[Nell]: 226.Stories.Assassin.Miss-Taken

Chapter Three: Miss-Taken

Things were not going to be easy for Zimmeria. As she looked out of her bedroom window in the bright morning light, across the vast expanse of city with its many districts, Zimmeria suddenly realized that she might have a difficult time speaking to Kraft about anything.
Whenever there had been letters to be sent, he’d sent them to her. If she’d had a problem with the time or other, she simply didn’t come. So posting that she wanted to meet him wouldn’t work and neither would going to him. She had never been to his house and searching the city was definitely out of the question; it was far too large and Kraft was too good at hiding to be found by her. That meant there would be no talking with him until he was good and ready for it. Zimmeria ground her teeth in frustration.
She ate breakfast and went down for her tutored history lessons. As dull and uninteresting as these morning classes were, never failing to put her into a stupor, she found herself even more distracted than usual. Her thoughts were far off, trying to think of a way to contact Kraft. This distraction continued throughout all her lessons, lunch, and the court session she was forced to sit through. But when it bit into her precious time for focusing on the condition of her daggers and her exercises in knife handling, she finally decided that something had to be done. The question was; what?
Night, it was the only time to get outside the palace grounds. She would go and search all the meeting places they’d ever used, the last area she last saw him, and even around the policeman’s house. As hopeless as the idea was, it was the only thing she could think of to do.
She was called away from her planning to see her parents. They had taken the matter of the officers rather well. They’d sent a letter of disapproval to the police force and now complimented Zimmeria on her excellent handling of the situation.
For a moment, with her parents showering her with proud looks and praises, she felt something akin to guilt. She knew and dreaded what they were thinking; that possibly she was beginning to show signs of shaping up to fit her position. A position that would one day make her the Queen of Abagon, and she almost shuddered at the thought. But there was still that pang of sadness inside her, for their misplaced admiration, and for the need to deceive them.
But it was they who had pushed her to this point in the first place, and it was too late to change things now. It was their own fault.

That night, she dressed in black once more, and climbed from the window. The way across the lawn went without incident. She had a moment of unease when the guards didn’t turn at the sound of the stone hitting the gate. It wasn’t until she’d thrown a pebble and hit one of them on the kneecap, much to her initial distress, that she realized they were both stoned. They leaned vacant-eyed at their posts, smiling happily. She shook her head with disbelief and amusement before passing into the streets.
It was here that she got the real scare. The streets were full of police. They were still looking for the criminals of the night before. Moving in pairs, they seemed to be down every alley and street. They appeared to take attacks on their own pretty seriously. But what was worse still was that they seemed to be clustered around the palace.
Despite the letter from her parents, despite seeing and hearing her last night, they still believed she was one of the assassins, and they were waiting for her. The idea of coming out here began to look less and less like a good idea and more and more like an act of supreme stupidity. What had she been thinking of to coming out here on the night just after the attempt?
But it was done, too late to turn back now, and she wanted to find Kraft. She was just going to have to be extra careful.
“At least after tonight I’ll be cured of my tendency to scream at sudden things,” she thought, as another two officers passed.
It was true. There were so many instances of policemen popping out of shadows, she’d almost gotten used to her heart beating ten times faster than regular. Her lip bled from being bitten so many times!

Just standing in the street across from the policeman’s house was stretching her nerves to their breaking point. She had been unconsciously saving this one for last. Zimmeria had checked all the spots they’d usually met, places like the fifth street off of Fountain Square, and the alley that led to a small church’s side door, as well as the sites of all their break-ins. But he was nowhere to be seen. Why would he be around anyway when police were out like this? He wasn’t stupid like her.
She stepped out onto the moonlit cobblestone and crossed quickly to the house. Now she was here, she wasn’t sure what to do. Zimmeria began walking around to the back of the dwelling. It had a decorative backyard with tall bushes and flowering plants. There was even a bench. She was incredibly tired, she’d not slept much last night and would have none tonight, and the bench looked so welcoming. She dared herself to sit down a moment, and did, while looking nervously up at the windows of the house in case anyone should see her.
A rusting sound in the bushes made her jump. Was it a policeman? She listened carefully but there was no other sound. She put it off as a raccoon.
“I knew you would come here,” Kraft’s voice whispered in her ear as he clamped a hand over her mouth. “You took your time though.”
She’d found him! Thank the Gods! Zimmeria forced her stiff body to relax and waited for Kraft to take his hand away from her mouth. He didn’t. She made an indignant noise.
“I even drugged the guards, so you could get out without a problem, and distracted most of the policemen. Then I went ahead to wait. But you must have gone to every other place you could think of before here,” Kraft dragged her into an upright position.
Zimmeria didn’t like the way he was talking, didn’t like that he wouldn’t let go, and certainly didn’t like the feel of a dagger against her spine. Suddenly she wished she had told her parents about him. Maybe gotten someone to go with her, anything but go searching for this dangerous person alone.
She tried to reach the knife in her belt without his noticing, but her hand came in contact with an empty case.
“They’re all gone, Zimmeria, even the ones strapped to your legs, yes. I must say, they are in fine shape, but you should have kept a closer watch on them,” he pushed her away so she spun around. He had a throwing dagger in each hand before she could blink. Zimmeria knew how good he was with those things; she would be dead before she opened her mouth to scream.
He gestured to the back gate, and she went carefully without any sudden movement. There is no sensible reason to irritate a murderer. She suddenly remembered that she was one also, and was amazed how differently she thought of the position now.
Following his directions, she went down many streets, most of which she didn’t know. Where were they going? Who exactly was this person called Kraft? She knew he had a sharp, cunning mind, a lot of talents, and many secrets it seemed. He could train someone to kill, and could fool anyone into believing he was any type of person, especially a gullible, nitwit of a Princess.
Really, she had been more than a little bit of an idiot when it had come to Kraft. He had taken her seriously, sometimes, and he had acted as though she were a station less than him. She’d found him annoying at times, but generally refreshing. Zimmeria had no idea how he spent his days, except for training and finding people to be assassinated.
Their leisurely stroll took them into the poor district. Looking around her, all she saw was shadowed people sleeping in doorways, or prowling about. The streets were narrow and gloomy with nowhere to go, just like the people still up at this time of night. These were the conditions Kraft must have grown up in.
The palace and the area surrounding it, the only places Zimmeria had ever really seen, suddenly seemed a whole lot prettier. Sure, it too had people who were probably as messed up as these ones, but everything was gilded over with gold and subtlety, so that most people never even knew.
They finally stopped in front of an abandoned tavern of some sort. Kraft knocked softly on the boarded up door. At least, it looked boarded up, until it creaked opened.
Zimmeria’s kidnapper took her by the arm, and she felt shivers running up and down her spine at his touch. Then he pushed her ahead of him through the darkened doorway and it closed behind them.
Thoughts flashed through her head like lightening. Thoughts of things she’d never wondered about before. Thoughts of life and its purpose, of the lives she had taken, and of what came after it all.
“This is it,” it was a cold fact that came to her from nowhere. “This is where I die.” Fear gripped her throat and knotted her stomach.
Suddenly she wished for one more chance to have a life in her hands, and this time she would do the right thing, and let it go. She wished that she would have the rest of her life never to harm or kill another person again.
But the rest of her life didn’t look like it would be that long.