“That’s sort of my trade,” Gavin said.
“Right, but I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be nearly as quick as that. Anyway, don’t go angering that one,” he said, nodding to Jessica.
“I have no intention of angering her.”
“Don’t go hurting her either.”
Though he and Wrenlow were in Yoran for now, if this job didn’t work out, he was perfectly willing to move on. He had to be careful not to get attached. With Jessica, that had proven increasingly difficult.
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
Gaspar chuckled again. He tipped his chair back, teetering on the back legs and balancing. “Your best. Sounds like the way things went for you tonight, your best isn’t always good enough.”
Gavin scowled at him. “What do you know about it?”
“I don’t know anything. Just that you seem awfully distressed and that there was a high-level house targeted tonight.” He cocked a brow at him. “That wouldn’t be you, would it?”
“No.”
He crossed the tavern, putting distance between him and Gaspar. He liked the old thief, but sometimes Gaspar tried to stick his nose into places he didn’t need to. It was the kind of thing that would end up getting the old man hurt.
The warbling singer continued to torment Gavin’s eardrum as he crossed the tavern. The only part that sounded decent was the strumming of the lute, and even that was terrible.
“I’m going to go back outside,” he said as he leaned close to Wrenlow.
“Why? Did you learn something?”
“No. I just need to stretch my legs. Besides, it’s far too early for me to be in here drinking.”
“I thought you wanted a night free.”
Gavin looked across the tavern to where Gaspar was visiting with Jessica, then to the singer, and finally back to Wrenlow. “I thought so, too, but I don’t think tonight is going to be my night for a quiet time.”
He stepped outside into the darkness, where there was still a gentle breeze blowing through the city. He paused in the shadows outside of the Roasted Dragon, taking in the smells of the city itself. This area had a bit more decay than in other sections of the city, and an undercurrent of filth was carried with the breeze. Many of the shop owners attempted to mitigate the smells with flowers planted outside of their shops, producing a mixture of competing fragrances. Somewhere nearby, he detected the scents of bread baking and the savory aromas of meat and vegetables. Music drifted out of the Roasted Dragon; a jaunty tune sung by the tone-deaf minstrel inside.
Shadows moved with him.
“Not already,” he muttered as he unsheathed his knives, preparing for the attack.
Chapter Four
Gavin rolled the hilts of the knives in his hands. He ran his fingers along the leather to get comfortable with it again as he slipped back along the street, moving in the shadows. It would be better for him to avoid a fight, though given his mood, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing for him.
It would be better for him to move away from the Dragon so he didn’t create chaos right outside. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Jessica and the others inside by drawing the constables’ attention to the tavern.
Gavin continued to move up the street, backing as quickly as he could until he reached an intersection. Then he shifted, spinning and moving deliberately. There were others out in the street, but when they saw his cloaked form with a pair of blades in his hands, they scattered.
He wasn’t accustomed to being the one running. Most of the time, he was the one doing the chasing. In Yoran, everything had gone sideways. He kept talking about how this job in particular was the one that was trouble, but truth be told, many of the jobs had been off ever since they’d come here. Most of that was because his employer was hiring him to take on increasingly difficult jobs. Some of them involved getting into places that were incredibly fortified, while other jobs involved high-level targets.
Gavin had avoided most of them but refusing ran the risk of losing future jobs. Besides, in Yoran everyone was guilty of something. Situated on the outskirts of the kingdom of Henethell, the city had more thieves and criminals than he’d seen anywhere else. Most of them were like Gaspar, the kind of criminal he was accustomed to working with, but others operated from places of wealth.
Gavin reached an alleyway and darted along it, backing into the shadows. From there, the street opened in front of him. He might be trapped here, but with the way the buildings were situated, he thought he might be able to scale them and escape if it came down to it. Any fight here would force his attacker into face-to-face contact, which gave Gavin the advantage.
He moved toward the back of the alley, the darkness swallowing him. As he did, he watched for any signs of movement. No one passed on the street ahead. Gradually, the shadows started to darken and grow, and he frowned. Someone must have extinguished the lantern along the street.
That would put him at a disadvantage. He had decent eyesight, but not as good as some. There were times when he wished he’d paid for enchantments that would augment his sight, but they were dangerous.
A figure appeared at the mouth of the alley. Gavin stayed motionless, waiting. When the attacker came, he’d either drive his knives into their stomach and move on, or he would wait for them to leave and pursue them. If somebody was willing to come to the Dragon for him, he was determined to see why they would and who they were working for.
Maybe it was for his employer.
That didn’t feel quite right though. He expected his employer to give him more time to complete the job. Hamish would’ve bought him enough time to at least have another try at the target, even if only another night.
The shadowy form continued moving along the alley toward him. They were thin. And not alone.
There was a second one, and Gavin smiled to himself. He had chosen the alley intentionally, wanting to make sure the fight was one-on-one, and having two come down the alley would only help him. The close quarters would put two attackers at a disadvantage, running the risk of them getting tangled up in one another.
When they were near enough, he lunged forward at one. He swept in a quick arc with his left hand, bringing his right underneath. They caught both arms with a blocking movement, preventing Gavin’s strike from hitting its mark. The attacker moved quickly—almost as quickly as he did.
That surprised him. Twice in one night?
Gavin gritted his teeth and switched his fighting style. He thought about a different technique, moving into a close combat type of style where he could attack more easily. He flashed forward, flipping the knife up and bringing his left hand in at a lower angle. Both attacks were blocked by the other person in the alley. Almost too late, Gavin realized that the second attacker was no longer there.
Movement behind him caught his attention, and he spun, realizing they’d somehow scrambled up the walls and gotten behind him.
Balls.
The alley might’ve been a mistake. He was pinned. He stabbed with one hand but found the other attacker driving their elbow down onto his arm. Pain screamed through his arm as he nearly dropped the knife. Ignoring that pain, he kicked behind him. A grunt was his reward, and he flipped the knife, driving it back and hitting only air. He darted forward and switched hands, using his good arm to slash at the first attacker. That one seemed quicker.