The Reluctant Assassin Boxset

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  Zayn wiggled his arm upward, and they all looked a little mortified by this idea.

  "Once the fish is safely ensconced on your arm, you drag it out and swim up to your boat, throwing the fish inside. It's the fastest way to catch a big fish," said Zayn.

  "What the hell does this have to do with anything? If you think this is going to keep us from taking your money, you got another thing coming," said Patchy.

  Despite his insides tumbling over themselves, Zayn kept a calm face. His fist still hung in the air, and Patchy gave it a tentative glance, expecting something to happen.

  "But sometimes," said Zayn, letting the amusement in his voice dry out as if it'd been baked for a hundred days in the summer sun, "when the noodler shoves his fist into one of them hidey-holes, he finds a big ol' Hoss. The kind of fish that a noodler likes to tell stories about. And this Hoss, he's got himself burrowed into the bottom of that river like a tick on a terrier, and he clamps down on that fist as if his life depends on it, 'cause it does. That's when the real battle starts, because once the noodler knows he got a Hoss, he tries to pull his arm out, but the fish don't care. He holds on." Zayn shook his arm as if the battle were happening before their eyes, transfixing them. "If the fisherman gets his arm out, he lives. If he don't, and the air runs out, well, shouldn't have been sticking his fist in random holes."

  It took all of a three count for Patchy to make the connection. Zayn was sure he could have counted it out from the moment he finished to when Patchy's eyes widened with anger.

  "You think you can scare me with your stupid story," said Patchy as he marched back to the blue bucket and dumped the money on the ground. While keeping his eyes on Zayn, Patchy told his guys, "Pick this up. At first, I was just planning on taking a toll for you working in the Glaucos Sixers territory without permission, but now I'm taking the whole thing. And if you ever come back...don't."

  As Patchy marched away, one of the other gang members collected the dollar bills and change on the ground. Then the last one smashed the blue plastic bucket with his boot until it was in pieces.

  The cut on Zayn's side was still bleeding, so he washed it off in the fountain before picking up the broken bucket and throwing it and the gold table leg in a trash can. A scrolling ticker feed on a building across from the park showed it was nearly five o'clock, which meant he had to head back to the Wizard's Coffee with the rest of the first years.

  Zayn started walking back, stripped down to his boxers and painted gold, but no one gave him more than an idle glance this time as if this were less unusual than his earlier streaking.

  Without everyone focused on him, he thought back to something the Goon had said to him many years ago about how everyone wants something. Patchy and his gang had wanted his money, and if they'd taken it right away, they'd have left him without a thin dime to bring back to the Academy.

  But Zayn had wanted something too. He'd wanted them to come closer and not pay attention to what his left hand had been doing.

  Content that no one was watching, Zayn covertly opened his left hand, revealing a small plastic baggie containing a sparkly powder. The baggie looked like it'd once had a sticker on the side, but it'd been peeled off.

  Bring back something of value, Zayn quietly mused to himself. Everyone got what they wanted, and maybe even some got what they deserved.

  Chapter Five

  Tenth Ward, September 2013

  After a relaxing day in the park

  Zayn was nearly the first to return to the closed Wizard's Coffee. His father the former high school teacher liked to say on time was late, as it showed a careless attitude with deadlines. But Zayn had learned that early was the best when there was information to be gleaned.

  Despite what Instructor Allgood had said, his clothes were nowhere to be found, which didn't seem so bad considering he was covered in gold paint anyway. Zayn might have asked the instructor, but he wasn't around, and neither was Keelan, so he stayed in the corner and watched his fellow first years.

  He studied them carefully, examining the items they'd collected, or how they were dressed and moved. A massive guy with broad shoulders and a guffaw of a laugh held a couple of dog-eared romance novels it looked like he'd swiped from a used bookstore. Despite his size, he moved with an efficient grace, and he spoke to the other first years with a cheerful expression that would have made a politician proud.

  The Latino girl who'd looked at him with pity stayed mostly to herself and spoke Spanish back to anyone that tried to engage with her.

  Around the time Keelan showed up, so did the instructor, who quickly organized them in a line.

  "Now that everyone is here we can head to the Hold. Keep whatever you found in the ward—we'll take a look at it later, and find out what you're made of." He slapped his staff against the ground again. "No talking. Pay attention. Keep up."

  Before anyone could move a muscle, he went into the back of the coffee shop. They followed behind him like a trail of lost ducklings until they reached a basement door that went below the store.

  Rather than lead into the basement, the stairs kept going into the darkness. At first the walls were concrete, stained with leaking water, and then they turned to bedrock.

  They marched downward for an hour until they came out into a cavern lit only by a floating ball of light above Instructor Allgood's head.

  "The trail gets rougher as we go from here," he said, throwing a pair of sneakers to Zayn and another to a girl with silky black hair wearing crimson stiletto heels. She made no move towards the more functional shoes, staring back at him with a pleasant smile on her face.

  The instructor shrugged. "Skylar Chu, right?" She nodded. "Not my problem if you break an ankle."

  Zayn was intrigued by her silent defiance as he slipped the shoes on. They were uncomfortable to wear without socks, but better than walking across the rough cavern stone barefoot.

  Vin, the big guy with the booming laugh, raised his hand until Carron noticed.

  "What in Hades' hole? Did I give the impression that it was question time?" asked the instructor. "This is looking to be the worst incoming class of all time. Fine. What's your question? You look like the kind of asshole who won't be able to handle not having your hand held at every moment."

  "Instructor, is this the Undercity?"

  The instructor tilted his head as if he couldn't believe that was his question.

  "What is your name?"

  "Vincent Moretti, but I go by Vin."

  Instructor Allgood ambled towards him, cracking the ball of his staff on the stone as he walked. Despite his size, Vin seemed to shrink until he was smaller than their instructor. He rested the claw end of the staff on Vin's chest.

  "Well, Vincent. It takes a real genius to figure out that after walking down stairs for the last hour that we're in the Undercity." Allgood turned to the rest of them. "I swear to god, if the rest of you are this dumb, I'll slit all your throats in your sleep."

  The journey continued in absolute silence, which at first didn't seem odd until Zayn remembered Skylar's four-inch heels. Her shoes were a minor miracle for two reasons: the first was that the stone floor was jaggedly uneven and filled with ankle-breaking scree, and the second was that the heels made no noise on the stone.

  She strode across the stone as if it were a ballroom floor, unless someone was near her; then she would artfully stumble, requiring a steadying hand from a fellow student. She picked at least three pockets during that time.

  They stopped before a stone wall with a runed archway cut into it. Instructor Allgood addressed them as they stood in a semicircle, his earlier anger tucked beneath a gruff mask.

  "This is the only time you'll take this path into the Academy. We use this route to ensure the secrecy of our hall. Now that you are sworn to our patron, the other pathways will be available to you in the future," he said.

  He tapped on the runes with his clawed staff, awakening the archway until a swirling darkness appeared.

  "In you
go," he said.

  One after another, the students in front of Zayn stepped into the archway, disappearing in a flash as if they'd been sucked into a black hole.

  When it was his turn, Zayn hesitated.

  "Hurry up," said Instructor Allgood.

  When his foot touched the blackness, the world spun around him. Zayn had never ridden a rollercoaster, but he imagined it was like being strapped to one and forced to ride it for hours, even though the journey lasted a blink of an eye.

  He landed on his knees. A pair of hands helped him up and pushed him towards a long trough that the other first years were bent over. He didn't have to wonder long what the trough was for, as the meager contents of his stomach hurled up, splattering into the stainless steel.

  Older students wearing black robes loosely around their shoulders with street clothes beneath directed them into a large hall with vaulted ceilings. Tables had been pushed against the walls, clearing a spot in the center, where Zayn and his fellow first years were herded.

  "Alright, maggots," said Instructor Allgood. "Make three equal lines. Now!"

  In the ensuing chaos, Zayn ran into at least three people before he found a spot. Then it appeared they'd made four jagged lines, so everyone started talking over each other trying to condense it back to three. When they were finished, their instructor looked ready to break his staff in half and leave.

  "I don't know how any of you idiots can expect to follow a spell book if you can't figure out simple instructions like make three equal lines," said Instructor Allgood.

  He glowered at them and was revving himself into another volley of insults when a slight woman with smoky brown skin strolled into the room and put her hand on Carron's shoulder. He bottled his anger and respectfully moved to the side.

  Zayn was intrigued. She moved like an elegant dancer approaching the stage, even though she was only wearing jeans and a skintight black shirt. She radiated danger, and when she spoke, he understood why.

  "I am Priyanka Sai, your patron. It is within my hall that you shall train for the next five years." She glanced back towards Carron with a mischievous grin. "Assuming you can survive the first year of instruction. The Academy of the Subtle Arts. Some call us spies and diplomats. Others name us assassins. These are not unjust names, and inside these halls, wear them proudly. But from this day forward, you must become inscrutable to the world, a mystery without a key. Answer nothing about your time here, or I will hear about it, and that is the last thing you'll ever say.

  "I have little more to speak with you about, because at this point in your training you are nothing. You don't have a clue of how the world works, or what we're trying to accomplish here. That will be the purview of Carron Allgood, your keeper and blacksmith, who, with the proper dedication on your part, will forge you into a proper tool, or discard you if he cannot.

  "Before I swear you to my patronage, I have but one question, a question that you will need to answer before this year is out. If at this time, you do not think you can, then you will be given the opportunity to leave right now and never come back. But if you stay, know that this question will come, and you'd better be ready to answer it."

  She paused, looking to each of them, studying them as if she could see inside their souls. When her gaze passed across Zayn, he felt naked, but something in him kept him from looking away, and before she moved on to the next student, he swore he detected the minutest twitch of her lip.

  When she was finished surveying the group, she asked, "What will you do when you have to kill?

  "If you cannot answer this question," she said, "leave the line, and one of the fifth years will take you back to the surface."

  After a long minute, in which no one moved, Priyanka smiled. "Good. At least you've got that much spine. You're going to need it."

  Chapter Six

  The Hold, September 2013

  To find a diamond in the rough you need a lot of coal

  The Hold, they learned as the fifth years led them to another area in the complex, was the place the first-year students in the Academy of the Subtle Arts would call home during their first year. It was named as such because it resembled the belly of a great ship. A kitchen and dining area sat in the middle, with a separate classroom space on either side. The one side had blue sparring mats like Zayn had seen in the Varna martial arts studio, with Instructor Allgood's apartment right off that. The other side looked like a dance studio with mirrors and a massive closet. Zayn had seen no sign of the rooms in which they would be staying, but there were two sets of stairs heading up off the dining area.

  The first years were organized in a long line, then one by one, each went into the dojo, where they showed what they'd found to Instructor Allgood and Patron Sai. He noted the items they carried, especially a few of the students that had returned with items of little or no value, which seemed odd until he thought about it, and since he had an inkling of what was to come, he formulated a plan based on that knowledge.

  When it was finally his turn, the other twenty-nine first years waited in a long line with their hands behind their backs. A table along the wall held the treasures they had acquired during their challenge: bills held together with paperclips, stacks of change, a pink bicycle with a horn, a bowie knife, a bowling ball, and other assorted items.

  As soon as he walked in, Instructor Allgood said, "You know, you look like somebody screwed an Oscar statue."

  A round of snickers broke out. Already they saw him as a joke. He'd been foolish enough to speak up, and earned a trip into the city without his clothes. Now he had to show what he'd found, and he could see by their eyes, they expected nothing special.

  The fifth year that had brought him in pushed Zayn towards Instructor Allgood, who was on the far end in his gray duster, leaning on a clawed staff. Priyanka Sai was standing near him, but watching the proceedings intently.

  "Tell me, Zayn, why the hell did you paint yourself gold? Are you not taking this seriously?"

  "I made myself into a gold version of the Statue of Liberty." He looked at his hands. "I left my crown and torch in the park."

  A round of laughter, this time more sympathetic, traveled through his fellow first years. He caught a creasing of Priyanka's eyes, before her expression disappeared behind a mask.

  "Well then, come here and show me what you got; otherwise, your clever idea wasn't worth shit," said Instructor Allgood.

  As Zayn approached, he noticed one of the fifth years standing at a wipe board behind Instructor Allgood. Everyone's name was written on it with a number beside each name between one and ten. He took a quick glance at the numbers, cringing at some of the results, but guessing the reason for their lowness, which solidified his plan. He reached into his boxers for the baggie, receiving an audible gasp from the other students. He dumped the baggie into Instructor Allgood's calloused hand.

  "What's this?" he asked.

  "Drugs," said Zayn.

  "Drugs?" Instructor Allgood asked, turning towards the students. "I didn't ask you to buy drugs. I asked you to bring back something of value. Are you dumber than a slug in a salt factory?"

  It felt like he'd been shoved under a microscope and a millions eyes turned upon him.

  "I got robbed," Zayn started, and he hesitated, expecting Instructor Allgood to interrupt, but he stared at Zayn as if he could read his thoughts. "When they took the money, I lifted this off them. They're a part of the Glaucos Sixers gang."

  Instructor Allgood reached out and touched the dried blood on his side. "Got them close enough to take it?"

  "Told them a dumb story, but they pricked me just the same," said Zayn, trying not to smile, but he couldn't help but let the corners of his lips curl up with pride.

  Instructor Allgood opened the baggie and waved it in front of his nose. His focus went inward, but then he shook his head.

  "This is a first," said Instructor Allgood, throwing the baggie to Priyanka. She gave him a narrow glance and waved the baggie before her nose, repeating the
same inward focus.

  "I didn't know this was possible." Zayn didn't know if she meant him or the drugs. The dangerous woman turned to him. "You lifted this from a couple of gang members in the tenth ward?"

  "Yes, ma'am," he replied.

  The corner of her exquisite mouth twitched with mirth. "I suppose I need to keep my eye on you." Priyanka nodded towards Instructor Allgood. "What do you think?"

  The instructor ambled over to the fifth year and whispered in his ear, producing a wide-eyed response. The fifth year found the name Zayn Carter on the board and next to it wrote a "10." Zayn felt his heart hop around in his chest as he realized the next highest score was an "8," which had been Keelan's score.

  "Alright, it appears we have our team captains. Zayn, Charla, Eddie, Keelan, Chen, Marcelo. Up front with me," said Instructor Allgood.

  Zayn wished he could have maneuvered his cousin onto his team, but there was no way to coordinate their scores during the contest.

  When the other captains didn't move fast enough, Instructor Allgood yelled, "When I say move, you move."

  The other five students joined Zayn.

  "Welcome to the Academy of the Subtle Arts, maggots," said Instructor Allgood. "But before you learn to be subtle, you have to learn to be crude. Except for some language and etiquette lessons with Instructor Pennywhistle, I will be your sole teacher, which means it is my word that passes you, and I will not tolerate mediocrity. If you cannot excel in every task that I give to you, then you will not be a member of this hall.

  "Point two," he said, thrusting his finger into the air. "During the year, there will be a box of coins in my office. On each of these coins is one of your stupid names. By the end of the year, you have to retrieve the coin with your name on it, or you will not pass, point-blank, no matter how well you do otherwise. You may not take anyone else's coins, and you are free to attempt it at any time, even if I am not in the building."