Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

Amadan’s kick cut Mally’s scream short, and the woman tumbled, whimpering, to the ground. The cruelty charged Nightfall to hatred. He would never take another blow from Amadan, and neither would any other. Though weak on his feet, he charged.

Suddenly menaced, Amadan flung the dagger at Nightfall.

The response came as little more than instinct. From the ease of long practice, Nightfall snatched the hilt from the air and rebounded it with deadly accuracy. The blade found its mark in the merchant’s throat, and combined momentum buried it deep. He collapsed, gurgling, unable to scream. His eyes remained widened, even in death.

The back door opened.

Nightfall faded into the shadows, prepared to kill or escape as it became necessary.

Amadan’s other two slaves came partway through and stopped, gaping. Rooted in place, they kept the door wedged with their bodies.

Nightfall knew Mally’s scream might soon bring more, and none of them could afford witnesses. "Move! Quickly. No one needs to know more than that he and you left before sunup." Nightfall directed, a bodiless voice from the darkness. He doubted slaves gathering their master’s possessions, no matter how hurriedly, would attract suspicion. Any who knew their master would see nothing amiss in the nervousness of these slaves at any time. Without another word, he scrambled after Rivehn, doubting he could find the swindler in the twisting maze of Trillium’s streets. He would have to hope Rivehn and Johastus had not changed their haunts. And that Amadan’s property would cling to their new freedom.

Once located, laughing in their den, Rivehn and Johastus lost their easy fortune to Nightfall’s silent talent. Nightfall crept away unseen, richer by not only his own money but theirs as well; and his theft did not disrupt their mirth nor their mocking comments about his naivete. Nightfall did not dally, gloat, or allow greed to drive him to foolishness. He simply took the two purses, equally full of the money they had won from him and one another in play, and headed surreptitiously back toward the Thirsty Dolphin.

Sunrise lit the sky a dull orange and pewter, and a steady glow suffused Trillium’s many roadways. The oath-bond buzzed a steady, dizzying cadence, a warning either that Nightfall had slipped too close to forbidden persona or that he had left Edward alone too long. In defense, Nightfall funneled his mind and goal fully on returning to the inn, an action that should appease the magic whatever its particular source. Shadows and alleys kept him well-hidden from the few folk about at first light. He found them simple to avoid. Most concentrated on tasks they needed to complete before the city came fully to life: loading carts for market, organizing shops for business, or hauling buckets of water for morning rituals or cooking.

By the time Nightfall arrived back at the stone and mortar building that served as Trillium’s rowdiest inn and tavern, he discovered a common room filled with travelers eating breakfast, including Prince Edward Nargol of Alyndar who chatted with a small group of Trillians as he ate. The oath-bond abated enough to allow Nightfall other thought. Concern came first, that Edward would become too intrusive about his activities or punish him for not attending every need prior to his awakening. Nightfall knew he deserved the tongue-lashing, but he worried that another long, droning lesson might lull him to sleep, that lapse earning him two others. By its weight and his direct knowledge of the scam, he estimated that he now carried approximately two hundred silver. It seemed an unbelievable fortune, one he could not have attained on his own, at least not without falling fully into the demon guise. Still, he doubted Finndmer would accept the lesser amount as payment for the land as much as he felt certain Edward would not allow him another night of gambling. Somehow, he would need to make up the difference.

Nightfall headed directly for Prince Edward’s table, trying to look suitably agitated and repentant. He made a show of directing his attention fully on his master, though he studied the others from the corner of his eye. He knew the best dressed of the men at a glance, a horse trader by the name of Gerbrant. Though aggressive when it came to sales, the merchant had always seemed reasonably honest. He enjoyed taking chances as much as any man, though I Nightfall had never known him to rig the odds or cheat a customer he liked. He did, however, tend to overlook the flaws in his own animals. The other two worked for him, and both had placed a few small bets the previous night in the tavern.

Nightfall bowed, head low, looking appropriately humble. "Master, I’m sorry. I went out to… well, to… relieve myself. And I got to looking around and took a walk and lost track of time…"

Edward waved his squire silent, then gestured at the only empty chair at the table. "No harm done, Sudian. Sit." Nightfall obeyed, still keeping his head down and attentive only to his master. A plate of fried eggs and bread lay in front of the prince, steam carrying its fragrance to Nightfall’s nose. Though hungry, he did not know whether his stomach could stand food after a night of excitement and beer, though he had practiced caution and moderation. The implications of the evening maddened him. If anyone with authority connected him with Amadan’s death, they would undoubtedly hang him. Should Rivehn and Johastus have underground connections, Nightfall would again find himself endangered by the myriad connections that had once served as the closest things to friends. Even should he survive the oath-bond, his new freedom might buy him a life worse than the one he had had: a lowbom hunted by authorities and criminals alike. But this time, he could not hide behind disguises and aliases, his true appearance no longer a haven.

Edward signaled one of the barmaids to bring Nightfall breakfast. "This is my squire, Sudian."

Gerbrant acknowledged Nightfall with a preoccupied nod. His companions smiled, and one spoke before his employer. "I know Sudian well. And so does my copper." They both laughed.

Nightfall glanced up, keeping his grin sheepish and avoiding Edward’s eyes. He hardly thought sharing a round of beer translated to "knowing well," but it fit the gibe.

"Are you going to drop some money on the race?" the other asked. “You were quick enough for everything else."

Nightfall crinkled his brow, confused by the question. "Race?"

The prince looked from workers to squire, still obviously uncertain about their connection. He explained. “Gerbrant, has a fast horse. A longtime competitor challenged him to a race, and it’s happening this afternoon."

The first worker spoke again. “Other fellow’s so underconfident, he beat up our jockey." He laughed inappropriately, adding quickly, "Didn’t work, though. Samma’s small, but he punches all right for a little one."

"Got away with a few scrapes and bruises," the other finished. "We’ve kept him locked up safe since then. Got guards on Dash-that’s the horse-too."

Nightfall could almost hear Dyfrin’s voice screaming in his head. Listen to all and listen well. Given chance and a little ingenuity, most men will hand you their money. Make it seem their own idea, and return what you don’t need. Greed pays in moments; kindness and fairness for a lifetime. Living always from instant to instant and situation to situation, Nightfall had found small use for Dyfrin’s long-term advice. Now, as always, he tried to find a means to use the men’s volunteered information to gain the last of the needed money. He doubted pitting horse against horse would earn enough attention from Trillium’s populace to make a bet worth his while. However, when a horse dealer got behind an animal, he tended to do so with serious, almost blind, prejudice. The more interesting stakes would lie in the bet between horse owners.