Fragments Gallery
The Watcher Job
Watchful, that was one way you could describe him. He never seemed to stop staring at that gate; not once did he turn away even for a moment. I bit my lip as I stared at this new problem; at him. He was in my way, and I don't tend to allow things to remain in my way.
I settled back on my haunches and considered the situation. After all I had already done, already gone through, was I about to allow this one man to foil my plan?
No. I would find a way; I wasn't done here yet.
The man I watched stood in a shadowed doorway opposite me. I had almost missed him when I first entered the square. Well I use the term "entered" loosely. I still have not set foot on the actual ground of that square; instead I am perched on a nearby roof. Initially I had planned to latch a rope onto the top of the gatehouse and climb across from here, but that watcher would see me for sure. I was lucky to have seen him before I threw my rope; I was overconfident and hadn't properly checked the area first. This wasn't the main gate, just a small gate that was generally kept barred so I had figured that no one would linger here.
There was no telling how long he had been there before I arrived nor for how much longer he would remain. I know I can't wait for too long however; I'd miss my window if I did. I could try to seek entrance elsewhere but the walls are patrolled by guards; only the tops of the gatehouses are left unpatrolled. It was an oversight of this particular lord who sees no reason to send men atop those towers. All he wishes is for the walls to be patrolled so, for me, that means climbing a gatehouse is my best way in. This gatehouse was the most secluded of the four which makes it my best chance.
I looked over the watcher again with fresh eyes. His clothing, specifically unworn cloak, suggested that he wasn't from among the common people. However he wasn't dressed well enough to have come from excessive money yet his manor and stance suggested that he was. Perhaps he was dressing below his station? The cut of his cloak suggested further mystery; it was not a locally used style. If he was not from around here why was he watching the gate? Also similarly if he came from money why was he watching the gate; shouldn't he have someone to do that for him?
Occasionally the man would take a drink from the flask at his side but otherwise he barely moved. Something seemed off with him but she couldn't place what. It had nothing to do with his features, of that she was sure. He wasn't... remarkable. He had one of those forgettable faces. Mousey brown hair sat atop his narrow face with its somewhat defined jaw. Black stubble painted his lower jaw and upper lip but otherwise his skin was smooth. His nose was average as well, not overly small or large. All in all there was nothing about him that drew a second glance. Maybe her unease had something to do with how he held himself. He seemed so self-confident and nonchalant that it was unnerving. No one had the right to seem that... Sure.
If he was unwilling to leave then I would have to deal with him. And it was now or never. From one of the small pockets inside of my cloak I pulled a thin, but fairly long, needle. Inside its sheath its fine tip was coated with a non-lethal toxin I'd found useful in the past. A prick with this would send my target to sleep quicker than they blink. Problem with it was I'd have to get off the roof and get close to him; this particular weapon was most effective at close quarters.
Honestly I probably could throw it from here, I'm a fair shot, and take him down; but there is always the chance that I'd miss. Besides even if I hit I'd have to climb down to retrieve the needle. It's too expensive and unique to leave behind.
I shrugged out of my concealing black cloak to reveal the deep green dress that I wore beneath. The style of dress was of my own making but still fashionable enough to grace a palace. I'd found current fashion trends remain too constricting so I'd done it myself. The dress and leggings gave me free range of motion while remaining demure. The fabric I'd used appeared delicate, was comfortably soft and yet was a material as resilient as canvas. I suspect magic is involved in its creation but since the merchant who sells it keeps closed lips on the matter I have no sure idea. The cloth was expensive but I find it necessary to keep up appearances when working this kind of job. More than once it has gotten me through a tough situation. At a ball no one would expect that the lady who walked by in such a breathtaking dress had, in fact, just climbed in through the window and intended to rob the place.
The cloak and my climbing gear I left in a nook at the edge of the roof; I would return for it later. That left my hands free and allowed me to climb down. I was on the ground in moments. Hurriedly I pulled a mirror from a small purse I had tightly slung across one shoulder and checked my hair to make sure it was all in place. It was; I appeared every inch the charming maid I pretended to be.
I took a deep breath and strode out into the open. The man didn't immediately react as I strode into view. Instead his eyes remained fixed on that gatehouse as his hands pulled the lid from his flask and he took a long draught from it. I was fine with being ignored for the time being, it gave me a chance to get closer to him. Maybe I would even catch him off guard. Besides, as much as I acted otherwise I didn't truly enjoy the attention I received; instead I used it to my advantage.
"Sir, you are standing in my door," I said coyly as I drew close. My eyes suggested I had more reason than that to talk to him. He jumped at the sound of my voice and favored me with a wide smile.
"My apologies miss," he said, his voice rasping and words drawn out, "That is not my intent; I merely sought shelter here from the wind."
Something about his manor, and of course the fact that he'd been staring at the gatehouse for at least fifteen minutes, told me that he was lying. Still I moved closer; he hadn't yet done anything that I could take as a threat so my current plan still stood. Get close to him, stick him with my pointy metal stick and then carry on with my night. It seemed really simple when put like that.
A loose cobblestone on the ground gave me the opportunity I needed. I cried out as I stepped on it and it "slipped" out from under my feet. I tumbled to the ground seemingly haphazardly yet in reality very carefully. I really didn't want to take the chance of taking my own poison. The man was at my side in an instant with a hand outstretched to help me up. As I came to my feet I lunged, thrusting the needle towards his bicep.
I'm not quite sure how to describe what happened next. He twisted or shifted or something, but next thing I knew the needle had been pulled from my hand and he was standing several feet away examining my weapon with interest.
He muttered to himself quietly as he examined the tip. Were the toxin I used not transparent I may have thought that he were examining that. But how could he examine it if he couldn't see it? I shuffled back slightly and prepared myself for what was to come next. My fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of my stiletto I waited for him to take notice of me again.
Then my blood froze at his next words.
"So you are as good as they say," he said with a smile before he stepped forwards and presented my needle to me. He presented it hilt first so warily, one hand still attached to my stiletto, I reached out and took it back. He then pressed a thin piece of parchment into my hand as well, stepped back and then gave me a troubadour's bow. He showed no behaviour I would expect from a man I had just attacked, in fact he acted exactly as he had before.
"If you would be so inclined," he said gesturing towards the parchment which I now held, "Please come find me at the tavern at that address. I have a job for you but I can only remain for three days."
He flashed me another smile, how had I ever thought his face unremarkable, and while whistling he twirled to walk away. I can only stare at his back in shock as his footsteps faded into the distance.
I don't know if I can carry on with my heist tonight. My nerves have been quite thoroughly shattered.
I do suspect however that my curiosity will get the best of me and I will find myself in that tavern soon; even if it just to hear what he has to say. And he won't get the better of me with his tricks again. Next time I will be better prepared.