Purposeful Ramblings Through My Mind

Sometimes reality can shift in a moment. One minute, you're plotting with people you trust to do something which may turn out to be for the betterment of the city, and the next you're fighting off an assassination attempt by one of the city's Templars.

Solon has been the target of dirty politics several times already, notably whenever Ghadir has tried to hire me away from his service. But that, while fairly quiet, was still known. This has a different quality, somehow.

There were four of them plus the defiler. The door burst inwards, a spell of darkness was cast on Sallah's home, and someone said, "Kill them." Axes were thrown blindly in the dark before I'd properly drawn my battleaxe.

I pulled out all the stops to fight them, as did the others. Sallah's spells were less effective than usual, as the attackers seemed able to throw them off. They also knew how to position themselves so as to flank us each in turn. While not as skilled as I am, they were nevertheless well-trained.

I dispatched two of them and nearly killed the other two, though Tak and I both flirted with death to achieve it. The defiler fled and we could not chase her. And it was during the clean-up that I discovered why they were so well-trained that they could nearly deal with a Templar, a drey city soldier, a gladiator, and whatever it is that Sallah does.

They were city soldiers. I recognized them. I've worked with two of them in the past; in fact one has been under my command on at least two occasions when Solon needed a group of soldiers as backup in the city.

Four city soldiers, out of uniform, with weapons not from the armoury, under the command of a defiler? That defiler was a Templar. The question is, who was it? From which faction did she take her direction? Which (of at least three I can call to mind) action of Solon's and mine was the impetus?

I do not believe it was Ghadir. Assassination is not his style; he works to undermine by digging pits for others to fall into. But that doesn't mean he was uninvolved; only that he may have been the front man for a deeper game against my master. (I should not call him that.) So, was it a result of Solon's rebuff of the overture by the faction we assumed was the True? Was it a result of the interview with the Princess? (I use many titles here that never cross my lips.) Are they one and the same? Did someone learn of our dabblings with the gangs, and seek to take us out before we could replace the leaders they had set in place? Is Tithian so nervous of the Princess that he's seeking to rid himself of those Templars he fears will have most cause to be loyal to her?

I believe the True is the most likely culprit, but I cannot fathom how the contact who seemed to know about Solon's orders to slip poison into the hero's cup came to be the foremost of the Princess's guards. If Solon has figured it out, he has not yet shared that insight with me.

The two attackers who did not die by my blade during the attack were both very badly hurt. One, Solon woke up to attempt to interrogate him. Our usual routine, where I frighten the man and Solon asks questions, did not work. He refused to indicate much of anything. About the only vaguely interesting thing he said was to call Solon a traitor. When the city guard who had appeared on the scene was distracted, I dispatched him in such a way that it looked like his wounds had prevailed over Solon's healing. The other we took back to the jail, but since it was by that point quite late and the Templar responsible for the jail did not wish to be woken, we did not leave him there. He is resting in the guest room of Solon's suite, and I suspect much of the day will be spent getting information out of him. I confess I do not relish the thought. The first needed to die, for he had threatened us with retribution after he returned to the barracks and that could not be allowed to stand. It was distasteful, but I did it. I hope the second sees reason and tells us what we need to know. Of course, it might not be too reasonable to tell us. If this plot goes a long way up through the Templars, then his protection from the law is assured by telling us nothing and getting to the prison quickly; whereas, if the plot is small, he's better off throwing in his lot with us. Either way, he must know he could die in our quarters and nobody would question how it had come about.

Other battles in the streets have been fought and won with nary a thought afterward. Nothing is simple anymore.

That sounds like a complaint. It is in fact merely an observation. I do not want to go back to the time when dispatching people without thinking too hard about the rights and wrongs and meanings of the deed was a normal occurance. But I cannot deny that it is more complicated now.

While I was training this morning, yet another odd thing happened. I cannot fathom if this is a single candle on the mountainside, or a single lit candle about to set off a firestorm. My heart says he was sincere, a candle on the mountainside, attempting to spread light and hope. But perhaps he is simply a good dissembler.

A man approached me. He was thin, not because he had nothing to eat but because he was built thin. He commented on my training and how effortless it looked, and then indicated that my mind needed similar training but had not received it. And he offered to train me. I asked him to speak plainly, to tell me what he wanted in return, for nothing is ever free. When he said he wanted no payment, I wanted very badly to believe him. I decided to trust him to a point, and let him train me, but I will be attempting to learn more about him. If there is one thing my life has taught me, it is that nothing is without cost, even things that seem on the surface to be done with the best of intentions. There must be an agenda. It worries me that I can discern none.

Note: Anwar can't actually keep a journal, because she neither reads nor writes. I don't care. I like character journals. ( Snip snip. )