Rather Not

I like to think of this as the criminal equivalent of wanting a kitten, so you ask for a pony.

“Listen, I’d rather not, but I’ve been sent to kill you.”

 The girl already had tears in her eyes. Slowly, she left her armoire and sat on the edge of the four-poster bed. There were guards posted on the grounds, but she seemed to see the situation as well as he did; by the time she had called for help, it would be too late, and he would be gone.

 “What for, if I may?” She sounded so calm. He cocked his head and peered at her from beneath a heavy mask, perched in the open window.

 “Your father’s affairs, obviously. Does it matter?”

 “At least don’t be rude,” she sighed. She crossed her legs beneath her sleeping robes, then uncrossed them again. She did not let the tears fall. “Will it hurt?”

 “Truth is? I don’t know.” He stepped down from her window, a curved dagger visible at his side. She tensed but did not move as he paced the room’s perimeter. He pulled a rose from a vase, inspected it, then replaced it neatly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been on the wrong side of an assassination.”

 “No, I suppose not,” she said. Her voice cracked, only a little. She sighed again. “Will it make a big mess?”

 “Sometimes.”

 “Oh dear. That’s no good.”

 “Funniest things, you people think about.” He drummed his fingers on the girl’s armoire. Seemed most of her jewelry was still on her body. He laid a hand on his dagger and watched her seize out of the corner of his eye, hands clasping either shoulder. He hesitated.

 “Give me your ring,” he said.

 “What?”

 “Your signet�"the other three too. Give me your rings and I’ll deliver them to my employer.”

 She shook violently as she rose, hands like jelly, and passed him what amounted to a handful of gold from her fingers. He pocketed them. Then like a ribbon of silk he was out the window, into the tree from which he’d descended�"and moments later she was screaming the alarm.

 For what good it would do them. He watched the window quietly and pulled the dagger idly from its sheath, pressing on the tip; it collapsed into the handle. A stage weapon. The four rings were heavy in his pocket. He would not normally have asked for the other three, but she was panicking enough not to question why some mysterious employer needed them all, and they looked nice enough.

 It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have made for an actual assassin. It was just… well.

 Without a sound he fell to the earth below, crept to the next manor, and ascended its southern face, then slipped in between a pair of heavy red shutters. A tremendous man saw him at once and almost fell from his bed, cursing in abject shock. The top of his dresser, too, was littered with jewelry. The intruder cocked his head and peered from beneath his mask.

 “Listen, I’d rather not...”

Author's Note

As always, all comments and criticism are welcomed.