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Chapter Three
The Tavern
“When assassinating a target whom it is hard to get near,” Master Sharif had said, whilst teaching Tactical Information Gathering, “the more you know about said target the better. Where does he sleep? What does he eat? With whom does he share his idle hours? Anything could be the key to successful termination.”
It was advice I’d taken to heart in my current situation.
I’d made contact with Nicolo which had brought me a step closer to killing him, but it was a small step, thus far. And I didn’t have time for small steps, not when I had just shy of a month and a half left to complete my job. So, I set out to learn more about my target.
During the day, that was next to impossible. If I didn’t want to blow my cover, I had to do the job of a maid and do it well, and the maids worked relentlessly, leaving little time for trailing around after anyone, let alone Master Nicolo.
That left the nights, which were supposed to be spent in sleep to ensure we were well rested for the rigors of the following day. In practice, of course, girls sneaked out to see a show, visit a tavern, and most commonly, meet men, but they did so knowing if Mistress Rosana caught them, there would be consequences. They were consequences I was keen to avoid, but with no other time for learning about Nicolo, I had no choice but to break the rules.
Lying in my bed, in the dormitory, I waited for the whispers and giggling to give way to the soft sounds and snores of slumber (and the farts which were more plentiful than I’d hope for), then slipped from my bunk and extracted a cloth bag from inside my mattress where I’d hidden it. The bag contained my assassins’ ‘blacks’; the traditional clothing of the Guild. The moniker was actually something of a misnomer, because nothing stands out like a patch of jet black in the gloom of night. The ‘blacks’ were actually a patchwork of grays, with some dark green and a few splashes of black thrown in. They were loose, ragged at the edges, completely without style, and as soon as I put them on, I felt a rush of nostalgia for the Guild and the friends I’d left there.
But there was no time for that now. I pulled on the mask that covered my head except for my eyes and made for the window.
I didn’t go out every night because it wasn’t always safe to do so, especially when the moon was ripe and full. I also needed to get a proper night’s sleep every now and then, but when I did decide to wander for an evening, I followed the same route, climbing up the wall towards the roofs of the Great Castle. Risky though it was, this was my favorite part of the day. Neither nature nor my schooling suited me to being a maid and after a day of dusting and scrubbing, listening to the ridiculousness of the other girls, curtseying and apologizing for merely existing, it was great to be outsidedoingsomething. Hanging off a sheer wall, defying gravity while I sought out the tiny finger holds was like a holiday.
Reaching the first roof, I kept low and scampered towards the tower. The servants’ quarters weren’t close to the location where the nobility lived, but everything in the Great Castle—everything in Woodfall Gath, in fact—was connected.
At one time, centuries ago, the Great Castle had been separate, and there had been four other castles in the region, home to some duke or earl, each ruling over their own little fiefdom of towns and villages, but all were loyal to the king who ruled from the Great Castle. Gradually, the Great Castle spread beyond its walls, absorbing those towns and villages as it went, and eventually the other castles too, forming the Castle Complex known as Woodfall Gath, a vast sprawl of stonework, home to peasant and noble alike.
Master Nicolo lived in the Prince’s Tower, which was, in fact, two towers joined together, built by a previous monarch who had twin sons. One tower was significantly larger and grander than the other (the Heir’s Tower), but it was still an incredible honor for Nicolo to be granted residence in the other. Generally, only members of the royal family lived in the royal towers that soared above the Great Castle. It was a mark of Nicolo’s importance to the family, to the prince and to the Old Queen, but also a mark of his position. No wonder so many of the court hated Nicolo and wanted him dead—he was a peasant who lived like royalty. He was a blistering example of what should never be.
Backing up along the roof, I took a leap and landed, securely and silently on the roof of the Great Hall. From there, I made my way up to the Guards’ Walk, along which I ran, vanishing into the shadows when the castle guards made their noisy rounds. Reaching the spire of the Prince’s Tower, I began to climb.
The hardest thing about following Nicolo by night was finding him. If I was lucky, then I managed to catch him in his chambers, but if he’d already gone out, then finding him could take hours.
Nicolo and Prince Balduin led an active social life. They went out together most nights, taking in all the Gath had to offer in a hedonistic whirl, as if the Castle Complex was their personal pleasure palace. They might attend the theater or watch a concert, though Balduin bored quickly and they seldom stayed to the end.
They might attend a sporting event, boxing, wrestling or cockfighting in the taverns. Sometimes they went to the homes of noble friends and acquaintances, attending grand dances or banquets, nights of gambling or singing. There were gentleman’s clubs at which they might dine and maybe remain for ‘an entertainment’, which usually involved scantily clad ladies dancing, recreating scenes from history or even doing comic turns. I had to wonder what entertainment Prince Balduin found in a topless girl doing an unflattering impression of his grandmother, but who was I to judge?
However the night began, it usually ended with the two of them drinking at one of the many taverns, inns and watering holes that littered the city. The pair were recognized in all the establishments they frequented and were made very welcome (not least because of the amount they spent). Once they arrived at a tavern and the evening had reached its final act; it would be here that they’d spend the rest of the night, drinking and singing with a woman on each arm, and Balduin’s bodyguards watching from a respectful distance as they had throughout the night. Then they’d buy a bottle for the road and head back to the Great Castle, usually with the women in tow.
What I learned from this was that there were definitely times when itseemedas if Nicolo let his guard down enough for me to take my shot—the bodyguards were an issue, but they were protecting Balduin and it wouldn’t be hard to separate them. But I’d been taught to look closer, not to take things at face value. And when I looked harder, I realized Nicolo was certainly a drinker and a carouser, but standing so close to Balduin, it was easy to conflate the two. Look closely and you started to notice that for every three drinks Balduin had, Nicolo had one. While Balduin careened through doors, tripping over the steps, Nicolo always checked around a room as he entered. He enjoyed a good time as much as his friend, but Nicolo’s guard was never down. While Balduin’s girls left the Great Castle the following morning with a pat on the behind and a few coins, Nicolo’s left during the night. No matter how pretty the girl, Nicolo slept alone, with the door locked and the window shuttered and barred.
I reached that window now, candlelight flickering from within.
As you might expect, Nicolo’s window was excessively difficult to access, but for a skilled climber it was possible. I’d initially planned to assassinate him through the window, perhaps with a blowpipe (not my best weapon, but I could use the practice), but the placement of the window made that impossible. Nicolo left nothing to chance.
Peering in now, I could just see him at his desk, writing with a quill pen.
A night in. That made my job easier, but it didn’t teach me much.
I craned a little further to get a better look. He was clearly planning an early night because he’d already started to undress, his black shirt hanging on the back of the chair in which he was sitting, bare to the waist.
Indulgently, I allowed my eyes to roam across the well-muscled landscape of Nicolo’s torso. Though he lived a pampered and extravagant existence, he certainly hadn’t let himself go. Just the movement of his shoulder as the quill danced across the paper set a chain reaction of muscle movement throughout the rest of his body. It was almost hypnotic, watching the fascinating shift of muscles beneath his smooth skin.
I could probably have gone back to the dormitory at this point, since there was clearly nothing for me to learn, but I remained where I was, clinging to the wall like a bat, watching him.
Nicolo straightened and blew the ink dry, then put the sheet to one side. He stood up from his desk, now facing in my direction so I had an unobstructed view of the taut, sculpted contours of his chest and abs, thrown into appealing relief by the candlelight. There was no way he could see me, though, owing to the fact that it was dark outside and light inside his room. He reached for the buckle of his belt. Involuntarily I tensed and my breath caught in my mouth; he was getting undressed. Fully.
There really was no excuse for me staying here and watching. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t—I didn’t want to. I wanted to see what he kept hidden beneath those trousers because with all my study, all my lessons on the art of seduction and all the ways of physical love between a man and a woman, I’d never seen a man naked before.
The knock at the door came so suddenly, I almost lost my grip on the wall.
To my chagrin, Nicolo’s pants remained on and he strode to the door, opening it to reveal an out-of-breath soldier whom I recognized as one of Balduin’s bodyguards.
