by J. Hepburn
"We should clean this with brandy," Kalle says.
"Date wine would be stronger."
"Sadly, I have none." Kalle's gaze falls upon Zerris's box. "Do you have your spirits?"
"I may be running low soon," she says.
Kalle shrugs before finding a half-full bottle of brandy in his cache, and a strip of linen as a bandage. He stops with his hands full, suddenly looking abashed. "Ah, your pants..."
"Cut them off," Orianna says, unconcerned. "They are ruined anyway, and I have several others."
"Ah."
One of Kalle's knives parts the linen like wet paper. Kalle is so focused on what he is doing that, to Orianna's faint disappointment, he does not respond to the length of her exposed leg.
Orianna winces but makes no sound as Kalle uses the unblooded portion of the pants leg, soaked in brandy, to clean the wound.
As he rebinds her thigh, she shivers deliciously from the touch of his fingers on her skin, and eyes him covetously but with faint suspicion still.
When Kalle sits back, job completed, he carefully avoids looking at her leg.
Satisfaction reveals itself on Orianna's face through a faint smile.
Kalle glances down at the chest.
"May I see it before you hand it on?" he asks with unfamiliar diffidence.
Orianna folds her leg underneath her to sit, wincing slightly. "Of course, my handsome associate."
She moves the chest in front of her reverently. Kalle instantly hunkers down, even Orianna's casual compliment forgotten in the expectation of finally seeing the object of the night's exertions.
When Orianna opens the chest, she sighs happily, but Kalle's breath catches in his throat.
Kalle speaks hoarsely. "That is truly it?"
"The Egg," Orianna croons to it, picking it up more tenderly than she might a real egg.
The light from the single lantern reflects a blaze of colour onto Orianna's face. The golden inlay, so small it cannot be read in that light, glitters even among the opal's whorls of smoky brilliance.
Kalle reaches out two trembling fingers to gently touch it. Orianna holds herself still to allow him contact, though the urge to snatch it away is strong.
"That is indeed the greatest prize in Molos," Kalle says, his voice a little strangled.
"And it is mine," Orianna whispers. She bends her head to kiss just off the surface. "Mine. If you were not worth so very much, I would keep you."
She places the Egg back in its chest with extreme reluctance, but is all business as soon as the lid is closed.
"You must become Zerris again," Kalle says, regret at this necessity apparent in his voice.
"Just for the delivery," Orianna says as she pulls a small hand mirror and her box of makeup out of her bag. "Just once more, at least. I need more light. I believe I asked for coffee?"
Kalle jumps to light another couple of lanterns, arranging them to Orianna's terse instructions as she begins cleaning her face, then jumps as quickly to brew coffee.
Orianna keeps on the same pants and shirt, not wanting to take the time to replace a leg that will be concealed under robes, but the moment she becomes Zerris is obvious despite this, the clothes suddenly seeming less feminine even as the movements of her fingers change.
The shift happens as she adjusts her hair, before applying his beard. Up until that moment, her face, already clean of all the makeup and the cheek pads that helped shift its appearance, still held the lingering image of the graceful, delicate-seeming, entrancingly beautiful Orianna.
Kalle, watching this entire process intently, shivers but does not turn away.
Zerris attaches his beard with care, takes up the mirror to turn it and his head this way and that to check, then puts the mirror face-down next to his box. Despite his tiredness, the hour, and the urgency gripping him, he rushes nothing.
"We must leave quickly," he says, pulling his boots towards him.
He puts robes on, belting them and pushing a knife through the belt.
He wraps the chest into a well-padded bundle, ties it securely, then takes a deep breath as he stands up.
Kalle stands with him, handing him a small cup of jet-black coffee. They salute this next expedition more solemnly than they had saluted the night's previous endeavours.
"Lead on," Kalle says. "If anybody stops us, they will lose the use of their tendons."
"Let them lose the use of their hearts," Zerris says shortly. "Come."
It is the deepest dark still, an hour yet before early risers stir to make the most of the night's lingering coolth.
Zerris has found his second wind. Kalle, if he was ever as fatigued, his constitution more suited to fighting than to running and having run less that night, shows no trace of tiredness.
They are over the wall like cats, then set out at a steady pace that is not as brisk as earlier in the evening, but covers the ground well.
Zerris leads Kalle in a direct line into the Merchants' Quarter, no sight or sound anywhere about them of threats or followers.
They easily avoid a patrol of guards, both resting hands on weapon hilts as they do so.
They come at last to the street outside Sarvin's shop. Kalle, his veil before his face, nods once.
"He sleeps above his shop," Zerris whispers. "I would throw something at his shutters, but would you knock?"
Kalle hesitates. "This fence. Is he beholden to Melech?"
Zerris makes an impatient gesture. "He is beholden to none but speaks to all, and stakes his reputation upon it. Besides, it will make no difference after tonight."
Kalle eyes him sceptically, but nods.
Merchants keep a window above their door, the better to look out if anyone seeks their services out of hours.
Kalle goes up the wall without a pause to rap lightly on the shutters.
He drops back to the ground after mere seconds, and nods once more at Zerris before fading into a shadow, out of sight of Sarvin's window.
Zerris sees the shutters shift a little as Sarvin looks out, then must wait, tapping his foot impatiently, until the hatch in the shop's door opens.
"Zerris?" Sarvin asks.
"Sorry to get you up, Mr Sarvin sir, but I have an urgent delivery for you," Zerris says, pitching his voice as the cheerful delivery boy.
The door opens quickly, and Zerris is inside even faster.
"A plan came together then," Sarvin asks as, holding a dim lantern high, he leads Zerris towards the back room.
"Came together and executed, but a hornet's nest may have been awoken."
Sarvin frowns. "That is not good to hear. I was expecting a quieter result from your associates, Zerris."
Zerris grinds his teeth, but keeps his voice neutral. "There were additional complications."
He places his wrapped bundle on a bench, carefully unwraps it, then unlocks the chest with fingers that shake very little.
Sarvin lights another two lanterns, then gently picks up the Egg with a silk cloth. He uses a small lens pulled from a pocket inside his coat to examine the opal with great care, polishing it once or twice with the silk.
Zerris watches this with his face carefully neutral, although he is balanced on the balls of his feet.
Finally, Sarvin nods. "Very good." He puts the Egg back in its chest, then pushes a set of shelves to one side to reveal a safe with four locks. The chest is swapped for a small but fat purse. "Congratulations. I have not paid you this much in the past year."
The purse disappears inside Zerris's robes so fast that Sarvin twitches backwards.
"I have another opportunity, if you are interested," Sarvin says before Zerris can leave.
Zerris's face betrays nothing. "In a few days, if it is still available. Perhaps a full week. There are some things I must take care of, some things I have been forced to neglect, and I will see if the guards relax."
Sarvin nods approvingly. "Very good. Did you find this Kalle?"
Zerris waves that away. "He will not be troubling Molos
for long. He now has Melech hunting him over a separate incident. He does not seem to be the kind to stay in one place for long, in any case."
"Very good."
Forgiven
Once outside, Zerris takes to his heels until he has turned a corner and cannot be seen from Sarvin's shop should Sarvin still be watching.
He only has to wait two breaths before Kalle appears next to him.
"All good?" Kalle asks, pulling aside his veil.
"All good," Zerris says. "I have my payment." He faces Kalle squarely.
"And you have my congratulations," Kalle says. He stands with his hands carefully away from his body. "Am I forgiven?"
"You have made amends." Zerris smiles, feeling relief flood through him and wash away tension as he does so.
"Would Tiglis be prepared to forgive me?"
"You can ask her yourself. By the Gods, let us return to your rooms. I must get this beard off again, and we must finish your wine."
Kalle's face cracks open, all his teeth flashing briefly.
With renewed energy, they make short work of the journey into the Artisans' Quarter, scaling the wall to Kalle’s shed as the sky begins to lighten.
Once inside, Zerris sinks onto his knees, trembling with relief far more than the sudden return of fatigue.
He laughs shakily. "I felt sure something would go wrong! Sarvin would decide I was too big a risk and double-cross me, or Melech's men would be waiting at his house, or the guards would be out in force, or..."
"Instead, we have victory!" Kalle cries, seizing two glasses and filling them with blood-red wine.
Zerris claws at his robes, hurling his sheathed knife from him and undoing his belt on the second attempt before scrambling out of them. "Where is my mirror! Gods, I must be out of this!"
Kalle wordlessly points out the mirror lying next to Zerris's box of equipment, and lights extra lanterns.
With fingers that start out shaking but become more sure as he progresses, he gently works the beard off his face, although he desperately wants to rip it off and damn his skin.
Kalle, kneeling on the floor next to where he has placed both wineglasses on a box, waits with a lizard's patience until Zerris sits back, the masculine set of his shoulders and jaw, and the tones of his voice, sloughing off him in one instant. The light clothes he is wearing suddenly hint maddeningly at feminine nakedness underneath.
To Kalle's evident surprise, it is undeniably Orianna who sighs with relief.
"Am I forgiven, my lady?" Kalle asks.
Orianna smiles at him, then walks towards him on hands and knees to kiss him, lingering and being less fierce, this time.
When she breaks the kiss, leaving Kalle licking his lips hungrily, she snatches up a glass, drinking from it between fits of giggling.
As Kalle takes a sip from his own glass, Orianna rises onto her knees, spreads her arms, and says, "I am the greatest thief in Molos! I have stolen the greatest treasure! In generations to come, merchants and thieves alike will speak in hushed tones of this night!" Her voice is only subtly affected by not wearing her cheek padding.
Kalle, his eyes fixed on her face, asks, "Would Tiglis be prepared to forgive me as well?"
Orianna looks down at him, an amused smile complementing a pleased look in her eyes. Her face seems to shift, tensions lightly changing so even the bones underneath appear to alter shape the tiniest amount. She draws deep breath as Orianna, but it is Tiglis who breathes out.
"I'm so glad you asked," Tiglis says, then giggles. She drops to her knees to kiss Kalle with an open mouth.
He returns the kiss even more enthusiastically.
"If you had tried to kiss Orianna again, I might have become jealous," Tiglis declares when they separate, "and suspicious of your honour. And then I might have had to stab you in your sleep."
She sits back, taking another swig from her glass. "This is fun! I've never before trusted anyone enough to work with."
Without taking his eyes off her, Kalle sketches an elaborate salute and bow of his head that makes Tiglis giggle again. "Neither have I," he says. "Not since I was an apprentice."
Tiglis sighs in disappointment. "But we did not have time for you to seek your own targets of opportunity."
Kalle shrugs expansively. "My time in Molos has not been entirely unproductive, and I did grab some gold and one or two small items from the vault. And besides, I already had the contents of Gabrio's safe."
Tiglis laughs gleefully. "You did, at that!" She takes a swig of wine. "I'm so glad Orianna was able to forgive you. Did you have trouble getting away?"
Kalle laughs, but it is a short, humourless sound. "Trouble? I was not injured and I left myself energy for running. I made sure there was nobody to follow me, and no other guards from other houses would be so foolish as to take up Gabrio's cause. I had to be sure you would get away cleanly." His face falls. "Or at least, without more injury."
She shrugs carelessly. "It is merely a scratch, to go with some bruises. But you have become as reticent as a sour old man! You have a tale to tell, and I would like to hear it." She lies on the floor, glass in hand, and arranges her face in the expectant look of a woman who will not be moved.
Kalle stares at her for a long moment before his usual grin breaks through once more, and he rises upon his knees and the balls of his feet, seeming with that motion to show the dynamism and battle-ready poise of his wide sword-fighting stance. "A tale!" he proclaims, throwing his arms wide. "Very well!" His sword is instantly in his hand, whispering from its sheath and describing with its tip the flight of an angry wasp as he flourishes it before him. Tiglis giggles and sips her wine.
"When you ran, I had to trust you to tackle the first guard you faced while I stood at your back against the multitude arising from that trapdoor. Each one outweighed me two to one–their bellies, mostly–and had longer arms and long swords. But whereas they had the length, their swords were heavy—mark this well, Tiglis my dear, for it is important—their swords were heavy and could thus hit hard but were hard as well to turn. Whereas I!" Here he flourished his thin blade, the steel flickering in the lantern-light. "I had speed! I always have speed! None have matched me yet, but many have felt their throats open while they were sure they had me blocked. For I am Kalle, the viper!"
He pauses, and looks briefly puzzled. "No, not viper. I have no love for snakes. Strange that I have never taken a nickname for myself."
"Mongoose," Tiglis suggests.
"Mongoose! I am Kalle the mongoose, and am faster than them! No, I think not, but it will do for now. I am Kalle temporarily the mongoose, and am faster than them! Faster, more experienced, and better trained too, I maintain. Trust me on this, all these are true. I have killed many; I doubt any of them had killed at all before tonight, and never will again. As you well know, my most beautiful flower of the desert, the first kill is a shock to the system so great many never make it, forfeiting their own lives in return.
"I fought with sword in hand and throwing knife in off hand, like this!" He flourishes his left hand, which he had indeed been carrying behind him as counterbalance to his sword arm, revealing thereby the glint of steel concealed within. "Do you doubt I could take a man's eye out while parrying another? I see you do not. Excellent, we understand each other!"
Tiglis struggles with laughter, her eyes bright and fixed upon Kalle, but her body shaking with mirth.
"There was a sergeant—a hard man and canny, I admit, but relying too much upon the brawn of his arms and too little upon guile and cunning, which bought him a quick but sadly painful death. The next man was more wary but also therefore less aggressive, and I let him come while I took his measure, until I decided I had no more time to waste and dispatched him as well.
"All the while I kept one eye upon your... I do most sincerely beg your pardon, upon Orianna's progress, and there was torn from me a shout of rage when I saw the guard who snatched up bow to draw upon her back. I believe that shout saved me time, startling those arraye
d against me, giving me time to run for a bow lying discarded on the ground not four spear lengths away. I took as well an arrow from a quiver only a little farther on, and fired even as did the guard, and even as you—she—leapt!
"My shot was messy, I admit it; the guard fell, but could not have had a good death. He may even yet live, although I doubt it. I believed I saw y—Orianna run on. I had to turn to face those chasing me, and did so with cold, murderous intent in my heart. I do not often fight like this, my dearest Tiglis. As an assassin, I kill with compassion to ensure a quick death, one as neat and precise as I can make it. I kill when challenged with annoyance or with enjoyment for the fray. But I tell you now, even when I saw Orianna's lithe figure moving from roof to roof, confirming her safety, I knew then that every other man on that roof would die this night.
"And so it was: The next fell with a wound in his thigh too deep to let him stand; he lived the longest. The next—I snatched his own dagger from his belt and sheathed it again in his neck. The next I contrived to have fall off the roof as he lost sense of his surroundings.
"I faced then a captain, his armour superior, his helmet plumed, his sword a sword that was worth wielding. He too was stronger, taller and heavier than me, but also skilled, wary, and had been watching me fight as he approached. He moved cautiously, probing my defences and maintaining his own."
Tiglis, who knows full well the outcome, given Kalle kneels before her hale and hearty and—so far as she can tell—uninjured, nonetheless finds herself listening with wide eyes and bated breath.
"And ha!" Kalle describes a flicking, corkscrew motion with his sword that makes Tiglis jump. "None of it availed him. And as he fell, his men turned too late to flee but flee they tried, each of them falling cut down ignominiously from behind."
Kalle looks suddenly crestfallen. "Such a rage was in me that I stayed to slit the throat of every one of them still breathing—save that one archer, for I unaccountably forgot him—and to retrieve my own throwing knives, a few of which I had used to slow down or distract my opponents. I have never before felt such a desire to kill all those arrayed against me, or to tarry overlong on dangerous ground. But tarry overlong I did, and now every rooftop held its guards, wary now but armed and each one potentially lucky. Leaving me, I must say, with a tricky situation of my own devising.