15min fic #19
Aug. 24th, 2004 12:07 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annarti.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
yrae
Title~ Bird's-eye View
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ I have no idea who this bloke is, but he's mine, and so's the fic =3
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 19. Closest I could come to an 'alias' for any of the main charries was Nol going under the name of Ryn when he decided to be anonymous, only I've already ficced that, hence, meet Eagle. I dunno who he is, random bloke. Hurrah for random blokes!
~ ~ ~
As far as anyone knew, he was known as Eagle. Nobody really knew who he was—what his real name was, what he did by day… nobody even knew whether he lived south of the Main Road or north, in the upper-class area of Ni-Yana. Assassins ran a risky business; it would never do to be widely known in a city such as this.
In return, Eagle never knew the names of the people he worked for. He cared only for the coin, always collected from the middle-man, always somewhere different. One week he may hide in the shadows of the palace, next he may choose to wait by the docks.
Tonight, he leaned against the rear wall of one of the more respectable taverns in Ni-Yana, examining his fingernails. As always, a pair of daggers was sheathed in his belt, easily accessible. Twice already Ni-Yana’s police had attempted to ambush him.
The first time, he’d barely escaped with his life. A cold blade of steel had been sheathed neatly in his back, but thankfully, he was able to return the favour. Nobody had questioned him while he lay in mortal pain in the healing house. It was a perfectly legitimate injury for a man who crafted swords for a living. For all he knew, the one that had pierced his flesh had come from his own blacksmith.
The second time he’d been more prepared. The three officers had all fallen to his daggers, and all Eagle had to show for the brief encounter was a scratch on his forearm.
A man appeared from around the corner and leaned against the wall beside Eagle, arms folded.
“Eagle?” the man inquired.
The assassin merely nodded, not turning to look the messenger in the face. By the same token, the shorter man kept his eyes staring fixedly ahead. It was common curtesy among assassins and messengers never to look the other in the eye. If either happened to be caught, neither would have the opportunity to tell the Ni-Yana police anything, because they knew nothing.
The messenger dug into his pocket and drew out a pouch that jingled faintly in the warm night air. “Kinala,” he said shortly, “Tax man on the river bank. Often takes drinks at the ‘Thrai.” He paused as Eagle pocketed his payment. “Honour to meet you, sir.”
Eagle grinned darkly in the starlight, hearing the smile in the man’s voice, but saying nothing. He inclined his head briefly, then pushed himself off the wall and made for the ‘Thrai.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ I have no idea who this bloke is, but he's mine, and so's the fic =3
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 19. Closest I could come to an 'alias' for any of the main charries was Nol going under the name of Ryn when he decided to be anonymous, only I've already ficced that, hence, meet Eagle. I dunno who he is, random bloke. Hurrah for random blokes!
As far as anyone knew, he was known as Eagle. Nobody really knew who he was—what his real name was, what he did by day… nobody even knew whether he lived south of the Main Road or north, in the upper-class area of Ni-Yana. Assassins ran a risky business; it would never do to be widely known in a city such as this.
In return, Eagle never knew the names of the people he worked for. He cared only for the coin, always collected from the middle-man, always somewhere different. One week he may hide in the shadows of the palace, next he may choose to wait by the docks.
Tonight, he leaned against the rear wall of one of the more respectable taverns in Ni-Yana, examining his fingernails. As always, a pair of daggers was sheathed in his belt, easily accessible. Twice already Ni-Yana’s police had attempted to ambush him.
The first time, he’d barely escaped with his life. A cold blade of steel had been sheathed neatly in his back, but thankfully, he was able to return the favour. Nobody had questioned him while he lay in mortal pain in the healing house. It was a perfectly legitimate injury for a man who crafted swords for a living. For all he knew, the one that had pierced his flesh had come from his own blacksmith.
The second time he’d been more prepared. The three officers had all fallen to his daggers, and all Eagle had to show for the brief encounter was a scratch on his forearm.
A man appeared from around the corner and leaned against the wall beside Eagle, arms folded.
“Eagle?” the man inquired.
The assassin merely nodded, not turning to look the messenger in the face. By the same token, the shorter man kept his eyes staring fixedly ahead. It was common curtesy among assassins and messengers never to look the other in the eye. If either happened to be caught, neither would have the opportunity to tell the Ni-Yana police anything, because they knew nothing.
The messenger dug into his pocket and drew out a pouch that jingled faintly in the warm night air. “Kinala,” he said shortly, “Tax man on the river bank. Often takes drinks at the ‘Thrai.” He paused as Eagle pocketed his payment. “Honour to meet you, sir.”
Eagle grinned darkly in the starlight, hearing the smile in the man’s voice, but saying nothing. He inclined his head briefly, then pushed himself off the wall and made for the ‘Thrai.