Page 9 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)
“Sell it and get new stuff. We both know you’re wearing your best.”
True. I sighed. “Fine. Boy, tell Benji to sell this and keep twenty percent for his troubles.” I flicked him a coin, and we were on our way. As we exited the city walls, the traffic lessened enough to talk.
“Who’d you leave in charge?” I asked.
“No one. Thought we’d give ourselves a little time to fit in before we made our departure official.”
That roused a snort. “Please, we both know we’re not going back.”
He’d lowered his cowl so I could see his amusement. “True. Even living on the road would be preferable to that dull trap we fell into.”
“We were getting practically domestic,” I agreed. My sheets were laundered once a week. Cook served bacon every third day.
“We’ll have to be on our guard in Feoria. They are strict about enforcing their laws.”
“And yet people still commit crime.”
“Because it’s profitable,” he said.
“Meaning there are probably already assassins in the city.”
“Yes, but not many. Our services will be in demand.”
“Only if people know to hire us,” I pointed out.
“That won’t be a problem.”
It took a week of travel to make it to Varyy, a well-protected country comprised of a massive island surrounded by a sea of deadly tar. It bubbled too hot for flesh and too thick for boats. The only way to get there was via the single land bridge bisecting the boiling black pitch guarded by the Varyy army at both ends. A polite group of soldiers but nonetheless there to ensure we didn’t intend to cause trouble or bring trouble with us to the neutral country. I had to let them count and make note of all my weapons.
When the captain asked why a pretty girl needed so many knives, I held one to his chin and said, “Call me pretty again and I will show you.”
Lucky for him, he accepted Jrijori’s bribe rather than arrest us. We were granted passage with a warning about not starting trouble. As if. We usually were the people sent in to end it.
Once within the Varyy borders, it took several more days to make it to the capitol, most of it over flatlands so boring I snoozed in my saddle. I probably deserved being dumped out of it because I’d never heard Jrijori get close enough to shove. The easy life I’d been leading of late had ruined my natural instinct. I needed to hone it, or I’d be taken out by the first pickpocket.
When we finally arrived at the city of Feoria with its twenty-foot-tall and five-foot-thick walls, I would admit to being impressed. Not just at the sturdy construction of the palisade but the beautiful city within. White stone rose in fluting combinations that were graceful and worked harmoniously with the greenery prevalent on every street. There were cleverly disguised holes for archers and grates by front doors that sat above pits of spikes.
In Aluztha, where we’d spent the last decade, the homes were built to withstand the harsh storms that rolled in from the sea a few times a year. The exteriors, chewed by salty wind and rains, always appeared pitted and discolored no matter how often and brightly residents painted.
But Feoria didn’t appear to have the same natural disasters affecting it. Here was beauty and functionality in one.
Blame the mixture of people. Since our oceans disgorged nothing but marine life to eat, there wasn’t much diversity of origin, but a place built in the center of many distinct nationalities offered a pool of accents, appearances, and opinions, although everyone behaved in public, where the soldiers kept a close eye. Those with arguments did it away from prying eyes in buildings or alleys.
I took it all in as we made our way through the neatly ordered streets. Saw the wealth as we neared the center of the city where the nobles resided, including us, the merchant and his daughter.
Jrijori, dressed for his role, had to ditch his dark cloak and wore a rich blue jacket over dark pants a and dark shirt. My clothing was just as rich, if a dress, given that was what a proper lady would wear. I suffered the skirts but only because they had pockets for my knives and poison.
Eyeing my new home, a building of three stories with a shop on the main level, I smiled.
Here’s to a new and exciting life.
CHAPTERTHREE
The boredom setin quickly as things didn’t progress as expected.
In cities where assassin and mercenary guilds existed, newcomers would register and wait for jobs. But in Feoria we lacked that option, nor could we publicly advertise our services.
It didn’t help that our cover story was that we owned a shop that sold armor and weapons. Not the one-of-a-kind version—usually sporting epic names like Silver-Bladed Death or Mace of Spattered Brains—but the ornate crap I hated. Useless, with uncomfortable grips and terrible balance. Not items I’d ever use, but in good news, the rich loved to overpay for the stuff.