'll make sure the drunks forget this ever happened, by giving them enough to black out and forget their name. No one can turn down a free drink or two, after all."
She forced a brave smile. Just as she'd kept back the tears as her father hung from the gallows. Just as she promised herself to keep the one promise to protect her mother. And to always make enough money for her, no matter what.
*
The next day, Heather strayed outside the city limits. Most drifters would pass on through, and she hadn't recognized him. He'd be gone eventually, and then the bar would be hers again. Or at least, that's what she kept reassuring herself.
There were other taverns she could hit up, but none of them had Lady Alaine.
Maybe he'd gone. Maybe she wouldn't see him again. Either way, she wouldn't return just yet.
The trees were heavy with new apples. Heather gripped a rough branch and began to climb. It was only when she'd leaned up there, high in her perch between the leaves that she dared to reach out.
The red fruit slipped so easily into her grasp. She took a bite of the juicy apple and lingered on the taste. Up among the green leaves, she was almost completely hidden. Occasionally she would hear cows lowing in the distance. Her leg hung down from the branches and she kicked at the air.
Someone cleared their throat and looked up.
She hadn't expected anyone, but this was just a girl about her age. Long teal hair was swept back across her back. A frayed straw hat obscured her face. A short tunic came to about her knees. It looked as if it'd been made from a bag of grain, and probably had.
"Meemaw says there's varmints up there, but you don't look like a varmint."
"That's cause I'm not," Heather said. She tossed the core away, and reached for another apple. "Nobody owns these."
"We do."
"You can't own trees. That's like owning the sky. Not even the king owns the skies," Heather said.
"We own this land here, we grown 'em. We watered 'em and made paste to keep the pests away," the girl said.
"That's ridiculous. These fields are wild. Just look at them," Heather said.
"Those are wheat crops. They're supposed to look like that."
The girl reached into her pack. "You look like you ain't had a meal for days. You all right? Meemaw always packs lots of cornbread," the girl said.
Her mother hadn't made cornbread since the illness had come on. After she'd been caught lifting food from the far end, Heather rarely dared to go in that quarter. Much easier to steal bits of food off of drunk's plates.
Heather grabbed another apple and dropped down from the tree. "I certainly won't say no to cornbread."
She leaned against the tree and took tiny bites. The taste reminded her of better times. Her mother cooking in the kitchen. Her father would lean in to kiss mother's cheek roguishly. He always had some treat in hand that he had found that day.
It was only later that Heather knew where all those treats came. Only when he was being hung from the gallows for thievery.
(She had begun to forget the features of his face, and his voice. The features of how he looked at death, however, would never leave her.)
"I ain't never seen you around here. You work in the fields, too?" the girl said.
Heather sniffed indignantly. "I work in the tavern," Heather said. "I was just here...getting some air."
She'd polished that lie over the years, whenever her mother asked where the coins had come from. She'd learned fast that she'd couldn't just come home with a huge pouch filled with coins she'd lifted without facing consequences.
She pretended to be a carrier girl most of the time. She even did just enough to keep the lie plausible.
"I won't tell Meemaw about this. You look like you needed those apples," the girl said.
"I did, thank you!" She gave the girl a wink, and ran into the wheat fields. One last look at the girl, and her face was sunkissed and red with a deep blush.
*
Heather pulled her knees to her chest. For once, it wasn't just a ploy to seem that much more miserable and get a bit more pity gold from passersby. She hadn't gone to the tavern in days since then. Lady Alaine had taught her so many things, and she'd gone and forgotten them in one misguided attempt to steal a bit of gold and impress her.
She'd traded a few pieces of gold for the cloak of a beggar. With her face down, not even he could see the glint of her blond hair.
Of all the drunks to pick, she'd gone and bumped into that man. Her grip at her knees tightened, and she rocked herself for comfort. She'd gone and humiliated herself in front of Lady Alaine. A simple lift---she'd done it dozens of times---and she'd had to appeal to the entire bar to save her. And they'd let her out of pity. All the moments she thought she'd been brilliant, she'd only managed on her manipulation.
She heard a thick clunk noise. Heather looked up, and saw black clothes, and dark boots mottled with dust.
A dagger had fallen in the middle of her hat filled with gold. The sharp edge pinned it to the ground, so she couldn't grab her gold and run. At least, not without losing her entire day's work.
She tried to move, but her back was to the wall. The alleys nearest were dead ends. And she'd been so proud to pick this place, where no one could sneak up behind her. She hadn't expected a frontal attack. What kind of scum would think to fight a child beggar?
"You...how did you find me?"
"Be calm; I'm not making you my mark. There's no gold to be had in killing a child, let alone an orphan from the streets," the man said.
"I'm not an orphan! And I'm hardly just a child, I support my mother and me. I'm far more adult than some of the boors in the tavern drinking away all their money," she said.
"If you say so," he said.
Heather took one quick sideways glance to check for escape routes. He could lunge forward and shove a knife between her ribs before she could even push herself up. Even if she screamed, this wasn't the Treasure Chest. It would take minutes for guards to come, and by then she would nothing more than a pool of carved meat. Another corpse for alley dogs to feast on.
"I see you've already figured out there's no escape. Smart girl. You've got skills already."
She lunged for the dagger and held it out in defense.
"Come any closer and I'll---I'll..."
He chuckled. "I thought so."
He took a step closer. "Your stance is off. You're holding it too tight. You could be disarmed quite easily now. But there's a certain talent, and promise to you."
"I warned you! I-I'll cut you up! Don't come closer!"
"Like a hissing kitten," he said.
With a rapid heartbeat, and a rush between her ears, she swiped at him. He leapt back, with feline grace. She hadn't even nicked his cape. He suddenly gripped her hand, and the dagger fell to the ground. Heather let out a cry. He let go of her, but still blocked his path.
"I didn't come to hurt you. I've got an offer to make. Work for me, and I'll pay you more than you can make in a week's worth of picking. I'll teach you how to really wield that weapon."
The promise of gold made her ears perk up, but she could not quite overcome the wariness that made her hand tremble. She couldn't read his expression past the mask.
"What would you get out of it?"
"I have my own reasons."
If she accepted his deal, she could double her take as well as working at the tavern. Plus, if she came across another rowdy customer, she could disarm them.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't. That's the first rule in our profession. You can't trust anyone," he said.
"You're mistaken. I could always trust Lady Alaine."
"Can you really?"
"Of course!" Heather burst out. "Lady Alaine is incredible! She's smart and pretty and runs the bar all by herself! I've...learned so much from her!"
"If you say so," he said.
"Think on it a while. I'll be in this town for a few weeks yet. If you need me, go to the Treasure Chest Tavern, and ask for the fireman."
"Consider the dagger a parting gift."
And those were the last words he said before he headed out. She tried to follow with her gaze, but he disappeared so expertly into the crowd that she lost track of him immediately.
She remembered Lady Alaine's words: He could've been a thief himself...or something worse.
*
Heather slipped into the tavern late at night. No sign of the man, but he still might show up. She repeated over and over what Lady Alaine had taught her.
Look innocent, even if you aren't. Luck is on your side, few people will want to harm a child.
Heather held back. The door was in sight, and unlocked. She'd been sure to check it twice before she came in.
Lady Alaine swept up a bit of dust from the back, and Heather slipped in behind to the stacks of kegs.
"There you are, child. I was afraid he'd done you in. I was about ready to slash his throat myself," Lady Alaine said.
"Oh, Lady Alaine, I was fine. I was brave, I even fought back."
"Fought back? You saw him again?"
She nodded. "He said he wants me to work for him. He even gave me this dagger," Heather said.
Lady Alaine's gaze lingered on the dagger.
"Should I go? I've never had an opportunity like this. He even said he'd pay me more than I could make in a week."
Even though she felt fear at the prospect, the possibility of more medicine for her mother made her consider the offer.
"This is your own choice, Heather. I can't make it for you. I can tell you one thing: he won't simply be teaching you how to steal, like I have."
She reached out and took the dagger from Heather's fingers, and stroked the hilt.
"This is the dagger of an assassin. I would know; this was a path I chose not to take."
The light reflected off the dagger. Heather couldn't stop looking at it, or touching it since she'd gotten it. It felt so right in her hands, like the one thing she never knew she needed.
"I thought it certainly a possibility. That night, he was staking out his prey. That'd explain why one of the patrons disappeared suddenly," Lady Alaine said.
"Someone disappeared?" Heather said.
"Yes, Jared. Remember him?"
Heather scrunched up her nose. "He made...comments."
She always had to keep a distance from him, because the more he drank, the more likely he would be to reach out and try and touch her.
"I hardly mourn him. If anything, the man beat me to it. Someone must have hired him, or he simply chose to take him out himself. All perks of the job, I suppose," she said.
"This man will teach you how to kill. I need you to understand, this is what he's offering by giving you this dagger."
Heather remembered the scent of death. Her father had hung from the gallows for such a long time, until his flesh rotted, to be an example to any other thief in their country. All for stealing bread so they wouldn't starve, when every penny he made went to mother's medicine.
The rich lords about here had more than enough wealth, but they'd never spared a coin to help her mother. So, father had been forced to steal to get enough. Not even a year of farm work could net enough for the medicine mother needed.
Every day when she had to go to the market, she had to pass his body.
If she'd been stronger, she could've saved him. She could've kept the sadness from her mother's face.
Even though it scared her, Heather nodded.
"When you meet him, tell him that Lady Alaine sent you. And that he will deal with my reckoning if he ever hurts you. I will unleash a vengeance upon him that would make the Goddess Herself blush," she said.
She pulled Heather into one last quick embrace.
"Remember what I taught you," she said. She patted Heather upon the shoulder.
"I'll still come back. I'll only be better," Heather said.
"Heather.... One day, I won't be here anymore."
In this moment, she felt the same way as when the gallows gave way. That horrible numbness and shock of something horrific, something unavoidable.
"You're...leaving? Or are you...?"
She couldn't bring herself to say the word dying. She'd already lost her father, and every day was a moment she was closer to losing her mother.
Lady Alaine gave her a grim smile. Her frilled skirts brushed against the dirty stone floor. "It's never good for a thief to linger in one place for so long. I remained, because I had such a promising apprentice to teach. But, it seems that there's little left to teach you."
Heather clung to her long, poofy sleeves. "Lady Alaine, no! There's still so much to teach me! I promise I'll be a good girl and I won't be caught again!"
She patted Heather on the top of her blond head. "This is a lesson I'm teaching you right now. The art of having to say goodbye."
But Heather already knew that art all too well.
Lady Alaine glanced away. "One day, we may meet as enemies. I pray that never happens."
Tears dropped from the side of Heather's eyes. "I wouldn't fight you. Even if I had a knife to my throat, I'd never do it."
"I hope not, I surely hope not."
Lady Alaine rose and tended to the ale. Heather looked up, dizzy as she turned to leave. Even in this moment, her mind was already made up.
*
Heather's hand shook as she knocked at the door.
"I'd...like to see the fireman, please." Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to stand up strong and tall. Her blond hair fell down her back. Her clothes were dusty with street dirt, but she lifted her chin as if she were royalty.
For her mother, for her father. No matter how difficult, no matter how much it hurt, she'd find a way to protect them.
"You came after all," he said. He motioned her into the small apartment. It was clean, and barely lived in. Outside of one satchel at the wall, there was little to show that anyone even stayed there.
She recited the words that Lady Alaine told her to say in a rush.
"I don't make it a habit of attacking my apprentices. Though, you're the first I ever took on."
"Why?"
He glanced down at her. "There's a task I've been paid for. If I cannot complete it, someone needs to do it for me," he said.
"A task?" Heather said.
"One day, I'll tell you. But for now, I'll teach you how to hold that properly."
A bit reluctantly, she handed over the dagger to him.
He put it back in her hands, but he put it right. Her grip tightened.
"Don't grip too tight. And you'll have to start wearing gloves. I'll have some tailored for you."
She stared down at the dagger in her hands. She could've cut her father free with this. She hadn't been strong enough then, but she would be now.
