The gap between indifference and treason bridged.

Dutte reached the roof and made his way towards the next warehouse. The moon illuminated his way to the edge and the narrow gap between the two buildings. As Fferyll had said, a short board made of planks bridged the gap and he gingerly tested it by tapping it with one foot. Despite it looking older than the city itself, it seemed to be strong enough and he gulped heavily before stepping forward.

He swore as a small gust of wind caught his cloak, causing him to hurry the few steps across. Dutte reached under his cloak and touched the bulging purse double tied to his belt, to reassure him that it was still there. He crouched on the far side as he jumped down from the low parapet and surveyed the rooftop. There was a small shed that possibly allowed access to the roof from the warehouse below, and this cast a shadow across the wooden boards. There weren’t a lot of overlooking roofs nearby, making it a perfect site for clandestine meetings. No doubt, there were several escape points at either edge.

However, Dutte was alone. He rose and stepped forward towards the centre of the roof. He slowly made his way circling the shed took centre stage, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Still no-one, just a few tattered tarps and a pile of old boards, tied down against any wind. He sat down and waited, cursing Brant, Fferyll and the lineage of House Barstt under his breath. Twenty minutes passed, twenty long minutes that might have been hours as he waited for his meet. Finally, he stood and turned to make his way back down.

As he did so, a shadow seemed to rise from the pile of tattered tarpaulins. The dark shape shifted into the figure of a man, taller but more slender than Dutte. He took a step forward and Dutte saw that he was garbed in black leather armour, segmented in bands about the torso and shoulders to allow more flexibility. A stiffened cowl that came forward in a short point covered his head, whilst a half mask obscured the lower part of his face.

“There is no need for your sword, Client.” The figure whispered, standing his ground and holding his hands to out to his sides to show he wasn’t bearing a threat to Dutte.

“I am not your client yet. We haven’t a contract.” Dutte took umbrage at the figure almost immediately, especially at the length of time he had waited and that he had been there all along.

“Then we do not need to be here, Client.” The figure turned to walk away. Dutte cursed and started forward after him

“Wait! I have the fee.” The leather clad man turned back to face Dutte, now face to face.

“Good, then we talk. But a warning. Do not approach a member of the Brotherhood of Karnast like that again. Should you wish to disrespect the guild then our retribution will be swift and ruthless. We address you as Client out of respect of your anonymity, but we do know who you are.”

Dutte stepped back, annoyed at himself for being so reckless. What was he thinking? He had no doubt that this man, a member of the guild of assassins, would be able to best him even without a blade. He didn’t think words would carry much sway with the figure that faced him, so acknowledged his comments with a nod.

“Show me your coins, Client. I have other work to do tonight before the sunrise.”

Dutte slowly moved his hands to push his cloak back and then unlaced the purse from his belt. Relieved to be shed of its weight, he held it out and the assassin reached out and took it. He slipped it into a bag strung across his back by a cord over his shoulder and looped back under his belt.

“Aren’t you going to count it?”

“As I said, Client. We know who you are, not many people double cross the guild.” He held out his hand, having palmed a small vial from the bag when placing the bag of coins there.

Dutte took it and held it up, the vial was the size of his first two joints of his little finger. As he peered at the contents in the light of the moon, he noticed it was a little under a quarter full.

“It isn’t a lot for a thousand gold coins, is it?”

The assassin harrumphed, knowing that the purchaser knew the value of the vial and its contents but was just acknowledging the power encapsulated within.

“A thousand coins gets you whatever you get following your enemy’s death, Client. That is the most potent toxin known to man. Cultivated from a flower in Thesh, that small vial represents a thousand hours of work and has cost several lives so far.

It is a contact irritant that kills within seconds of touching bare skin. I would recommend gloves whilst administering it. It will stay potent in the air for an hour before becoming ineffective in its primary use.”

Dutte tucked it inside his belt pouch and nodded his acknowledgement.

“Thank you.”

He turned and crossed over the plank bridge, looking back when he had jumped down the other side. But the figure had already gone, melting back into the shadow world.