Lessons on Respect (PG-17)

Writers: Estelle, Miriah
Date Posted: 16th June 2019
Series: The Assassin's Husband

Characters: Lusilk, Unnamed Criminal 1, Unnamed Criminal 2
Description: There are consequences for fouling an important job
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 11, day 4 of Turn 9
Notes: Occurs after "You Know Too Much", PG-17 for Violence

Mentioned: Lorican
Rating: PG-17

Lusilk

Grimly, she pushed through the brush of the undergrowth that
surrounded her hidden little cothold. Small, hidden, and forgotten,
which was why she preferred to live there. She wasn't bothered except
by those who knew of her and those few rarely caused her troubles.
Rubbing her tired eyes, she pushed open the door and found her way
inside, closing the door behind her.

Last night had been a fiasco. It had been a simple job that had been
mucked up about as badly as it could have been. But, at least she was
sure the man was
dead. She sat at her table, pouring a cup of liquor from a covered
flagon as she sighed. She should have never taken the blasted job, but
Faranth, she
needed the marks, especially to prepare for the upcoming season.
Grimacing as she took a sip of the liquor, she looked down at her
filthy clothing, nose wrinkling. She needed a bath and she needed to sleep.

Her arrival had not gone unobserved. The men had been waiting, ever
since they'd found out what had happened at Rocky Bay. The taller one
stroked the soft hide at his brown firelizard's neck, sending him
feelings of praise and comfort. It had taken time to train him to
watch, and the images he sent were often vague, but the events at the
sea hold had been dramatic enough for clarity. He signaled to his
companion, and they both quietly approached the cothold.

Pulling the tattered, smelly over-dress over her head, she tossed it
negligently to the floor and kicked it aside as she set a kettle over
her fire to heat the water for her bath. Lifting her hand to her
braid, it was the soft crack of a branch that caught her attention.
She knew her home keenly and the sound wasn't one that was normally
heard. It had been a foot that had cracked that branch. Senses keen,
she spun to face her door, every muscle coiled as she reached for the
small blade at her spine.

There was silence for a long moment, the men outside listening
intently. Then there was another faint crunch of leaves underfoot as
one of them circled the cot, checking for other exits. He returned,
shaking his head. The first man nodded once, satisfied, then called
out.

"We know you're in there." He rattled the pouch at his belt. "Come
out. We have your reward."

She heard the crunch of leaves and stiffened before she quickly pulled
on a tunic and trousers. She knew the voice; slowly exhaling, she
tucked the knife in a sheath at her lower back, pulling her tunic over
it. She opened the door and looked at the man, chin lifted. "Why the
sneaking, then? Call back your other man before I come out."

He gave her a long look, considering, then gestured to his companion to
return, but keep his distance. He didn't want any mistakes, not when
dealing with this one. "Just being cautious. I'm sure you understand,
given what we pay you for."

She waited for the man to appear before stepping out onto her
doorstep, keeping the door open behind her. "What you pay me for is
done, so toss me the rest and we're finished." Her dark eyes flicked
from man to man, muscles remaining coiled in readiness. "Unless you
have another job."

"I might. First, tell me about the last one." He spoke casually, as if
they were discussing an ordinary trade. "You're certain the smith is dead?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I"m certain. The smithy exploded and he was
inside. I also had a knife in his chest. I did what you paid me for,
so hand me my marks."

The man took the pouch from his belt, threw it in the air and caught it
again, the marks inside clicking against each other. "Seems rather...
excessive, blowing up the smithy. I thought you said you could do it
quietly. Make it look like an accident. But that's not what concerns
me." He threw the bag again, caught it. "What concerns me is that
holders were seen dragging someone out of the fire, after the explosion.
He was carried into the hold. And, though we've been watching, there
hasn't been any sign of a funeral."

She stiffened, worry coiling in her belly. How had the man lived?
There was no possible way he had. Her eyes followed the bouncing sack
of marks for only a moment before her eyes locked on his face. "I know
he was dead. You and I both know that my aim is good." She was wary
now, recognizing fully the very real danger she might be in. "I risked
my life for your job. I _want_ my payment."

"Your payment?" He inclined his head slightly towards the other man, who
moved closer, his posture as tense and expectant as hers. Then,
deliberately, he reached into the bag, took out a small mark and flicked
it in her direction. "There. That's what you get for making such a
colossal mess of an easy job."

Fury lit in her eyes at the insult, both to her skills and herself.
"You unbelievable, cheap, cowardly bastard." The mark fell at her
feet, but she didn't stoop to pick it up. "Too much of a coward to do
the deed yourself and too little of a man to uphold the deal _you_
made. You came to me! You give me what I'm owed!" Her anger distracted
her and she didn't catch the movement of the other man. She needed
those sharding marks!

The man's face darkened and his fingers tightened around the bag. "You
can have them when you've finished the job properly. But first, you need
to learn a lesson. About respect." He gave his companion a sharp nod.

The second man's watchful expression shifted, his eyes lighting up with
feral glee. Moving fast, he stepped forward and raised his hand, then
brought it down in a savage, backhanded blow.

It wasn't the first time she had been struck but unlike her youth, she
didn't react in tears. She took the blow, staggered as blood filled
her mouth from a split lip, and felt her head pound as it seemed that
her eyes would bulge out of her head. She knew this feeling, the
feeling as though her head would explode. She also knew what could
follow it. She'd vowed never to allow that to happen again. With a
snarl, she whipped the dagger from her back, spun behind the feral
man, and drew the blade sharply across his throat. Without hesitation,
her hand flew, throwing the dagger directly at the other's neck,
aiming for the large vein.

The firelizard leapt into the air in a wild burst of wingbeats,
shrieking in fear as his owner fled. When the blade struck him he
stumbled and fell to his knees, dropping the pouch to clutch the side of
his neck. Blood spilled out between his fingers and trickled in dark
streams down his arm, spattering the fallen leaves and the spilled marks.

He looked up at her as she approached, eyes glazed with terror. "They'll
know." He choked wetly, and the firelizard vanished /between/ at some
unspoken command. "They'll know what you did. You'll die. It won't be
easy." Bloodstained fingers pressed, desperately, at the wound. "Help
me. I'll tell them...an accident..."

Her face was already swelling from the blow and as she crouched to
quickly pick up the marks to wipe them off on already filthy trousers,
she could feel the pounding in her cheekbone and lip. Fetching the
dropped pouch, she looked down at the bleeding man with cold, dark
eyes. "You need to learn a lesson. About respect." Without hesitation,
she kicked him directly in the face and then stood over him. "Respect
is earned." She kicked him again in the side, then stomped his groin
before walking away. "And you don't have mine."

Moving quickly now and leaving the man behind, the woman known as
Lusilk to those who hired her began to gather her things, mentally
cursing. He was right, they _would_ know; she had to move fast both
for herself and the one she cared for most. She would have to steal a
runner, but it wasn't anything she hadn't done before. Then head west
and north. She had to keep him safe.

Behind her, the pleas of the fallen man gave way to groans as his blood
seeped away into the soil, and then to harsh, rattling breaths. And
then, finally, to silence.

Last updated on the August 13th 2019

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Lessons on Respect (PG-17)