What have we here, thought Mouse as he saw the figure stroll by.  It was a dark night, but there was enough light from the tavern windows to see that the... man?  Woman?... was well-dressed in a foreign style.  Perfect, nobody local will miss... him, Mouse decided as he slipped away from the tavern and through the shadows.  Mouse wasn't the best thief in the world, but he was plenty good.  Good enough to take this guy without having to work hard.  He's not even paying attention... well, his loss is my gain, he said to himself.  He had given himself the nickname "Mouse" a long time ago, because his mother had thought that "Marei" was a nice name for a boy.  That he could scurry through the darkness like an small rodent helped with the nickname, too.  He'd made a good living taking pouches and wallets in the Dark Quarter of the City, and often enough further up The Hill too.  That's where he got the blade he now loosened in its scabbard, the blade that his appraiser friend told him was part skymetal.  Not the whole thing, but from the point maybe an inch down was coaxed out of a rock that fell from where the stars were.  Mouse supposed his friend was telling the truth; he'd offered 200 gold and a Forestling Knife in exchange, after all.  Two hundred would have made for a good month or two, Mouse smiled, or one helluva weekend. 

Mouse had worked his way down an alley and gotten past the foreigner now, and taken position in a dark alcove.  He's totally lost in his own world.  Maybe a scholar?  They're supposed to be absent-minded, snickered Mouse.  I'll be teaching him a lesson in a moment.  He pulled the knife out and waited for the scholar to walk by, all the while holding his breath.  A moment later, he struck, the knife easily slipping through the expensive-looking robe and into the heart underneath.  This surprised Mouse not at all.  On those fortunately uncommon times he'd had to fight his way out of a blown heist, the skymetal blade had shown that it could punch through steel armor as easily as it could slice cheese.  Even that Darneshhi cheese, the one with the chewy crust-like thing on it, that'd be tasty for dinner... maybe Scholar here will have a purse big enough.  Hey, did it get warm all of a sud...  Mouse's skeleton flared brightly, incinerating him from the inside-out as the skymetal blade turned a glowing white before it, too, disappeared from the searing heat.

Ow, that hurt, crossed the mind of the well-dressed mage.  More than it did the last time someone snuck up on me, come to think of it... magic blade, maybe?  The damaged flesh does seem to be knitting back together a little slower than normal... well, no matter.   Where was I?  The mage continued his nightly stroll.  He was sure S'nleen would berate him for not paying better attention to his surroundings, but when he got to thinking like that ...and what thoughts they were.  Where does magic come from, anyway?  Every wizard, spellcaster, parlor mage or farmer with a nasty disposition towards rats thought the question at least once in their lives, but I might actually be able to find the answer.

The night's walk lasted a very long time.

Posted by: Wonderduck at 07:37 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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