Chapter 74

Author's Note: Hi guys, another chapter. Thank you for your reviews :D

It wasn't too difficult getting her hands on a knife. She entered the kitchen at a time when Orlanda and the other maids were leaving to serve lunch in the church. Orlanda was urging them out the door more impatiently than usual. Dafne suspected it had a lot to do with Pietro. Orlanda probably expected to see him in the church. Only she wouldn't because Pietro was out looking for Dustfinger. Not that Dafne bothered to tell Orlanda this. She needed her to go, leaving the kitchen unsupervised.

Thankfully Mortola was elsewhere. But she wouldn't be for long so Dafne wasted no time picking up a knife. She felt the eyes of the remaining maids on her as she slipped it into her dress pocket. But none of them said a word. She realised they could easily tell Mortola when she appeared. But that was something she just had to chance. She picked up the tray with Capricorn's lunch and proceeded to his room.

Fear started to push through her resolve the closer she got to his door. She felt in her heart and in her throat and in her fingertips. What if she failed? Capricorn could kill her on the spot. Or have her executed alongside Basta. There would be no saving either of them then. And what if Pietro and the others did succeed in finding Dustfinger? What if she screwed up Basta's release by taking things into her own hands?

No, she told herself, he isn't going to spare him. It doesn't matter if Dustfinger is recaptured or not. That won't matter to Capricorn. So she had no choice. She had to kill him. Or at least try. Be brave, she thought as she reached the door. Brave like Judith and Charlotte Corday and Joan of Arc and countless other heroines. But it was impossible to banish fear completely as she knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Hearing that deep voice was like hearing a dragon roar. It sent a shock wave through her. But she held firm, thinking of Basta and Resa and the Shadow. She gripped the knob and let herself into the dragon's lair.

"Why aren't you wearing your other dress?" was the first thing Capricorn said to her. He was already seated, waiting, disapproval in his pale eyes.

"Forgive me, but I thought black would be more appropriate to wear," Dafne spoke this prepared line as calmly as she could, "With the execution tonight..."

This wasn't the true reason. Hiding a knife in the other dress would have been impossible. It had no pockets.

Capricorn stroked his chin before nodding,

"Yes I suppose you're right. Black is the colour for mourning. I'll allow it," he beckoned her over.

Dafne was extremely conscious of the knife's weight as she walked towards him. She had checked beforehand that there was no noticeable bulge to give the knife away. But she couldn't help feeling paranoid in his presence. He was a master at observation after all. She couldn't help her slightly shaking hands as she laid everything out in front of him. Hopefully he would attribute this to the usual nervousness he inspired.

"How was your visit with Basta?" he asked, the distraction of his question causing her set his knife at an askew angle, "Did you bring him up to date on everything?"

"Yes," Dafne murmured, her fingers lingering on the knife as she straightened it. She could pluck it up and slam it into him. But the knife in her pocket was far sharper, "Everything."

She shuffled back a little so Capricorn could begin his meal.

"I expect he was quite upset," he said in a knowing tone.

He smiled when Dafne nodded, confirmation of Basta's anguish obviously pleasing him. Dafne's hands itched in anger, itching to stray to her dress pocket. Capricorn had started eating, perhaps it was time. While he was distracted. One of her hands started slowly creeping towards its destination. She froze when Capricorn stopped eating suddenly.

"He brought it on himself," he said aloud, and there was no confusion who he was talking about. There was no amusement in his voice. It was as hard as his gaze on her, "I gave him more opportunities than I've ever given anyone but he failed. Because of that, he's fully-earned his punishment."

Dafne was silent. She knew he was referring Basta's death by the Shadow. The ultimate punishment for failure. She shifted slightly, feeling the knife moving with her.

"Please sir, this talk about Basta, it's... upsetting to both of us," she said, "Could I please tell you a story instead. It's one I think you'd like..."

"Why would I like it?" Capricorn asked, his voice still hard.

"Well it's a sad story," Dafne replied.

Capricorn leaned back in his chair thoughtfully,

"Sad eh? Well I do find those sorts of stories amusing," he turned back to his lunch, "Go ahead then."

Dafne nodded, scrunching the fabric of her dress in determination, and began,

"Once there was a wolf..." she tried to make her voice clear and controlled, "Who came to a stream to drink. He spotted a little lamb drinking a short distance away," her fingers were slowly inching toward her pocket as Capricorn continued eating, "Wanting some excuse to eat him, he called to the little lamb. 'How dare you muddy the water I'm drinking!' 'But sir,' the little lamb protested, 'I cannot muddy your water, it runs down from you to me'," closer, closer, "Not to be deterred the wolf said, 'You called me insulting names last year!', the little lamb shook his head," almost there... "'That can't be sir, I'm only six months old'," she slid her hand inside her pocket, her fingers brushing the knife, "The wolf snarled at this, 'I don't care, if it wasn't you. It was your father!'" her hand wrapped around the handle, how fast her heart was beating and Capricorn was still focused on his meal, she could do this, "And the wolf pounced on the little lamb and gobbled him..."

Now! This was the moment. The knife was out and she was sailing with it, towards Capricorn...

But he became a blur of white and red and something hard slammed into her face. She hit the floor and before she could even attempt to get up, he was on top of her, seizing her arms.

She struggled, more out of instinct than anything. She was still dazed. She barely budged. He had too good a grip on her.

And her knife was gone. It must have been knocked out of her hand. She tried looking for it. Found it. But she couldn't reach it with her hands restrained. So it was useless. Useless against the man who had disarmed her so easily in the first place.

He now had her pinned underneath him as if she were a butterfly, staring down at her with his impassive face.

"You're right, I did enjoy that story," he said, "You're a good storyteller pigeon. A much better storyteller than an assassin," he leaned his face closer to her terrified one, "I bet you thought you were being subtle with those creeping fingers of yours. I bet you thought I'd never see you coming. But I did pigeon and now you're in big trouble..."

Dafne whimpered, a small sound to express the utter fear she was feeling. He was going to kill her. But how? Would he strangle her on the floor or feed her to the Shadow alongside the two people she had been trying to save.

"Before I do anything," Capricorn said, as if reading her mind, "I'm curious. What was your plan exactly, you'd kill me and then what? I don't have the key to the crypt. Mortola does."

Dafne was silent. Capricorn squeezed her arms impatiently. She winced.

"You better tell me. You don't want to make it any worse for yourself."

How is that possible? Dafne thought. You are going to kill me! But then, he could choose to make her death more drawn out and painful. So she began to speak,

"I was going to go to her afterwards, using your hunting gun to make her give me the key. I was going to tie her up and gag her..."

"Why didn't you do that in the first place?" Capricorn interrupted, "Why kill me?"

"Revenge," Dafne said, finding the courage to look him in the eye.

She didn't mention her other reason. Without him, the men would look for another leader and this man could only be Pietro. He was second in command after all. He would call the execution off. She didn't want to implicate Pietro by pointing this out to Capricorn. Pietro had been unaware of her plan.

Capricorn was satisfied with her only having one answer.

"Well it looks like you won't be getting your revenge," he said, "But you will get to see your two loved ones die. You can watch Resa die knowing you failed to save her. You can watch Basta die knowing your little assassination attempt condemned him..."

That notion cut her deeply. That she would be responsible for Basta's death. But it wasn't true. It couldn't be true!

"You were going to kill him anyway!" she shouted, "I know you were."

"You know?" Capricorn repeated mockingly, "How is that when I never said it aloud," he laughed, "You'll never know for sure pigeon. And it will eat you up inside for as long as I let you live."

Dafne squirmed in frustration, trying not to listen. But it was so hard not to, his words burrowed under her skin like insects. She couldn't defend herself against him, mentally or physically.

"I hate you," she whispered, out of resentment and despair.

Capricorn chuckled,

"Of course you do," he said, "But hate is useless when you're too weak to do anything about it. And you are weak pigeon," a hint of disgust entered his voice, "Physically and emotionally, you're weak. That's why you can never beat me. The strong always defeat the weak..."

He rose to his feet, pulling her upright with him. She tried to resist but his vice-like grip ensured she failed.

"The strong make the rules and power is all that counts," Capricorn went on, though his tone was contemplative, "That's what my father used to always say."

Dafne was barely listening. She was staring at the knife on the floor with the utmost longing. If she could only break free and make a lunge for it... Then she would show Capricorn who was weak.

"Think you have a shot do you," Capricorn said, observing the direction of her gaze. Dafne cursed her lack of subtlety.

Capricorn tugged her over to where the knife lay.

"How about this," he said, "I'll let you go and we'll see who can get the knife first."

Dafne stared at him in surprise. Why would he take such a risk?

"A few conditions though," Capricorn went on in a pleasant tone, "If you do reach for the knife but fail to kill me, I'll have Basta tortured..."

He smiled as she flinched.

"Alternatively, if you don't reach for the knife, I'll consider letting Basta off the hook if Dustfinger is found."

Dafne stared at him, torn between hope and mistrust. The latter feeling prevailed.

"I don't believe you."

Capricorn shrugged,

"That's your choice. I'm still going to torture Basta if you reach for the knife."

Dafne bit her lip. She did believe him about that. Damn him and his sick psychological game. What was she going to do?

"I hope you've made up your mind," Capricorn said, "Because I'm letting you go now."

And he did, his fingers slipping away from her and suddenly she was free. Free to lunge for the knife...

But she didn't move. It was fear holding her back, fear of failure, fear of Basta being harmed...

Still her hands twitched. She was letting an opportunity slip through her fingers. She wouldn't get another shot at killing Capricorn...

Do it! Do it! Quick before he gets his hands on it!

Capricorn was already bending down, his fingers almost touching the handle.

Dafne dived...

But it was too late. Her fingers found air and Capricorn held the blade to her throat.

"I win," he said.

The blade scraped Dafne's throat as she uttered a sob.

"See you are weak," Capricorn said, his voice quiet but triumphant, "You could have killed me but you hesitated – you hesitated out of your love for Basta. You didn't want to be responsible for his torture. Your love for him makes you weak. It made you fail. And Basta will be tortured because you reached for the blade..."

"Please," Dafne begged, "Please don't have him tortured."

"Ah pleading, the useless weapon of the weak," Capricorn said with a sneer, "Get up."

Dafne rose on shaky legs, the knife still at her throat.

"Go get one of my ties," Capricorn ordered her, "Hurry up," he said when Dafne looked at him with confusion, "If you want Basta to avoid torture, you better do as I say, quick smart."

Dafne backed away from the knife and obeyed – what choice did she have – fetching what he wanted.

Capricorn was sitting in his armchair now, toying with the blade that might have ended his life. He stowed it in his jacket as Dafne approached. He took the tie from her then instructed she kneel in front of him with her hands together. Dafne complied, her unease inclining sharply as he started binding the tie around her wrists.

"A precautionary measure," Capricorn said when she asked rather fearfully for explanation, "It would unwise for me not restrain my assassin's..." he said that word so mockingly, "hands. Hold still, I'm almost done... There. Tight enough?"

"Yes," she said in a tremulous voice. The tie was digging into her skin.

"Good," Capricorn said approvingly, "Now I want to tell you a story pigeon. You told me one earlier so now it's my turn. It's about a little boy who had a rather brutal man for a father. He was a blacksmith but he liked beating his son more than he liked hammering at the forge," Capricorn's voice was hard and dark, almost angry, as he told this tale, "He beat his son whenever he cried or showed weakness. He beat him unconscious to make him strong..."

Capricorn's hand encircled around her bound wrists like an extra manacle.

"He made the boy play with hot coals too," he went on, "hot coals that made his hands burn and blister. The pain was quite horrific..."

He reached into his jacket pocket with his other hand. Not for the knife but for a cigarette lighter. Its appearance just added to the Dafne's sense of foreboding about the entire situation. Foreboding which quickened to fear as Capricorn clicked that little flame into being.

"I don't have any hot coals," he murmured, studying the flame, "So this will have to suffice, to give you some idea of the pain..."

Dafne shook her head wildly, trying to jerk away. But Capricorn's grip on her wrists was too strong.

"You're too weak to get away from me pigeon, we've already established that," he said sounding almost bored, "And if you don't want me to torture Basta, you'll accept this punishment," he smiled, "After all this isn't going to kill you, just hurt you a lot. But you're not allowed to scream. You see, the boy's father always beat him if he screamed out in pain. So if you scream, I'll torture Basta anyway."

Dafne gaped at his incomprehensible cruelty but she ceased struggling. There was no point. She couldn't get away and she didn't want Basta to be tortured. So she opened her trembling hands when Capricorn asked and screwed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the onslaught of the flame. She bit her lip to stifle a whimper as she felt the flame being waved under palms. The heat was uncomfortable and frightening but not painful, not yet.

The heat got brighter and brighter and then she started to feel it. Pain, bearable at a first, but it didn't take long to balloon out of control. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

She couldn't scream. She wasn't allowed to scream.

But the pain, the pain!

Enough, she wanted to yell, please, stop.

But she didn't dare open her mouth. She knew she would scream.

How she hated Capricorn. Hated...

Pain in her hands, pain in her head...

Don't scream. Don't scream...

And in the end she didn't.

By some small act of mercy, she was delivered into unconsciousness.

To be continued...

Poor Dafferz D: She epically failed at being an assassin. And of course Cappy wasn't going let something like that slide. He's an evil (insert choice of words here). But at least she ain't dead, my poor Daffy duck.

The story Dafne told Cappy is one Aesop's fables. The Wolf and the Lamb. The moral of the fable is "any excuse will serve a tyrant". I think this is quite relatable to Cappy.