Femke grinned, ‘but I thought I’d be polite about it.’
Serrius gave a snort of amusement and led Reynik through the door. Femke watched the door close behind them. She raised her glass in silent salute towards the closed door before turning and
making her way back through to the hall. Aneki was waiting. He led her to the door and politely thanked her for visiting.
She strode purposefully back towards the city centre. There was much to organise and little time in which to do it.
Her first visit was to the seamstress, Rikala. The dumpy little woman was as businesslike as ever. Rikala had only ever met Femke when she was in the guise of the self-centred Lady Alyssa, yet
it was clear from her expression that the seamstress recognised her straight away. Femke was impressed. There were not many who would have looked at a young woman in a mid-thigh length leather
skirt, matching leather boots and a plain, collarless shirt and seen a spoilt young Lady hiding underneath. Rikala was clearly one who noticed fine detail. Femke stored away that snippet of
knowledge. If she were to deal with the dressmaker in future, then it was clear that she could only do so as Lady Alyssa, or her occupation would quickly become obvious.
If the dressmaker was surprised by Femke’s appearance, or the manner of her request, she did not show it. She did, however, raise one eyebrow in a quizzical manner as she eyed Femke up and
down.
‘Where did you get those clothes, Lady Alyssa?’ she asked, making no attempt to hide her contempt for the tailoring as she fingered the seam on Femke’s sleeve.
‘I’ll make you the clothes you require for the young gentleman, but it seems that I’d better make you some more clothes at the same time. No matter how you want to look,
there’s no excuse for poor stitching, and by the look of the needlework on that top, the seamstress does not deserve the title. Bring him in tomorrow at the eighth bell for measuring. I
should be able to complete the work by the end of the week.’
‘Thank you, Rikala. Oh, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention anything about this,’ Femke replied, looking around in an exaggeratedly conspiratal fashion. ‘It
wouldn’t be good for my image if it were known that I sometimes walked through town dressed as a commoner.’
‘Your secret is safe with me, Lady Alyssa. Actually, despite the appalling quality of that shirt, I think I prefer you dressed this way. You’re much easier to communicate with when
you’re not acting all high and mighty.’
Femke smiled and left.
Arranging a good set of throwing knives for Reynik was easy enough. As the Legions did not train their soldiers to throw knives, it would take some considerable effort to make Reynik
sufficiently adept at this skill in such a short time period, but she knew that it would be essential to his overall persona. Femke was excellent at throwing knives, but not the best. A visit to
see her friend, Derryn, gained her another instructor.
Derryn was an ageing, highly talented street entertainer who had made his living throwing knives and juggling all manner of objects for many years. He had performed all over the Shandese Empire,
amazing folk with his dexterity and accuracy wherever he went. These days he preferred to remain in Shandrim. However, as with any show, people were not so generous once they had seen it a few
times. Extra money from any source was always welcome, so he was delighted to gain a temporary teaching job that would pay well. Femke arranged for him to give Reynik a lesson every day.
There were so many skills that an effective assassin should master, it was impossible to address them all. Ideally, Reynik should be a marksman with a crossbow. Not all assassins used this
weapon, but it was universally accepted that for a heavily guarded target, it was sometimes necessary to kill from a distance. Femke was realistic enough to accept that the degree of skill required
at this discipline
Serrius gave a snort of amusement and led Reynik through the door. Femke watched the door close behind them. She raised her glass in silent salute towards the closed door before turning and
making her way back through to the hall. Aneki was waiting. He led her to the door and politely thanked her for visiting.
She strode purposefully back towards the city centre. There was much to organise and little time in which to do it.
Her first visit was to the seamstress, Rikala. The dumpy little woman was as businesslike as ever. Rikala had only ever met Femke when she was in the guise of the self-centred Lady Alyssa, yet
it was clear from her expression that the seamstress recognised her straight away. Femke was impressed. There were not many who would have looked at a young woman in a mid-thigh length leather
skirt, matching leather boots and a plain, collarless shirt and seen a spoilt young Lady hiding underneath. Rikala was clearly one who noticed fine detail. Femke stored away that snippet of
knowledge. If she were to deal with the dressmaker in future, then it was clear that she could only do so as Lady Alyssa, or her occupation would quickly become obvious.
If the dressmaker was surprised by Femke’s appearance, or the manner of her request, she did not show it. She did, however, raise one eyebrow in a quizzical manner as she eyed Femke up and
down.
‘Where did you get those clothes, Lady Alyssa?’ she asked, making no attempt to hide her contempt for the tailoring as she fingered the seam on Femke’s sleeve.
‘I’ll make you the clothes you require for the young gentleman, but it seems that I’d better make you some more clothes at the same time. No matter how you want to look,
there’s no excuse for poor stitching, and by the look of the needlework on that top, the seamstress does not deserve the title. Bring him in tomorrow at the eighth bell for measuring. I
should be able to complete the work by the end of the week.’
‘Thank you, Rikala. Oh, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention anything about this,’ Femke replied, looking around in an exaggeratedly conspiratal fashion. ‘It
wouldn’t be good for my image if it were known that I sometimes walked through town dressed as a commoner.’
‘Your secret is safe with me, Lady Alyssa. Actually, despite the appalling quality of that shirt, I think I prefer you dressed this way. You’re much easier to communicate with when
you’re not acting all high and mighty.’
Femke smiled and left.
Arranging a good set of throwing knives for Reynik was easy enough. As the Legions did not train their soldiers to throw knives, it would take some considerable effort to make Reynik
sufficiently adept at this skill in such a short time period, but she knew that it would be essential to his overall persona. Femke was excellent at throwing knives, but not the best. A visit to
see her friend, Derryn, gained her another instructor.
Derryn was an ageing, highly talented street entertainer who had made his living throwing knives and juggling all manner of objects for many years. He had performed all over the Shandese Empire,
amazing folk with his dexterity and accuracy wherever he went. These days he preferred to remain in Shandrim. However, as with any show, people were not so generous once they had seen it a few
times. Extra money from any source was always welcome, so he was delighted to gain a temporary teaching job that would pay well. Femke arranged for him to give Reynik a lesson every day.
There were so many skills that an effective assassin should master, it was impossible to address them all. Ideally, Reynik should be a marksman with a crossbow. Not all assassins used this
weapon, but it was universally accepted that for a heavily guarded target, it was sometimes necessary to kill from a distance. Femke was realistic enough to accept that the degree of skill required
at this discipline
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