Chapter Eight:Blade of the Trade

   Jairo blinked his eyes open. Green wooden slats ran diagonally across his vision. One of the first things he felt was a sore forehead, and he groaned at the ache.

   "Sorry, we bumped your head while pulling you up the stairs."

   He looked down towards his feet and stared straight into bright sunlight. Jairo blinked several times, eyes watering. When he got used to the light after a second, he saw he was lying down on a tiny bed with a white sheet. The wall to the right, also made of green wood slats, had a gigantic hole ripped out and the afternoon light streamed in. Jairo could make out a pair of eyes from beyond the hole staring at him.

   "Why on earth did you abduct me?" he asked the eyes.

   "No, we didn't abduct- well, yeah... technically, we did," said the voice.

   "Why?"

   "Because you were with old man Rupert," the voice said, definitely male from Jairo hearing it multiple times. The eyes moved and something creaked as whoever it was stood up and moved. As the figure moved to the left, around the bed, Jairo could get a better view. A kid, a bit younger than Jairo, who was dressed in a black jacket, brown shirt, black pants, brown 'shoes' as Rupert called them. He wore a tightly-fitting black hat of sorts, barely containing his overgrown blonde locks. A thin nose, average mouth, sapphire-blue eyes.

   The kid sat down in another chair on the left and raised his hands, wearing 'gloves' that looked different from the ones Rupert had. "My name is Tom-tom. Just- just hear me out."

   Jairo sat up on the bed, swung his legs over, and grabbed this Tom-tom by the collar of his shirt. "Give me a reason I shouldn't knock your lights out. You just abducted me!"

   Tom-tom's eyes grew panicked. "Please, I don't really want to fight you. We're trying to help you!"

   "Help me? Why couldn't you say that to my face? And why shouldn't I just leave right now? Rupert is probably worried sick about me, and I don't know why I should believe you, you who have been apparently rejected by the rest of the society?!" Then Jairo thought of something else. "What about Adelaide? You knocked her out too, since I was in her sight! Where is she?! And who's we?!"

   Tom-tom stood up, if that was even his name, broke Jairo's grip on him, and backed up. "Let me explain! Please! Just hear me out!"

   "You have one minute," said Jairo, standing up, curling his fingers into a fist.

   Tom started speaking quickly. "Adelaide is fine. We just left her in that alley, and she knows how to navigate herself around that part of town. Along with me, there are five others in our group. Wiggins and Molly are downstairs somewhere sleeping, Nilfa and Barl are out searching, and nobody knows where Seino goes to most of the day!"

   Jairo quickly looked around at this point, and picked up his coat, throwing it around his shoulders, putting in his arms. "Be thankful I'm deciding not to do anymore with you people, I know what you're like. Associating myself with you is no good for me." Jairo tried to sound impressive and intimidating, because he wasn't quite back at full strength yet. But it was true, he knew what these outcasts of society were like. Exiles from his village who had tried to come creeping back in, sometimes they would be aided by a sympathetic soul, but ultimately they were always caught and killed. The sympathizers were publicly humiliated and the whole family exiled. Such was needed to keep pure the Ren tribe, to keep them at top fighting strength, true warriors and masters of the desert. In retrospect, as an outcast, Jairo thought it stupid, going so far to eliminate little or no difference there was, whittling down their own numbers.

   Jairo moved quickly, noting the disrepair of the whole upper floor, holes in the green slats everywhere. The very floor creaked beneath his feet, threatening to collapse on him. The stairs looked like they would barely support one person, let alone his unconscious body and whoever else was hauling him up. He felt his forehead bruise again subconsciously.

   Tom-tom began to stammer and follow behind, going down the stairs three steps at a time. "But you can't go back to Rupert!" At this Jairo just laughed out loud, but a sound emerged from the darker, lower level of this dilapidated structure. Maybe that Wiggins or Molly that he had mentioned. Time to leave.

   "Rupert is a doctor, yeah?" Tom-tom was still following him out into the shadowed alley. Jairo looked both ways and took a path at random. "He finds patients, he takes care of his patients, but then when he's done, he just throws them out. No longer any of his concern." Jairo kept walking, finding himself unbelieving of that old man just abandoning him like that. "We were just trying to break it to you quicker, and less painfully!"

   Jairo was about to call something back over his shoulder, when a figure moved into the alleyway entrance. Some girl wearing a dappled red and orange dress, which blended into the afternoon, almost evening light quite well. Whoever it was stood in a defiant stance, and as Jairo got closer, he could make out the green eyes staring at him, the epitome of a confident lady of power. However subtle signs showed the wear and tear on her. Bags under the eyes, the ebony hair somewhat bedraggled, the occasional small tear or patch of the dress going white in the sun. Jairo then noticed that Tom-tom had stopped speaking. He looked around, and saw that two more figures stood by the now distant Tom. Above him, leaning out of the windows of other houses, two people stood watching.

   "This must be all six of you, then?" Jairo asked to no one in particular, looking at them for any changes.

   "Tom speaks easily, but the knowledge is true. Returning to Rupert will gain you nothing," the girl in front of him spoke firmly.

   "You must be Nilfa," Jairo assumed.

   One of the people above landed behind Jairo uncomfortably close, and showed a knife to Jairo. "I am he, and I am very skilled with a knife. If Seino were to but give the word, I could gut you like a pig."

   Jairo smiled. So Seino, this girl, was clearly their leader. Had the look of fallen royalty. Seino scowled at Nilfa's impertinence. He heard the boy behind him take in a breath as he realized his mistake. He put the knife away and slunk back a few steps.

   "I'm going to see Rupert," he told her, and began to walk past her. She stuck her arm out defiantly, and he began to glare at her. Jairo tried heating the air around Seino, to make her uncomfortable. It was hard to keep it just a few degrees above normal, so the dress didn't catch on fire. In a minute she backed off to wipe the sweat off her forehead and he continued on.

-----V-----

   About an hour later, he had spotted no less than four other men also wearing the black coat, hat, and boots that Mr. Frankincense had. Finally he recognized him walking with Adelaide, talking casually. They went into a house, and he crept around to peer in a back window on the second floor. He ran into the alley behind the house, ran up the opposite wall, then sprang backward and grabbed the windowsill. He used a bit of pre-made, still warm ash from a stick, and slid it in the crack between window and frame. He then manipulated it like a hand from the inside and unlatched the window. Jairo looked around, making sure no one was upstairs. He crept along the floor, trying not to make it creak noticeably, until he was right over where the doctor was. They were talking about some flesh wound as they inspected a patient. They were completely nonchalant about it, as if no thoughts of him were in their mind!

   One time someone came upstairs, so Jairo hid in the nearest thing he could see: under some bed. Luckily there was nothing under there, no reason for anyone to look there. The footsteps went around the bed, and if Jairo was hearing correctly, picking something from the nightstand near the foot of the bed. Then the steps went back downstairs, and he crept out cautiously.

   After Rupert was supposedly done with his patient, they began to leave. Jairo went out the window again, shutting it and closing the latch again with his ash. He went around the side of the house and was about to have a serious word with Rupert when he heard what they were talking about.

   "-you think Jairo went?" Adelaide was saying.

   "I'm sure he found somewhere to be by now. Besides, I was almost done with him anyway." The old man waved a hand dismissively, and something slipped out of the bag he had across his shoulder. One of those weirdo leather-bound things that old crack pot was hoarding in his house. He was about to throw it into the street when someone behind him ran up, a cool breeze accompanying his arrival, and took it from him.

   "Hey, you almost threw away a perfectly good book!" the he said.

   "Oh, it's one of you people."

   "Haha, yeah. You really pissed off Nilfa. The name's Wiggins," he said, doing the weird hand shaking thing.

   Jairo looked at Wiggins. He thought his eyes were brown, but it was hard to tell, Wiggins had even more hair than Tom-tom had. He looked a year or two older than Jairo, and rather tall. Jairo spotted a grin beneath the long strands.

   "Come on," Wiggins said. "I'll take you back to base, and show you what a book is."

   He started jogging off, and Jairo went after him. He stayed on the alert, in case they tried to ambush him again, but saw no one until he came up to the house. A large, bulky figure in a lighter red coat, a 'jacket', stepped into their way. This kid had red curls, a large nose, and a large mouth. The face, like the rest of him, was rather rounded, but imposing. His eyes were amber and judging by the stubble, was about the same age as Jairo, maybe a bit younger.

   "Why you bringing back this ungrateful lout, Wiggy?" he said.

   "I've told you not to call me Wiggy," he retorted, using his height to look more menacing. "And if you don't want this kid starving, Barl, let him in. I let him see Rupert's uncaring side, and we got a good book to read thanks to him."

   Jairo didn't do anything to get the book, it just fell out. But he didn't protest, and gave Barl a little wave. The redhead narrowed his eyes at him in response. The inside was brighter lit than before, thanks to a fireplace in the middle of the open bottom floor. Another metal cooking pot atop two metal poles boiled audibly, tended by someone with long curls. Jairo could barely see, but better hear, Nilfa in a dark corner carving at something with his knife. Tom-tom was sitting on a chair, staring into the fire, but Seino was nowhere to be seen.

   Wiggins walked over to Tom-tom. "Hey, got ya another book to read, Double T. Maybe you could read it tonight?" and he placed the book thing by him before moving over to the person by the pot. They silently traded places, and the other person came out from behind the majority of the fire.

   "It gets unbelievably sweltering over by that fire," she said, and plopped down between Jairo and Tom. She undid the bun and let her blonde hair fall down her back. She gave Tom a big kiss on the forehead, and Jairo looked away and sniffed. Then she grabbed him, to his alarm, hugged him, and kissed Jairo on the cheek.

   "Hi," Jairo said, and cleared his throat loudly.

   "Hi," she said. "My name's Molly. Nice to meet you."

   Jairo could feel Barl's eyes boring into the back of his head, though he didn't know why. "My name's Jairo," he said, then inwardly cursed himself. Why had he told her his real name?

   Molly smiled at him, then looked over at Nilfa. "Why must you rasp with that knife all day? Why don't you come over and say hello?" she said, sounding like a scolding mother, despite being as old as Barl was.

   "We already met," came the cold reply from the corner.

   "Not properly."

   "Maybe so...."

   Molly turned back to Jairo, obviously annoyed. "Don't mind him, he's just a bit grumpy from earlier today. But I think supper's almost ready! And Tom, you, you'll be able to read that book to us after, huh?" and with that she stood up, taking off Tom's hat and ruffling his hair.

   Jairo allowed the tiniest of smiles to play across his face, and he watched as Tom-tom snapp out of whatever trance he was in, staring into the fire. He straightened his unruly hair a tad and pulled his hat back on, then picked up the book and opened it on one side. Jairo watched as he turned thin sections, each piece covered in peculiar black shapes.

   Then Molly began to dole out the stew that had been bubbling in the pot. It must be a popular dish around here. It tasted a bit strange, needed more salt, but good nonetheless. Jairo got a look at Nilfa as he came from his corner to get some food: long black hair, slicked back to display his shiny forehead. Same determined expression as Seino, so they might be related.

   Speaking of which, nobody noticed Seino come inside, with a dark purple dress this time, Barl having abandoned door watch to eat. Nobody knew how long she had waited there until she suddenly said: "Honestly! How do you expect to survive, turning your back on anyone who has a big sword and might fancy stew. All of it. Who was on door duty?"

   She noticed Wiggins glance at Barl, who quickly paled under her gaze. But then she looked up at Jairo. "So you're back. Nice trick with the window, to spy on Rupert. But how did you get in?"

   Jairo nearly heaved up his mouthful of stew. Crap. Was she the only person who had seen him, or had others as well? Seino smirked at his distress. She beckoned with a finger and went outside. Reluctantly, he followed, leaving his bowl on the floor he was sitting on.

   He caught up with her quickly, though he nearly ran into her. With the dress, and the deepening shadows, it was like she was disguising herself, similar to the way his people's warriors would paint themselves with sand via a special adhesive, to hunt the wild beasts that roamed the desert.

   "So, where do you go all day? And why the dresses? You obviously used to have money, but not anymore," he said, looking for an answer in her face as she walked steadily forward.

   "I am in the profession of bartering knowledge. My young age helps me go unnoticed in a surprising number of places. The others back there are my contacts of the poorer sides of town. But, I have something for you, which I think you will be able to do a lot better than most other people. How did you get into that window? It was latched from the inside."

   "It-it was loose. I just rattled it a bit and it came open," Jairo stammered. He hoped it was enough to convince her. They met an intersection and they went into an actual road, with many doors facing into the street. "Where are we going?"

   "Going to meet another of one my contacts. I don't suppose you've ever met the butcher, Tanun Brinselun?" She looked at him, and Jairo shook his head. "Here, take this," and she handed him the most peculiar looking hat he had seen yet. It was the same color as his coat, and covered his head except for the front, almost like a bag.

   "What is this?" he asked.

   "It's a cowl, so people won't see your face as easily. For multiple reasons, one being most people here don't like dark-skinned people, and two being your face shouldn't be seen where you're going."

   "How, do I put it on?"

   "Here, let me show you, just slip it under here..." she said, and stepped forward to put it on. Since it wasn't attached to the coat, it just slid under the coat sleeves and came out in the neck space, and came over his head. She got a very good look at his face while doing this. "Looks like you got a bump on your forehead."

   "Ah, at least the headache wasn't too bad." He reached up a hand to feel it again, and accidentally bumped her hair. "Sorry."

   "No, it's nothing," she said, backing up and straightening out. She put her hands on her hips and let out a breath. "Now you look like the real deal, let's go," and she pulled him along by the wrist of his coat into a shop.

   Sharp, gleaming metal cleavers hung on the wall, the occasional animal's head, somehow preserved, breaking the line. The front counter had innumerable cuts and small trenches dug into the thick wood surface. The place was practically scented with the clinging smell of blood, salt and the unique mark of hot metal underlaying it.

   "What are ya, daft? Shop's closed for the night," a muffled voice called from a rear room. Seino rapped a short rhythm on the counter with her knuckles, and something started bumping about back there. Then a small hat bobbed around the corner, just above the counter, and moved around until it was right in front of them. A grunting noise was heard, and a tiny man came into view, after standing on top of a stool or something.

   "Ah, Seino! Always a pleasure to see you, my fallen queen." The little man made a bow, bonked his head on the counter and had to get down to pick his hat off the floor. Seino rolled her eyes at Jairo, and he turned back to look at the man.

   "I've found you an agent, Tanun," she said. "For that Feldswelt problem you keep talking about."

   "Oh, my!" the little man cried to Jairo. "And you certainly have an aura of, intimidation, with that obscured face of yours. I hope you're up to it, mister twister of tongues, listener of the ludicrous! Observer of oblongs! Taker of the-"

   "Tanun!" Seino shouted. "Goodnight. And try not to rhyme this agent's patience out." And with that she left the shop, quickly becoming a shadow in the darkness.

   Jairo said nothing, but looked back to the man, and said what he hoped was a sufficiently intimidating  yet neutral tone. "What is it that I should do, Mr. Brinselun?"

   The man's lit up with excitement. "Oh yes, come here." He beckoned with a finger as they went into the back room. It was little cramped, but Jairo could see what Tanun was showing him, more black scribblings on a thin sheet of something. Luckily he was talking, so Jairo didn't have to ask what the scribbles were.

   "I will give you a map to Mr. Feldswelt's house, and you are to enter without the knowledge of any of his household. I will give you maps for where his house is, and house schematics. I want you to get Mr. Feldswelt to sign this contract, dissolving his company, which is threatening a certain client of ours. You will receive payment for your services, when the contract is signed and brought back to me. However, do not let them know who did it. Nobody in our business wants attention like that drawn to ourselves. Here you go," Tanun said out of the blue, and without taking breath handed him several sheets.

   "I will be back tomorrow morning," Jairo said, taking the sheets and leaving the shop. He turned into the nearest alley he found and leaned against the wall to let out a deep breath. That Tanun could talk all the air out of a room. He looked through the papers, one was a map of the streets and alleys, the other a drawing of a house. Perfect. The final paper was full of scribbles. He really should learn what the heck this things mean.

-----V-----

   Half an hour later he finally found his way to Mr. Feldswelt's house. It was a grand looking place, and he was careful not to be seen by someone guarding the front door. He examined the house drawing again, and saw there was a window directly into the room adjacent to the master bedroom. He crept around into the back alley behind the house. There was a guard there too. He whispered a 'Hey!' to the guard, who came walking suspiciously around. Jairo hid behind some old pieces of furniture until the guard walked past, and he ran quietly up to the house. The lamplight hanging over the back door shone brightly, it would illuminate him plainly for the guard to see when he came back. He looked up, and saw the alley was rather narrow, but the window was too high up to do his jump trick again.

   He jumped up a foot, and placed his hands on the wall in front of him, and put his feet against the wall behind him. Now he was suspended in the air, pushing against both walls to keep him up. He slowly shimmied up, and was a good dozen feet up before the guard came back. He didn't even see Jairo, but just looked a bit irritated at finding no one behind the 'Hey!'. Jairo continued up, turning his body face up, until he ran into a section of the house that jutted out. He turned face down, and tried not to think about the few dozen feet of thin air below him. He quickly did a little hop, and repressed his hands and feet against the closer surfaces. That single moment of being in midair like that had terrified him, and he hoped the sweat dripping down didn't alert the guard. Luckily he was now whistling, covering any suspicious dripping sounds that might be heard.

   Jairo moved up the window, legs getting cramped. He tried to do the ash trick again quickly, but it was hard to focus while you're keeping up your whole body by just four muscles. It took him a few tries to get it open and he swung it open gratefully. He got his chest over the windowsill and allowed his legs to collapse, and then he tumbled into the room. The clothing muffled the sound a bit, but he was worried someone might have heard. After a minute of silence, he relaxed and shut the window. He then slowly opened the door to the master bedroom. He opened the door, but it brushed against something before hitting the wall. Then Jairo saw the shadow of a shoe or something cast from the light of a small candle.

   The person behind the door erupted, slashing with a sword. Jairo leaned back from the cuts, and got in a punch to the stomach. His assailant's guard down, he hit them in the back of the knee and made them lie down on the floor.

   "Ok, ok, fine," the person mumbled. "I'll cooperate now. You want money, thief? There's an unlocked strongbox over by the bedside table."

   "Are you Mr. Feldswelt?" Jairo asked, tone full of malice.

   "Yes, yes! What do you want?!"

   "I need you to sign this." Jairo took the sword and lifted him up by the collar of his shirt, and pressed the cold edge to his neck. "That table, over there, now."

   He marched Mr. Feldswelt over to the table and sat him down. He put the contract down on the table in front of him, making sure to keep his guard up.

   "I'm going to need a quill for this," Mr. Feldswelt said. He pointed. "There's one over there." Jairo backed up carefully, keeping the sword pointed at him, and grabbed the black bottle with a feather in it. He placed it on the table next to him.

   "Sign," Jairo said.

   Mr. Feldswelt scratched the feather's tip against the piece of paper, then stood up. "Here you go," he said, and Jairo reached for the paper with his other hand. Mr. Feldswelt then attempted to stab Jairo in the eye with the feather. He leaned back, but then got kicked in the side and dropped the sword. He ducked a punch, then jabbed him in the soft spot underneath the armpit. The older man grasped it in pain, and Jairo grabbed his head and made greetings with his knee. Jairo then spun him around, and kicked him over onto the floor. He grabbed his head and yanked it to put him on his stomach against the floor again, but a sickening and quiet crack was heard, and Mr. Feldswelt went limp. Jairo dropped his head and it twisted backward onto the floor in an unreal fashion. Just like the neck had been snapped on an animal that could be hunted.

   Crap. Think creatively, Jairo told himself, and got an idea. He dragged the body over and propped it back in the chair, tried and make him not look like his neck had been broken. Jairo placed the contract on the table in front of him and put the quill near the fingers of the hand Mr. Feldswelt had been writing with. He smoothed some of the wrinkles on his face, closed his eyes and made his mouth look like it was smiling. Mr. Feldswelt's final and happy act, before dying in his sleep.

   Jairo was sure one of the guards, or one of the household staff that came in the morning, would come to find the body, hopefully mess it up a bit so any local law enforcement would find tampered evidence. He relatched the window on his way out, and went around to one side of the house, also enclosed by the alley. He did kind of a skid down one wall a bit, jump to the other, skid down a bit, etc. until he hit the bottom.

   Jairo then walked back, crept up onto the roof, and slept on top of Tanun's shop, keeping the fireplace-top that came out of the roof between him and the street.

-----V-----

   Jairo woke with the sunrise that day, and rubbed his eyes. His lower back was cramped from his position behind the fireplace-top, but otherwise he just felt a bit thirsty. He dropped down into the street, went to what Adelaide and Rupert had called the well. He turned some crank thing, and the rope that reached down into a bottomless hole started pulling up something heavy. After a bit he got a bucket full of water. He drank a portion of it, then let it drop back in, crank spinning madly.

   He went over to Tanun's shop just as people started waking up and coming out of their houses. He rapped loudly on the counter. "Your listener of the ludicrous is back!" he called.

   "What!? Oh yes, the agent of adventure is back!" the small man waddled out. "Where's the contract?"

   "Um..." Jairo said. "I decided to take it a step further. Made it look like the signing of the contract was his last and final act. The morning staff should find the body soon, and no one should suspect foul play. Much less likely now Mr. Feldswelt will be feeling up to tattling."

   The butcher's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. "You did what!?" he said, and Jairo was waiting to be reprimanded, badly. "My word, I never expected you to have the guts to do that! One gusty guy like yourself, we can make much use of. A true assassin! Whaddya think of that! Wait until the others hear... come, taker of the treasures! You deserve a bigger reward for this!" The little man pulled him along with surprising force. Jairo was astonished at how that had turned out. Apparently killing him was better than just convincing him to do something. But that was what killer of people were called? Assassins? Jairo looked at the murderous hands. Didn't look different from anyone else's.

   Tanun pulled Jairo into a smithery. "Ms. Rosewood!" he yelled into the din of smoke and steam and metal being pounded. "I have an order!" he practically screamed.

   A large woman emerged from the smoke, wiping her hands on a metal-blackened smock. "What is it, Tanun?" she barely gave Jairo a second glance.

   "A shortsword, please. For our new assassin!" Tanun hugged Jairo tightly, and for a second the mountain of person seemed a bit surprised. "What a day, then," and she disappeared back into the workshop. Her voice was heard yelling, "Adelaide! Top-notch shortsword, bring something good up!"

   Tanun turned to Jairo, and was talking quickly again. "It's been so long since we've had an assassin, not just some ordinary pickpocket. You are good news for all of us!"

   Adelaide and Ms. Rosewood came up again, with a fine sword, about a foot and a half long. "I don't believe you Mum. I mean, an assassin? The real deal?" Adelaide was saying. She looked at Jairo, trying to see under the shadows of the cowl. He was glad she didn't recognize his face, things might have gone nasty then.

   Tanun handed over a fairly large bag of coins. "Pleasure doing business with you, Birgit Rosewood!" he piped cheerily, and handed the blade to Jairo.

   "I might have a few contracts for you later," Birgit yelled, then turned to take another customer.

   "Now for something to cover the naked blade of the competent, nefarious bamboozler," Tanun said, and practically carried Jairo over to another shop.

   A tailor's shop, all shiny wood and fancy looking clothes. He felt a tad out of his league, but Tanun walked right up to the counter. "Quentin!" he almost screeched, his voice was so high-pitched with excitement. A tall, stick-like man, like one of the manikins for displaying the clothes, except two feet taller, emerged from the depths of the shop.

   "A sheath for this beauty!" Tanun said, pointing frantically at the sword in Jairo's hands. He did a double take. "And some sturdy gloves, too!"

   The tall man simply looked at them, then started humming and ventured back into his shop. "Quentin's humming? That's pretty happy, for him." Tanun said in a giggly voice. Quentin soon came back with a good length of leather, strap included, and some thick black gloves. The sheath fit perfectly, and Jairo took a minute to take off his coat, sling the strap over his shoulder, and see what it was like to draw out the sword from under his shoulder. He cut a special gap in the coat so he didn't have to reach through the collar. The gloves were thick, but flexible enough at all the joints. He felt like a professional already.

   "So what do you think, Jairo?" Tanun asked, that crazy gleam in his eye. "Do you want to be an assassin?"

   He could probably make a living off of it, being an assassin. But did it appeal to him? Jairo took out the sword and turned it, watching it gleam in the sunlight coming through a window. He looked at Tanun and slowly smiled.

Author's Note

Jairo woke up that day, in the previous chapter, at about ten in the morning. He got knocked out, and woke up nine hours later, at about five in the evening.