IN THE NIGHT

Fantasy Flash Fiction

1000 words

The wind gusted around the towers, catching at the rope as Ral bound it tightly to the buttress. Tossing the end over the side, she looked to check it hung to the side of the windows below.

She knew it would, but she hadn't survived this long without being careful.

Below her, the expanse of ornate cathedral spread out in the darkness, looming over the city. Built upon the hill like a spider, its cloisters and courtyards snaked out into the city. A reminder. Live in awe of our power. Live in fear of our reach.

Satisfied, Ral turned and moved away from the edge. She had no way of opening the large glass windows from the outside and could not guarantee that she wouldn't be seen from within if she tried. The rope was for later.

The climb was demanding. This section of the roof, hidden from the congregation's eyes, was free of unnecessary ornamentation that would have provided easy handholds. Moving carefully, she eventually reached her chosen entrance. The window was small, but then so was she. She hung there a few moments, listening. Once certain the room beyond was empty, she pulled open the shutters and swung herself inside, crouched while her eyes and ears adjusted.

She had spent the last four nights on the roof, waiting for the right conditions. The wind had to be gentle enough that it did not make climbing impossible while still strong enough to make noises for her to move with. The secret of her work was not to be silent. People noticed silence. The trick was to hide your movements within the everyday noises people expected to hear.

With slow, smooth movements, she began to slide across the empty room. The room was a side study, obviously not in regular use. Stepping into the corridor beyond, Ral made her way to the doorway at the far end.

She stopped and listened. Nothing. Slowly, careful to move with the sounds of the wind outside, she made her way down the corridor to the door at the end, pushing it open just enough to slink through and move into the shadows beyond. A fire burnt low in the grate, sending out a dull, flickering orange light. The room was empty, but at one end, a door stood half open, candlelight spilling through the gap.

Ral moved softly through the shadows and peered through the open door. She could see a large, ornate bed up against one wall, flanked by mirrors. A young woman, either an acolyte or a whore, appeared to be asleep on the bed. Ral could not see Cleric Furstheim. He had to be behind the door.

Breathing softly, Ral waited patiently for the wind outside to whistle through the gaps in the windows. As the sound cut through the room, she slipped through the doorway in one smooth motion and into the light.

Exposed, she had to move fast. Her guess had been accurate. Furstheim was behind the door, knelt at a small alter opposite the bed. Absorbed in his prayers, he did not notice Ral's swift approach. Not until she grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around and striking him hard in the throat with the edge of her hand. Ral felt cartilage collapse under the blow. As his eyes bulged in shock and pain, she pulled his body into the middle of the floor. She pinned him in place with ease, despite his greater size. Taking hold of his head, she twisted it with a smooth, practised motion. A crack, and he lay still.

It was done. But not over.

Ral stood and slid over to the bed. The young girl had not woken. She was possibly as old as twenty but no older. Furstheim was not as bad as some but still preferred his girls young and pretty.

Reaching into a pouch on her belt, Ral pulled out a small vial and poured four drops into the girl's mouth, enough to ensure she would sleep well into the day. If the girl were lucky, no one would assume she had anything to do with tonight's work.

Ral returned to the corpse. Lifting it under the arms, she carried it into the large glass windows. The night air ruffled her short hair as she pushed one open and reached out to take the rope she had hung earlier. Working swiftly, she tied it around the corpse in an intricate harness, then manoeuvred the body out of the window and let it drop. The rope snapped taut as it took the weight, but did not break. The body hung there, softly bumping against the stone wall outside.

Ral pulled the window closed, then walked into the middle of the room and pulled out her dagger. Crouching, she proceeded to carve the symbol of the Regia-Fin into the wooden floor.

The Regia-Fin. The most feared order of assassins in the world. Most considered them to be a legend, a tale to frighten small children. The men and women who would be in here tomorrow knew better.

It was a simple matter to retrace her steps through the study window and return to the roof. It took longer to hoist the body up and tuck it away behind the stonework.

This spot was well hidden. Even if they thought to search the roof, it would be some time before they found it. If they did not, it would simply appear as if Fursteim had disappeared. The carved symbol on the floor would be the only indication as to what had happened.

The reasons for Furstheim's death were complex. They had been explained to Ral, but she took little interest. Her contract was complete. There would be others.