The full moon hung in the dark night sky, flanked on either side by the brilliantly pulsing stars. She smiled a motherly smile down at her protégé, the earth, dusted the flour off her apron, and held out a tray of freshly baked cookies.
Icefang was guided by the sound of quiet laughter coming from the other side of the raised knoll. He crept through the dark with the light of the campfire behind him and settled onto the wet grass beside the dim shape of the ferret jill.
"What’s funny?" the wolf mercenary asked.
Kallisto was lounged comfortably on her back with her paws folded behind her head. She allowed herself to smile warmly at Icefang, knowing he couldn’t see her features properly in the dark, "Have you ever taken a moment to look at the night sky, Ice?" she asked, "It’s truly beautiful out here in the country."
Icefang glanced up and frowned, "It looks the same here as anywhere else, Kallisto."
"Does it?" she said vaguely, "Maybe it does."
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence in which Icefang counted sixty beats of his heart. "What’s funny about it, though?" he asked finally.
Kallisto took a leisurely moment to drink in the chorus of crickets, the rustling of the grass in the gentle midnight breeze and the hushed noises of the mercenary camp behind. "I met a woman once who referred to the three stages of the moon as the maiden, the mother and the crone," she answered, "Waxing, full and waning, you see. Have you ever heard of that?"
"No," Icefang admitted, "I never have. I suppose this one is a mother?"
"Something like that," Kallisto let the silence stretch as they both gazed at the moon suspended in the pool of the sky. After a while she spoke again, "How about the legend of the mouse in the moon? Have you ever heard that one?"
"Of course I have," Icefang responded, sounding a little bitter, "But I’ve always thought it looks more like a wolf than a mouse."
Kallisto’s quiet laugh hung briefly in the air between them, sparkling, before the breeze sprung up to snatch it away. "Wolves don’t live in the moon, Ice," she told him, "They howl at it. Don’t you know anything?"
"I don’t howl at the moon," he replied indignantly.
"Too bad. I always thought it sounded so romantic when I was a child," a strange note in her voice caused the wolf to glance at her questioningly, but she ignored him. "I was just thinking about the mouse in the moon, and I thought that can’t be right, if the full moon is a mother. I figure if anyone is living in the moon right now, it’s got to be an old hedgehog housewife with an apron and a batch of cookies."
Icefang looked scornful, "That’s it?" he asked, "That’s what you found funny?"
She snorted, "Yes, that was it. You’re the one that asked."
Icefang caught a spark of irritation in her voice, and rushed to smother it before it ignited her fiery temper, "I’m sorry Kallisto, you’re right. I’ll leave you alone." He made as though to rise.
Kallisto grabbed his ankle, digging her claws into his flesh through the rough fabric of his pants. The moonlight reflected in her dark eyes as she stared at him. "Icefang," she said in a voice low and threatening, "I didn’t give you permission to leave."
The wolf mercenary blinked at her in surprise, "Excuse me?"
"Sit down," she said with quiet authority.
Icefang obeyed, warily noting the dangerous look in her eyes. The wolf had spent enough time with Kallisto to be familiar with her mood swings and her rage. The latter was to be avoided at all costs.
She released her grip on his leg and sat up with the deadly grace of a cobra. The jill moved into a crouch, facing him, and took a moment to study his features in the light of the moon. "I’ve been thinking," she said finally.
"About what?" Icefang asked carefully.
"About what you said," Kallisto replied, "About us being reduced to nothing more than common thugs."
The wolf tensed visibly, "Look, Kallisto," he said, trying to soothe, "I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to challenge your leadership. I was just…"
She held up a slender paw to silence him, and an almost tender grin replaced the dark expression on her face, "You’re right, Icefang."
"I..." he blinked, "What did you just say?"
"I said you’re right. Tsarmina has succeeded in reducing us to just that. We’re not the freelancing warriors we used to be. We’re lapdogs that eat out of the palm of the Queen’s hand."
Icefang’s blue eyes widened in surprise.
"You said yourself, Ice, that we’ve got some of the most intelligent beasts in the country with us," the ferret femme’s voice reminded him of velvet sliding over steel, "Maybe it’s about time we put them to use."
"I don’t understand."
"You want things to change," Kallisto said, "So why don’t we change them?"
Don Bruce strolled nonchalantly down the marble corridors with his paws thrust deep into his pockets. He whistled a jaunty little tune as he admired the elegantly woven tapestries that bedecked the walls on either side of him. He slowed his pace as he passed a set of exquisitely carved double doors, his keen nose picking up the rich odors of fresh bread and pastries. The bustling noises of the kitchen drifted out to his perked ears, bringing a gratified grin to the ferret’s face.
A few minutes later, the assassin strode out into the warm afternoon sunlight of the courtyard, his stolen lunch tucked under his arm. His long coat flapped open, and he removed the garment, delighting in the cool caress of the midday breeze on his bare arms.
Keeping his pace at a leisurely speed, the ferret sauntered through the shadows along the wall. He spotted a pair of guards patrolling a short ways away through a break in the hedges. They were dressed in cumbersome chain mail vests and heavy leather jerkins. Sweat ran out from under their helmets and dribbled down the sides of their faces. Don Bruce almost laughed at their evident discomfort. Altering his course, he crept through the perfect display of hedges and gaudy flowers until he was within hearing distance of the pair.
"Damn that cat," growled the first, mopping at his brow with his sleeve, "What in Hell’s name we doing out here again, mate?"
"Watching out for trouble," said the other sharply. His weapons and armor were polished and his uniform neat and clean, revealing him as a traditional, patriotic soldier. "There’s some talk of rebellion in the city, so we all gots to do a few extra rounds. No big deal, just keep your eyes peeled. Who knows, there may be assassins or something lurking around, trying to get their dirty paw on our Queen. There’d be a big reward if we found one of those."
Don Bruce was a little offended. His paws were very clean, and he felt more inclined to touch a horny toad than to touch Tsarmina Greeneyes.
"A reward, eh?" the first snorted, "I’d like to know what Greeneyes calls a reward. Maybe we’ll get full rations for dinner, you think? Or perhaps a thimbleful of wine. A few coppers, if we’re lucky. I’m telling you, Jones, things were different back in the days of Aegisthus."
"Don’t talk like that, Travis," Jones snapped hastily, his gray eyes warily searching the courtyard to see if anyone had heard, "That’s treason. You could have us both strung up by our necks."
Travis sulkily kicked a rock down the cobblestone path and watched it bounce off a beautifully painted flowerpot, "You can’t breath around here without someone wanting to hang you up, Jones. We’re the bloody army, you know, but even we ain’t safe! Someday, if the chance ever arises, I’m going to take my furry rear and get as far away from Greeneyes’ territory as I can. Ain’t no profit to be had working for that crazy cat."
Quite the contrary, Travis, my friend, Don Bruce snickered inwardly as he slunk away, keeping low to the ground, I see great profit in my future. You just have to know how to play the game.
The assassin wedged himself into a dark corner between a large bush and the side of a pagoda. He turned his attention on the freshly baked pie he had lifted from the kitchens. It released steam and a mouthwatering aroma as he cut through the flaky crust with one of his many knives.
Don Bruce produced a scroll from under his tunic and unrolled it on the ground in front of him as he waited for the pie to cool. He used a pair of rocks to hold it open as he studied it. A complete blueprint of all the levels of the palace, detailed to perfection, smiled up at him. It showed him every detail of every room in the entire palace, including the servant’s corridors and the private suites of the nobility. Most importantly, though, it showed him the ancient maze of hidden passageways within the walls of the castle.
The ferret speared a slice of apple out of the pie on the tip of his knife and munched on it. A joyless smile spread on his lips, accompanied by the wicked sparkle in his red eyes. There was no room in the palace he couldn’t access undetected. Let the Queen feel secure in chambers with her empty headed soldiers patrolling her grounds. Don Bruce had his own plans.
Four pounds of gold was an insult to Don Bruce’s abilities. You just didn’t expect to buy the best assassin the country for that little.