Part V
After using the secret passage to sneak out side of the walled city, I changed into commoner garb, and recovered my camel where I had left her. Grateful that both she and my belongings were intact, I lead her through the front gate without much hassle. I made my way to the rather large stable I'd spotted the night before, and handed the owner a large sack of dinars, requesting that he take care of my ride until further notice.
Taking my small bundle of possessions with me, I waited near the gate until midday when the largest number of sellers left the city en route for the next large village. Surrounded by traders, I slipped past the slow minded sentry and made my way to the tunnel once again.
I left my pack in the tunnel hidden behind a small pile of crates that lined the path, and changed for the fourth time that day. From my room, I wandered the castle looking for Kathryn, feeling as though I owed her an explanation at the very least. We were both risking out lives. Her more so than I. It was simple for a man to escape and recreate himself. Woman, on the other hand, were still considered property in most countries. Those that didn't know how to fight were also taken advantage of more often than not.
As I meandered through the hallways, I was overcome with a better sense of the type of person Crycus was. Aside from being egocentric and vain, he seemed to be an accomplished fighter. I also suspected he beat not only his wives but anyone that worked beneath him that failed him in some way. Not a single worker I past would make eye contact. Most would cast their gaze at the icy stone floor.
One of them many workers I came across was an elderly woman scrubbing floors. I stopped and regarded her for a long moment. 'The eyes of those that are not acknowledged or noticed tend to see the most' my tutor had told me once. My presence had not gone unnoticed. In fact, she had altered her scrubbing pattern so that none of the soap suds or grime would fly towards me. I also noticed that her hands were shaking at my proximity. No doubt that pounce Crycus had raised his fist against her before.
I leaned down beside her and touched her shoulder. She jumped and turned towards me, eyes downward. "Have you seen Kathryn, Mother?" I asked her softly.
"I believe I saw her running towards the garden, Lord Crycus."
I nodded, standing. "Thank you," I said, turning. In my peripheral view, I caught a glimpse of her chancing a look at me. I turned to look at her once again. Again, she cast her eyes down.
"Why is such a woman of your advanced years scrubbing the castle floors? Surely there are younger woman to do this task."
"You assigned me to this ten winters ago after you burned your tongue on the stew I had made."
I felt my heart sink. Could a man be so cruel? The woman was old enough to be my great-grandmother, and Crycus was so petty he had her scrubbing floors?
"Stand, pet. Go to the kitchen and help the young things out. There are plenty of idiots in here that are supposed to be protecting me whose time would be better spent doing this."
She rose from the floor, giving me an incredulous look. "If you don't mind me sayin' so, Sir, Kathryn seems to have bewitched you," she said, grabbing the pail and leaving quickly. I smiled to myself and continued my long walk down the hallway.
¤
I found Kathryn in the garden several moments later. She was staring blankly at the climbing rose vine. I sat beside her without saying a word. She didn't turn to acknowledge my presence.
"That look in your eyes...," she said without tearing her line of sight from the back wall. "I'd seen it before in his when he was beating me."
"There's a monster inside everyone. Just takes a catalyst to bring him out," I said, slipping my hand into hers. She flinched and pulled away as if it had burned.
"I've heard tales about you..."
"Oh?" I said, raising an eyebrow.
"At the local tavern. There was a blonde girl. Had short hair and this tiny red outfit. She mentioned your story- an assassin that teamed up with her to stop a slave trading ring. Painted you as a fight the good fight kind of man."
I shrugged my shoulders. "I've lived both lives- white and black hat. Didn't care for either. Got burned doing both. Course the pay was better for the second, but having a price on your scalp..."
"What happened to you?" she asked softly, turning her big gray eyes on me. I felt dirty under her gaze.
"Which part do you want to know?"
"Either. Both. Doesn't matter. I just want to understand you. How you came to be so..." her voice trailed off.
"Evil? Cold? Cruel? Long, unpleasant story, love. Not sure the likes of you would enjoy it."
"Try me," she said, staring directly into my eyes, challenging me.
I paused, letting myself slip out of the character of Crycus, and become nothing more than a narrator. "Right then. It started about five summers ago. I returned home to find my family and village slaughtered by Crycus' men. I knew he was a tough man to beat in a fair fight. I also knew that he kept his grounds fairly well protected...or so the story said. From my homeland, I traveled east, trying to hone my skills, create a new identity for myself, and let the rumors of my death calm down so that it went from myth to fact."
"You staged your own death?" she said, incredulously.
"Yeah. Killed by Protius."
She smiled at me. "You killed yourself?" she clarified.
"Yeah," I said, chuckling at the idea of it all. She could cram complex issues into simple statements.
"Sold all my family's heirlooms on the black market. Was enough to live off of for years, and it just solidified my cover story.
"I traveled from place to place, uncovering Crycus' supporters and took them out. Take out his generals and his soldiers haven't a clue what to do. Was paid fairly well from my troubles by the locals and picked up a lot of good fighting tactics."
"And bad habits," she said, patting the flask in my pocket.
I lowered my eyes quickly, suddenly ashamed. "Yeah. Tried real hard to do myself in I guess. Spent my free nights drinking and whoring around town. None of them were ever her though. Not a one of 'em. Every single last one I took to bed had some trait of hers- dark hair, eyes, similar build, voice...but none of 'em were her."
I noted how my voice automatically dipped back into my regional dialect when I'd drank too much or was too upset to care. Lanna had always brought that out in me...Kathryn did too.
"So that's it then. You killed Crycus. Why stick around?"
"King Solomon would just claim Crycus' army and march them against whatever group he has targeted. My guess is Chin or Japa; he always did have a thing for trying to convert the heathens. It would throw the balance of power all off. Besides, those two countries have more people per capita than all of this area."
"What happens after you bring down this king of yours?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Figured I'd live out my life as some new persona..."
"As a killer?"
"I prefer the term assassin, and why not? I'm good at it. Pay's good."
"But it's not you. Not who you are."
"Not who I used to be," I corrected you.
"So someone kills your family and you decide to turn into the same type of animal that did it? I saw the look in your eyes in there. You wanted him to make a move- to give you a reason to kill him. I saw it. He saw. We all did."
"A woman in Kurdistan told me once that the look I had in my eyes when the bloodlust came upon me reminded her of a Romanian count she knew. She even suggested that I was formed from the Furies' blood. Had unsettling blue eyes that I thought could see right through to my soul. Called herself Duessa. Scary thing she was. Nomadic... a gypsy of sorts. She's the one that gave me the idea to start this journey. Said it would cleanse my soul.
"Spent a good two months with her learning survival skills like how to find water and food in a desert, how to hide my identity with only a handful of supplies, and a few fighting techniques. Through her, I got my first assignment."
"And what was that? Killing, maiming, or both?"
I chuckled at her obvious disapproval. "First man I killed for pay was a warlord who was terrorizing a local village. He had an affinity for stealing all their crops and selling them in nearby towns.
"Every year he would show up like clockwork, and every year he would threaten to kill the village woman if they didn't deliver. So, he came on the last full moon of the spring, but I was waiting for him.
"The villagers fired at his army with slingshots sending them into the woods like scared children. I'd set up tiger traps at a few spots, hunting snares and that. After they were all taken care of, I rode into his camp. He'd left little protection for himself. Took most of them out with arrows from a good distance. Then came the showdown. Fought the ugly bugger in a sword fight. Got a nasty scar, a bag of dinars, and a full meal for my troubles."
"And the tattoo on your back?" she asked, blushing a deep crimson as she asked.
"That was a gift," I said, lowering my head. "It's a protection charm of sorts.."
"Why do I sense there is more to this story that you aren't telling me?" she asked after a lengthy pause.
I let out a sigh, and reached into my coat pocket, drawing out the silver flask. It was an automatic response to pain. I caught her disapproving look, grateful she said nothing. After a large swallow, I finally answered her question. "Not all the past is easy to discuss, pet, especially when I haven't had to recall the events in years." I saw it then- the pity that always comes. I hate this part of revealing conversations.
"I came across an old man in Japa whose grand daughter had been kidnapped and sold into the black market. He agreed to teach me what he knew about his countryman's fighting methods if I could return her. I did as he asked. Brought her back, even killed the guy that did it. Yuling was a real treasure. Of course, I had to fall in love with her to complicate matters.
"She spent a good week and a half with her grand father. Helped him teach me how to fight and all that. She's the first one that cared enough about me to actually listen to the whole sordid story of how I came to do what I was doing," I said, standing. "By the end of the week, I had grown listless of being in the same spot. The snow was falling hard that winter, and I could feel all the years of wear and tear in my bones.
"I was all packed to go when Yuling stopped me. She was dressed in all white, and was holding her favorite blade. She had this puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks. I remember pulling her into my arms and hugging her goodbye. Then, I remembered the sword. I asked her what she was doing with it, and she told me she was restoring her family's honor," I paused, noticing that, for the first time in years, I was crying.
"What happened?" Kathryn asked softly.
"I was a good three-four hundred footfalls from her house when I heard her grandfather scream. I dropped my things and ran as fast as I could towards their home. My feet kept sinking into the snow, slowing me down. When I got there…" I had to stop and clear my throat. The emotion overcame me.
"When I got there, Yuling was face down in the snow. Her kimono was stained red and this dark black pool surrounded her," I swallowed hard, recalling the event. "I remember thinking how I should pick her up, carry her inside…that she must be so cold laying in that snow."
I felt a warm hand touch my face, willing me back to the present with her. "I loved her," I said, looking deep into Kathryn's. She was the second woman I lost. This time, by her own hand."
"Oh Tom, I had no idea…" she said, softly.
I straightened in my seat and pulled away from her, offering the ghost of a smile. "I'll make you a deal; you don't mention my past, and I won't mention yours."
"Deal," she said without hesitation.