I’ve never really been too worried about killing people. That’s what I
told people I know and they believed me. That’s what I tell myself and
I believe it. If there is enough reason then I’ll do it.
Why, then, do I hesitate about killing the old man in front of me?
It doesn’t really sound sensible. Even I have to think about it to get
the situation straight in my own head and even then it admits to little
sense. Yes, I have killed before. People want other people dead. I
never ask why because I generally don’t want to know, but people seem to
want to tell me.
"I want to destroy the economy of Riverton - kill maybe a score of
merchants and this pouch of gold is yours," one man said. I won’t say who
he was - professional confidentiality and all that. He tipped some of
the coins from his pouch and I glanced at them in the torchlight - the
glow from the flames made them appear red. I did that. You may have
heard about the financial crisis, but you won’t have known who did it. I
nearly made the newssheet that day. If you ask closely you’ll find out
who made a lot of money that day, but I’d advise against it. He may
hire me again.
Another man wanted a certain bejeweled necklace for his wife. She’d
taken a fancy to it at a dinner party they had all attended and he could
not find its like at any jewelers. His love for her greed made him
willing to pay me gold to... acquire it. He didn’t care how or why, just
that it had to be acquired no matter who had to die in the process.
For some reason people come to me if they want something doing. Maybe I
have a reputation for getting jobs like that done. You tell me.
Yes, I got the necklace, a garrison of soldiers got in the way but I
always get the job done, and delivered it. He was more than happy at
this and handed the gold over immediately. I was still fresh from
acquiring the necklace, however, and managed to stain the gold red. Ironic,
don’t you think? It always struck me as such, but I never have worried
about it.
A pirate acquaintance of mine had been harassed by the Trellorian
guards during one of his... operations. You may want to know how I know him
but I’m not saying. I dealt with the problem for him and, as soon as
he’d conducted another operation I got my cut. We’re both professionals
and understand each other and the system.
I’ve performed many similar tasks and the reward has always been gold,
but the tasks have always been at the expense of another’s life. Gold
for life - I may as well be in the guards, eh? I’ve heard their wages
are worse, but that they get more time off. A good pension, but a short
life for most of them. Whatever.
Yes, I said I need a good reason. Every time I go to the bank I can
see a good reason - or at least several thousand good reasons. Morals
are for priests and I have yet to find a good reason to pray.
This old man before me, though. If he were awake then he would have a
reason to pray. It would be so easy to end his life. Why then do I
pause? My dagger is ready and he is vulnerable - one of the easiest jobs
I’ve ever had. One of the best paying as well, I suspect, judging from
the man who had hired me.
He was a fat merchant but obviously successful. The rings on his
fingers looked to be real gold and the gems were not glass. The guards he
had around him when I talked to him looked professional and such men
don’t come cheap. I don’t either, but you know that anyway.
Of course the merchant had wanted to explain why he wanted the old man
dead. They always do. I’ll never understand it but I listen anyway.
He’d traded to the man’s village - if I said it was cold and in the
mountains then that’s enough of a clue for I’ll be gone from here soon -
and had dealt with the people there. He’d needed a night’s stay and had
fallen for the girl after seeing her. Her father, though, had taken an
intense dislike to him. I never let personal feelings interfere with
business but I could see why. Still, the merchant continued, if I
could... put the old man out of the way then he and his treasure chests
would be grateful.
A lot of people like to use euphemisms for killing. I cannot see why.
It’s usually a simple enough process. Maybe that’s just me. So, I
called a dragon and flew off to the village I mentioned, the village where
I now stand. It’s cold up here and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
They even have a tame dragon here, if you can believe it. They tell
me that to my face to, but I’ve never seen it.
I found the girl easily enough, a young woman tending the garden at her
cozy home. I could see why the merchant wanted her. She has a full
mouth and bright eyes and a gorgeous face. The merchant had been right
about her looks. She hardly seemed to miss the merchant, though. Her
song filled the air and charmed the birds as I passed by.
The Town Hall was near and that was where her father worked.
I say worked, but in reality he sits on a stool asleep most of the
time. He’s old, but I think I mentioned that.
So now I’ve found him, an old man with a bunch of streamers dangling
from his hands as he snores gently. Why do I hesitate? My knife is
sharp and his neck is open to a quick blow. He’s had a full life and yet I
stay my hand.
It would be doing him a favor, killing him like this. It would be
quick and relatively painless instead of living into complete infirmity.
His joints are already swollen with the ague and he cannot be
comfortable. He could even be dead before he wakes. I would be back on my
dragon and headed for the merchant for my gold before anyone discovers his
death, and yet I stay my hand.
I’d be doing his daughter a favor. In a few seasons he would be
unable to leave his bed and she would have to tend him for many years.
Would she be pretty enough to attract a husband after that? He looks
healthy other than his joints. I’d be saving her. A lingering death like
that would cause grief every time she saw him, helpless in his bed. One
quick funeral and she would be free.
Would she thank me? I doubt it, and yet it would be in her best
interests. I hear the noise of children outside and it brings me out of my
reverie for a moment. They’re excited about the celebrations tomorrow
and he’s supposed to be helping arrange them. Can I really ruin their
childhoods?
I can. A step forward and a quick blow. It is done and blood has
splashed on my hands. I am a professional after all and I will have my
reasons. I see the woman in her garden as I pass, just another
nondescript figure in the dusk. My dragon comes to me at a call though it
glances at my hands with disapproval. It knows but says nothing. It knows
my work and I do as well.
I think empty thoughts as the dragon flies back to my current employer.
The wind seems so clean up here, but I cannot care for that.
The merchant is waiting for me as I land. Have I done it? Is she
free? Of course I’ve done it - have I ever let him down? He pours the
gold into my hand, his excitement obvious from his quivering jowls. He
slows as he sees the stains on my hands. I glance at them - they are the
color of the streamers the old man had held. They give him pause but
I demand my pay. Nobody would expect less of a professional.
He gathers himself and makes sure there is enough gold. A little tip
comes my way as well. I don’t need it, but who am I to turn down money?
I need a wash.
I take my rest that night in a bar. Drink helps me relax and think. I
can hear her voice singing, but I try and forget it. I can see her face
and I push it from my mind. The next tankard brings it all back.
The dragon doesn’t ask why I am returning to that mountain village the
next day. I don’t return to the scenes of my business - a professional
thing, you understand. I think the lizard knows but who can tell when
you are talking about another species?
I arrive the next day at noon. The merchant is going to arrange to
arrive in a day or three with a wagon of goods so as to have a convenient
reason for his visit. I’ll be there at the funeral, offering sympathy
and a friendly face. I’ll have been in the village for a few days more
than the merchant. I’ll have the advantage of years and a lean
physique. I’ll let others decide on relative attractiveness, but I do not fear
the competition.
He has a lot more money than me but I have my few thousand reasons in
the bank. I can support us for a while. We’ll be far from here in a
few days anyway, but I will not say where I intend to go. The merchant
will object, but I only did what he paid me to do. He said nothing about
taking the girl for myself.
Of course, if he objects too much then I may be able to find a reason
to kill that isn’t tainted red.
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