Bet With Destiny, Chapter Three

AN: Lengthy chapter by my standards, to make up for not having updated for half a year.

)O(

It was an hour after sunrise, and the streets of Corus bustled with people. Stallholders were busy setting up as the earliest shoppers tried to find a good bargain. Kel blended in amongst them, looking like any other typical young girl buying her family's food for the week.

The old lady who sold charms smiled and waved at her as she walked past. She waved back to her long-time friend, eyeing her new stock with approval. It paid to be friends with the locals; she could get the best news, best gossip, and hear about another raid from the Provost hours ahead of time.

"Keladry?" the voice was young and timid. Kel turned to face a girl around the age of ten, dressed in a tattered brown shift.

"How did you know my name?" Kel asked, bending down to be on eye level with her.

"Everyone in the lower city knows you," the child told her. "Protector of the small, they say."

Kel shook her head with a smile over how silly even the most sensible people could be. In recent years, she had acquired a title as the "Protector of the small". True, she did try to protect the less capable of the lower city, running errands, helping them fend off raiders and trying to improve their financial standards. She had also been trying, with varying degrees of success, to convince other rogues to only steal from those richer than them; the poor didn't need more trouble than they already had.

Helping is one thing, Kel thought with resigned amusement. A title like that is just silly.

"Why do you need me?" Kel asked the girl.

"It's old Rieno," she replied. "He's sick."

Kel – indeed, everyone in the lower city - knew old Rieno, a beggar in the slums of Corus. With barely enough money to get him through each day, the old man could definitely not afford healers. Sighing slightly, Kel let herself be led to the alley Rieno called home.

He was delirious, that much was obvious. He ranted about everything from rich banquets to the price of peas in Persopolis, all with a happy maniacal smile on his face. Closer examination told Kel that he probably had a bad fever due to gangrene from a nasty cut on his leg.

Kel was no healer, but she could tell when somebody needed one. Beckoning to the girl who had brought her, Keladry took out her moneybag and gave two silver coins to her. "Find a healer," she ordered. "This should be enough to get one, even comin' down here."

The girl nodded and ran off. Kel stood and left also, having no more business there. She was halfway back to the marketplace when she realized that the money she given away was supposed to buy food for the week. Cursing herself rapidly – Aglaia would be most displeased – Kel pondered what to do next. She wasn't exactly poor and could always go back for more money, but the smug look on Dashiel's face as he pointed out the disadvantages of being too helpful was enough to turn her off that idea. On the other hand...

One might have found it laughable that someone who had no qualms killing for a living would have a problem pick pocketing, but Kel had always found the job distasteful. An assassination target would die whether she was the one to administer it or not, she reasoned, but whoever's pocket she picked might not have to lose their money if she'd let them go by. She knew firsthand how hard money could be to come by sometimes; however, there was no way anyone could feel bad about stealing a bit of gold from the man passing her just then.

He was a boy, really; no more than seventeen years old, a squire in the colours of his master. A noble, then, whose moneybag was literally bulging with gold. Kel had no problems picking the pocket of nobles, because Gods knew most of them could afford to pay a bit more attention to the lower city.

She walked past him; even smiled modestly as she bumped into him 'by accident', muttering an apology and fluttering her eyelashes in the way of a girl who liked what she saw. In truth, he didn't look so bad, with his coal black hair slicked back and a pair of sapphire blue eyes. Still, the satisfaction she felt afterwards was the grim one of too easy a target, rather than the flighty one of having seen someone rather desirable.

It was only a few hours later, after Keladry had finished doing her shopping and was starting an interesting conversation with one of the new flower girls, that she realized who the squire had been. It was stupid of her not to realize immediately – the crown prince Roald of Conte wandered often into town, though admittedly this was the first time she'd seen him without a single guard. So even a prince runs errands for his knight master, she mused. I would have thought it below them.

Feeling vaguely guilty for having stolen from someone she'd heard was a good person (but not guilty enough to do something about it), Kel gave it another few seconds of thought before turning back to her conversation.

---

Good people die sometimes, too.

That was the only thought she allowed herself as she accepted the new assignment, careful to keep her face blank as not to give her client any reason to doubt. She didn't know this target well, but he had often smiled at her as she passed by or offered her something to drink on a particularly hot day, and she couldn't see a single reason why anyone would want to kill someone as harmless as him.

But no; it was not her place to question a client's reasons, and – as she reminded herself constantly – if she didn't do the job, somebody else would. Occupying her mind with these thoughts, Keladry snuck towards the given place and was disappointed for the first time she could remember to find her target exactly where he was supposed to be.

Night had only just begun to fall, but the streets were almost empty of people. It was nearly winter, after all, and nights got colder earlier each day. Kel bit her lip, and pulled out a dagger from her belt. She threw it towards the man, resisting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut.

Perhaps it was her reluctance to be doing this, or perhaps her focus was just a little off that night; the dagger pierced his right thigh but missed its intended target entirely. She cursed loudly, no longer needing to keep her presence a secret, and threw another dagger in his general direction.

This one found its mark all too well; with a dull thud, it planted itself into the man's chest, silver-blue glint of steel vanishing in an almost immediate flow of crimson. Keladry thought later that the worst thing about this kill was probably the look he gave her as he was collapsing, that split second of disbelief in an already fading brain.

As she pulled the dagger out of the dead man, she remembered to close his eyes for him, out of respect if nothing else. Knowing she couldn't afford to be distracted, she tried to focus only on getting home and not think too much about the kill. This strategy had gotten her halfway home before she heard the sound of someone's yell. Not sure if it was her business to interfere with, the decision was made for her when a man raced into the lane she was in, chased by two older men dressed entirely in black.

Instinctively, Kel hid behind a rather large cardboard box and almost cursed out loud when she saw who the first man was. There was no mistaking his dark hair and blue eyes, this time. What was he doing out alone at this time of the night? And what kind of idiot could possibly accept the job of killing the crown prince? If this battle didn't kill them, the king of rogues was bound to. They may have been separate from the rogue court, but the Tortallan king didn't know that, and the death of his son would have been incredible incentive for him to track down and kill every rogue in lower Corus.

The prince drew his sword, a fine piece of work Kel might have admired had her brain not been working frantically. She was honor-bound not to interfere with the work of another assassin, but surely every rule was bound to change with circumstances? If they assassins did succeed, she didn't know what the king would do to the rogues in the city; she'd heard a rumor that he was more lenient than one would expect with them due to an old friend, but she somehow knew that the death of his son would change that drastically. That aside, the death of a crown prince always meant chaos and chaos was always a bad time for commoners.

Had she been given more time to think, she might have been able to come up with all the reasons against helping Roald as well, and left the situation well and alone. As it was, the prince cut down one of the assassins with his sword and ran, not realizing that the other one was aiming a throwing star at his back.

"Behind you!" Keladry yelled to the startled prince, who turned immediately and dodged out of the way. The assassin looked up and a flicker of recognition passed over his grey eyes. Kel cursed; if he knew who she was, she could be in some serious trouble. Before she could react, he had dived behind a door she didn't see was there, and she knew there was no point in pursuit. He would be long gone by now.

Not sure if she should be kicking herself for what she just did, Kel turned to leave. "Wait," said the prince, gasping from his fight with the first assassin. "Who are you?"

For a second, Keladry considered giving him a cryptic title that every mysterious woman seemed to have in the novels Aglaia loved to read, and add on an "I didn't do it for you" just to top it off. The second would even have been true. That moment passed and she was able to smile at her own folly: it would have been stupid to even let the prince see her face, much less say anything to him. Knowing that she'd caused more than enough trouble already, the girl turned and left without another word.