“Bloodletting has been done in your apothecaries for centuries, why should that frighten you so?”

The baker chuckled and cracked his knuckles.

“You seen her eyes?” he asked.

“What of them?”

“No good telling you, then. Greet her sometime. Look her in the eye, and if you don’t get shivers, then Ashhur made you of sterner stuff than I.”

Qurrah smirked at the final comment but gave no reply. He started toward home, but then stopped.

“That girl,” he asked the baker. “Tessanna, does she come here every morning?”

“Certain as the sun,” the man replied. “By the time I get here, the fountain’s always colored red, and she’s dancing off like a little princess.”

“Thank you,” Qurrah said, dipping his head in respect. He wandered the rundown parts of southern Veldaren, lost in thought. He had come to Veldaren to think of his future, but Tessanna had given him far more immediate concerns. With the sun high in the sky, he returned to the tower, his mind decided. That next day, he would not miss Tessanna’s arrival. When the blood began to flow, he would be there to watch.

T he sound of sword hitting sword was clear and loud from behind the tower, so Qurrah circled around, remaining quiet and pressed against the stone in hopes of catching the battle unseen. He succeeded, and the sight was a worthy reward.

Harruq stood panting before Haern, his arms low and dragging as if the weight of his swords was too great to bear. Sweat dripped off his face. His entire body shuddered with each breath. Haern faced him, his face and body covered with an elaborate combination of cloaks. The tips of his sabers poked out from the folds.

“…movements have slowed with your exhaustion,” the assassin was saying as Qurrah neared. “You were not fast enough when we started, what hope have you now?”