[center]II.[/center]


There was absolutely no way that I could allow him to still remain breathing. A religious zealot who lingered about unchecked had been far worse than a mob of armed street thugs. They didn`t bother with sheer force alone, but their words derailed the truth, bent it to their own wicked will, and spat it back in the face of society. How much chaos would erupt at the expense of so many? How much flak would I receive for fumbling the plan of my masters? Or worse, [i]the[/i] Master. 

NO. This cretin had to be eliminated. Daughter or not. 

I arched my torso, lifting my upper body up so I could grab hold of the wooden beam, thereby freeing my legs to swing down for a soft landing onto the cold, stone floor. Ouch. I think I had been up there longer than expected, as my thighs screamed with a sharp pain, only to find myself still pursuing the mark rather than basking in the glory of the kill. I didn`t enjoy the hunt, but only the satisfaction of knowing that one less rancid scum of society was off the street and out of the system. And where had the bastard been going in such a hurry that he couldn`t even slow down enough for his own flesh and blood? Ah well, it wasn`t my business to know or care about the trivial points of life. However, if a chase was, in fact, in the cards then so be it.

I have time...to kill.

Having been through this cathedral on a dry-run days before, I had a pretty good idea of where Marcus was headed. On the other side of the large oak doors, was a spiraling stairway to the top of the main tower, which housed several doors to unknown rooms. Unknown, because most of them were dead-bolted with a series of intricate locking mechanisms which had been next to impossible to disengage. The Steel Empire didn`t miss a beat when it came to security, although, ironically enough, when it came to lock-picking tools either. Regardless, I was certain that several other doors had been sealed with more than physical security means. Magic was, no doubt, being used as an additional precaution, making it that much more difficult.

I hated magic.

My ear listened intently for the fading footsteps, until I was sure it was clear, and gracefully attempted my luck on the door. "Already unlocked? Nice..." I tried my best to keep it to a dull roar, but some things still surprised me. I quickly slipped in through the cracked door and closed it behind me with a soft 'clink' of the metal latch. The footsteps echoed off the stone walls from way above the spiraling stairs. I couldn`t believe how quickly they were moving, as though time itself was slowing for me and staying constant for the rest of the world. I shook off the idiotic thoughts, and moved swiftly up the stairs, taking care to stay with my back firmly along the wall as I ascended the dimly lit tower.

There must`ve been several thousand steps leading up to the very top, which had been, at the least, ten or twelves stories high. Fortunately, my target had made his way through the second level entry door. Could this one still be unlocked as the first was? I quickly slipped over to the closed door, listening to make sure that the footsteps had left enough distance. The door pushed open this time, as though it was never latched to begin with. My guess was that they had designed these particular doors for the simple reason that if you could already make it into the cathedral and main tower, what was the point of further security measures? 

Of course, I had been wrong before.

The pungent aroma of rose oil assaulted my senses as the door cracked open and I stepped out into the partially lit hallway. The footsteps of both Marcus and the child came from my left, as I watched their shadowed forms disappear into the darkened corridor. What was it with the lack of lighting in this place? Not that I was complaining, considering the shadows were my only ally in this sort of business. Nonetheless, I couldn`t imagine anyone wanting to live like this. The dark certainly had its advantages, but there was a loss of so much as well. An absence of color, of warmth, leaving everything with a feeling of cold separation. I certainly was no stranger to that, living much of my childhood in such a home, void of any true warmth.

I kept my back to the wall and my ears opened. I had to give my eyes time to adjust to the changes in lighting, but my hearing had always been sharp...on key. I suppose you could say that was one of the few things that my lost heritage had passed down to me. Even as a child, I picked up on music fairly quickly, impressing even myself with well thought-out pieces on the piano. My mother, a woman I had never been able to know, was quite fond of the piano and violin from what I was told. Who knows, maybe if life as a spy doesn`t work out...

I shuddered at the thought, mentally reprimanding myself in the process. I couldn`t imagine life as a travelling musician.

Another door opened at the end of the hall, casting a washed-out yellowish glow along the wall and floor, as both figures entered into the brightly lit room and closed the door behind them. Perfect. I had to make mention of the "lack of lighting" earlier, didn`t I? Interestingly enough, the light from the room on the other side of the door barely leaked through the cracks of the door and it`s frame. What true craftsmanship to have such a fit. In either case, I slipped my way up to the door and peeked through the keyhole, the light causing me to squint until my pupils adjusted. From my narrowed vantage, it appeared like a library or study of some type, but that didn`t seem to be much of surprise to me considering that was all I saw on my first secret visit here only days before.

No one does that much reading.

My eye surveyed as much as it could from the tiny keyhole, as my ears continued to keep attentive to any nearby voices from the room. After a moment, I could hear the low mumblings of Marcus, although couldn`t quite make out what it was he was saying. It almost sounded like a foreign dialect. He then passed in front of my view, about five or six feet from the door, with his head down staring at an open book in his hands. He continued to pace back and forth until he was out of my sight once again. At that point, it became slightly frustrating being at such a disadvantage as I was. Would they care if I just stormed in, daggers blazing? That would have been an option, if it hadn`t been for the presence of the little girl. 

That`s the last thing I needed on my already scarred conscience. A dead child.

I moved away from the door, and leaned back against the shadowed wall, taking a deep breath. For once, I was at a loss. I had never killed anyone in cold blood, especially not on a guild-assigned task. On the one side, I could wait until he comes back out of the room and then strike while I still hold the advantage of darkness. Or, there is always th-

Hmm. There is nothing worse than being in the midst of sorting through an intricate plan, only to be disrupted by the unexpected unlatching of yet another door.

Near the opposite end of the hall, a large door opened, and out stepped a robed figure holding a small candle. From the distance, his features could hardly be pin-pointed, but he seemed slightly older. It mattered little though, because whomever this figure was just became my personal skeleton key. I slipped my way over to the other wall and crept along at just enough speed to not cause a stir in the silence. Although, I did my best to keep in time with his footsteps in an effort to conceal my own. The robed man stopped at the door which I had initially entered from, that lead into the spiraling stairway. This was my chance.

As his hand grabbed the door handle to pull it open, the cold, steel edge of my dagger found the warmth of his neck. I kept my hand firm, as the dagger`s edge threatened against his aging skin.

"Don`t move...and you just might live to corrupt another day." I whispered into his ear, with a tone of disdain leaking through like acid. I could feel his body tremble slightly, but his composure was rather solid. Had he expected something like this? Or, had I expected some sort of dramatics to come pouring from the old fool? At least I was certain that he was not going for any weapon, considering one hand held the brass candleholder and the other still held onto the door. The robed man slowly turned his head toward my direction and I could almost make out a grin across his lips. I applied a bit more pressure to his neck, causing him to tilt his head back slightly. 

"Now you have something I want...father" I whispered once again, responding to his wry grin with a deceitful smile of my own.

[color=f7941d](to be continued...)[/color]