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“Care to explain?”
“Care to hand over some coin?”
Little bastard. Silas sighed, then flicked a gold coin to each twin.
Both twins tucked away their coins in perfect unison.
“I’ll take you to it tonight. Decent place underneath the cart to hide and the guards never check it before they let it in. I went in with it this morning. Only one guard stands on the door they take the meat through. There’s a stable next to where they unpack the meat, so you can wait in there till it gets dark. Then in you go,” the scarless twin said.
Silas smirked. “Simple as that.”
“Simple as that.”
Silas walked to the steps. “Midnight then.”
The twin with the scar stood. “You didn’t answer me. Are you the one that’s gonna kill him?”
As far as you are concerned. “Yes.”
“Well,” the other twin said, “if you can get him out alive, bring him to us.”
“Yeah,” the scarred twin gave a toothless smile, “we wanna do it.”
I’ll be doing you both a favour by not letting that happen. “Very well, I wouldn’t count on it, though. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll make it back out myself.”
Silas rocked from side to side with the movement of the cart as it squeaked and clunked along the paved road, the sour smell of the warm meat above him making him feel sick.
The cart stopped, and the butcher exchanged pleasantries with guards to either side, at least three different voices than the driver’s. Polished boots came in line with Silas’s head. If the owner knelt to look underneath, they’d be face to face, and there would be no explaining himself.
The cart started up again; the twin had been right. A second journey of only a couple of minutes followed before they stopped again.
“Morning, butcher,” said a man beside the cart.
The guard.
“Morning, Stephen. How is your mother?” the butcher said.
“No better. Had the doctor round again. They ain’t got a clue what’s up with her.”
“Odd that.” The butcher’s feet appeared by the side of the cart, as did the smaller set of the assistant’s on the opposite side. Both walked to the back.
The butcher continued. “Never thought much of them doctors myself. All they do is guess, I reckon.”
“I was thinking the same. Charge even if they find nothing. That’s like me paying you for an empty stomach,” the guard said.
“Ha, that it is.”
The cart wobbled gently as the meat was pulled out. The feet moved away, as did the chatter. Silas dropped to the cobbles, looked around as best he could, and slid into the stable next to the cart.
The stable was empty and looked rarely used, old straw and hay covered in dust and spider webs. It wasn’t long before the butcher returned, and the cart rattled away. Simple as that. Silas smiled. Now comes the not-so-simple part.
He peered through the wooden slats of the stable wall. The guard looked around aimlessly, picking at his nails, and talking to himself. Bored and worrying about his mother.
A couple of years ago, Silas wouldn’t have thought twice about killing anyone who got in the way during an assignment. He’d killed just as many innocent people, if not more, than he had targets.
This guard doesn’t deserve to die. Nor did many of the others. He’d blamed all guards for the treatment he’d received from just a few as a child. No doubt Silas’s killing, just or unjust, had ruined the lives of many families. Silas sighed. And yet, the path I walk down today is likely to involve more of the same. The guard would have to die. There’s no other way.
Silas knocked on the stable wall three times with his blade handle. The guard squinted toward the stable, then walked over.
