I walk swiftly across the rooftops, already knowing my way around, I have a knack for making mental maps quickly. The rooftops are generally safe enough since the only others that walk it are assassin's like me. Hopefully I've not got myself onto the blacklist yet, it wouldn't take much.
From my shadowy vantage point I hear the low mumble of whispered voices from below, I don't try to listen in, I know this part of town. Across the street is the thatched roof of “The Blacksmith's Daughter”, the brotherhoods little hideout inn. I don't fancy listening in to a hushed conversation held outside that little establishment.
I move on a few blocks before arriving at Horn Street. Making sure the white sash I carry is safely hidden under my t-shirt and my sword isn't going to catch on anything I jump down, using the plentiful handholds that are always around if you look – our assassin ancestors work I guess. No one bothers me, you don't walk these streets at night unless you have a purpose and I definitely do.
Thankfully my sword, the cumbersome thing, isn't an uncommon sight around these parts and doesn't draw any attention to me. Many people carry weapons, the guard isn't about to enforce too many rules around here. I smile as I turn the corner and find myself in front of the small house known as home by Marie Victor. I like knowing my victims names, it creates something a bit more personal about the kill.
As usual her window is open, but the frame is rotted and easy to force anyway. I've watched her for two days now and I know she'll be asleep as she always is at this time, I know I should be more thorough but I'm impatient for the thrill of death. I think, this time, I'll plunge my sword through her vocal cords as she lies in bed dreaming, that way she can't scream and draw too much attention.
I check around and above me for signs of movement, waiting for a minute in total stillness, I trust the next houses shadows to cover me completely. This is the bit I mustn't rush, no one will notice anything if they aren't looking for it, the window's too shadowed and the night's too dark. I move with the catlike grace my mother was always so proud of and carefully knock the window slightly wider, peering inside.
My coast is clear and there's no better time to get a foot onto the sill and jump softly in, holding my katana out of my way as I go. I'm glad I decided to wear my soft shoes, they're so much easier for a job like this.
My target is sleeping in the other room, the door is open and there are no obstacles in my way. I carefully pick my way over to the door and listen to the slow, even breathing. Slipping in silently I slip my sword out of it's sheath, it only makes a slight sound in the quiet room, not enough to disturb the stillness or to wake Miss Marie.
She doesn't open her eyes until I slip my blade through her neck, even then it's far too late for her to scream. It takes more strength than you would think to hold a dying woman down. My job's made easier by the fact that she'd impaled herself further onto my sword though, it's a matter of seconds before her fighting stills and then all I have to do is creep back out.
I told you Marie Victor was dead.