There are moments in every assassin’s career when the most meticulous plans are subverted; when the highest skills are rendered useless and life or death hangs on the tenuous hook of sheer luck. The two things together form a loose coalition known as fate.

 

And fate is a fickle thing.

 

Sloan and three other Novices of Mara chatted together as they walked through the columned portico of the temple into the courtyard beyond. It was a lovely day, the kind with light fluffy clouds that harbingered nothing but sunshine and cool breezes.

 

As they moved through the courtyard, the hem of Sloan’s Novice robe caught under her foot and she stumbled forward…just as a dagger fwipped through the space her head should have been and bonked hilt-first into the head of the Novice beside her. That unfortunate collapsed to the ground with a small cry, eliciting screams from the others.

 

Sloan ignored them; in fact, was already well past them, weaving through the courtyard to the doorway in the far wall. She caught just a glimpse a familiar furry body as she dove into the building. Sloan had prepared for this, all the time hoping it would not prove necessary. After all her misdirection, all her subterfuge, Gilna had found her.

 

Of course, it had to be Gilna.

 

Sloan slipped out of the encumbering Novice robe as she moved through the nearly-empty vestibule, then dove to the right as motion in her periphery warned her. A small bolt imbedded itself in the floor where she had been standing.

 

“You are as quick as ever.” Her mentor’s voice held a note of laughter as it floated through the room as if from nowhere. “I had hoped to remove you from a distance to avoid a one-on-one confrontation.”

 

Sloan sighed as she paused behind a pillar. “It’s time to play one of your games again, I see. I have to admit, I kind of missed them.”

 

“This is one my favorites.” Gilna’s voice was clearer this time – she was closer. Or not - Gilna was a master at throwing her voice. It would be impossible to determine her location by that. Sloan strained to hear sounds of steps or something else that might pinpoint the Khajiit’s location even as she, herself, moved on. “It is called Cat and Mouse.”

 

“Obviously you’re the cat.” Sloan threw her own voice as she moved through the shadows behind the altar, then tipped over a lectern and moved swiftly back the other direction as it crashed to the floor. Two daggers flew as from nowhere into the space she had vacated.

 

A chuckle. “I would tell you that is a rude thing to say, if it wasn’t true.”

 

“I’m fine being the mouse.” The daggers had come from an angle above. Sloan eased her way to the large stained-glass window, then tugged on the third cord that was tied off to the side. She heard movement in the open rafters above and quickly stepped into the thick stone windowsill and shimmied upward until she was in the rafters also.

 

As she slipped through the shadows from beam to beam, the real game began – chasing a half-imagined shadow through the darkness, always with the fear that the shadow was just behind her. Her shoulder blades twitched at each imagined thrust of an unseen dagger.

 

“You are clever as a mouse. That was a nice trick, setting up little decoys up here. It is good that you were prepared for someone coming after you here.”

 

“Well, I had a great teacher.”

 

A soft laugh. “And I had a great student. The best I have ever seen.”

 

“You trained Mishi?”

 

“You are better than Mishi. You just don’t know it.”

 

“That’s what Jorg said as well. I don’t buy it.”

 

“No? Well, if you survive me, you will find out.”

 

“One thing at a time.”

 

“Always. Focus on the now.”

 

“Of course.” A pause. “Do you remember when we hunted the deer?”

 

“Which one?”

 

“The first one.”

 

“Yes. You killed it. I was impressed – very few are able to make a kill their first time.”

 

“It was luck more than skill. But after, you started teaching me about plants.”

 

“Did I? I do not remember that, but it sounds right. Preparing you to make potions and poisons.”

 

“Yes. One of the things you pointed out was an imp stool.”

 

“Ah, yes. The mushroom. A key ingredient in many healing potions BUT accidentally add in, say, the ground up pod from a swamp fungus and you get a paralyzing poi…” Gilna’s voice faded off, and then, “What are you telling me?” With a new, cautious tone.

 

“Did you know that the poison created from those two ingredients is absorbed by the skin? Of course, only a little bit of it wouldn’t be noticed, but if someone were to, say, spend thirty minutes stepping in a concentrated form of it with their bare feet…”

 

A curse shot through the air and Sloan zeroed in on it, moving as quickly as she dared. She slid across a beam and around a corner and froze as the Khajiit passed by warily just below her. Sloan dropped, daggers ready, and landed behind Gilna.

 

“Squeak.”

 

The daggers plunged into Gilna’s back as the Khajiit began to spin, and the spin turned into a rotating collapse that shot an arc of bright blood that trailed through the air and splashed across the immaculate floor below, followed a split second later by Gilna.

 

Sloan dropped to the floor and then to her knees, and took Gilna in her arms. She petted her friend’s soft fur as tears leaked down her face.

 

Gilna let loose a breathy chuckle. “Clever of you to coat the beams in paralyzing poison. Lucky it was me who came here and not someone who wears shoes.”

 

Sloan sniffed and gave her mentor a watery smile. “I didn’t. I thought of the idea just then. I have no idea if what I said is true.”

 

Gilna gasped and then laughed, though the laugh sounded more like a gasping rattle and, when it was done, no further breath followed. Sloan bowed her head and sobbed.

 

 

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