In Which Our Time in Tyyst Comes to a Close
Twosday,
Fifth Hand of Reaping, EE238
Tándir
of Great Harbor
Outskirts
of Southport, Monarchy of Tyyst
The
man patrolling the east wall of the Cavalcanti villa never had a
chance. One moment he was alive, passing just a few feet below my
perch atop the eight foot tall perimeter wall and completely unaware
of my presence, and the next moment the point of my short sword was
driving downwards through his collarbone at an angle, its tip
intersecting and then vivsecting his heart. He thrashed beneath me
momentarily, but managed to make no sound. Unwilling to risk the
noise of his movements I unsheathed my daggger and plunged it through
the soft tissue of his ear canal into his skull. His body's struggle
to live ceased immediately.
I
clucked my tongue twice. A moment later Saafiyah dropped down from
the top of the wall, landing next to me. The villa was poorly
landscaped, at least if security rather than beauty was the
objective. We moved the guard's body behind one of the many
flowering shrub bushes that were spaced at intervals along the
security wall. The guard assigned to the south wall was next, and I
at least was finally back in my element. I moved forward slowly
along the wall, keeping low and to the shadows, mindful of what lay
ahead of me on the ground lest my feet snap a branch or ruffle dead
leaves. Saafiyah slunk behind me, stepping where I stepped.
The
next man we caught unaware as he passed by one of the large shrubs
planted along the south wall, waiting until after he passed by us in
the shadows before I stepped out behind him and drove my sword
through him, hand reaching around to cover his mouth as I dragged him
back into the shadows. Saafiyah drew her dagger across his throat
before I had even pulled my sword free, a fountain of blood erupting
in front of him. He was dead within fifteen beats and he too was
laid to rest between the wall and the shrub we were using for
concealment. A hundred feet away sat a small stone building, no more
than twenty feet to a side, and that was our next stop. It was also
one of the biggest risks we would find ourselves taking that night.
Saafiyah
took the lead this time as we made our way towards the guard's
quarters. Even in the inky blackness of night the difference in the
girl was striking. Her normal dark hair had been dyed with red
berries for this evening's job to match that of Renne Cavalcanti's
orphaned daughter, Mariel. Her hair was done in loose hanging curls
rather than the simple pony tail she typically pulled it back into
each morning. Between those and the clothes she wore to effectively
play the part of Mariel, if such became necessary, it was hard to
tell it was the same girl I had spent almost three years in the
company of.
It
took several minutes for me to work the tumblers of the lock once we
had made it to the door of the guard's quarters. There was no light
visible under the bottom edge of the door, which pleased me greatly.
We slipped in quietly, opening the door as little as possible lest
its hinges prove to be in need of oiling. Inside there were four
narrow beds, each occupied by a sleeping man resting up before his
next duty shift. When we had planned our intrusion of the
Cavalcanti's villa Saafiyah had initially wanted to slit the throats
of the sleeping guards. I'd explained to her the risks of doing so,
the liklihood of one or more waking up as a comrade convulsed and
died. I was pleasantly pleased when she acceded to my plan. Two
minutes later we slipped back out through the crack in the door,
closing it behind us, leaving the hilts of two long swords and two
short swords covered in sassone leaf residue, one of my favored
poisons.
This
left the rear entrance of the manor itself, and it's guard, as the
last obstacle we faced. Saafiyah emerged from the shadows after
shedding the black cloak fitted over her shoulders. She navigated
the maze of shrubs and bushes brilliantly, unseen until she was
climbing the eastern steps of the raised entryway. The guard,
startled, turned to look at her, his hand on the hild of his
longsword. With her face turned down she was the spitting image of
Mariel Cavalcanti. "Mistress Mariel," I heard him say as I
approached from the western side of the entry. "What are you
doing out here at such an hour, child?"
"I
miss father," I heard her sob quietly.
The
guard turned and approached her, possibly to comfort a grieving
child, possibly to escort her into the family manor. I struck,
killing the man from behind with a single thrust of the short sword.
I caught his body on it's tumble to the ground and secreted it away
at the base of one of the bushes at the bottom of the steps I'd just
ascended. Satisfied, I rejoined Saafiyah at the rear door. She was
already trying her luck on the lock and having no success. I handed
her the key I'd taken from the dead guard's belt and she glared at me
and continued working the tumblers of the lock. A minute later she
sighed quietly, stashed away her lockpick and eased the key into the
lock.
The
rear door entered into a great hall that ran the width of the house,
ending at the double doors at the front of the manor. A few candles
burned in sconces along the walls, casting flickering shadows
throughout its length. We entered quietly, shutting the door behind
us. It could be barred from the inside, and the heavy wooden beam
that fit into the two metal hooks at either side of the door rested
against the wall adjacent to the door. I barred it while Saafiyah
moved down the length of the great hall and did the same with the
front doors. If anyone planned on entering it would take them some
time. The two remaining guards outside the manor's front door were
the greatest threats.
One
of Saafiyah's slave contacts had provided her with a rough
description of the manor's layout. We made our way to the stairs and
ascended to the living quarters. The solar of Aspallan Cavalcanti
was our first stop, and where we would likely make our stand if the
rest of the household woke and responded to the sounds of combat.
Inside the manor there wouldn't -- or shouldn't -- be too many
trained combatants and the manor was a far enough distance from
Southport that the response of the city watch would be considerable
under the best of circumstances.
A
minute later I was standing over Aspallan Cavalcanti's sleeping form.
As the patriarch of the Cavalcanti family and the last living adult
male in the family, his death would bring ruin and disaster upon the
family. By Tyystian law, assets were never passed on to women
regardless of their lineage. If no male inheritors were left, assets
defaulted to the Tyystian treasury, where they would be divided up
and sold off piecemeal, most often to the decedant's former rivals.
I poised the short sword above the old man's body. "My regards,
Aspallan Cavalcanti," I whispered before bringing the weapon
down. On the other side of the bed Saafiyah stood over Calycrista
Cavalcanti, the matriarch of the family, her own sword held ready for
a killing blow. It would be a clean sweep this night.
Aspallan
and Calycrista Cavalcanti died simultaneously, a short sword
thrusting into the heart of each, hands smothering any final cries
that might alert the remainder of the household. We left the pair,
married in death as they had been in life, soaking their feather bed
with their own blood. Saafiyah moved further down the hallway while
I slipped quietly into the room across the hallway. The mother of
Calycrista died by my blade next, and Saafiyah took the life of
Aspallan's top advisor, a man known as Parick Danell. Only Mariel
Cavalcanti was spared the blade that night, and only at my
insistence. What kind of life she might have after the night was
through was questionable at best, but at least she would live to see
another sunrise. Mariel we bound and gagged and I carried her out as
we made our exit an hour before dawn broke. In our wake we laid
trails of lantern oil, emptied every lantern we could find.
I
took a candle from one of the sconces in the great hall after we had
made sure Mariel was secured well away from the conflaguration that
was about to consume her home. I tossed the candle into the hallway
and closed the door. Saafiyah and I moved into the shadows and made
for the wall. The house went up immediately, the flicker of fire
glittering through the many ornate windows scattering around the
manor. The guards in front cried out the alarm as we ascended the
wall and dropped down over to the far side. More shouts began
echoing from the southeast corner of the estate as the sleeping
guards awoke. The moment they grabbed their weapons they were dead
men walking with only a couple hundred beats of life remaining.
The
Cavalcanti Manor lit the morning sky behind us as we made our way
back to Southport, and with it the Cavalcanti bloodline, save one
young and very lucky girl, died.
"Krugrapi,"
Saafiyah cursed in Orcish, making a point of spitting on the ground
by her feet.
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