Longinus fainted.
Chapter 6
Well, that was a bit of a mess. Rory had acted on instinct, and now she wished she had stayed up on the roof. Nothing good ever came out of meddling in other people’s business, but she hated seeing an underdog get beaten up, especially by a guard. And that man, with his obvious fear of blood, was an underdog and no mistake about it.
“Us runts gotta stick together,” she murmured.
Still, she wasn’t sure what to do now, so she decided that, as with everything, it was best to go back to basics.
She checked the guard’s pockets.
No point letting a nice purse go to waste after all, and a very nice purse it was. She pulled the rapier out from the guard’s stomach, and wiped the blade on his uniform. The sword was beautiful, more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. The basket was black, and of an intricate design, more delicate than lace.
She held it up so that the moonlight could gleam off the blade, and her throat constricted a little at the feel of it in her hand. This was what she was meant for. It felt like coming home, like falling in love — or at least what she expected falling in love was like. It was one thing to have a dagger, it was another to wield a rapier. Warriors and heroes like the Scarred Woman had rapiers, and now Rory was one step closer to her dream.
She slipped the rapier into her belt, a small, very reasonable fee for saving the unconscious man’s life. You couldn’t put a price on being alive after all.
She searched the unconscious man — not to take anything, mind you, just out of curiosity. She located his purse, a nice fat one, and was surprised to find she wasn’t even tempted to take it. The rapier was one thing, but stealing an underdog’s money, well it felt like what Jake had done to her. As she returned the purse, something about him caught her attention. The handkerchief over his mouth and nose had fallen during the fight, and there was something…odd about his face.
He was in his thirties with the brown skin of a Damsian, but his features called to Rory in a way that suggested they were familiar. She groped through her memory for any recognition, when her fingers brushed against something, distracting her.
It was a set of cards, like playing cards but with a black snake in the middle and knives on the corners. She had heard of those cards; she had even seen one.
She looked back at the man on the ground. That was the Viper? That man who had thrown up and fainted after killing the guard? How was that possible? And yet there was no denying it: he carried the Viper’s calling cards.
Now that was a turn for the books, and no mistake about it. She fiddled with the cards as she thought. There was an opportunity in this, if only she could be smart enough to work it out properly. She could sell the rapier, of course, but to what end? Master Xian was long gone, and money on its own wouldn’t buy her a spot as an apprentice with the sword preceptors of Damsport. She had already tried.
Maybe the Viper could act as some kind of reference to recommend her to a sword preceptor? No, that would probably end with her getting arrested for being associated with an assassin.
What if he took her on himself and trained her? She knew enough to recognise that he was a very good swordsman.
He was bound to be grateful — she had saved his life after all. Training her was the least he could do as thanks for saving his life. On top of her modest fee of the rapier, that is.
And yet…
She thought of Jake, her partner for all those years, and of how completely he had screwed her over. You couldn’t rely on people— that much she had learned. The Viper might not be grateful; he might not care that she had saved his life. He might laugh her away as that sword preceptor had laughed, and then what? She’d be left high and dry again, that’s what. No, you couldn’t rely on people.
Now, if she blackmailed him, he’d have no choice. An assassin with a fear of blood could only be a laughing stock: his reputation would be ruined and he’d never work again. That was some pretty powerful leverage.
Her heart hammered in her chest at the thought. Could she do it? Blackmail an assassin? A trained killer? Rory was a master at the game of survival, but this might be too dangerous a game, even for her. She returned the cards to the Viper’s pocket and kissed a number of her medals for luck.
“Aim small, win small,” she whispered to herself. “Aim big, win big.”
This was probably stupid, very very stupid. She would no doubt regret it, if the dead could regret anything. But if she could pull it off…
Chapter 7
When Longinus came to, he found an urchin sitting cross-legged opposite him, running a rag carefully along his rapier’s blade. He could make her out quite clearly in the moonlight. She was a scrawny thing, wearing rags that were so big for her she looked more like a coathanger than a kid. Her tiny face was dwarfed by an odd mass of rope-like hair that hung in thick segments down to the small of her back. Her skin was so dark it looked almost black in the night, and her eyes gleamed like those of a fox, watching him.
Longinus moved, catching the smell of blood and vomit on himself, and he thought he might faint again. He tried to push himself up, but his hand sank into something cold and congealed that seeped through the thin silk of his glove. He pulled away with a yelp.
“You had carrots today,” said the urchin, as conversationally as if she was discussing the weather. “I saw it in your sick.”
Longinus’ stomach lurched in response, as though offering to give her a second specimen to examine.
“Help me up,” he croaked, extending a hand. His legs felt so weak he wasn’t sure they’d be able to support him.
“No,” said the urchin. She got up and pointed Longinus’ own rapier at him. “Here’s how it’s going to go. I just saved your life, right? I know you’re the Viper, and I know you’re afraid of blood. Now how do you think people are gonna react when they find out, eh? An assassin afraid of blood?”
“Please,” said Longinus weakly. “Not that, not that.” He felt the old familiar shame rise to the surface. He thought he had gotten rid of it a long time ago, but it seemed to be alive and well, and so very close to the surface. A suffocating feeling crowded his chest.
“Also,” continued the girl, “I have you at the tip of my rapier.”
“What do you want?”
“To be your apprentice, to learn how to fight. You’re handy with a sword, you are. Teach me and I’ll take your secret to the grave.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I’ll tell everyone in Damsport about you, see if I don’t.” She touched Longinus’ chin with the tip of the rapier. A whimper escaped out of his mouth, and he hated himself a little bit more for it.
“All right,” he said in a strangled voice. “All right. Please help me up.”
“Not so fast. I ain’t stupid. I’m gonna need some sort of assurance that you ain’t gonna kill me the second I look away. I know what you assassins are like. Swear it.”
Longinus hesitated, but the touch of the rapier made his mind up.
“By my honour —”
“Screw honour. Swear on the Old Girl.”
“Ah, I swear on the Old Girl that I won’t hurt you or try to kill you while you are my apprentice.”
“Good.” The girl took a step back and Longinus sagged with relief as the blade retreated. “Although I don’t trust promises as far as I can throw them. That is to say, I don’t trust them at all since I can’t touch them. I’ll be leaving the rapier with a friend. Talegian steel, right? Very beautiful design on the basket. Very unusual.”
Longinus gritted his teeth. It isn’t beautiful, it’s exquisite.
“I reckon,” continued the urchin, “that whoever made this sword will remember who bought it. And if I had the word ‘viper’ engraved on it, well that would be enough to convince people it belongs to the Viper. People can be stupid you know, they believe whatever they want to see.”
Longinus couldn’t disagree with that. He understood the importance of
appearances better than most.
“So if anything happens to me, right, that friend will spread word of what happened here tonight along with the rapier as her proof.”
“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“This is someone I can trust.”
All of a sudden a wave of exhaustion crashed over Longinus and what little fight he had left disappeared. He felt weak, he was covered with blood, vomit, and who knew what else… He wanted to wash, crawl into his bed, and forget all about this blasted evening.
“Can you please help me up?” he asked. “I’ll do whatever you want, just let me go home first.”
“I ain’t stupid enough to help you up. What, so you can try and overpower me? Pull the other one.”
“I wouldn’t… I gave you my word.”
“Yeah, well people got a habit of letting me down, so I ain’t trusting your word. We’re going to your house so I can know where you live, right, and then I’m taking the rapier to my friend. I’ll come back first thing in the morning so you can start training me. Alright?”
“You’re… You’re coming to my house?”
“Obviously, where else you gonna train me?”
Longinus could find no answer. He nodded weakly, and inched up to a standing position, his legs shaking. Nothing mattered other than getting home. He would deal with the urchin and this mess tomorrow.
He could see the dark outline of the corpse out of the corner of his eye, and he walked away from it, propping himself up with one hand against the wall, not wanting to risk another fainting spell. The urchin followed behind him as he made the slow journey home.
Chapter 8
Rory had dropped the Viper off at his house, watching him enter the back door. He had looked so exhausted and pathetic that she had felt a twinge of guilt at what she was doing. She hadn’t expected him to be so easily defeated.
It could be an act, she reminded herself. She was going to have to keep her wits about her. Assassins were masters of disguise and trickery after all — she couldn’t afford to be taken in by this little show. She wasn’t sure if leaving him alone where he could recoup was a good idea, but if she didn’t at least look like she was following through on her claim that someone had her back, there would be nothing to stop the Viper from overpowering her, promise or not.
The truth was that she couldn’t work out who to trust with the rapier. Jake would normally have been her go-to person, but that was now out of the question. It was disorientating, having to work out a plan without him. It felt awkward, foreign, like lifting a purse with her left hand.
Her acquaintances at the Rookery could be counted on to help with the blackmail, but the rapier would get sold faster than you could say Talegian steel.
Rory’s hand returned to the rapier’s hilt. Every time she felt the grip in her hand it was as though a small bolt of lightning ran through her. A girl could take on the world with a sword like that. By all the gods, she would never whine or snivel again, not now she had a rapier at her side.
Her first rapier. Her first step towards becoming a swordfighter like the Scarred Woman — a hero.
She knew she would never allow it be sold, so anyone from the Rookery was out. That only left Cruikshank. Rory frowned. Cruikshank was far too honest to be trustworthy. She would keep the rapier, that was for sure, but if she knew about the blackmail she would probably try to return it to the Viper. Maybe even tell the guards. There was no telling with an honest person. That was the trouble with them: they were far too unpredictable. Maybe if Rory made up a story she could —
She became aware of a presence behind her and cursed inwardly. She had been so distracted by the rapier that she had broken her cardinal rule: when alone at night, never stay on ground level. She could feel a shift in the air behind her, the smell of alcohol on breath. She spun around and pulled out the rapier.
Jake swayed back, surprise painted comically on his features.
“Stay back,” ordered Rory.
“You got a sword?” He slurred heavily.
“Yeah I got a sword, so stay back.”
“Look, I know you’re mad.” He made some indistinct gesture. “You’ve every right.”
“Damn right I do.”
“But partners are partners. And we’re still partners.”
Rory felt a faint tremor of temptation. Being partners with Jake was familiar, comfortable, like old boots moulded to her feet.
“You screwed me over, Jake,” she said.
“Now see here, I’m trying to apologise and you’re throwing it back in my face. Gods damn you, I said I’d make it up. First, I got this.” He produced a small purse that tinkled with the sound of coin bits. “I drunk some of it, been a long day and all that, but it’s something.”
At the mention of his drinking, Rory’s face darkened and all temptation evaporated.
“I don’t want your making up, Jake. I don’t want nothing from you.”
“You’re pissing me off Rory. I said I’m sorry, so take the damned purse.”
“No.”
“I said, take the damned purse!” He thrust it at her, startling her. The rapier moved, nothing more than a flick, but its tip sliced a thin red line in Jake’s chest. He looked down with a frown.
“What the — you cut me?”
“It was an accident. Look, just leave me alone, Jake. I don’t want your money, I don’t want your making up. Just…leave me be.”
But Jake wasn’t paying attention.
“The hell? You cut me?”
“I told you to stay back and you weren’t listening, so yeah,” she replied, with more bravado than she felt.
“I come to apologise, to give you money, and you cut me? You ungrateful little bitch!”
As he spoke, Jake grabbed the tip of the rapier with his left hand, not noticing as the blade bit into his palm. He wrenched it out of Rory’s hand and sent it clattering to the ground, while his right fist caught her by the eye. It all happened so fast she barely had the time to register the rapier leaving her hand before pain exploded in the left side of her face, and she crumpled to the ground.
She picked herself up slowly, her head swimming. Jake looked down at his hands with dumb surprise, as though they had acted without his consent. Blood dripped from the cut in his left palm. He mumbled something, still staring at his hands.
Rory felt strangely detached, as though she was floating high above the scene like a seagull, and all of this was happening to someone else. She looked for the rapier.
“I’m sorry, Rory, I…I dunno what happened…”
She walked past him to retrieve the rapier, and slipped it into her belt.
“Rory?”
Jake put a hand on her shoulder and what was left of her dizziness cleared at once, as though his hand had conducted a lightning bolt. She lashed out with her right foot, catching him straight in the crotch. He groaned and fell to his knees, his hands covering his groin. She kicked again, catching his ribs with the end of her boot, which was tipped with iron.
“Don’t come near me again,” she said.
She didn’t wait for an answer, walking away.
The detachment slowly cleared, and to her annoyance, her eyes began to water. She wiped them with her sleeve, wincing as she touched the rapidly swelling bruise around her left eye. That would be swollen shut tomorrow, and no mistake about it. She walked away as quick as she could, anxious to leave the scene behind her.
Jake had never hit her like that before. Sure, they had fought like cats and dogs as kids, and he had hit her plenty of times when they were conning marks, but that was different. She wiped her eyes again. What did it matter, anyway? She had decided that their partnership was over, so what if he had hit her? That just confirmed she had made the right decision.
Still her eyes watered.
“Focus on the future,” she muttered.
She held onto the rapier’s grip tightly, but the magic had gone. It was just a piece of metal in her hand now.
Rory reached Medlion Traversal and heard the distant rumbling that announced the arrival of Crazy Willy. Finally some luck. Nobody else worked as late as Crazy Willy did, and nothing in Damsport went as fast as his steamcoach. She would be at Cruikshank’s in no time.
Grateful for the distraction, she fumbled through the guard’s purse until she found a half copper. It was a bit on the small side — she probably could have gotten a proper half copper from the purse Jake had, but nothing could have convinced her to take his money. The small half copper would have to do, and Crazy Willy wasn’t too fussy about weights anyway. Sometimes he got a little more, sometimes a little less. All came out in the wash was what he said. She kissed three of her talismans for luck, clamped the half coin between her teeth, and waited.
Rory liked to imagine that catching and mounting a wild beast mid-flight would be a little like climbing on board Crazy Willy’s steamcoach. She kept her knees bent, hands at the ready, head turned to the right as she waited for it to arrive.
The noise grew louder: the mad clatter of wheels, the rattle of the coach, the whine of springs, the grating of metal on metal — and just audible over the commotion, Crazy Willy’s crazy laughter.
It appeared like something out of a nightmare, screeching around the corner, the metal wheels sending sprays of sparks on either side. Two wheels lifted from the ground, tilting the whole coach sideways, and Crazy Willy laughed louder. He turned the steering wheel slightly and the coach crashed back to the pavement.
The steamcoach rushed towards Rory, huge and dark, bristling all over with metal rungs that gleamed in the moonlight. The engine’s chimney poured out smoke as thick as tar, and fire roared, glaring out of air holes like the burning eyes of a beast.
She leapt.
And nearly missed.
Maybe it was the pain in her face, or maybe it was all that had happened that evening, but she didn’t quite extend her left hand far enough. Her right hand caught a rung, but she was off-balance and the coach’s speed sent her crashing into its side, the back of her head smacking painfully into another rung, her feet dangling in the air.
The Viper and the Urchin: A Novel of Steampunk Adventure (Bloodless Assassin Mysteries Book 1) Page 5