Death is Their Business

The assassins were an even mix of men and women; there were scalefolk and furfolk among them, and the humans were both Rahabin and Miurdan. How egalitarian—they were living up to the principles her father the Emperor claimed, but only sometimes met. It almost seemed a shame to kill them.

Ah, well; they’d started it.

As they did now.

The nearest assassin was a scalefolk woman who uncoiled like a spring, lunging at Morenna with a rapier.

There was barely a pace between them—it was an easy strike, yet it never arrived. The space seemed to stretch out, the Princess receding into the distance, the assassin’s lunge carrying her so far that she had to turn her dive into a roll to regain her feet—coming up still out of range of a target that looked close enough to touch.

And somehow, the distance had only stretched for one of them.

Morenna’s smallsword slid unerringly through the assassin’s eye and emerged from the back of her skull.

The Black Princess contemptuously slashed her weapon to one side, toppling the body against the wall.

These were hardened professionals; they wasted no time being shocked, all of them already out of their seats and fanning out to come at her from multiple angles.

The first to act raised a throwing knife, then pausing in confusion when his weapon was suddenly not in his fingers. That hesitation cost his life; the knife had reappeared in Morenna’s left hand, and she flicked it contemptuously back, right into his throat.

A furfolk man and a scrawny Miurdan woman both lunged at her from different angles, seeking to flank her. The woman found herself trying to race along an endless stretch of constantly expanding space, taking her effectively out of the fight while Morenna dealt with her comrade.

The Princess sidestepped, keeping her attacker’s body between her and the other assassins, and indulged him in an exchange of three blows—simply to show off her superior swordsmanship. Despite his greater reach and larger rapier, the brief flurry ended with the girl stepping in close, and the tip of her smallsword piercing through the bottom of his chin.

Even as he fell, the woman trying to race toward the girl stumbled and then pitched forward, collapsing against the table with another poisoned needle lodged in the back of her neck.

In the intensity of that exchange, however, one of the assassins finally landed a hit.

Morenna slid gracefully out from behind the falling man she had just finished with, only to find that her enemies could also take advantage of the obstruction of his body. A whip ending in a tangle of intricate chains was already closing in; the only reaction she could manage in time was to parry it away with her sword.

Exactly what he had wanted.

Grinning in triumph, the burly leader of the chapter yanked backward on his whip; the chains now entangling Morenna’s blade tore it from her grasp, and he deftly raised his free hand to catch—

Nothing.

He made the same mistake as his predecessor, wasting a precious split second in confusion at the disappearing sword, when it reappeared.

In his back.

The assassins’ leader looked down at the tip of the smallsword emerging from his heart…then to the side, into the dispassionate black eyes of Princess Morenna, now peering over his shoulder from behind as she grasped the handle of her weapon to tug it free.

“ Well done,” the assassin rasped, blood dripping from his lips. “Worthy prey…indeed.”

She curled her lip in disdain as he slumped over the table, blood staining the documents laid out there, and flicked her sword to the side, splattering more blood along the maps on the wall.

And now…she was alone. Assassins were pragmatic folk; the survivors had already decide that whatever they were dealing with was over their pay grade, and fled the room.

That would only buy them minutes.

* * *

Naturally, they quickly figured out her game when they found every one of their bolt holes secured.

The first to die was a furfolk man she found cutting at the glue securing a tunnel exit with his daggers, which of course Morenna was not about to allow. Her blade ripped across his throat before he suspected she was in the room.

Others made attempts to strike back, laying ambushes as befit assassins. Obviously, this was hopeless against an opponent who could sense their location from anywhere in the building, and could emerge from any shadow.

She indulged three of them in brief duels before giving up on that. None of these killers were within her league; this was not battle, it was mere execution, and drawing it out was pointless and cruel. Morenna had no patience for either.

The rest of the would-be ambushers she efficiently dispatched before they could detect her presence, much less launch their attacks. From there, it was only a matter of silencing the remainder who tried to hide, which was even less challenging.

The last assassin to die was a furfolk woman who had wedged herself into a hidden compartment behind a panel in a hallway, filled with weapons. It was impressive she managed to fit in there without cutting herself.

Morenna stepped silently out of a shadow behind a pillar and drove her blade through the wooden panel and right into the assassin’s heart.

Pulling it free caused the panel to pop open and her dying opponent to tumble out, breathing her last upon the floor as Morenna stepped back away from the growing pool of blood.

That was that, then; no one else in the lair. She started to turn away, then hesitated, looking back at her final victim—or specifically, at the assassin’s sword, resting beneath her limp hand.

It was the most beautiful rapier she had ever seen. The metal itself was black, blade and hilt alike. Its crosshilt and swept handguard were worked into the shapes of wings; a crow’s head with small rubies for eyes had been wrought so that the blade itself emerged from the beak. The pommel was a huge, blood-red garnet clutched in a pair of blackened steel crows’ talons.

Morenna picked up the rapier, smiling in delight.

* * *

“It’s enchanted steel! You can tell from the color—this enchantment makes it harder than diamond, and self-repairing up to a point. This sword will never need sharpening, or any maintenance at all, for that matter. And it will stand up to any abuse I could possibly put it through!”

“It’s a very beautiful sword, your Highness,” Annabel replied, smiling at Morenna’s reflection in the dusty mirror while she repeatedly ran a brush through the Princess’s raven-black hair. This was a whole new side to the girl, something the newly-appointed lady’s maid suspected she would not often see: a child thrilled about a new bauble. “Isn’t it…a little over-large for you?”

“For now, yes.” Morenna held up the crow rapier across her palms, admiring the way the light of the one dim candle on her vanity gleamed across the black steel. “I’ll grow into it, though. This is a weapon fit for a Princess—one that will serve me well as long as I live.”

“I wonder how an assassin came to have it.”

“It must have quite a story. But I am half Miurdan by blood, and the daughter of Khellvain the Conqueror; it’s only fitting for me to take trophies from defeated foes.”

“Just so, your Highness,” Annabel agreed. “What happens next? Will the other assassins retaliate?”

“‘Revenge is for the clients,’” Morenna said, still happily admiring her new sword. “That’s from the Silent Codes. Assassins are practical and cautious; members of the Silent Brotherhood are forbidden to seek personal revenge. Nobody will be hiring assassins in Kourvald for a few years; they’ll pull out of the city and wait for things to cool off. That leaves whoever hired them; they’ ll either give up, or try in person. Either way, I win.”

“I don’t understand how you can know things like this,” Annabel murmured, “having been alone in a tower your whole life.”

Morenna’s black eyes sought the reflection of Annabel’s in the mirror, suddenly hard and cold.

“As you work for me, you will notice that I know and can do many things that seem out of step with the reality of my life. You will not ask about any of them. You may wonder, silently, to yourself, but if I learn you have been discussing my business, there will be severe consequences.”

“I understand completely, your Highness,” Annabel said with a warm smile. “Don’t worry, I don’t need to know your secrets to protect them. After everything you’ve done for us, Gerard and I will make sure nobody comes sniffing about here!”

The Princess’s hard glare dissolved into confusion. “What I’ve…done?”

“You’ve saved my life twice, your Highness—with the medicine, and getting rid of those awful thugs who threatened my husband. Never fear, we will always support you!”

“That’s not—I didn’t—that was for…” Morenna’s face scrunched up in confused frustration, for once looking appropriate for her age. “…oh, whatever. Good night, Annabel, I’m going to bed.”