Page 18 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)
I opened my mouth to make a bad suggestion. “I could visit his rooms and—"
Jrijori cut me off. “Seduce him moments before he’s supposed to get engaged? You’re assuming he’s the kind of man who would do such a thing. What if he’s not?”
“What’s your plan then?”
“We start with bribing the people cleaning his clothes and quarters, those dressing and feeding him. That will give us an idea of his schedule and habits.”
“Boring and time consuming. Just pay them to let us know when he leaves the castle and where he’s going.” Because I could only guess where an out-of-towner used to living in the wilds would go for entertainment. Would he want to indulge in something strenuous and slightly dangerous like ax throwing? Perhaps he liked the violence of cock fights. The thrill of gambling. He could be the type to frequent bordellos.
Despite hitting most of those activities that night, I came up empty. The Barbarian hadn’t left the castle, and according to a grumpy Jrijori, his horde also refused to allow any of the staff to care for them, leaving us with few options to access the king.
We needed more information. Lucky for me, I knew just where to source some gossip about the upcoming nuptials and the main players.
I rose at dawn the next day. The food market opened early for those who wanted their cream fresh. Ladies and commoners alike mingled. Most folks were in a decent mood, excited at having so many important people in their city. A little nudge—Have you seen the barbarian horde?—netted me all kinds of stories about the visiting king. Each tale I heard varied wildly. I couldn’t tell if the story in which he’d had an orgy where he satisfied all the maids actually happened or if the truth was that he denied every single woman who tried to seduce him because he took the upcoming marriage seriously.
The man I’d met had flirted but not been crude about it. However, that short meeting didn’t give me enough information to form a true opinion about the king who told me to call him Konstantin. Then again, I didn’t care where he stood morally. I just wanted to know where I could best kill him.
With the food market turning out to be a bust, I headed for our shop. From mid-morning right past the noon meal, the market bustled with noble ladies waiting for their final fittings for the fancy clothes they’d wear to the grand party being held in the castle tonight. While running their errands, many took time to shop for their husbands.
It was the wife of the northern border count who offered the most plausible story of the Barbarian King thus far. That he arrived at the castle with no notice then proceeded to insult their host by insisting on caring for his horse himself. Then he chased all the bath attendants from the room and washed himself. As if one man could do a fine job alone.
The countess sniffed. “And then this morning, he’s up and gone on foot they say, before dawn even finished. Who does that?”
A man unused to the politics of a court. As a savage from the west how different he must find all this. At the same time, Konstantin hadn’t appeared the least bit wild when we met.
Along with news of the Barbarian, I also heard about the zariina who arrived just after the king to less fanfare since everyone had gathered to discuss him. She no sooner reached the castle than she shut herself in her room and skipped the dinner, apparently very tired from the journey. The grand vizier’s son, Marell, who came along as her advisor, extended apologies and ate with her.
The maid for the baroness herself divulged that the Barbarian knew how to use utensils. It proved to be quite the shock that he showed for dinner and ate with a knife and fork. Even used a napkin. I wondered if someone briefed Konstantin before the meal.
The man in question entered the shop while I ate my late lunch. I didn’t stop. The rice, stir-fried with sweet chunks of orange fruit and salty meat. tasted best warm. If he expected me to curtsy, I would hurt him. Just not kill him. Not yet. I might have a hard time convincing people of my innocence with his body in the shop.
Konstantin never once glanced at me as he wandered the shop, hands tucked behind his back, not touching anything. His aimless meander finished in front of the counter.
I leaned back in my chair, propped my feet on the counter, took another bite of my meal, and said with my mouth full, “Buying?”
A sneer tugged his lips. “Not likely. This selection is crap.”
“That’s rather harsh. This crap happens to sell for a premium.”
“To idiots. None of this would be practical in battle. It’s ornamental.”
“It is.”
“If you know it’s useless, why sell it?”
A shoulder lifted and dropped. “It makes us money. It harms no one.” Ironic since I was all about hurting people.
Killing was my thing, and the irony of having my target standing right in front of me didn’t escape me. Untouchable while he stood in my shop. He needed to be far from here before he died, or we’d have to relocate, and quick.
“Money isn’t everything.”
“Says the man who is king.” I finished my meal.
“Being a king doesn’t make me rich.”
“You don’t seem to be wanting. Those are some fine clothes you’re wearing. I’m sure they weren’t free.”
“They’re a gift from the people. They want me to appear a certain way when I speak for them.”