I hate running, almost as much as I hate the silly fuckers making me run after them. I couldn’t let them get away. Witnesses were usually a bad thing, and I didn’t want this little escapade coming back to bite me in the arse later.

  Given the choice of two directions, I decided to let the fat one go for now and focus on the thin one with the knife. He’d be quicker, harder to catch in all likelihood, and I could catch up with the larger one later, hopefully. I’d just need to kill swiftly. Which wouldn’t be an issue if their friends were anything to go by. I’d sheathed my swordstick now, I’d flicked the blade, and the blood had flung off with surprising ease. I imagined the blade was coated with something that allowed blood to bead and slough off. If only I could say the same for my hand and arm.

  They were crimson-stained, and only a fool would believe it wasn’t blood. Still, it was the best I could do to not look dodgy while I pounded the street stone with my feet, chasing the knifeman.

  He was quick, I’ll give him that, but my blood was up, and I’d got fitter in my travels since I left Avandun, and I was slowly gaining on him. He kept risking looks behind him and each time he did I was just that little bit closer. My prey turned a corner down another side street, and I lost sight of him.

  I immediately slowed. Why? You may ask. Well, he was out of my sight. If he was used to the quick and dirty world of alley muggings, which I reckoned he was by the company he kept, he’d be counting on me to round the corner at speed. With his knife at the ready, no doubt. My haste would earn me a hole in my neck or chest, and I’d bleed out in an alley rather than dying peacefully on my deathbed.

  I glanced around my surroundings, all I saw were dark stone buildings with closed wooden shutters, lit by the streetlights that burned with their strange flames. There was an absence of smell in this area, which told me it was probably the more noble end of town. They could afford to have people clean their streets and probably had their own privy pits that they didn’t have to share. They lived like nobles in Cemfyllen. I wondered what could have led someone like my prey into their life of crime, but shook my head. I couldn’t think of him as a person, or I’d likely hesitate. Then he’d end me without a second thought.

  Fuck that, and fuck him. I drew my sword stick and prowled to the side street. My feet went heel to toe, so my movement was silent. I kept my blade up in front of me, ready to parry any attack and rounded the corner.

  I was right, he was there waiting for me, his knife in a reverse grip and a look of shock on his face. He hadn’t heard me. I scoffed. Holding your knife in a reverse grip was helpful in some situations, but not when your opponent has demonstrated both possession and skill with a sword. He was losing a huge potential range of motion that way. Still, I wasn’t tutoring him; the lesson I had for him today would be his last.

  “Please. Don’t.” He said, backing away from me. He switched his blade forward, with it pointing out in a foregrip now. He was tall but thin; he’d probably be fast. His clothing was an assortment of finery, stained and torn over the years, and more utilitarian pieces. He’d clearly been relieving people of their possessions for some time, wearing choice parts himself.

  “Your friend, where does he live?” I growled, brandishing my blade and moving through a slow flourish.

  “If I tell you, you’ll let me go?” His voice wavered, and a small blob of snot bubbled in his nostril. He glanced to the spot where my shame was telegraphed, and I cursed inwardly. If my tattoo were visible, then that substance I’d been given had run off with my sweat. I’d have to remember that. He paced slowly backwards.

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  “You tell me, and I’ll release you,” I said, not lying, but not telling him the truth either. He’d seen me.

  He looked around and over his shoulder. “You can find him on the west side of Cemfyllen usually. There’s a tea house by a pie shop. It’s called Bolder Pastry. He lives above it.” He held his knife and his hands up.

  “Very helpful. His name?” I purred, keeping my blade at the ready as I walked closer, following his slow steps backwards.

  “Muld…he’s called Muld.”

  “Like the winter's wine?”

  “Hah, yeah.” He smirked then, my comment easing his tension, his arms dropped a sliver, and I exploded forward, driving my blade at his heart. My blade slid through his flesh, and I smelled ale and fish as the knifeman exhaled like he’d been punched. His unused blade clattered on the stone of the alley as I twisted and pulled my blade out. A gout of blood spilt down his front as he took several steps backwards.

  “You…you said you’d—” He blubbered before he fell to his knees, eyes rolling backwards.

  “Death is the great release,” I murmured, but he did not hear me.

  He was already a corpse. I’d struck him perfectly. The only kindness I could do him without risking myself and my friends. My offhand stroked my necklace containing Eggs, and I flicked my blade clean of blood once more. I sheathed it before retrieving the knife from the ground.

  His body just knelt in the alley, his head slumped forward as the blood pool at his knees got wider. I used the end of my swordstick’s sheath to push his head back and flip his body onto its back. He flopped backwards, his head thudding against the stone while his legs flailed out with the movement, carving lines through his own blood.

  I walked around the pool until I was above him, then I drew the knife across his throat and plunged it into the wound my sword had made.

  This was important. He’d look like the victim of a gang's execution. If I had time, I could go back to the other bodies and mess them up a bit more. Make it appear to the guards and Mavev that their killer was less trained and using something like a knife.

  It was a slim hope, but my priority was to track down this Muld character. If the knifeman had been telling the truth, that was.

  Still, one man, a criminal nonetheless, was a lot easier to dismiss than two. Perhaps I’d get lucky, and he’d keep quiet for fear of being accused himself. I wanted to eliminate as much risk as possible, though. The last thing I needed was Mavev tracking me.

  But I didn’t feel lucky today. Mummer’s balls.

  I just wanted to get some air, clear my head a little.

  Now I had four corpses wrought by my hand.

  “Your lot couldn’t have just let me be, could you? Idiots.” I spat at the body. Then, with a deep breath, I sheathed my blade and walked calmly into the main street.

  I needed to head back to the Mummer’s Stage before morning broke. As much as I didn’t like it, I’d need some form of rest before tangling with a larger opponent. It would also serve me well to clue the others in on our potential problem.

  Before any of that could happen, however.

  I had corpses to butcher.