Conflict in Greywater

Veros was leaving Greywater, walking back towards the city of Aeolo. His business here was done. It was a grimy little thorp, this so-called Greywater, an eyesore clinging to the side of the river Aldrena. The river was wide and slow, perfect for upriver travel, and hiring a crew to take him upriver would save valuable time. He wanted to be in Daeladus before the week's end, and he had no desire to walk. Night was well on its way now, the people of the village coming back to their mudbrick homes to prepare for the following day. Childen, barefoot and dirty, ran between the huts screaming in excitement. Veros ignored them all, striding through the flow of humanity. The thorp was tiny, perhaps home to twenty families. It was less than a mile from the great portcity of Aeolo, but some of the city folk didn't even know it was here. He himself was all too eager to forget. Since he got off the boat from Artorac in Akishido, he had seen more than enough poverty for his taste. How could people live in such squalor and not rebel?

Ardaad-Oran may have been small, but at least it was clean.

Veros left Greywater's edge and walked down the dirt road towads the lights of Aeolo. He could hear someone follwing a dozen or so paces behind, trying to be quiet. Keeping his hand away from his knife, Veros wondered why anyone from Greywater would want to tail him. When he heard the dry rasp of steel from his pursuer, he stopped wondering and started planning.

The footsteps behind him quickened, and now he could hear that there was not one, but two people trying to kill him. He turned to meet his attackers, water rising from the ditch beside him in hundreds of droplets. He sidestepped a knife thrust, the blade grazing his ribs in a line of hot pain. The droplets merged into a liquid tendril, lashing around the assailent's knife hand and flash freezing to immobilize him. The man heaved against the snare of ice, shattering it, but Proteus had already left Veros' sheath. The long, single-edged knife opened the man's throat with sickening ease. Veros pivoted to avoid the plume of arterial spray, kicking the dying man to the ground.

He turned to face the other attacker, this man bigger than his companion. He moved lightly for his size, serpentine blade flashing in the evening light.

You are a dead man, foreigner. You have a price on your head; your blood is as good as gold.

If that is so, then three is company, for you too are a dead man.

The assassin lunged for Veros, but he was ready. More droplets rose from the ground, these freezing into jagged shards as they whipped towards his adversary. He fell screaming, as the shards tore into his legs. Water snaked around him, holding him upright.

Now, you will tell me who sent you.

I will tell you nothing!

The assassin spit at Veros, but the saliva froze as it left his lips, dropping to the ground.

I could pry the answers from you, you know. I could threaten to kill you, to strangle you where you stand.

A liquid noose snaked around the man's neck, tightening.

It would be painful, but quick. Or I could nail you to a wall with those shards, and let you bleed out through the night. Not so quick a death. Better yet, I could freeze your very blood, ever so slowly, till your veins burst, your skin cracks, your own life's blood hardening to razors.

Veros' voice never changed, cold and dispassionate. The assassin's eyes bulged, sweat pouring off his face.

I am just a blade for hire, nothing more! I was sent by Rashi Doman, the magistrate of the Aeolo. I know no more, I swear it!

Veros walked away, ignoring the man's further babbling. Not two days off the boat and he was targeted by hired knives. How...disconcerting. He tightened his hand into a fist and the water around the assassin's neck snapped taut, silencing him with a snap of bone. Veros walked on toward Aeolo to bind his wound and plot his next move.