A man wearing a ragged cloak. She instantly turned her face towards the window, pretending to study something on the outside. Deoryn’s ass! What the hell was that, Nilassa? It’s like it’s your first mission. Casually looking at the window? If the man didn’t find her suspicious before, he would now.
She drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It didn’t matter, she told herself. Their targets never knew they had been chosen; to him, she was just another patron at the inn. A weird one, for sure, but nothing else. That was all.
After a minute or so she dared glance at him once more. The man had dived into some scrolls, lying on the table before him. If she wasn’t sure whether that man was her target before, she was now. No obvious weapon visible, but he did carry a circular object by his right hip, wrapped in some kind of intricate leather. She groaned. She hated going up against the left-handed if the mission turned into a confrontation. It just messed with her head in some way.
Anyway, a kill should never lead to a confrontation in the first place. Confrontations are to be avoided at all costs. That was the main rule when working for the Night Mother. Just go in swiftly for the kill, and escape unseen. It was supposed to be quick and easy, and it usually was. It should have been this night as well. But the problem was that this night wasn’t just another night, as she came to realize the moment the tavern maid lit up the candle standing on top of her target’s table.
As always, thanks for reading. I can’t wait to reveal why it isn’t like any other night!