I want reviews please. This is my first fanfic and I want to know what I am
doing wrong or right. Don't be afraid to be hard. If you like it please
tell me what exactly you like, not just "hey this is great." (although
that's ok too ^bg^) Thanks.
General description, girl assassin (yeah, like we haven't seen that before. Heh) gets in way over her head when she accepts a job. Note: Valdemar and everything in it belongs to Mercedes Lackey, except my characters who may only be used with my permission, and the intro, which I swiped from Steven Brust, who swiped it from Dragnet. I swiped some other stuff from him too, hope he doesn't mind. Heh. Oh, it's PG 'cause of some swearing and violence.
*****************************************************
This is the city: Haven, Valdemar.
The capital and largest city of Valdamar contain all that makes up the domain, but in greater concentration. All of the petty squabbles within the noble and merchant classes, and sometimes among them, become both more petty and more vicious here. Nobles fight for honor, Heralds fight for justice, crime lords for money, and some crazy bastards just fight for fun.
If, in the course of this squabbling, a law is broken, the injured party may appeal to the Throne, which oversees the interplay of its citizens with an impartiality that does credit to a Herald judging a murder. But the brotherhood of criminals that exists in the darkest reaches of Haven operates illegally. The Throne is both unwilling and unable to enforce the laws and customs governing this inner society. Yet, sometimes, these unwritten laws are broken.
That's when I go to work. I'm an assassin.
**********************************************
I'm not exactly certain when I knew that the job was going sour. The most obvious moment was when, after several days of trying to shadow him, I discovered what my target really was. Or it might have been the moment I first saw him sitting in the Broken Arms, one of the 'better' taverns near Exile's Gate, for a given value of 'better'. But I think it was moment I first accepted the job.
Ah, I remember it clearly.
I looked around appreciatively. The Red Griffin was one of the better taverns in the Wool Market area. Lots of wealth comes through, but the nobles, for the most part, wouldn't be caught dead here. This is where the higher class of merchants likes to gather to eat, drink, and talk business, sometimes sensitive business. The Griffin has alcoves with curtains that could be drawn shut for privacy from prying eyes and ears.
:Boss, he's here: Without being obvious I turned my gaze to the front door, and sure enough there he was.
"Thank you for coming."
"Nice place."
"Glad you like it, the venison here is excellent," my potential patron told me as he took the seat across from me.
"I'll take your word for it, I'm on a diet." I took a minute to examine him. He would have been easy to describe as plain, but in his own way he was quite striking. He was dressed in an understated style, easy to look over, which I suppose was the point, but the quality of the clothing was high. He certainly wouldn't have been kicked out of the Palace for being too scruffy; that is, if they even noticed him. Hidden in the folds of the cloth were about four or five slight bumps that marked hidden daggers and no doubt other weapons. Likely he had noticed the same about me. His hair was unremarkable, brown-turning to gray and starting to thin at the top. His face would have been plain as well, if it wasn't for his dark, intense, eyes. Those eyes made me want to stir uncomfortably, but I held myself still. It wasn't as if I wasn't used to working for strong personalities.
The waiter appeared as silent as a ghost and took our orders, disappearing as quietly as he had materialized. We chatted about nothing important until our food arrived and closed the curtain after the waiter left.
"Well, I understand you do work."
I smiled to myself, "No, I think you made a mistake, I'm actually quite lazy."
:I could have told him that:
:Shut up Roxy:
"Ah," he frowned to himself.
I took a bite of my most excellent pinkfish tossed salad, "but I know someone who isn't."
"Do you know where I could find him?"
"Her, and no. I'm afraid she doesn't get out much."
:Only if I kick her fat butt outside:
:Roxy..:
:Sheesh, you have as much humor as Prince Charming over there:
:Shut up:
"Ah, well I'm wondering if you could relay her the details of the job? As a favor between friends of course. I am willing to recompense her for her trouble."
"Well, maybe. Sometimes she can be picky. A few more details about the job may convince her." I paused as if to consider and toyed with my salad. "She likes venison, you know, but she hates veal, won't have anything to do with it at all. She also hates to get involved with government projects, there's so much red-tape and paperwork it's not funny!" I shook my head sadly at the thought.
For those of you not following along he just asked me if I was willing to kill someone for him for a substantial sum of money. I said that was possible, but I needed more details. I don't do political assassinations, because that's a sure-fire way to get killed. Governments have far more resources and reach then a lowly free-lance assassin, and the Heralds do their job well here. There is nothing as bad getting hung as a traitor, except torture. I hate pain.
And I don't kill kids because even assassins have to draw the line somewhere. We aren't all scum.
"Good to know. I'm not feeding her veal, and there's no government work involved." This should have reassured me, but somehow it didn't. I frowned internally, but kept the expression off my face. So far my client, who will likely remain nameless for the time being, was saying all the right things, but something still seemed out of slightly out of kilter.
:I'm not picking anything up Boss:
:Ok, but take a circuit around the block anyways, I want to make sure no one is sneaking up on us. Something's weird here:
:Ask him who he wants done, and why:
:That might commit me... Oh, all right:
I swallowed a mouthful and said, "Who, why?"
"To the point aren't you? Don't answer that. Hmm, Who: is a merc who goes by a couple of different names. Jendar, Knives, and Jask are the three I know of. He likes to hang out at The Broken Arms and a couple of the other taverns in and around Exile's Gate. Why: he asks too many questions."
I ignored the hint, if he wanted to hire me then he was going to have to give me everything he knew about this guy. There's a reason why I charge so much, I'm a professional and one of the best in the business. So far I hadn't seen any reason for me to go after him, three or four toughs with swords could take him out for a third of what my client was going to pay me. I said so.
He laughed, "Last week this guy took out three toughs without working up a sweat. They call him 'Knives' because he carries a sword, but has never needed to draw it. Those toughs had swords and he just bowled them over. Didn't kill them either, which was even more impressive."
The job sounded good although I still felt there was something wrong, but it wasn't as if I hadn't taken out good fighters before. The way I work it doesn't really matter how good a fighter the target is, the target just never really get a chance to use his, or her, skills to defend themselves. Usually. Still, something was making me twitchy and I wanted a reason to back out and couldn't think of one, and I did really need the money.
:Chill Boss, I don't Feel anything, and it's my job to watch for this kind of stuff. There's nothing wrong:
:If you're sure... Hellfires, I've never paid any attention to my instincts anyways, why start now?:
:Heh, that's why you have me around:
:Damn strait, scale-face:
:Love ya too Boss:
I turned my attention to my client from my food and raised an eyebrow, "Time limit?"
"None, just don't take more then two months." Satisfied that I'd agreed to do the job he handed me a file of papers and a bag of money. "The standard fee and information" he explained, meaning 1,000 sliver and everything he had on the target.
"One more thing: My friend shouldn't need to, but if something goes wrong how does she get into contact with you?" I saw his expression of annoyance and sighed, "Look, even the simplest of jobs can go bad. She shouldn't have any problem with a tough, but if she does she needs to have a way to give you a heads up. Preventing disasters is part of what you hired her to do."
I saw him growl to himself, but he had to agree with my reasoning. "Leave a note at the Lord and Lady and I'll get into contact with you as soon as I can."
With more polite words that don't mean anything he pulled the curtain back and paid the waiter. I left a nice tip too.
I left with my nice tip and stepped out the door and disappeared into shadow. This was one of the things I was really good at, The Client may have been good at blending in with a crowd, but I was a master at it. Being able to disappear into a crowd or an empty street was one of the best ways to keep your skin in one piece. Looking innocent and completely unable to commit any sort of crime, let alone cold-blooded murder, was another. Sometimes being a woman is an asset rather then a handicap.
Halfway home Roxy landed on my shoulder with a silent thump and hid under my cloak. Her scales brushed my neck and not for the first time I wondered how a reptile could grow wings and learn to fly.
As a precaution I doubled back and checked my path to make sure The Client didn't get any funny ideas. They usually don't, but occasionally one of them is a real joker and thinks he can get his money back by killing me when I'm done. No one tries that anymore with me after what happened to the first two, but it pays to be careful. Soon enough I was at the cheap house I rented in the lower-middle class side of town. Nothing was wrong and no one was there, I tossed the money and notes in my secret safe and went to bed. Win or lose I was committed now.
*************************************************
Roxy and I found eachother about ten years ago in the Pelagir Hills. I must have been about ten or eleven, and was running from, well, that doesn't matter now. Anyways, here I was, lost and alone in a very scary place. I had food and water for about two days and I couldn't trust the stuff that was growing in the jungle. I did have some weapons, a couple of knives, a sling and stones, and a bow, but had run out of arrows. I was as close to being terrified as the day I first killed someone. All of the sudden I felt this tiny soundless voice, if that makes any sense to you, in the back of my mind. It was as lost and scared and much more helpless then I was, and despairing of someone to come and save it. Without thinking I turned and followed the voice.
I'm not sure to this day how far I walked. You may have heard descriptions of the Pelagir Hills, of plants that walk and stalk like animals, and animals that stay rooted in one place like plants, except for the endless screaming. Well I'm here to tell it is weirder then that. The fact is the Pelagirs can't be really described well, because there is always something weirder and more dangerous then the last weird and dangerous thing. Not a place for a girl-child to be, but the last couple of years I had found myself in a lot of places a girl- children shouldn't be, in that the jungle wasn't any different then the rest of my life.
I had walked for hours when I suddenly realized that the voice must be quite close. I looked around but the patch of jungle I was walking toward didn't look any different then any other patch, and I couldn't see anyone else around. I was just starting to debate the merits of shouting when a sudden spurt of panic made me stop and look down. There on the jungle carpet, an inch from my right foot, was a tiny winged lizard, no bigger then my palm. It was very clearly the source of the voice. I sent happy thoughts to it, love, comfort, safety, all that good stuff. I must have gotten through because it, no, she, started to relax. She apparently didn't associate me with the good feelings she was getting, because when I bent down she hissed and spread her wings to make herself look bigger. Picking her up I got two things from her, my first bite and my first message. The poison in her fangs wasn't enough yet to do more then raise a couple of welts that went away in only a few days.
:Mama?:
:Love you Sweetheart:
I found a tree hut; that's a tree that grows into the shape of a hut, with furniture and everything, I said that place was weird; and made camp in it. I soaked some of my jerky in water from my canteen until it was soft and fed it to Roxy. The next day I stepped outside, closed my eyes, chose a direction, and we hiked into Valdamar.
******************************************************
Hi! I just made some minor changes to this chapter, nothing big. My next one will be up tonight or tomorrow morning.
Dec. 9, 2003, more minor changes. Edited some stuff I missed the second time around. Nothing big.
General description, girl assassin (yeah, like we haven't seen that before. Heh) gets in way over her head when she accepts a job. Note: Valdemar and everything in it belongs to Mercedes Lackey, except my characters who may only be used with my permission, and the intro, which I swiped from Steven Brust, who swiped it from Dragnet. I swiped some other stuff from him too, hope he doesn't mind. Heh. Oh, it's PG 'cause of some swearing and violence.
*****************************************************
This is the city: Haven, Valdemar.
The capital and largest city of Valdamar contain all that makes up the domain, but in greater concentration. All of the petty squabbles within the noble and merchant classes, and sometimes among them, become both more petty and more vicious here. Nobles fight for honor, Heralds fight for justice, crime lords for money, and some crazy bastards just fight for fun.
If, in the course of this squabbling, a law is broken, the injured party may appeal to the Throne, which oversees the interplay of its citizens with an impartiality that does credit to a Herald judging a murder. But the brotherhood of criminals that exists in the darkest reaches of Haven operates illegally. The Throne is both unwilling and unable to enforce the laws and customs governing this inner society. Yet, sometimes, these unwritten laws are broken.
That's when I go to work. I'm an assassin.
**********************************************
I'm not exactly certain when I knew that the job was going sour. The most obvious moment was when, after several days of trying to shadow him, I discovered what my target really was. Or it might have been the moment I first saw him sitting in the Broken Arms, one of the 'better' taverns near Exile's Gate, for a given value of 'better'. But I think it was moment I first accepted the job.
Ah, I remember it clearly.
I looked around appreciatively. The Red Griffin was one of the better taverns in the Wool Market area. Lots of wealth comes through, but the nobles, for the most part, wouldn't be caught dead here. This is where the higher class of merchants likes to gather to eat, drink, and talk business, sometimes sensitive business. The Griffin has alcoves with curtains that could be drawn shut for privacy from prying eyes and ears.
:Boss, he's here: Without being obvious I turned my gaze to the front door, and sure enough there he was.
"Thank you for coming."
"Nice place."
"Glad you like it, the venison here is excellent," my potential patron told me as he took the seat across from me.
"I'll take your word for it, I'm on a diet." I took a minute to examine him. He would have been easy to describe as plain, but in his own way he was quite striking. He was dressed in an understated style, easy to look over, which I suppose was the point, but the quality of the clothing was high. He certainly wouldn't have been kicked out of the Palace for being too scruffy; that is, if they even noticed him. Hidden in the folds of the cloth were about four or five slight bumps that marked hidden daggers and no doubt other weapons. Likely he had noticed the same about me. His hair was unremarkable, brown-turning to gray and starting to thin at the top. His face would have been plain as well, if it wasn't for his dark, intense, eyes. Those eyes made me want to stir uncomfortably, but I held myself still. It wasn't as if I wasn't used to working for strong personalities.
The waiter appeared as silent as a ghost and took our orders, disappearing as quietly as he had materialized. We chatted about nothing important until our food arrived and closed the curtain after the waiter left.
"Well, I understand you do work."
I smiled to myself, "No, I think you made a mistake, I'm actually quite lazy."
:I could have told him that:
:Shut up Roxy:
"Ah," he frowned to himself.
I took a bite of my most excellent pinkfish tossed salad, "but I know someone who isn't."
"Do you know where I could find him?"
"Her, and no. I'm afraid she doesn't get out much."
:Only if I kick her fat butt outside:
:Roxy..:
:Sheesh, you have as much humor as Prince Charming over there:
:Shut up:
"Ah, well I'm wondering if you could relay her the details of the job? As a favor between friends of course. I am willing to recompense her for her trouble."
"Well, maybe. Sometimes she can be picky. A few more details about the job may convince her." I paused as if to consider and toyed with my salad. "She likes venison, you know, but she hates veal, won't have anything to do with it at all. She also hates to get involved with government projects, there's so much red-tape and paperwork it's not funny!" I shook my head sadly at the thought.
For those of you not following along he just asked me if I was willing to kill someone for him for a substantial sum of money. I said that was possible, but I needed more details. I don't do political assassinations, because that's a sure-fire way to get killed. Governments have far more resources and reach then a lowly free-lance assassin, and the Heralds do their job well here. There is nothing as bad getting hung as a traitor, except torture. I hate pain.
And I don't kill kids because even assassins have to draw the line somewhere. We aren't all scum.
"Good to know. I'm not feeding her veal, and there's no government work involved." This should have reassured me, but somehow it didn't. I frowned internally, but kept the expression off my face. So far my client, who will likely remain nameless for the time being, was saying all the right things, but something still seemed out of slightly out of kilter.
:I'm not picking anything up Boss:
:Ok, but take a circuit around the block anyways, I want to make sure no one is sneaking up on us. Something's weird here:
:Ask him who he wants done, and why:
:That might commit me... Oh, all right:
I swallowed a mouthful and said, "Who, why?"
"To the point aren't you? Don't answer that. Hmm, Who: is a merc who goes by a couple of different names. Jendar, Knives, and Jask are the three I know of. He likes to hang out at The Broken Arms and a couple of the other taverns in and around Exile's Gate. Why: he asks too many questions."
I ignored the hint, if he wanted to hire me then he was going to have to give me everything he knew about this guy. There's a reason why I charge so much, I'm a professional and one of the best in the business. So far I hadn't seen any reason for me to go after him, three or four toughs with swords could take him out for a third of what my client was going to pay me. I said so.
He laughed, "Last week this guy took out three toughs without working up a sweat. They call him 'Knives' because he carries a sword, but has never needed to draw it. Those toughs had swords and he just bowled them over. Didn't kill them either, which was even more impressive."
The job sounded good although I still felt there was something wrong, but it wasn't as if I hadn't taken out good fighters before. The way I work it doesn't really matter how good a fighter the target is, the target just never really get a chance to use his, or her, skills to defend themselves. Usually. Still, something was making me twitchy and I wanted a reason to back out and couldn't think of one, and I did really need the money.
:Chill Boss, I don't Feel anything, and it's my job to watch for this kind of stuff. There's nothing wrong:
:If you're sure... Hellfires, I've never paid any attention to my instincts anyways, why start now?:
:Heh, that's why you have me around:
:Damn strait, scale-face:
:Love ya too Boss:
I turned my attention to my client from my food and raised an eyebrow, "Time limit?"
"None, just don't take more then two months." Satisfied that I'd agreed to do the job he handed me a file of papers and a bag of money. "The standard fee and information" he explained, meaning 1,000 sliver and everything he had on the target.
"One more thing: My friend shouldn't need to, but if something goes wrong how does she get into contact with you?" I saw his expression of annoyance and sighed, "Look, even the simplest of jobs can go bad. She shouldn't have any problem with a tough, but if she does she needs to have a way to give you a heads up. Preventing disasters is part of what you hired her to do."
I saw him growl to himself, but he had to agree with my reasoning. "Leave a note at the Lord and Lady and I'll get into contact with you as soon as I can."
With more polite words that don't mean anything he pulled the curtain back and paid the waiter. I left a nice tip too.
I left with my nice tip and stepped out the door and disappeared into shadow. This was one of the things I was really good at, The Client may have been good at blending in with a crowd, but I was a master at it. Being able to disappear into a crowd or an empty street was one of the best ways to keep your skin in one piece. Looking innocent and completely unable to commit any sort of crime, let alone cold-blooded murder, was another. Sometimes being a woman is an asset rather then a handicap.
Halfway home Roxy landed on my shoulder with a silent thump and hid under my cloak. Her scales brushed my neck and not for the first time I wondered how a reptile could grow wings and learn to fly.
As a precaution I doubled back and checked my path to make sure The Client didn't get any funny ideas. They usually don't, but occasionally one of them is a real joker and thinks he can get his money back by killing me when I'm done. No one tries that anymore with me after what happened to the first two, but it pays to be careful. Soon enough I was at the cheap house I rented in the lower-middle class side of town. Nothing was wrong and no one was there, I tossed the money and notes in my secret safe and went to bed. Win or lose I was committed now.
*************************************************
Roxy and I found eachother about ten years ago in the Pelagir Hills. I must have been about ten or eleven, and was running from, well, that doesn't matter now. Anyways, here I was, lost and alone in a very scary place. I had food and water for about two days and I couldn't trust the stuff that was growing in the jungle. I did have some weapons, a couple of knives, a sling and stones, and a bow, but had run out of arrows. I was as close to being terrified as the day I first killed someone. All of the sudden I felt this tiny soundless voice, if that makes any sense to you, in the back of my mind. It was as lost and scared and much more helpless then I was, and despairing of someone to come and save it. Without thinking I turned and followed the voice.
I'm not sure to this day how far I walked. You may have heard descriptions of the Pelagir Hills, of plants that walk and stalk like animals, and animals that stay rooted in one place like plants, except for the endless screaming. Well I'm here to tell it is weirder then that. The fact is the Pelagirs can't be really described well, because there is always something weirder and more dangerous then the last weird and dangerous thing. Not a place for a girl-child to be, but the last couple of years I had found myself in a lot of places a girl- children shouldn't be, in that the jungle wasn't any different then the rest of my life.
I had walked for hours when I suddenly realized that the voice must be quite close. I looked around but the patch of jungle I was walking toward didn't look any different then any other patch, and I couldn't see anyone else around. I was just starting to debate the merits of shouting when a sudden spurt of panic made me stop and look down. There on the jungle carpet, an inch from my right foot, was a tiny winged lizard, no bigger then my palm. It was very clearly the source of the voice. I sent happy thoughts to it, love, comfort, safety, all that good stuff. I must have gotten through because it, no, she, started to relax. She apparently didn't associate me with the good feelings she was getting, because when I bent down she hissed and spread her wings to make herself look bigger. Picking her up I got two things from her, my first bite and my first message. The poison in her fangs wasn't enough yet to do more then raise a couple of welts that went away in only a few days.
:Mama?:
:Love you Sweetheart:
I found a tree hut; that's a tree that grows into the shape of a hut, with furniture and everything, I said that place was weird; and made camp in it. I soaked some of my jerky in water from my canteen until it was soft and fed it to Roxy. The next day I stepped outside, closed my eyes, chose a direction, and we hiked into Valdamar.
******************************************************
Hi! I just made some minor changes to this chapter, nothing big. My next one will be up tonight or tomorrow morning.
Dec. 9, 2003, more minor changes. Edited some stuff I missed the second time around. Nothing big.