Chapter 2
Watery moonlight ghosted in through the large window, casting the throne room's patterned floor with an eerie light. Elaborate golden arches, lovingly created by a group of well-paid merchants, framed a single, large chair, itself austere and deceptively simple to the eye. It appeared to sprout from the floor itself, tendrils of wood curving around each other to create a ribbon-like effect.
Ganondorf Dragmire sat there now, no longer impressed by the throne's beauty. Holding a frosted glass limply in one hand, the King of Greater Calatia looked a sickly and miserable figure. The last of the Gerudo had asked not be disturbed and had only permitted the presence of the young silver-haired woman, who sat before him now, watching with grey eyes.
"Impa," the king said, his voice sounding as withered as he looked down. "Tell me."
"Yes, my Liege?" she replied. Her chest clenched - she knew what was coming.
"How will history remember me?"
Impa sighed. The king's bouts of reflective melancholy were becoming increasingly frequent now that the time was nearing for him to hand over the reins of power to his son.
"As a righteous man," she said. hoping that she he couldn't detect the forced sincerity.
The king lay his head back with a throaty laugh. "How can that be true?" he said, the leaden tone of self-pity almost making Impa flinch in irritation. "How can one man's actions wipe out the sins of his ancestors?"
"Because," the young woman replied, her voice gaining an edge, "you're not responsible for the actions of those that went before you. You're only known for what you are now, today."
Ganondorf shook his head sadly. "No. People only know of Ganondorf Dragmire from the deeds of those before that took the same name." He sighed. "I will never be free of this curse."
"Yes, you will," she answered sharply. She was wide awake now. The dull fatigue of keeping herself from sleeping just to keep the king company melting away under the conviction of her words. "Tomorrow, your reign ends. Tomorrow you can rest." She waited as his eyes studied her. "Besides, no one but scholars of the most obscure knowledge knows of the Ganondorfs of history."
The king shifted in his seat. "That's not true," he said. "The Harkinians know." His voice took on the edge of a growl. "And they desire to take back what they believe is theirs."
Impa waved her hand dismissively. "The Harkinians are no threat," she said, trying to force him to see sense from the power of her words alone. "Let them cry over the injustice of their situation. It's nothing to do with us. Their men cannot touch us. And if they try?" She shrugged. "You have your assassins."
"It's not their men that worry me," Ganondorf replied with a chuckle. "It's the girl."
Yet another paranoid fantasy that had poisoned her king's mind. Impa had heard about 'the girl' many times, growing tired with his obsession with her. She could not show any obvious impatience however, and she had long learned to remain patient and comforting despite the fact that it grated at her on the inside. "There is no girl." It was hard to keep the contempt from her voice. "She could be nothing more than a myth. A legend."
"Perhaps," he mused, stroking his chin. "But here I am at the end of my existence and she has not appeared. The scrolls always spoke of three. A darkness, a princess and a hero." He looked away as he mused inwardly. "And three symbols of power that would appear alongside them." His words were spoken softly, as if they were more to himself than to Impa.
"Well, the fact that she's not here just proves that you've been a good king. Please, don't think like this. You have brought peace to the land. You've established friendly borders with the neighbouring islands. You've been just to the people. You've been kind and you're loved by everyone."
Ganondorf sighed again, his eyes smouldering with regret and a hint of anger. "Kind? Loved?" he barked. "Not by the Harkinians. Their blood is on my hands. One by one I've had them hunted down, turned the people against them, and for what? They only wished to take their place as the rightful rulers of the land. They are, after all, the true Royals."
"You did what any other wise sovereign would have done," Impa replied quickly, not wanting to think on his words. She was genuine when she said that Ganondorf had done tremendous good for their people. But the actions they had undertaken in order to secure that left a bad taste in her mouth. She only hoped that the good would outweigh the bad in the final outcome. "The Harkinians were a threat to your power and the stability of the land. If they couldn't be appeased they had to be removed. There was no other choice."
Impa shifted as she waited for him to continue, trying to keep the tingle out of her legs as they grew numb from staying in one position too long. The king brought his glass to his lips, taking a small sip as the light caught on the smoky surface.
"My son," Ganondorf said final, after a moment's pause for thought. "He is not ready for this."
Impa blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden change in subject. She could imagine what young Montero Dragmire was doing this night. Probably sitting in a hazy, smoke-filled room, surrounded by his sycophantic friends as they plotted what to do with all the riches and power that was to come their way in the morning. Impa felt a sliver of disgust. She would have to serve the young king as dutifully as she had the old one.
"Any son of yours has the strength to be a just ruler," she mumbled. Impa hoped the king didn't catch her half-hearted tone.
"He does not have the bite to grasp life," Ganondorf said, an acid edge to his words. "If it wasn't for my failing health, I would hesitate to hand over the Kingdom over to him. He's been coddled too much, sheltered away from the realities of life. He is not sensitive to the needs of his subjects. I dread to think what he will do with all the power. It is another weight on my mind."
She couldn't argue against that assessment of the younger Dragmire. Not really. Not having been at the receiving end of his cruel taunts many times.
An ember of hope blistered within her. "You do not have to hand power over to him."
"I do and you know it," Ganondorf replied with a shake of his head. "My health is failing me and I would see him take the throne before I pass. At least this way, I can see how he deals with his role and guide him aright if need be."
A twinkle, like that of a distant star, caught Impa's eye and she saw that there was ice forming on the very walls of the castle now. She shivered.
"Perhaps," the king continued, rubbing his finger around the rim of his glass. "He needs a wife. Someone to tether him and open his eyes and heart."
Impa had to stop herself from snorting out loud. She pitied any woman that would end up as Montero's bride. Sadly though, she knew that many women would line up for the chance. Not out of any love for the young half-Gerudo, no, but for the opportunity to be Queen. That would only bury Montero deeper under his ego. He needed to be thrust into the blood, sweat, soil and tears of that everyone else had to endure. An idea unfurled within her mind.
"What if he were to be assigned to one of your squadrons for a while?" Impa said cautiously. "He would learn a lot from them. It might steel him, make him more prepared for the tasks to come."
"Montero the assassin?" the king asked with a raised eyebrow. "He wouldn't like that."
She smiled in response. "It wouldn't matter. So long as you ordered him to."
Ganondorf sat back in his throne, his forehead creasing in thought. Whispered voices floated in the air outside. Somewhere in the castle, someone dropped something, the metallic shimmering echoing for a moment.
"Yes," the king said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "It is a good idea. Well done."
She smiled as she stood, awaiting his orders.
"Get me a list of all available Assassin League squadrons," he said as Impa nodded in response. "Then send word out immediately. The new king is about to be receive a coronation of fire."
Link awoke to the sharp, rhythmic crack of an axe striking against wood. His eyes still heavy, he caught the yellow glow of the dawn as it tried to fight its way through the drapes hanging over his window. The air was still chilly as if some creature had sucked the warmth from the world. The cold climate embraced him, whispered to him to bury himself further into his blanket and float back to sleep. He rolled to one side, intending to do exactly that, when a memory pricked at him. Hissing, he realised that today was Coronation Day and he had to prepare for the festival, in addition to attending to his usual chores. Already the dull ache from last night's mission had faded, tucked away at the back of his mind as the twin feelings of anticipation for the festival and boredom towards his household duties took over.
He stumbled out of his bed a little too quickly and his head spun, flashing dots dancing in front of his eyes. Trying to steady himself, he reached out for the table that was beside his bed, but slipped, crumpling to the floor on top of his discarded tunic. He bit down as his knee cracked into his belt, the Glimmer capsule shooting from a pocket and striking a wall. With a flash, it ignited into the form of Bannock, his golden light hurting Link's eyes so much that he had to cover his eyes.
The bird flapped his wings slowly as he looked down on the young man with a bemused expression. "Is this the famous assassin's grace?" he asked. He opened his beak wide as if trying to imitate a yawn. "It's a wonder you can survive every morning without injuring yourself."
Getting to his feet with a scowl, Link hastily donned his crumpled clothes and fastened his belt with a click. He ran his hand through this hair, not really caring to give it any more attention than that. He listened for a moment, realising that the chopping was coming from outside and was now mixed with the sound of excited voices, as Bannock waited. The house was still. Mystral must still be asleep.
"Come on," he said to the bird. "Let's have a look outside before we have to get to work."
Letting the soft carpet tickle his feet, Link made his way downstairs, the tiny gusts of air from Bannock's wings touching the back of his neck like cold breath. The little house was still dark, though Link could make his way to the front door from memory alone. His eyes glanced into a room where a door was slightly ajar, and saw a pile of half-finished garments strewn across the floor and lying on the backs of chairs. Despite the fact that he was now providing for the both of them, his sister still had not given up her craft. She was still always trying to keep herself busy.
He reached the door with a hammering heart. He didn't know quite why he was nervous. Probably because he was doing this behind his sister's back. Telling himself that he would return before she would even know, he pulled back the metal bolt and froze. The sharp sound echoed through the house like the reverberation of a bell.
He paused for a moment, hearing the rhythmic thump of blood in his ears as he waited to see if the noise had been noticed. Silence. Letting out a breath, he opened the door letting the cold air wash over him.
Link stepped forward. An arm shot out from beside him, blocking his path. He swallowed, not needing to turn his head to know who it was.
"Going somewhere?" Mystral said, one eyebrow arched on her plain, but dignified face. Her golden hair was still hanging loose, obviously not having the time to prepare herself yet. She sighed, before continuing, "Is it too much to ask you to finish your chores before you rush out? Or are you too special for even that?"
Link was used to the tone in her voice. He had heard it many times, if not from his sister, then Jonah, Kisho, Bannock or Fran. Sometimes he thought he would go mad because of it. There was something else in her voice this time though. A hint of regret, her last words a veiled attack on what he did as a profession.
"No, of course not," he said, squirming under her gaze. It was amazing that he, a somewhat skilled hired killer, could be cowed so easily. He was probably the only assassin in the world that had to attend to chores as well. He studied her face, noticing the lines etched there. Thirty summers old and not yet wed, Link felt a sudden stab of pity for his only remaining member of family. She looked tired and not just because of the time of day. She looked tired of life. Always she would put up with the worst, acting as a rock that kept him tethered down to reality. "It's just that today's a special day. Not everyday we see a coronation."
Her face softened with a smile. "I know, Link. But we can go to the festival together, I promise you. There's still plenty of time. Please?"
He stepped back, a relenting look floating on to his face. "Yes, alright," he said, adding a little mock-hurt to his tone.
"And you," she continued, turning her blue eyes towards Bannock, "should know better."
Bannock was forbidden to appear invisible in Mystral's presence. She said it unnerved her that he could watch her unnoticed, especially as she was an unmarried woman. Link found that a little strange. Why would a bird be interested in watching a Hylian woman? Still. Neither could argue against Mystral. They could swoop down and pick off targets at will, but they both cowered in front of Link's sister.
"I am but his humble servant," the bird replied melodramatically. "Where he goes, I go."
It wasn't long before Link fell into his usual routine. Wrapping himself in an extra thick cloak, he made his way to the back of the house, pausing to give his greetings to his neighbours in the Hylian Quarter, and found the pair of brown cows that belonged to the both of them. Perching himself upon a wobbly stool, he kicked a dented tin bucket under one of the animals and began milking away with easy familiarity. The cow eyed him with mild disinterest as she chewed on some straw, her glassy eyes like deep brown eggs.
Next he went to the water pump, pushing down on the lever as it groaned in protest before releasing its goods. The smell of baked bread wafted over the air, and Link heard Mystral banging pots and chopping vegetables from inside. He then walked down the long, dusty path that ran through the centre of the Hylian Quarter. There were various shops and stalls lining either side of the path, coverings made of animal skins hanging over the entrances like a swollen upper lip. A wide grin planted firmly on his face, Link tried not to laugh while Bannock flew overhead, unseen, knocking off caps and ruffling hair. The young Hylian entered the bakery to buy a sack of flour and heaved it across his back as he made his way home.
The sun, pale and almost ghostly, was already high in the sky. Link would have completed his tasks a lot more quickly had he not paused to study every trivial thing that had caught his eye. If it wasn't watching a rainbow coloured lizard crawling up a wall, or admiring the new wooden platform being erected in the middle of the square for the day's festivities, then he would simply gaze at the towering sight of Castle Dragmire as it loomed over the city like a shadowy guardian, its many towers spiking the sky. Constructed of emerald marble, the Castle had the appearance of having been carved out of a vine coloured jewel. It stood in the centre of the metropolis, hemmed in by the largest enclave in the city, where the Calatians resided. Link didn't think too hard about this segregation of races, seeing it as natural having grown up with it. To him, the only difference between Calatians and Hylians were that there were far more of the former than the latter, and that the Calatians had a strange curve to their ears unlike the more angular edge that immediately made a Hylian stand out. He knew, though, that other people did consider minor differences between races as issues of great importance.
When he arrived back at the house, he found Mystral ready, dressed in a long, deep blue gown. One of her own constructions, no doubt. He was pleasantly surprised to see that she was wearing a wide, genuine smile – a rare sight for his sister nowadays. Annoying her by refusing to dress into something more suitable, he held out his arm as they began their walk to the town's square. Mystral was almost skipping like a young girl, and Link grinned at the sight. They sang a song together, one that Mystral said their mother had sung to them, and people looked up, smiling, as they were taken by the infectious happiness.
Soon they arrived at the town's square, where a bustling crowd was forming.
Some of the entertainers had arrived already, juggling spheres that shifted colour in the light or spitting fire through hoops. The children ooh-ed and aah-ed, and Link and Mystral couldn't help but smile. They pushed their way through the jostling mass of well-dressed people, the light chatter mixing with laughter and gasps of astonishment in the air. Link's heart swelled in reaction to all the happy faces that caught his eye.
"I know a trick," Bannock said from above them.
"Oh?" Link replied, looking up.
"Yes," the bird continued, his voice lined with a sly frost. "The astonishingly beautiful bird that appears from nowhere." His beak curved into a grin. "I do believe I'd be a big hit."
"Hey, Link!" The young man turned his head to the sound of the voice, seeing the approach of a grinning Hylian, dressed in green with tinkling bells hanging off the sleeves. "Stop looking at the sky. You're not off daydreaming again, are you?"
"No, Tom," Link replied with a laugh. The man with the coal-black hair before him was of the Treysor family, one of their neighbours. "You're in good spirits."
"Aren't we all?" Tom said with a smile. "This is so exciting. The King is taking young Montero around all the Quarters. He's going to be here in the Hylian section soon." He turned his attention to Mystral and his smile grew wider. "You're looking very radiant today."
Link's sister did not take the bait. "Unlike you," she said with a sour voice. "Whoever made your clothes needs an arrow through their head."
Tom laughed; his face showing no sign that he was offended in the slightest. "I'll see you both later," he said. "Have a good time."
"You too, Tom," Link replied.
A pair of giggling maidens drew the young man's eyes away from the entertainers. Dressed in pink, they saw Link's stare and huddled, laughing harder. He smiled at them, not sure if they were laughing out of embarrassment or out of pity. They were pretty though, with soft, round faces. His imagination raced, trying to dream up a personality for each of them. The one on the left, he decided, would be soft and eager to please. The one on the right would wait by the door, in wide-eyed fear, for him to return from another dangerous assignment. Both images were comforting.
A sour tug pulled at his heart. He'd had hopes on Crystal Lynn, one of the young maidens near his house, courting her under Mystral's disapproving eyes. He'd thought that Lynn was also made entirely from sugar and had been dismayed when, one day, she had laughed cruelly saying, 'But I don't want an orphan boy! What would my father think? We need to aim higher in society. I'm destined for greater things.' Link's eyes narrowed at the burning memory. It reminded him of Fran's never ending lectures to him.
Her father was a pompous, shallow man and sometimes, deep in the night, Link wished the man was his squadron's next hit so that he could find a million and one ways to kill him. It wasn't so much that the man had slighted Link, but more because he had once called Mystral an unmarriageable beast, grinning all the while.
He was broken out of his musings by his sister sharply clearing her throat. He looked up at her stern eyes.
"They're not good for you, Link," she said. When he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off with a smile saying, "Trust me. I know how the female mind works." Her words evaporated from his mind as he caught sight of another girl, clothed in a pale green dress that matched her eyes. "And the male mind, too," Mystral added with a shake of her head.
He wasn't listening. A girl with jade eyes was a rare thing, a fine catch for any young man. Naturally, her dowry would be stupendously high. He was glad Mystral was here, a ready-made chaperone so tongues wouldn't start wagging. He stepped forward, thinking of something witty to say to her, when he felt something smooth under the sole of his boot.
"Oh, Link," his sister said with a sigh as they both looked at the pile of manure he had just stepped in to. Link grimaced, wiping his foot against the earth hastily.
A commotion near the stage made the throng of people fall into sudden silence. The sound of horns rang out, signifying the arrival of the King and the Prince Regent. Everyone strained forward on their toes to catch a glimpse. Link grinned as he saw Ganondorf march onto the platform, making the wooden planks shake. He turned and waved at the people as Montero, dressed in a white tunic and golden cloak, followed suit. Cheers erupted as the duo sat down in their specially designed chairs, their servants rushing around them. Link saw a young, silver haired woman take her place behind the King's chair, one hand resting on its back.
Link shifted his gaze to Montero, not having met the Prince yet in his career. The younger Dragmire's shared the same green skin with his father, but his was smoother and with no cracks. Something about his eyes made Link gulp involuntarily. They were hard, and dull with bored amusement. It dawned on the assassin that this was to be his new liege from this day on in, and he still didn't know how exactly he felt about that.
The actual coronation would be held in the evening in the castle itself. Now was just a show for the people to express their affection. People chanted the Dragmire name, children threw, long, brightly coloured ribbons in the air and more of those giggling maidens threw flowers onto the stage, one or two of them no doubt wanting to catch the King-to-be's eye.
The entertainers took over; acrobats performing elaborate acts in the air, jumping from an elastic animal skin covered platform to another. The jesters and fools made jokes that, while full of praise for both the King and the Prince, that were not really amusing, but the light-hearted atmosphere made the people laugh anyway. Link looked over at his sister, pleased at the engrossed expression on her face. Finally, she had something frivolous to lift the thoughts from her mind, instead of throwing herself into a new task.
"And now…introducing…Sheik of the Sheikahs!"
Link's head snapped back towards the stage at the sound of the announcer's voice. Silence fell on the crowd like a blanket as a cannon was rolled rumbling onto the platform. At the far end, a little boy stood, an apple sitting on his head. He turned and waved at the people with a grin, the action making the fruit almost wobble off the top of his head. Someone at the back of the stage threw him a harsh rebuke and a ripple of laughter spread through the massed throng. Frowning, Link peered forwards trying to find a clearer sight, his curiosity piqued.
A cloud of thick, black smoke accompanied the cannon's loud ignition and all eyes followed the blue-clad figure that had been shot into the air. The young man somersaulted, flipping two thin blades into his hands that caught the sun's light with a flash. He landed onto his feet daintily and threw the knives one by one. They slashed through the fruit, drawing out juice that trickled onto the boy's head. There was a moment's pause before the apple fell apart in four, neatly quartered sections.
The crowd cheered and Sheik took a bow. Link was impressed. It took a lot of practice to be that accurate. He clapped heartily along with the others, his eyes not leaving the young entertainer's face. He watched as Sheik stepped off the stage, catching a towel that someone threw at him and rubbing his face. Another act captured the people's eyes, and no one noticed as Sheik walked slowly, but deliberately, towards one of the food stalls.
The young entertainer's head turned cautiously from side to side as he scanned the crowd. Lightening quick, his arm snapped out and he grabbed a loaf of bread from the stall. Link blinked. It had happened so fast that he thought he'd imagined it.
"Hey," he said, quietly at first and then with more conviction as he realised what had happened. "Hey!"
"Link…?" Mystral said, her eyes still distracted by the spectacle on the stage.
No one heard Link's cry. No one, that is, except Sheik himself, whose head snapped up in his direction. Not waiting for him to raise the alarm, Sheik spun on his heel and ran. Link pushed through the people, his sense of justice ignited, as Mystral called his name frantically.
"Bannock!" he called. "Stay with my sister!"
He heard the bird flap his wings and then pushed his own legs faster as the path became clear. Seeing the blue flash of the entertainer in the distance, Link vaulted up the steel poles that held up the animal skins that hung over various stalls.
Another day. Another chase!
Link leapt from cover to cover, the skins bulging slightly under his weight, as he tried to catch up to the fleeing thief. Sheik threw a glance over his shoulder, his own eyes widening. The assassin felt a flicker of satisfaction at that.
Didn't expect that, did you?
"Here, lad!" Link turned to see one shopkeeper, one of the few people that had stayed away from the festival, throw a rope towards him. Leaping off of another cover, Link caught the rope in mid-air, shouting his thanks as he landed on yet another pale-coloured animal skin that sagged under his momentum. Tying a quick knot without even looking down, he formed a lasso with the cord and continued to jump.
Sheik spun around, overturning stalls that, in turn, tore the covering skins above with a wet rip. The thief jumped, spinning in the air, then landing on an untended horse. He snapped his head towards Link for an instant, a gleam in his narrowed eyes. Metal flashed, and Sheik cut the tether with a fluid swipe of a blade, then pulled on the reins. The horse reared up, snorting in protest.
Instinct made Link throw his rope. The lasso curled around the mare's neck.
Got you.
The horse tugged. Link's grim sense of satisfaction collapsed into shock. Suddenly he was pulled violently to the ground,then dragged through the streets, churning up a cloud of dust in his wake. His skin burned, and his head cracked against sharp rocks, drawing blood, but he refused to let go, knowing that if he did, he would lose his prey. Sheik turned the struggling animal sharply, sending Link rolling. He careened through more steel poles, knocking them down with a clatter and sending shooting pains up his spine.
Link looked up. Sheik's worried expression flashed into his line of sight. The thief frantically tried to cut at the rope around the horse's neck, seemingly worried more for the animal's safety than his own. Seeing Sheik distracted, Link reached down for his crossbow, hissing in pain as his knuckles skinned against the ground. Finally, his fingers curled around the familiar shape of his weapon. He tugged it up, trying to aim as he jerked sharply from side to side.
Link flicked a switch, and the crossbow whirred, pushing an arrow into position and tightening the string. He pulled the trigger, and the arrow flew with a buzz. It caught Sheik on the shoulder, and deflected away. Link cursed inwardly, but then froze, seeing that the blow and made the thief tumble to one side. Sheik fell, and Link let go of the rope, rolling with the momentum as pebbles and dust cut into his eyes and skin. Ignoring the dull throb of pain in his back, he leapt to his feet and with a few short strides he pounced on top of Sheik, roughly pinning his shoulders to the ground.
The thief glared up at him, and Link noticed with mild interest that he was fair-haired and blue-eyed just like him.
"All this for a loaf of bread?" the entertainer spat.
Link opened his mouth to give a heated retort before his mind acknowledged the voice with a quiver of shock.
"You…" Link said, gasping. "You're a girl!"
"Oh, well done," she replied angrily. "And I'd appreciate it if you would get off of me."
Link felt his cheeks burn as he realised the position he was in, and hastily got to his feet, clearing his throat with embarrassment. Sheik stood slowly, breathing heavily and brushing herself off.
Her eyes looked him over, pausing when they got to his feet. Link groaned inwardly, realising the manure was still stuck there.
"Interesting boots," she said, scorn lacing her voice.
Link took in a deep breath, trying to find his anger once again. It was her that was in the wrong and not him, and he shouldn't be feeling guilty or at a disadvantage. "Why did you take the bread?" he blurted, not able to find anything else to say.
"To feed my family," she replied with a sigh. Though he could not see her face, the sound of her voice had a youthful tilt to it. She might be no more older than himself. "Why else would I?"
"I don't know," he replied with a shrug. "Don't they pay you enough for being an entertainer?"
"You're not as intelligent as you look," she said, a smile in her voice. "And no they don't. Besides, I have a large family."
A young boy watched them from across the street, his eyes wide with fear. His gaze pinned them, but his legs trembled, ready to flee. Curiosity obviously won out and he did not run.
Sheik whistled at him. "Hey, little boy," she called. The youngster took a few tentative steps out into the path. With a flick of her wrist, Sheik threw the bread. It spun threw the air before the child caught it with both hands and a wide grin. Sheik winked. "Remember to share it, you hear?"
The boy nodded quickly, before running off, eager to be away before she changed her mind.
Sheik shook her head. "By the One, Unseen..." she muttered. Her eyes flicked back to Link. "Are you happy now?"
"I think so," the young man said. He was at a loss as to how he should act.
What's wrong with me? Who cares if she's a...a she?
Sheik studied him further. "You went to all this trouble just to stop a common thief?" The quiet tenderness in her voice surprised Link. It stirred something in his soul. "You must have a pure heart." There was a smile mixed with regret in her tone.
Link let out a tiny laugh. "No, not really," he said. "You don't know me. You don't know what I am."
She took a step back, the expression in her eyes changing. "Can I leave now, or do you want to leap on me some more?" She cocked her head to one side. "You should be ashamed of yourself, you know. What would your mother think?" Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Boys these days have no manners."
He didn't know what his mother would think, but he could hear Mystral's voice in his head already, chiding him for being alone with a female. Again, Link was caught off-guard, but his indignation about the theft was swept aside by a new interest in this strange young woman. "Yes, you can go," he said. "Just…just don't do it again."
Sheik snorted and Link felt his cheeks redden once more. "Yes, sir," she said, as she began to move away.
"Wait," he said, stepping forward. He was caught by an urge he couldn't explain, and he would never know exactly why he said the next few words. "Can I see your face?"
Her eyes arched. "Would you have asked if you still thought I was a boy?"
Confusion whirled around Link's head, but before he could reply, she had already broke into a run.
"Perhaps we'll meet again," she called. "Or do I have to steal something before I can get your attention?" A light laugh floated from her lips.
Link watched her go, his heart feeling heavy, though not exactly know why, before he turned around to head back to the square.
There was a feast in honour of the Coronation that night and Kisho's assassins - along with all the other squadrons of the Assassins League - was invited. Link's group took a table to themselves, as serving boys, no older than Link himself, weaved in and out, refilling empty mugs and replacing used platters with new ones piled high with steaming food. He wished, with a pang of regret, Mystral had been allowed to join them, but knew that she had enjoyed the rest of the festival and was now drifting into an exhausted, but happy sleep. She had, though, chided him for running off. Link hadn't explained to her about the theft. Something inside prevented him from doing so, and it puzzled him.
Link had tried to keep himself from yawning during the whole ceremony, and had received a sly kick from Jonah for his troubles. There had been long, winding speeches and tributes from governors from far off places, words of praise that spoke of Greater Calatia's new fortune and hopes for a prosperous future. Ganondorf had slowly lifted his crown and placed it on a cushion held by Royal Bearers before the priest gently took it and fixed it around Montero's head. Much to Link's disgust, there had followed another long reading of rites, though he did notice that the new King looked just as bored, despite his smirk. Finally, it had all ended and the food had been brought out.
Link glanced around the room, a little over-awed. He'd never seen so much food before. As soon as one plate was empty, another took its place in a fluid movement. The lanterns burned with hot light, reflecting off the polished glasses and making them glitter in people's hands. It was eye-watering. Sometimes, Link would feel eyes upon him, and he had to be quick to see who was looking at him. He saw distracted, but bemused, stares that would linger for a heartbeat then move on. He knew why they were looking at him. He was one of the few Hylians in the room.
Feeling a little forlorn, he searched out for others and spied Deck, one of the Hylian Elders at one of the tables, his well-built frame calm, the leather straps of his tunic shining in the light, indicating their freshness. He must have had the clothes made just for this occasion. Deak looked up at Link and smiled with a nod. Link returned the gesture, hoping that the Elder wouldn't be wondering why exactly he was here. He'd always liked Deak, the kindly old man always taking the time out to rest little Link on his knees and tell him stories when others had shooed him away, telling him not to bother them.
On the Grand Table where the important people sat, Link saw Servion Boarhound, the Hylian Chief, deep in quiet conversation with the new King. Once or twice, the Hylian would look around as though he were on his guard. The Chief caught Link looking at him and his narrowed eyes flashed in warning. Link swallowed, turning away quickly.
Link ate slowly, passing the time by knocking his mug across to Jonah, who flicked it back, spinning.
"Would you two please stop that?" Kisho said in exasperation.
The two younger ones hung their heads. "Yes, sir," Link said.
The Commander sighed. "It would be my fate to have children under my command."
"I am not a child," Rivero protested as he tore into a hunk of meat.
"No?" Kisho said, winking at the two young ones. "Sometimes you act like one."
Link and Jonah laughed as Rivero glowered at all three of them.
"You still haven't told us, Link," the Commander continued, nodding at the bruises on the younger man's face and hands, "how exactly you got those?"
Though his mind still dwelt on the encounter earlier in the day, he did not want to speak about it. The only reason he had joined his fellow assassins at the feast was to get away from Mystral, who was furious at his refusal to explain what had happened. At the same time he wished she were here too. He sighed inwardly.
"Just," he replied with a shrug. "I fell off a horse."
Noting the disbelieving looks in their eyes and desperately wanting to change the subject, he added, "Does anyone know what a Sheikah is?"
"A Sheikah," Kisho repeated, rubbing his chin in thought. "An ancient race. From when the land was known as Hyrule. They've been long extinct though." He looked over at Link. "Why do you ask? Seeing the entertainer today made you curious?"
"That act was certainly an eye-opener," Rivero added in a gruff voice.
"Yes," Link said, hoping his tone would not give anything away. "He was good."
Jonah cleared his throat, pushing his plate away. The others turned to him. "Commander," he said, flicking a quick glance at Link. "Have you made an evaluation on Link's Test yet?"
"Ha!" Rivero said, taking a sip from his drink. "I thought that would be obvious."
Kisho threw him an annoyed look. "As a matter of fact, I have." Link swallowed as the Commander's grave expression came to rest on him. A heartbeat passed and Link thought the air itself was thickening and time was slowing." Congratulations, my boy, you're a fully fledged assassin!"
Link's face split into a grin, reflecting the ones on Kisho's and Jonah's faces, as relief washed over him, making his shoulders sag. Jonah shook his fist in victory, biting his lip as he tried to stop himself from shouting with joy. The two younger men clasped hands, and Link felt a dream-like sense of happiness dizzy him. For the briefest of moments, he stared at Kisho with a look of pure adoration. At that point, he bitterly wished that his Commander was his father. Kisho caught the intensity in Link's stare and began to fidget, looking uncomfortable.
"What?" Rivero said, dropping his spoon. "I protest. He didn't even kill the target. He exposed us to the public."
Kisho shrugged, fixing the big man with a calm, but steely gaze. "He made a decision when put under pressure. Whether it was right or wrong is irrelevant. He managed to stay calm and reach a conclusion instead of panicking and putting us in danger," he said. "I think that warrants a suitable reward, don't you?"
Rivero held his gaze for a moment, one muscle twitching in his cheek. Even Link was slightly puzzled by Kisho's reasoning. He certainly thought they might have been put in danger if the Harkinian had a weapon. Still. The Commander probably thought that they had the prey well covered.
Rivero turned back to his meal. "Yes, sir."
"Good, I'm glad you think so," the Commander said quietly. A movement from down the Hall made him look up. Link saw the elder man's face tighten as Bailey Greendannich, the head of the Blue Order, approached with a lop sided grin fixed on his face.
"Coldsnare," Bailey said, referring to Kisho by his family name. "Look at you. Your situation fills me with pity."
"I'm afraid I don't follow," Kisho said, his eyes narrowing on Bailey's hand as it clasped his shoulder.
"I think you do," Bailey replied. "The most promising student at the Academy. You could have had any squadron to command in the whole country. And now look at you. You command a big oaf and two children." Bailey's eyes drifted to Link. "One of which happens to be a dirty Hylian."
Link felt himself rise from his chair almost unconsciously. A fierce look from his Commander stilled him, though he couldn't still the angry beating of his heart.
Kisho looked up at the other man. "You'll be pleased to know," he said. "That Link here is our newest assassin."
Bailey's hand fell from the Commander's shoulder in shock. "Are you insane?"
"No," Kisho replied and Link could hear the creeping smugness in his voice. "The youngest to pass the Test." The Commander's eyes flicked to the table where Bailey's squadron sat, their faces scarred and weary. "I see you still have some who have passed their thirtieth summer, but still are not ready to take the Test." Kisho licked his lips, sensing triumph. "I guess they're just not as good as our 'dirty Hylian' here."
Bailey hissed, moving away, as Rivero tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh, and started coughing up food. Kisho winked at Link, and the youngster grinned, feeling a surge of love.
Another pair of figures approached their table and the smile fell from the Commander's face when he recognised them.
"The King approaches," he said. "Prepare yourselves."
Instantly the four of them straightened their backs, quickly wiping crumbs and fallen bits of food off the table. Ganondorf stopped at their table, Montero by his side.
"At ease," the former King said.
Kisho bowed his head slightly. "An honour for you to grace us like this," he said, forcing well-trained formality into his voice.
Ganondorf smiled, his voice appearing to drown out all other noise in the room. It was, Link knew, just his imagination, but it certainly seemed that real. When the Gerudo spoke, everyone listened. "I have a bigger honour for you and your men," he replied.
The Commander did not say anything. He just waited with a raised eyebrow.
"The new King," Ganondorf continued, "needs a little field experience." Link saw Kisho's face twitch slightly. They both knew where this was going. "I would like him to accompany your squadron for a while. He can train with you at nights and join you on your next mission."
Link stared at his feet, a haze of shyness preventing him from looking directly up at Ganondorf. He was still eternally grateful to the Gerudo for rescuing him and his sister both from the bandits and from poverty. He didn't feel like this in front of anyone else and felt a little angry with himself. Tapping his fingers on the table, Link felt awkward, the fluttering laughter from other tables suddenly sounding all too loud. He dared to glance up at Montero, wondering why the other man was so quiet. The new King's face was expressionless, though one corner of his mouth did seem to be curled in semi-contempt.
Kisho licked his lips, obviously not expecting the announcement. "Sire, our profession is a dangerous one," he said cautiously. "It may not be wise to expose a new King to such danger."
Ganondorf's eyes hardened. "That is why I trust completely in your ability to keep him safe."
They held each other's gaze for an instant. For one heart-stopping moment Link thought he could see the glint of a challenge in Kisho's eyes. Finally, the Commander sighed, knowing when he was beaten. "As you wish, Sire."
"Good," the old King said with a grin. "He can start in two night's time."
Kisho turned back to them, clearly unhappy, as Ganondorf and the new King moved away to receive more sycophantic and hollow congratulations.
The joyful atmosphere at their table had evaporated. They waited in silence as their Commander played with his food.
"Another child added to the ranks," Rivero said finally with a dry voice. Kisho scowled back at him.
They looked up as a cry came from one end of the Hall. Turning, they saw a crowd begin to form around one of the large windows, the food momentarily forgotten. Astonished looks painted their faces, and some others were wide-eyed with fear. Link looked over at Jonah who shrugged in response. He glanced at Kisho, who responded with a short nod. Pulling away from the table, Link ran over to the mass of people, Jonah joining him quickly.
People were gasping and pointing at something outside. Link peered, trying to see. There were too many people in the way, their ruffled tunics blocking his sight and their heavy perfume making him dizzy. Then he caught it.
A dark shadow was swallowing the moon, as if someone had spilt black ink over the shining orb. Slowly it crept across the grey-white cratered surface as the people watched, stunned. It wasn't long before the entire moon was engulfed, with only a pale ring of light peeking out from the gloom.
"What is it?" someone said.
"What does it mean?" someone else called.
"It means," a voice rang out, chilling Link with the grim conviction he heard within it. "That darkness is about to fall."