14. Episode The Peacock and the Crow
Crow paused with the door handle still in his hand, perhaps because he was curious to what she wished to say. However the pause wasn’t very long when he eventually walks on. He couldn’t or wouldn’t hear anymore of her at this moment. Too much that had happened in that room made him leave. No turn of his head, no moment to wait if she would follow. He walked on to the docks, simply because he himself knew that even if he had stopped, turned there was nothing he could have done differently. Her proposal was absurd and something he wouldn’t ever accept, no woman would play that part in his life. In his own mind he had already been too kind.
Crow knew that most women that even dared to touch him, would have at least the back of his hand on their cheeks for several days. His personal space was almost sacred and she had invaded it. Not even his slaves dared without his approval come that near. That space was there for a very good reason, a reason that held much from his past. His father had taught him young that when one was in that space your life could be hanging on a thin thread. Perhaps he had been too surprised, aware of her weakness by her recovery, or had given in for his own selfish need to taste her lips. The last something most read as his “way with women”.
Crow knew that in his training he had been regarded as the fellow that had that natural charm. They teased him with his shaggability and he had carried it with him through his entire training. When he had become that Assassin he still used the charm to get where he wanted. He had even killed a woman after giving her pleasure. Slaves adored him, for his patience in training. Yet he had never given them what they were after. Even the Peacock couldn’t get it and he knew that it had become what she most desired. His heart had been broken and never healed. She had spoken of care for him and it troubled him, since a part of him wished to be gentle with her. Perhaps tell her that he cared too. But it would be a lie.
Crow couldn’t care for her, let alone for any woman. That same care would be turned if Gold was paid. Not his care would stop from doing what he had been trained to do. Crow was for most certain no lair. He was a talented artist if it came to portraying that he did. He even made his slave Sparrow believe he loved her, while in fact he hadn’t. The only woman he perhaps cared for was safe in the bounds of another, who he respected. It was the only woman that knew him – perhaps – better than he knew himself.
Crow glanced behind him to see that the new acquired slave heeled him. In his eyes no longer the warmth but the sharpness to see if she complied well enough. The slave, one he knew well, had submitted to him after her former owner had abandoned her. The killer had perhaps been lost in action, still on his task and unaware of the girl. He could have killed her when she crossed her wrists, but hadn’t. He however not really in need of a slave at that point had only seen the waste if he had done so.
Crow had to wait on the captain when he moved upon the dock to depart again. The man had been paid well and had seen him come. “You wish to depart, Killer ?” he had asked. Crow had given him the position of where he wished to go and ordered his girl to find a spot below deck to warm herself. “As you wish, Killer.” The man haste to say and urged his crew to prepare to leave. Dyval wasn’t a place for killers, Crow thought. There was no reason to remain – the things that had to happen had done so. The Innkeeper was paid, the physician would find more than enough in the pouch he had left behind. What was left after that was enough for anyone to start anew.
Crow wasn’t a liar, wasn’t greedy, wasn’t capable of caring or love. Crow was just and alone that killer, that Assassin that could turn like a leaf: One moment charming and sophisticated while in the next sharp and alert on the ready to slit the throat of the one he had made feel safe in his presence. Perhaps there was the orthodox, since wasn’t it just as much a lie to portray yourself something you weren’t ? Crow remembered the words of one of the older killers. “When gold is exchanged only our caste codes are in place. No city law matters, the kill must be made.”
Crows Murder 
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