Rae’s hands and nose were numb with cold but the stars were out, and he didn’t want to get down yet.
He rarely had time for stargazing, but when his thoughts were keeping him awake, their twinkling light was a comforting companion. Rae was no mystic, he only knew the names of a few constellations, but the familiar shapes still reassured him. No matter where he was, nor how old he got, those shapes would cycle through their positions as they always did.
Rae’s eyes fell on a star he knew very well, the silver wing star. This was his mother’s death star, and its position meant it would soon be another year gone. The white wing star didn’t have any ominous associations, and any mystic wouldn’t hesitate to conduct a marriage ceremony, fertility rites, or thanksgiving ceremony under its light. Hardly a harbinger of doom, but Rae shivered at the thought that it would be at its highest point by the time he arrived at the Shak’s camp.
Or perhaps it was just the cold. It was long past time to go inside and find a warm fire to sit by. After so long sitting, his legs were a little shaky and upon standing up, he had a nasty case of pins and needles.
For a plains-person, this kind of condition in such a precarious place would be very dangerous, but Rae knew how to maintain his balance on the roof while he waited for his legs to return to normal. As he stretched, he heard a tile nearby shift against the rest, making a quiet scraping sound.
Rae froze.
Had someone else been on the roof this whole time? And Rae had failed to notice them in the dark? How embarrassing.
“Hello?”
Rae looked around. On the edge of the roof on the opposite side, there was a silent shadow in the gloom. The shape was certainly person-shaped, but it didn’t speak back. It might have been a monkey.
“Peace, friend,” Rae said squinting at the shadow, “You’re rather close to the edge, do be careful,”
The shadow let out a soft breath, before speaking.
“Rae je Kaolin,” the voice was low, like a threat. It was a threat. There was only one reason for someone lurking in the darkness to know that name, and say it now.
Rae didn’t respond, holding the short sword at his waist as subtly as possible. Rae’s eyes were well-adjusted to the darkness, and he still couldn’t see the assassin. To his enemy, he was likely just a shadow himself.
As Rae was thinking this, the shadow moved closer, running along the apex with the speed of a beast. The steel of a blade glinted in the starlight, and fabric rustled.
Rae blocked the blade with his sheathed sword and pushed back hard. His assailant grunted and stumbled down the opposite roof edge. Rae saw the shadow right itself a few feet away.
In the second they made contact, Rae got a closer look at his opponent. Lithe, pale limbs clothed in black, dark hair like a whip, fierce eyes gleaming in the starlight.
Rae might have been small and young, but he wasn’t defenceless. Preparing for a drawn-out fight, Rae unsheathed his weapon and moved his feet into a sword stance.
Forgetting where he was standing...
His foot slipped off the roof’s edge, and before he could do anything he was tumbling backwards. He twisted in the air, hoping to grab at the gutter, a veranda, anything. As he fell, he saw the shadow, standing where Rae once did, looming over him.
Rae got lucky.
His fall was broken by the decorative boxwood that lined the courtyard. It took a few seconds for the pain to hit Rae. He might have cried out during the free-fall, but the impact knocked any sounds out of him.
Trying to find which part of his body the pain was emanating from, getting scratched and poked in the eyes by the very branches that had just saved his life, Rae thrashed on the ground. He didn’t know where he was, all knowledge of the guest house he’d had before was replaced with the need to get away.
Gaori! Gaori, where are you? Rae thought, but couldn’t form words beyond pained groans.
No more than a few feet away, Rae heard boots hit the ground, and his fear grew even more bone-deep than before.
He hadn’t been able to push himself up with his arms. No matter how hard he tried, there was no strength left in them. At the sound of steps on the cobblestones, he threw himself into an upright position and scrambled onto his knees. His legs didn’t protest as severely as his arms had but were still too shaky to run away.
“No-!”
Illuminated by the light of the guest house, Rae finally had a clear view of the assassin’s face. This was what the demons that stalked the forests at night looked like. This was worse than the most terrible of the desert savages. Pale, sharp, with amber eyes so empty. So uncaring. The one thing crueller than cruelty. The sight shocked Rae back into silence.
The assassin’s blade twinkled like stars and moved just as inevitably.
“Don’t run,” the beast said.
Rae couldn’t so much as stand.
“Fuck you-”
Pathetic last words were made even worse by the way his voice cracked under the effort. It was shame, more than fear, that Rae would feel in his last moments. He hid his head in his hands.
“Get lost, beast,” a commanding voice cut through the scene.
Rae looked up, and his mind seemed to clear in an instant. Those horrifying, apathetic eyes were no longer fixed on him. With the clarity, the pain in his left wrist increased tenfold, and the first tears welled in his eyes.
“Do you know who I’m doing this for?” the assassin asked.
“Do you know who you’re talking to? Scram or I’ll cut you down,”
Rae’s vision, which painted the perfect portrait of evil when focused on the assassin, couldn’t quite make out the details of his saviour. His legs were even weaker than before and the throbbing in his arm echoed to his temples. The figure blurred and swayed before him.
“Who?”
Tall. Dark hair. Golden skin. White hot rage in his voice. He planted himself between Rae and the assassin. Rae wanted to tell him, “Kind sir, please run while you can! Don’t put your life on the line on my account.”
“Fool,” the assassin muttered. Rae’s view of him was blocked by his saviour, but he heard a swift burst of footfall and braced himself for an attack.
No impact came. No piercing pain in his heart. His saviour turned around, revealing the space where the assassin once was. He knelt and cupped Rae’s face in his hands. Soft hands. Warm hands.
“There, there. He’s gone now,”
Rae’s breath came fast. He wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be. No killer-for-hire would give up so easily.
Even so, those gentle hands brought Rae back from the precipice. His vision cleared, and met the dark eyes staring into his.
“Ven Ashem?” Rae asked, not believing his eyes.
“That’s right. Can you tell me what hurts?” Ven asked.
“My arm,” Rae said. At some point, Rae had started cradling his left arm to his chest.
“Can you stand?”
Rae thought so. Now the world wasn’t spinning, nor filled with knives aimed at his heart. He could stand.
Ven helped him up.
“Come with me. I have some healing ointments. The very best, save by those made by Duke Bejuk himself,”
Rae could barely follow a sentence, but he allowed himself to be led into the guest-house and then carried up to Ven Ashem’s rooms.
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