Assassin Mavi

Chapter One: First Blood
Mavi wished it would rain. The air was so damp it was palpable. Her flimsy gaçi girl costume clung to her, completely wet from the humid air and her own sweat, revealing every curve and line of her body to the crowds. Well, fine, Mavi thought, if her body put a few more coppers in the baksheesh basket, then it was worth it. She pushed her wet hair off her neck and wiped the sweat from her chin with the back of her hand. The able hands of Laz, her drummer, continued on and so did she. Dum Tek Dum Tek Tek Tek, the 9/8 rhythm was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat. She had grown up dancing 9/8 but it was Laz who had lured her into this life. She laughed as she danced. She had gone willingly with Laz and his magic hands.

He had no doubt saved her from becoming some farmer’s wife with a litter of whiny children by now. This was better. They starved half the time, but the other half they had a good time.

It was mid-afternoon, but already street vendors were packing up for the day, keeping a wary eye on the gathering storm. Those prosperous enough to have a storefront were moving their wares to shelter. Mavi continued dancing despite the dwindling audience. She glanced at her baksheesh basket. A few coppers glinted there. Her rent was due today and the tips were not forthcoming. Damn the rain. She could make more money if she sold her body instead of only the possibility of it. But she was a gaçi girl, an entertainer, not a whore…she looked at the basket again and sighed “--yet” she added silently. Eden was no paradise, she’d do whatever it took to survive here. And Laz, well, Laz, she tried not to think about how he spent their tips on hashish, how many gigs they missed because she couldn’t get him on his feet.
She twirled and eyed the crowd. One caught her attention with his inky black garments and confident air. Whoever he was, the other bystanders glanced at him nervously and kept their distance. Despite the sleeveless tunic he wore, Mavi wondered if he were sweltering in all that black leather.

Thunder crackled and big raindrops began to fall. Shoppers retreated but Mavi danced on. She was already wet, what did she have to lose? The rain actually felt good and she danced with renewed energy. She twirled and twisted as the rain plastered her hair to her head and neck and pressed her thin garments against her flesh. Her efforts were rewarded when a few more coins clattered into her basket. The man in black tossed in a handful of silver and melted into the crowd before Mavi could thank him. The silver coins amounted to substantially more than her usual take.

Then the downpour began in earnest. Laz and Capkin stopped and retreated to a nearby archway. They could not risk damaging their instruments. The last few onlookers scattered. Mavi scooped up the collection basket and joined them. They were talented musicians. She had been lucky to hook up with them.

She removed her zills, stowing them in a pocket of her skirt. Together, the two counted their earnings, each taking half. With delight, she calculated that there was enough to pay her rent, perhaps buy some shoes. She had lost her shoes - and most everything else - on the long journey to Eden. Certainly she could buy dinner. She would eat tonight. Food. Her stomach growled at the thought, she had not eaten all day or the previous night.

Laz finished stowing his drum in its leather case and hefted it to his shoulder. He jingled his share of the money happily. “That man in black really saved us today.”

Capkin looked up at the sky. “Maybe it will be better tomorrow. Maybe I can buy my girl Zara that blue necklace she’s been hankering for.”

Mavi smiled. “I hope so Capkin. You’re really stuck on her aren’t you?”

Capkin’s blush was his only reply.

Laz smiled grimly. “We can’t hope for many more good gigging days until these rains are past.”

Mavi nodded grimly. “I think we all must do what we can for the winter and we’ll start performing again the first mild spring day.” She made an effort to sound upbeat for her bandmates. But it was a hard life they led. They had good times and, oh, the music, the singing and the dancing – they lifted her up, made even the street seem wondrous at times.

Capkin cleared his throat. “I have to agree with Mavi. I’ve been talking to my girl Zara.” Mavi smiled. Capkin had a girlfriend, a good honest tavern wench named Zara. “Zara said there’s a job in the kitchen for me if I want it. I’m going to tell her yes.”
“Yes, you must. Of course Capkin.” Mavi was genuinely happy for him. Even Laz grinned. Then the three were solemn again. Capkin tucked away his zurna and wrapped part of his turban around his neck and shoulders. “You know where to find me Mavi dear, and Laz. Zara says you’re all welcome anytime. I know she would find some tea or soup for you even without the pennies to pay for it. She wishes the tavern would hire us for the winter but the tavern can’t afford it.”

“That is kind. Zara’s a good girl. You’re a lucky man, Capkin.” Mavi reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Give my best to Zara. We’ll have a band practice soon.” They watched Capkin set off through the rain.

Mavi turned to Laz. “Well, what about you? Are you going to be okay until spring?”

“I’ll make out.” He caressed Mavi’s backside through the thin fabric of her gaçi girl costume. “There’s ways besides making music to keep warm on a cold, rainy day.” The invitation was plain. The desire was obvious in his touch and the way he looked at her.

Mavi looked at Laz. They had shared some good times and she considered him a friend. But today she was feeling bleak. It was tempting to go with Laz, find comfort for a few hours or few days in his bed. But when they were done, she would still have the same problem. She was a gaçi girl. What kind of future was there in that? She had no money saved. The banks wouldn’t deal with so small an opening balance. She was sure her landlord or one of his minions was stealing from her. The few coins she put away were always gone, no matter how carefully she hid them. She was flat broke. The five pennies in her hand were all but useless.

And Laz, well, he kept her warm at night when she needed it and let her walk away when she needed that. He had the habit of disappearing sometimes himself. Mavi knew he had been a thief before he realized his gift for drumming. Mavi knew most of his earnings went for wine and hasheesh.

Gently she removed Laz’ hands from her backside. “Tempting, but I have things on my mind. I want to think.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. She was soaking wet and chilled through. It was very hard to resist Laz’ warm touch. And she wondered why she was resisting at all.

“It’s okay Mavi. I think I’ll get myself some wine, maybe leave with Capkin and Zara tonight – see if that free soup is for real. He put his drum in its leather case and hoisted it over his shoulder. See you soon, Mavi girl.”

Mavi waved as Laz set off to spend his day’s pay in the nearest tavern. She fought off another wave of regret for not going with him. Then she gathered up the collection basket and wrapped her shawl over her minimal gaçi girl clothes and set off, barefoot, through the now muddy streets.

It was partly her fault for spending so much on new zills. She had hoped to make up the difference today and pay the rent she owed to Tatari, her thief of a landlord. Maybe even buy some dinner. She had eaten nothing all day or the previous night and was beginning to feel lightheaded.

She passed into an area of narrow, twisting streets, where ancient timber and plaster homes nodded to each other across the street, nearly touching in places and offering some protection from the rain. Even so, running from doorway to doorway, she was quite wet by the time she had turned on to the street where she rented a small room. Rounding the final corner, she glanced up to see Garra’s bulky form silhouetted in the alley before her, no doubt waiting to collect the rent for his master. She sighed. He had never harmed her but she always sensed a bit of menace about him. When she handed over her coins each month, he seemed unsatisfied, as if denied the opportunity to beat her -- or worse.

Today, she counted out the coins as she did each month and handed them over. The blow took her by surprise, smashing into her jaw like a brick and sending her sprawling in the mud. She said nothing but felt her face gingerly. Her hand came away smeared with blood. Garra hauled her roughly to her feet.

“This won’t do.” Mavi was still dizzy from the blow as she struggled to make sense of Garra’s words. “You were paid with silver today. Yes, I’ve heard.” He smiled at the look on her face. “I have ways of learning these things. If you are so well off, you must share the wealth with your benefactor. In these troubled times, Eden is full of newcomers. Tatari took pity on you, gave you shelter, a home. But now that you’re so well established….”

“You are an evil man, Garra. You’ve been looking for some excuse to cheat me since I got here. I suspect you would pocket the extra money yourself. Tatari would never see it anyway. I’ve earned hardly anything since the rains began. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.” Mavi spoke quietly, her voice tinged with desperation. After all she had endured just to reach Eden alive through the chaos of the civil war, this seemed most unfair.

Before she thought to react, Garra ripped her purse from her belt and dumped out the coins. They gleamed dully in his palm, reflecting the light of a single street lamp. “Ah yes, very nice.” He added her few coins to his bulging purse and patted the bulk. Mavi clenched her fists helplessly, watching as the precious silver coins vanished from sight. What could she possibly do? He laughed and tossed a few coppers into the mud at her feet. “Buy yourself some dinner.”

Angry, Mavi scrabbled in the mud for the coins – she could not afford to lose them. As she rose, her temper got the best of her. She spat at him. He caught her by the hair and pulled her head back roughly. Her eyes watered with the pain.

Mavi could feel his foul breath hot on her face. She repressed a shudder as she felt his other hand caress her body. “You’re a comely lass, for all you resemble a starved kitten. There’s no need to have this trouble between us.” He grinned. “Perhaps we can come to a new arrangement. After all, a girl like you, alone in the world, could use a friend like me.” She looked about the dimly lit alley where they stood. They were alone. Her heart sank as the image of her raped and strangled body flashed through her mind.

She shook her head, determined to live through the day and not submit to Garra. Thinking quickly, she stopped struggling. Garra released her hair and pulled her to him. Mavi submitted to his embrace but her mind was working frantically. She grimaced as he bent to kiss her. She feigned an embrace, her hands searching for…yes, a knife at his belt. She slipped it free while Garra pawed at her sodden garments with increasing ardor. He pushed her against the rough wall of the alley and pulled her clothes aside. He fumbled with his own belt, clumsy in his haste. But suddenly he was quite still, feeling the pain of the knife point in his side. She ducked away from him, brandishing the knife. Garra began to laugh. “You have spirit. All the better. I like a bit of fight beforehand.” He moved toward her. Mavi still had to get by him to get out of the alley. Then she could certainly outrun him. But what then? As she darted by him, he grabbed hold of her sleeve, she lashed out instinctively with her near hand. It held the knife. She watched, in horrified fascination as the weapon bit deep into his soft belly and blood soaked his clothes. It all happened in an instant. Garra’s eyes went wide and he staggered back as she wrenched the knife free. He collapsed to his knees, hands groping for the wound. He let out an unintelligible grunt as he collapsed face down in the mud.

She stared, stunned at her deed, relief mingled with disgust and horror. Dark blood soaked from under his body and ran into the mud. The rain washed blood from the knife in her hand and sent it streaming in rivulets down her arm, staining her sleeve. She threw the knife down and abruptly bent over double, quietly sick to her stomach. The acid from her empty stomach burned in her mouth. She spat it out and waited until the convulsive heaving died away. She knelt in the mud, quite spent, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.

“If you stab someone, you’d better finish the job. He’ll not remember you kindly if he survives.” Mavi groped wildly for the knife and snatched it up again as she jumped to her feet, her eyes searching the darkened alley. A man stepped from the shadows at the far end of the alley. Surely he had seen everything. She sighed, wondering what Eden’s prisons were like, if she was allowed to live at all. To her complete amazement, the speaker was the man in black who had dropped the silver coins into her basket. He walked over to Garra and stood looking at him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Mavi stammered.

“Of course you did. No use pretending. You were fighting for your life or at least your honor, or something like that.” He glanced at her with a half smile and then turned back to Garra. “Quite a good job, actually. He’s unconscious. Still alive. He’ll likely die if we just walk away. However, best to be sure about these things.” He looked at her again. “You’re a bit pale. You must be new at this. Your first blood I take it?” He said the words not so much as a question but as a statement of what he already knew.

“My first what?” She struggled to wrap her thoughts around his statement. “Yes, I suppose so.” She paused. She had seen war and terror but had never stabbed anyone until this night. “Are you going to turn me in?” She did not want to go to prison. Of that she was certain. The man laughed.

“Hardly. You see, you’ve just made my job much easier.” He placed one booted foot on the small of Garra’s back and pulled his head up. The man eyed him with distaste. Then he drew a dagger from his boot, slit Garra’s throat and stepped aside, avoiding the spray of bright arterial blood.

Mavi gasped as her reality encompassed this nightmarish scene. She could only stand there as the man produced a cloth, wiped his dagger clean and re-sheathed it. She had seen death before, but never anything so deliberate outside of pitched battle. Richard glanced at her and then down at her now-quite-dead former-thug of her landlord. He moved toward her and she shrank back. She was terrified of course. He suppressed the tiny part of him that was enjoying this little scene. Guild rules frowned upon tormenting civilians.

He turned back to Garra and removed the man’s purse, tucking it into his coat pocket. Mavi stared. “You’re a thief as well as a murderer I see.” She raised her knife. Richard sighed. Disarm the girl, then talk. In a single lithe move, he caught her arm and twisted the knife free before pinning the arm behind her back. This was sure to cause enough pain to immobilize her without resulting in any permanent damage. She drew breath for a scream but he covered her mouth with one gloved hand. His breath was hot in her ear as he spoke.

“Your life is not in danger - not from me. I am Richard of the Dark Guilds – Assassin’s Guild specifically. I was hired to kill Garra. Apparently, he irritated one too many individuals with the wherewithal to pay an assassin. Tatari will have to find a new thug.

However, no one is interested in financing your death - to my knowledge. Do you understand?” She nodded, hanging limply in his arms. She was obviously no match for him and near collapse anyway. So, she had stumbled across an assassin. The Dark Guilds of Eden were known throughout the empire, if only by whispers and hearsay. She had never thought to actually meet one of their number.

He released her arm and turned her to face him. She rubbed her shoulder. It throbbed but seemed otherwise uninjured. He indicated Garra. “It’s for the best really. He would not have remembered you fondly. You were right to stab him. He would most likely have murdered you after he raped you.” The rain had stopped for the moment but she was wet through and now true darkness was descending on Eden. Mavi hugged her shoulders through the sodden fabric of her sleeves and shivered, looking at the man who stood before her.

Over his lean, muscular frame he wore black leather - standard attire for the Dark Guilds, she had heard. Richard sported long dark hair, worn loose around his shoulders, and the type of short, rather scruffy beard popular among the young men of Eden. His fair skin had an olive tint that only added to his dark and dangerous appearance. He wore a small diamond in one ear that caught the lamplight and sparkled brilliantly. She guessed his age to be roughly close to her own, somewhere in his third, possibly fourth decade.

Then her thoughts returned to the dead man. “But what if he has family? What will happen to them now?” Mavi began to consider the magnitude of what had happened. A man was dead. At the moment it didn’t seem to be important that he had roundly deserved his fate.

Richard laughed. “You are much too kind-hearted. I don’t recall Garra having family. However, be assured that part of the fee the Guild collects goes to compensate any dependents of those killed. They present their claim at the Guild Hall and, if validated, are compensated accordingly.”

He plucked the dagger from the mud. She looked at it. “Since you drew first blood, at least take this. I’ve seen better but it will do if you’ve no weapon of your own.” He proffered it to her, hilt first.” She backed away. “Take it girl. Don’t be a fool. You’ve no business wandering this city without a weapon.”

He had a point she thought, even managing a small smile at the pun. She took the knife gingerly, wiped it off and tucked it away in her belt.

Mavi looked at him. “You watched me dance earlier. You gave me the silver coins and now you’ve come to my aid again - I think”. She trailed off, not sure if murdering her landlord was exactly helpful. Her hand went to her cheek. Garra’s blow had opened a nice cut and she suddenly became aware how much it hurt. The blood flow had stopped, but she had drying streaks of blood down her neck and chest and staining her vest front. Everything else was covered in mud and completely wet. She made a half-hearted attempt to pull her vest straight and the fabric tore in her hands. She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. This was really not a good day.

Richard suppressed a smile. She was so utterly pitiful. He dug a clean handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose and attempted to compose herself. She was soaked from head to toe, her lips were blue with cold, goose bumps were plainly visible on her arms and legs where her clothing left them bare. Her clothes - minimal to begin with - were torn and stained with a mixture of mud and blood. The left side of her face was swelling where Garra had hit her.

“What is your name, girl?”

“Mavi.” She held back a shuddering sigh. She was not going to start sobbing in front of this man. A sudden thought occurred to her. “Were you following me?”

“Actually, I was following him. Running into you was a - happy coincidence.” Richard spoke lightly but his expression was serious. “You haven’t been in Eden very long. His death was assigned to me some time ago.”

They stood for a moment in the gathering darkness, each considering the other. The street lamps were lit and the light of one streamed back dimly into the alley. Mavi spoke. “It’s true. I am new here, like so many others now. I lost everything in the war and ended up here.” She gestured at the darkened city around them.

“I regret Eden hasn’t been more welcoming to you. A thug for a landlord and now you’ve met an assassin. However, you are an exquisite dancer. The coins I gave you today were well-earned.”

Mavi smiled slightly, feeling a little better at his praise. She mopped at her face and neck with the handkerchief. It was silk. She noted the cut of his leather coat and his fine boots. Assassination paid well it seemed.