Elizabeth stood outside Francesca’s house, watching the shadows play across the lit window as the information broker rushed around. No doubt she was grabbing everything she could before disappearing into the slums to escape the heavy hand of vengeance. Unfortunately for Francesca, it was already here, its grip tightening on the handle of a pistol.

Elizabeth pushed the front door open and stalked inside, up the stairs, and down the hallway. Her lips curled into a sneer as she approached the door, the gaps around the edges leaking yellow candlelight into the hallway. She silently opened it and stepped inside, her pistol raised. The room was in complete disarray, drawers open and tossed, the furniture knocked aside in a frantic search. Francesca was there, in the middle of the room, a half-filled canvas sack in one hand and a ragged-looking teddy in the other. Somehow, she heard Elizabeth come in and stiffened, back still to the door.

“I hoped I would have more time,” she said, toying with the bear.

“Unfortunately for you, I move quick.”

“Elizabeth?” Francesca said, spinning and raising her hands when she saw the pistol. She scowled. “I didn’t see this coming. You’re not like the stories they tell at all.”

“How so?” Elizabeth asked, advancing on Francesca until she was just outside arm’s reach.

“Everyone’s heard about the Guild Master’s attack dog. Insane, dangerous, and completely loyal. They say it’s a small mercy he is the one holding your leash. No telling what you would’ve done without his controlling hand. Yet here we are.”

Elizabeth smiled. That’s what they were saying about me? Awesome! Wait, I’m missing something here.

“What do you mean, ‘here we are’?”

“I never thought you’d betray the Guild Master.”

Elizabeth cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “What? I’m not betraying the boss, you are!”

“Oh, come on. I knew you were insane, but don’t tell me you’re stupid as well!”

“Not as stupid as the woman insulting the assassin with the pistol levelled at her chest.”

“I beg to differ, you fucking nutcase.”

Elizabeth snarled. She hated it when people called her that. “Alright, I’m going to kill you now.”

Elizabeth’s finger curled over the trigger, but a sudden thought stopped her.

“Hold on, where’s Luca?”

“I think you know.”

Elizabeth frowned and opened her mouth to ask for clarification when she heard something outside the room. It was quiet, probably inaudible to someone without her sharp senses, like the sound of someone bumping into a wall in the dark. She turned her head, ever so slightly, feeling the wind currents flowing from the hallway. Someone was coming, and from their pace and the way they carried themselves, they weren’t here on a social visit.

She spun and raised her pistol, but Francesca barrelled into her from behind, arms wrapping around her waist as they tumbled to the ground.

Crap! She doesn’t realise someone’s there!

Elizabeth went down awkwardly, her hips hitting the floor first and slingshotting her face into the hard wood. She yelled as her nose broke, blood spurting down her face and over the ground as she wriggled in Francesca’s grip. She got an arm loose and awkwardly twisted, dropping elbows into the top of the broker’s head until the older woman went slack. Seizing the opportunity, Elizabeth flipped onto her back and brought her knees to her chest, booting Francesca in the face. Her head snapped back, and she went limp, her eyes rolling in her head from the blow. For a second, Elizabeth was worried she may have overdone it and caused some serious damage, but there wasn’t time to think about that now. She pushed the broker off and rolled to her feet, coming face to face with the mystery guest from before.

It was an enforcer. Elizabeth’s pistol was in his hand.

Bollocks. She must have dropped it when she went down.

“Easy there, mate. Don’t want to be messing with things beyond your ken,” she said, slowly raising her hands in front of her. She grimaced at the congested, nasally twang of her voice.

“What? This? I think it’s pretty self-explanatory. Point the tube, pull this little metal thing here, am I right?”

“Oh, no, it’s far more complicated than that. Lots of convoluted steps and processes. If you make one single mistake, it blows up in your face!”

“I don’t think so. I saw you use them at the palace.”

“Ah… would you believe that, due to my incredible skill and expertise, I only made it look easy?”

His lips curled into a grin as his finger curled over the trigger, and Elizabeth gave him the finger.

“Go fuck yourself, then.” She could at least die how she lived, antagonising people she probably shouldn’t. Instead of the expected bang and blossoming pain, the enforcer’s face twisted in shock and the pistol slipped from his fingers. He looked down at his chest, and Elizabeth followed his gaze to find a crossbow bolt sticking out of his heart.

“It’s rude to interrupt,” Francesca said from the floor. Elizabeth glanced at her. She was beside the open sack, one hand inside, the other sporting a one-handed crossbow still pointed at the enforcer. The tip of the weapon was swaying, and her eyes still looked glassy.

“Nice shot,” Elizabeth muttered as Francesca pulled a second crossbow out of the sack, the enforcer keeling over by the door. The sound as his body hit the floor was followed by a series of muffled thumps from throughout the house. He hadn’t come alone.

“It was luck, I can hardly see straight after that kick,” Francesca replied.

“Yeah, sorry about that, but we didn’t have time to talk it out. What other weapons do you have? I’ve got a single pistol shot left and a stiletto, but there’s more Famiglia searching the house,” Elizabeth said as she walked over and hauled Francesca to her feet.

“Uh… not… not much,” she said, swaying. “I’m a broker, not a fighter. I had a few things lying around the house, but they’re mostly antiques and curios. Whatever seemed useful is in here.”

She held the sack out and Elizabeth snatched it, thrusting her hand in and rummaging around.

“Come on, come on…” she muttered. “Sacrificial knife, punch dagger… a pointy peg leg? What the fuck, Francesca?”

“It belonged to an important Aderathian noble in the Early Kingdoms Period. Lost his leg in a riding accident but wanted to keep campaigning. He ended up being instrumental in putting the first emperor on the throne. It’s worth a lot of money.”

Elizabeth shook her head and thrust her hand back into the sack, immediately pulling it out with a yelp. She tenderly checked the puncture wound on her palm, then peered into the bag.

“Oh ho! Now this,” she said as she pulled out a vicious morning star, “is what I’m talking about!”

She looked from the weapon to Francesca, her brows knitting as she took in the broker’s concerned expression. “What?”

“Are you… sure, that’s what you want to go with? It was designed for mounted combat, knights bashing each other through steel armour.”

“Exactly! Just imagine what it’s gonna do to some bare skulls!”

Francesca held her expression for a moment, then it cracked into a sly grin. “You really are a nutcase. You know that, right?”

Elizabeth propped the morning star over her shoulder and struck a pose. “Admit it, though. It turns you on a bit.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Francesca laughed, “alright. What’s the plan?”

“My pistol is under old mate’s body. Grab it and bring the crossbows. Watch my back and make sure no one sticks a knife in it. I’ll handle everyone else.”

Francesca retrieved the pistol, reloaded her first crossbow and hooked it onto her belt, then gave the assassin a determined nod. Elizabeth returned a reassuring smile, then snuffed out the candle lighting the room, plunging them into darkness. The only illumination left came from the faint light struggling through the window curtains from the streetlamps outside.

She crept down the hallway, feeling her way along the wall. Her eyes wouldn’t properly adjust for some time, but having just come in from the fairly well-lit street, the enforcers would be in the same boat. Elizabeth had one critical advantage, though; senses so finely tuned she could read shifting air currents.

She found her first victim at the end of the hallway. He was crouched at the head of the stairs, unsure of whether to proceed or go back to find his buddies. Elizabeth solved his conundrum with an overhead smash that lodged the morning star’s spikes so deep in his skull she needed to pin him with a boot to lever it out. Francesca bumped into her as she finally yanked it free, almost sending them both tumbling down the stairs.

“Hey! Watch it!” Elizabeth whispered.

“How am I supposed to watch it when it’s pitch black? I can’t see my hand in front of my face since you snuffed out the candle!” Francesca whispered back.

Oh, right. She’s blind now too.

“Sorry, I’m not used to working with others.”

“Forget that, how do you know where you’re going or where they are?”

“The finely tuned senses of a premier assassin!”

“I don’t have those!”

Elizabeth bit her lip. As long as Francesca couldn’t see, she was a liability, but Elizabeth also couldn’t leave her behind in the room. She’d be helpless if any of the enforcers slipped past and found her. Maybe Elizabeth shouldn’t have snuffed out the only light source. It had seemed like a good idea, the enforcers had avoided bringing torches so they could sneak up on Francesca, using her own light to find her. But now they were on the back foot. It would be a shame to waste that advantage.

“Are you sure you really need to see?”

“I would very much like the option! Especially since my house is full of people trying to kill me!”

“Alright, alright, no need to get emotional about it. Let me think.”

Elizabeth stewed on the problem, but she was coming up empty. The way she saw it, any light at all would light everyone up equally, removing the relative advantage she had over the enforcers.

Then, as if reading her mind, Francesca provided a solution. “I have a thief’s lantern!” she whispered excitedly. “It has sliding panels over the glass. You can shut them all to hide the light, or open a single panel to cast a narrow beam. I can keep it dark unless I absolutely need to see, and then I can extinguish the light as soon as I’ve got my bearings.”

“Beautiful and smart!” Elizabeth said, giving Francesca a wink, then realising the broker couldn’t see it. “But, why do you have something like that?”

“I’m the best information broker in the city. You can’t always rely on others to bring you what you need. Sometimes you need to go out and find it.”

Elizabeth grunted her approval. “Alright, where is it?”

“Wait here.”

Francesca disappeared back the way they had come, sliding her hand along the wall to find her way in the dark. After a minute or two, there was the sound of a match flaring to life, a brief glow, and then darkness again. When Elizabeth felt the broker close again, she reached out into the dark, questing for her hand. She was disappointed to actually find it instead of something more fun.

“Here’s the plan:” she said, fighting to keep the disappointment from her voice, “I’ll guide you along. When I let go, it’s because I’ve got to murderise some folks, but I’ll come back and get you each time.”

“How is that different to the plan before the lamp?”

“I was getting to that,” Elizabeth said in a reproachful tone. “When I give you the codeword, I want you to open a panel toward my voice, but only when I say, alright?”

“If I need to, I’m opening the lamp. I will not be stabbed to death in the dark without at least seeing my attacker.”

“Listen, just let me do my job, alright? I’ll keep you safe.”

Francesca sighed heavily in the dark, and Elizabeth could tell she was running her hands through her hair. “If you say so,” she said after a few seconds. “What’s the codeword?”

“Hmm,” Elizabeth frowned, thinking over some of the cooler code words the Guild had used for their safehouses. “What about… scarlet ribbon?”

Elizabeth liked that one, because scarlet ribbons were pretty, but also because it was slang for slitting someone’s throat.

“That’s a little wordy. Can’t you just shout ‘light’ or something?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose that could work, too. A bit boring, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll keep yourself entertained, regardless. How many enforcers are left?”

Elizabeth strained her ears. Two sets of footsteps in the kitchen. Three in the living room.

“Five.”

A voice whisper shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “Giovani, do you see anything?”

Elizabeth grimaced. “Sorry, make that six. I’m sure that’s it though,” she said as she started creeping down the stairs.

“Gods, I hope you’re right,” Francesca muttered as she was pulled after the assassin. At the foot of the stairs, Elizabeth smashed the enforcer’s head against the wall, then paused, listening to see if she had alerted the others.

Nothing. So far, this was going exceedingly well. Except, this bloody morning star was becoming a pain. Even with the bloke’s head smashed to buggery, she still needed to grasp the long central spike coming from the top of the ball and work it back and forth to get it out. It was getting tedious having to extricate the damn thing after every kill.

Maybe I should have opted for the peg leg.

Once it was free, she crept into the kitchen, leaving Francesca in the doorway. One assassin was feeling his way around the island bench in the centre, while the other lingered in the living room entrance. She stole up behind the first enforcer and swung the morning star into the side of his head.

Or, that was the plan, at least. In effect, it was difficult to gauge height solely from air currents, and the spikes punctured deep into the poor man’s throat. His hand shot out and grasped the haft of the weapon as he desperately felt around on the bench with his other. Pots and pans clattered to the floor, and just like that, things were no longer going well at all.

Elizabeth swore as she punched the man repeatedly in his face, trying to break his grip on the mace while his friend in the doorway stumbled towards them. The stricken enforcer slumped against the bench as his strength finally gave out, and Elizabeth ripped the weapon free in a spray of blood that caught her right in the face.

Urgh, yuck, she thought as she spat to clear her mouth and swung a backhanded blow at the advancing enforcer. He must have heard the movement, though, and ducked it, then crash tackled her around the waist. Her head smacked against the floor as she fell and blinding light flashed behind her eyes. She went limp, her body temporarily disconnecting from her brain, as the man climbed on top of her. She desperately willed her limbs into motion, but they had a life of their own, flopping ineffectually on the floor as she tried to wrestle them back under control. The man shifted his weight, leaning back, and she realised whatever was in his hands was about to come screaming at her face at very high speed.

“Any last words, whore?” he asked.

“Light!” she shouted.

Another blinding light, this one fortunately not the product of blunt force trauma, washed over the two of them, exposing a heavy set man with a sadistic grin and a long butcher’s knife raised above his head. He blinked into the beam, brows furrowing in confusion, before a deafening boom echoed around the small room and a bullet slotted neatly between his eyes.

He toppled in slow motion, and Elizabeth was about to call her thanks to Francesca when the lantern suddenly flew, spinning through the air as the broker screamed. Elizabeth extricated herself from the body in a panic and clambered to her feet, the lantern throwing its beam around the room like a drunken lighthouse, its erratic movements sporadically illuminating Francesca as she wrestled with an enforcer.

As the lantern settled, casting its light into an empty corner of the room, Elizabeth retrieved the mace from the weakly struggling man’s neck and sprinted towards the grapplers, shouting for Francesca to duck.

Unfortunately, they both did.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

The enforcer still in the living room unexpectedly solved her conundrum when a torch flared to life in his hands, throwing the room into stark relief. Francesca and her opponent were crouched so close their noses almost touched, both of them looking up at her. Francesca looked relieved.

He looked resigned.

Elizabeth shattered his skull, splattering Francesca with blood, then pushed past to intercept the others. She slid under a horizontal slash and took out the first enforcer’s knee, following up with an overhead slam as he struggled to get back to his feet. The sole survivor saw his dead buddies and turned to run, but Elizabeth hurled the mace, two handed, after him. He almost made it to the doorway before the morning star struck. He dropped, skidding along the polished wood floor, the torch rolling away from his body.

Elizabeth strolled over to the brand, chest heaving, to pick it up before it burned the house down. She looked around, finding the candles scattered about the room, and lit them before dowsing the torch in a vase and turning to Francesca. The broker was still sitting on the floor, wide eyed and breathing as heavily as Elizabeth. Their eyes locked, and they burst out laughing.

“What a fucking debacle!” Elizabeth said as she sat beside Francesca on the floor. “Those morning star things are shit house!”

“It looked pretty effective to me.”

“Na, give me a nice, clean blade any day. They don’t get stuck in people’s noggins every time you wallop someone.”

“Less blow back too, I’d imagine,” the broker said, leaning over and wiping the blood from Elizabeth’s face. She closed her eyes and turned her head into the tender touch, wincing slightly when fingers danced delicately across her shattered nose. It wasn’t like the touch she was so used to; the desperate, heavy, stroking and clawing. It was gentle, yet firm. Compassionate. She smiled, eyes still shut. “I knew you’d come around, eventually.”

“By the Pantheon, do you ever think about anything other than sex?”

Elizabeth wanted to say that she wasn’t, that it was the furthest thing from her mind at that moment.

“I also think about beer and smoking… After sex, that is,” she said with a weak smile.

Francesca chuckled and withdrew her hand, leaving Elizabeth blinking and wandering what had just come over her. She coughed and shook her head. “Anyway. Plenty of time for that later. Right now, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Francesca sighed and ran her hands through her hair, the joviality gone in an instant.

“We’ve been betrayed, obviously,” she said with a tired chuckle, “by that rat, Giorgio.”

“No,” Elizabeth said, furiously shaking her head. “Not possible. It couldn’t have been old Giorgie. He’s been loyal to the Guild for decades!”

Despite her protests, the wheels in her head started to turn. She had assumed Francesca was the traitor because it made sense. She had told Elizabeth how risky this escapade was for her and her child; it was easy to believe she had been spooked and turned. Besides, she was a Guild affiliate, but not a sworn member, and independents were notoriously mercurial with their loyalty. But the list of suspects was low, just her and Giorgie, and the enforcers cooling on the floor around them hadn’t stopped by for tea and biscuits. Could Giorgie be the turncoat?

First suspicious fact: every guilder in the city was dead except him. No matter how flawless the Famiglia operation was, some agents should have slipped through the cracks, assassins who escaped or turned the tables on their attackers. Those survivors would have consolidated at the safe houses, then made their way to the evacuation point. The only way the family could have caught the ones and twos was by intercepting them at safe houses, or the evac point itself.

Which lead to the second suspicious fact: there had been a lot of Famiglia hanging around near the warehouse. It had a higher density of enforcers than anywhere else in the city, yet they hadn’t found Giorgie? They were either incompetent, lazy, or not actually looking for him at all, because they already knew he was there.

And this would explain the third suspicious fact: they had been looking for Elizabeth when she went to the warehouse. The enforcers she had passed elsewhere hadn’t looked twice at her, but the ones by the shorefront had been on high alert. Like they knew exactly what the warehouse was and were waiting for agents to fall into their lap.

Good old Giorgie had sold out the Guild and told the Famiglia about the warehouse. He was likely only there to kill any agents who slipped the net completely, but if that was the case, why didn’t he kill her?

“I don’t know, Francesca. Maybe there could be some other leak?”

“No one else knew.”

“Then why didn’t he kill me?”

Francesca scoffed and gestured at the surrounding bodies. “I know he’s got a reputation, but he’s in his fifties and you’re, quite frankly, terrifying. I bet he didn’t like his chances, so he decided to let a bunch of proxies try in his stead.”

“But I survived the ambush.”

“True, but he probably guessed that, in the event you survived, you’d assume I was the traitor and kill me before we cleared this up.”

“That sounds too risky. After all, we’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but if these scum hadn’t interrupted us, what would have happened?”

Elizabeth stared at the floor for a few seconds, working up the courage to answer.

“I would have shot you in your exquisite face,” she said, wincing as the words came out of her mouth. “I’m sorry! I was so angry, and I didn’t really stop to consider alternatives…”

“I understand, Elizabeth. I’ll let it go, not that I have much choice,” she added under her breath. “But you have to admit, if it weren’t for chance, you would have played right along with his game.”

Elizabeth felt the heat rising in her face. By Val’Pyria’s tits, Francesca was right. Giorgie had played her for a fool. An impetuous, violent fool. There would be a reckoning for that.

But first she needed to finish what she had come here to do.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do…” she trailed off as she noticed something else tied to Francesca’s belt. The teddy bear. “Francesca, where is Luca?”

Francesca’s eyes filled with tears as she looked down at the toy. “After I saw you off, I went back to the office. Dom was looking after Luca there, and I had some work to take care of while you completed your task.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Enforcers were on us in minutes. Dom tried to hold them off. Gods, but he was something. Must have killed a half dozen of them before a coward with a crossbow shot him through the throat. Luca… saw. She slipped out of my grip and ran back…”

“They took her?”

Francesca nodded, tears overflowing from her eyes and streaming down her face. “I couldn’t… there were too many. I was unarmed…”

Elizabeth wrapped Francesca in a bone-crushing hug and shushed her. “It’s alright, I know, if there was anything you could have done…”

As she leaned into the hug, her eyes scrunched tightly shut, a memory came back to Elizabeth.