by Kasia Bacon
"Come smartly now, lovey. Quit yer kicking like an 'orse. You don't want Gaven to knock yer teeth out, do you? Gods know our captain won't care."
Their cackling made my skin crawl. Yet, minding their warning, I stopped struggling. If they punched me unconscious, that would be it.
Yüu. Gods, if they take me, he's as good as dead. I'll never see him again. I need to do something.
"Aye, that's it. Nice and easy does it," panted Gaven, praising my compliance, which he probably took for my being exhausted and scared stiff.
He wasn't wrong---I felt petrified and depleted of strength all right. But fuck me if he didn't underestimate the scope of my determination.
"Good man, eh? Let's tie you up just a smidgen, and it's off to the ship with y---"
With a desperate jerk, I managed to wiggle my left hand out of the rope the pirate had begun to bind around my wrists. My fingers darted inside my hood and blindly seized hold of my jade stone. I drew on the Magic deeply and cast the first spell my addled brain could think of: a powerful muscle relaxant.
Praise the gods the fuckers remained in contact with my body, so the conjuration hit them both, rendering their limbs immobile by means of temporary paralysis. The two dull thuds of bodies falling, followed by some slurred, angry grunts, confirmed its effectiveness. The inarticulate speech and drowsiness served as the cherry on top.
Relief washed over me, so profound it almost made me wail. Ironically, I found myself incapacitated as well, too fatigued to even pull the dirty rag off my face. A stuffy, sticky feeling started in my nostrils. A nosebleed could only be expected under the circumstances.
I'll just have a little rest. I swear I'll be up in a moment.
An abrupt shift in the air that swept about me like a rush of unnatural wind forced my senses into full awareness. A second later, I flinched at the muffled noise of someone jumping down from a great height and landing at my feet.
I had more company.
Before despair seeped in, the cloth was yanked off my face. I blinked. It took time for my vision to come into focus.
The figure of a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in a hooded doublet, two curved swords strapped to his back, loomed over me. He extended a gloved hand towards me, the frostbite-blue of his eyes flashing.
Eyes I could never forget.
"Healer Ẽkana," said Lu Feninghan, the Grandmaster Assassin of the Order. "We meet again."
Sometime later that evening, I sat at the Sunken Sailor---plopped on the chair across the table from Grandmaster Feninghan---my robes in as many tatters as my dignity, but otherwise unharmed.
Following the failed crimping and before leaving the scene of my ordeal under Feninghan's escort, I'd learned that Master Revendi had been right behind him all the while and would be "taking care of" the pirates. I'd cared little to inquire what that meant; the way, however, the vamper had run his tongue over his upper teeth shed light on one possible outcome.
On our way to the tavern, Feninghan's expression hadn't encouraged conversation, so I'd held my tongue.
Inside, the assassin had the close-mouthed innkeeper, who sported a black eyepatch, shove a double measure of rum into my trembling hand. I'd gulped down the burning liquor in one go, only to dissolve into a splattering coughing fit, grand enough to upstage a consumption patient.
Brilliant. Here's to burying good impressions.
Once we got seated in the spacious, well-kept room upstairs, the assassin pulled down his hood. He rested his elbows on the table, the tips of his outstretched fingers pressed together, eyeing me for a time.
"Imagine my surprise when I received a word of a lunatic healer parading himself around the docks," the way the assassin emphasised the words suggested them being a direct quote. "Since you were late in coming, I decided to investigate. Master Revendi then heard the sounds of commotion." Feninghan touched his chin, his gaze pinned on me. "Is recklessness a habit of yours, Healer Ẽkana?"
"No, Grandmaster Feninghan," I grated out. The urge to slap myself across the face became more difficult to ignore.
A quirk of an eyebrow served as his only response.
The creak of the door made me start. Instinct told me Master Revendi had announced his presence on purpose, perhaps to spare my nerves any further shock. Given the state of my disturbed constitution, I would've hit the fucking ceiling if he'd simply appeared in front of me.
The alchemist, resembling a well-groomed cat who'd got the cream, chose the chair next to Feninghan.
The pair seemed to engage in some form of silent communication, which set my Spark senses atingle, indicating the use of Magic. Leaving them to it, I took advantage of the pause to carry out a discreet observation.
Here they were in front of me: arguably the two most feared people in the Empire.
They sat close to each other, clearly comfortable with such an intimate arrangement. So intimate it made me wonder whether the tales spread about the nature of their relationship were justified.
Both extremely attractive, the men couldn't have been more different in looks and wardrobe preferences. Compared with Revendi's narrow-featured, almost feminine beauty, complemented by long hair styled in shiny waves, Feninghan's rough-hewn appearance with a strong nose, defined jawline and tightly shorn do had a hard edge to it. Similarly, the sophisticated fashion sense of the vampire was a far cry from the assassin's leather combat garb.
Such polarity notwithstanding, they came across as strangely well-suited and even alike somehow, maybe because of the air of calm and competence that radiated from them.
Clued up by their stillness, I realised I'd zoned out, goggling at them like an eejit. Not for the first time that evening, I wished for the ground to swallow me whole.
Whilst Revendi's expression hinted at mild amusement, Feninghan's eyebrow threatened to snap if stretched any higher. "Talk, Healer Ekaňa." He prompted me with a motion of his hand. "Why are we here?"
The time had come for me to grow a pair and make my case. I took a deep breath. "I'd like to request the protection of the Order," I said, meeting the icicles of the assassin's eyes evenly, determined not to squirm under their scrutiny. "For myself and Yüuzuki Ōren."
"Ōren the Barbarian, the top fighter of the Lyliňg House," specified Feninghan, without a trace of surprise.
"The same, Grandmaster."
Revendi flicked an invisible speck of dust off his silk jabot. "And you realise, of course, that to be eligible for the protection you seek, both of you would be required to become sworn brothers?"
"I do, Master Revendi."
"And do you also realise that sworn brotherhood is forever?" The alchemist's long eyelashes swept over the tops of his pale cheeks in a deliberate, slow blink before his jewel-like irises fixed back on me. "The only way to leave is through death."
"I understand that as well," I said in a firm voice, hoping the unease didn't drain my face of too much colour.
To my surprise, Feninghan's gaze sparkled with something akin to humour. "You're asking me to allow an Eagle into the House of Hawk?"
Witnessing the assassin display a reaction I believed him least capable of, I almost choked on my spit. It took me a while to catch his meaning. Ōren---the golden-winged eagle Yüu adopted as his surname---was the hawk's only natural predator. No witty response came to my mind, so I settled for a wordless stare.
"This Yüuzuki," Feninghan inquired, "Who is he to you?"
My palms stung as I dug my nails into them under the table. I lifted my chin. "Everything. He's everything."
Both men exchanged a glance. Despite no change reflected in their posture or countenance, I detected an aura of approval radiating from them, as if I passed a test of sorts.
"All right. And you speak on behalf of your lover and with his consent?"
"Yes, Grandmaster," I managed, striving to sound authoritative. Well, I'd kept Yüu in the dark regarding my endeavours so far and might not have obtained his explicit go-ahead on the matter, but didn't he admit
he'd follow me anywhere? I hoped anywhere extended to the Black Fortress.
"We've made you an employment offer once before, Healer Ekaňa. One you rejected three years ago if my memory serves me right." The assassin said in a tone bereft of emotion. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
My cheeks grew hot. "The intent was there, Grandmaster. Alas, the timing wasn't favourable."
My memory flashed back to the evening that had seen me called out on an emergency. In a large country house an hour ride outside Něssyr, I'd encountered Feninghan himself. I'd almost shat myself on introduction, having never met the Grandmaster previously. He had one of his enforcers with him that night---a man with the physique of a giant and a triple-banded tattoo on his arm. The poor bastard called Sashê hadn't fared all too well. Or, to put it more accurately, he'd been a small step away from crossing over to the underworld. It'd taken me half the night to sort out the clusterfuck of his abdomen. In the end, I'd managed to stop the massive internal haemorrhage by removing his ruptured spleen.
The following week, a fine-looking pouch containing the equivalent of six months' wages, found its way to my rooms. Along with it came a parchment sealed with the black symbol of a hawk. In the letter, Grandmaster Feninghan had offered me the position of the Order Healer.
Receiving such a proposition---its insane generosity aside---had been an honour. The Order always went for the best, so it didn't get much better in terms of skill validation. Also, the resources at the assassins' disposal couldn't be sniffed at, either. Under different circumstances, I would've snatched the opportunity with both hands fast enough to give myself a cramp. However, it came at the wrong time for me. Ending my engagement with the Lyliňgs when I'd only just realised my feelings for Yüu would've meant leaving the compound---an option I wouldn't entertain.
"I see." Feninghan's long index fingers rested on his upper lip. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, Healer Ekaňa, but I suspect you'd be eager for your initiation to take place before a certain fight?"
"You're not mistaken, Grandmaster."
The assassin knew everything, of course. Our situation and my motives.
"You put a lot of faith in our abilities." I didn't need to be a Spark to detect sarcasm. "The match is tomorrow, on the Night of Lights. And let's not forget that Yüuzuki, strictly speaking, is still a hostage to the state. So any change in respect of him would be subject to the Emperor's assent. It was a long journey from Něssyr to Ysêmyr last time I checked."
I chewed on my lip. "If anyone can get Yüu out of there on time, Grandmaster, I believe it's you."
"Flattery. I like that." Feninghan tilted his head to the side. "But more importantly, you seem to understand the importance of trust, Healer Ekaňa. Without trust, the Order would be nothing. Never forget it."
I nodded. The extended silence that followed triggered a sense of vertigo. My seat turned into an anthill underneath me.
Please. Gods, please.
"The Order would welcome you both as sworn brothers," the assassin spoke finally. "I will determine Yüuzuki's role within the Order and his terms of pay after I've spoken with the fighter. That will be agreed between us. Rest assured," he added, in response to my fidgeting, "he will be adequately compensated for the expertise he brings to the brotherhood. Now. As for your conditions of employment, they remain unchanged. With one exception."
Here we go. Here comes the infamous bargaining. The selling of my soul.
Being offered the Order protection was one thing, but asking for it---quite another.
"A death, Healer Ekaňa. That's what you'll owe me."
My blood turned to frost, yet I couldn't say I hadn't expected something along those lines. So I ground my teeth, even though my mind whirled with resentment.
Why ask this of me? Surely, you've got enough assassins? It took me eighteen fucking years to become a healer. The only gift I've ever had is to preserve lives. Wasn't this the reason why you wanted me in the first place?
But I knew better than to plead and whine.
"I'll collect that debt one day." Feninghan continued to observe me with those hard, cold eyes. "It may be tomorrow. Or in two decades. But when the time comes, you'll do it. Other than the ones you love or those of your blood, it could be anyone."
A numb ache filled my chest. I might never be forgiven, I may never forgive myself, but choosing Yüu's life over the fate of some unfortunate stranger didn't require even a moment's hesitation. Besides, a great deal could happen between tomorrow and the unspecified period of two decades. Who knew, perhaps it would never come to this.
"These are the terms of the Order. Do you accept?"
"I accept," I rasped against the tightness of my throat.
"Very well. We have an accord." Both men inclined their heads slightly in my direction.
I returned an awkward bow. "What do we do now?"
"Precisely nothing. You implement the trust we talked about earlier and wait. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Grandmaster," I mumbled and stood.
"You handled yourself well tonight, Ĥaiatto." I must've gone mad, but I perceived a smile in Master Revendi's words.
"Keep to the well-lit areas and pay more attention to your surroundings." Feninghan put his hood back up, concluding the audience with a stern, "You'll hear from us."
Thus dismissed, I slipped out of the room.
Once on the street, I bent down, placing my hands on my thighs like a runner after completing a long distance. My lungs heaved in several fractured breaths before nausea and dizziness abated.
Many times in the past, I'd wondered about what it would ever take for Yüu to lose his composure.
Upon my return from my secret rendezvous with the Order, my curiosity in this regard became satisfied. It turned out that seeing a few scrapes and scratches on me, complete with a rope burn on my wrist---damn my fair skin for marking so easily---did the trick all right. My green robes, stained with street grime and evidence of my earlier nosebleed, made me present like a study in misery all the more. Two for two, the damn ih'mohrô went berserk in a way so spectacular it left me speechless.
I'd had a mind to put myself to rights before entering my rooms, but my healing energy proved too low for me to bother. Besides, the spell I'd dished out to the pirates drained my source stone of a significant amount of Magic, causing its level to drop to near critical. Either way, I cursed myself for not remembering to change into clean garments. Given that I kept a clean set on the compound, I could've done that at least.
Admitting I'd been mugged wasn't the best way to calm Yüu down.
Fear widened his eyes. Watching him scared out of his wits for the first time---scared for me---crushed my heart to dust. "Mugged! You've been mugged?" he said in a low and dangerous tone, his eyes pinned on me.
"I'm fine. It's nothing. I got lost around the west docklands and---"
"West docklands! The fuck? Why were you there in the first place? Are you mad?"
"Well..." I didn't want to lie, but neither did I want to tell him the truth just yet. The trust Feninghan had mentioned was all very good, but until something concrete manifested, I'd decided to keep quiet.
"Ĥaiatto." Yüu made a visible effort to curb the temper I never knew he possessed. Grinding his jaw and taking noisy breaths through flared nostrils, he looked like an enraged stallion. "I know you've been up to something, trying to remedy our situation. I didn't want to pry, and gods know I appreciate your efforts, whatever they are and regardless of whether or not they will come to fruition. But I won't stand for you putting yourself in harm's way over this. Do you understand? Look at you! Just look!"
In an odd reverse-role scenario, Yüu rushed to my side to check me over for injuries. He opened the folds of my robes, effectively stripping me of them. His hands roamed across my chest.
I had to admit---I didn't mind being subjected to such thorough and energetic examination, especially if I could redirect its purpose a tiny bit.
"Love, I swear I'm all right. It
appears worse than it is," I covered his hands with my own, forcing him to gaze up at me. Truth be told, I felt both touched to tears and completely aroused by his frenzy.
Yüu's mind, however, seemed stuck on the issue, his eyes brimming with worry and frustration.
Damn, I did understand he hadn't had it easy the last few days---forced into passive idleness, locked inside my rooms without as much as a change of clothes, deprived of any influence over the unfolding events. Waiting while I gallivanted around town doing gods knew what. It must've been a real headfuck for his action-driven personality, even though he had handled his seclusion better than I'd expected.
"Who were they? How many of them? Did they take anything off you? Your kit?" he fired off a barrage of questions. Surveying the door, he seemed on the brink of charging for the exit to chase my tormentors.
Save for my source stone, the contents of my healer's bag amounted to my most precious possessions. It would've been a costly pain in the arse to put one together from scratch.
I shook my head. "I didn't have it on me." To distract him from inquiring again why the hell I'd been there if not to attend to a patient, I hurried to say, "It was just a couple of opportunists. Regular thugs." I shrugged. "Before they could cause me any real damage, I hit them with an antispasmodic spell. And legged it." Tweaking the accuracy of the events a tad didn't feel as bad as feeding him outright fibs. Still, I had to blot out a twinge of conscience.
He simply stared at me for a time, his golden eyes going as round as perfect coins, only to tip his head back and dissolve into a fit of laughter the next moment. "You what?" he wheezed in the end, offering me a glance I identified as impressed. "They messed with the wrong healer." Still chortling, Yüu took my hand, placing light kisses around my bruised wrist. "Gods, what am I to do with you, Ĥaiatto?"