Young Writers Society

"Stars, you're a thick one aren't you? I just said I'm not telling you that."

Tarkin raised an eyebrow. It wasn't often an assassin so readily offered information, even if it wasn't exactly what they were asking for. Then again, Phindians were cowards.
"Are you able to discern truth and lies, Sirejj?" he asked.

"Quite well actually." He said without moving his gaze from the phindian. "Especially from weak minded cowards." He took another step closer to her. He would prefer to stun her with a blow from his staff and drag her back to the city rather than trying to ask questions here.

The Phindian raised her crested brows. "Ah, are you one of those sorcerer types? Interesting."

Tarkin grasped her shoulder. "Let's discuss this back at the house, shall we?"

"Let's not. I'd like a clear line of exit."

"You won't have it, here or otherwise. Come along." The Phindian allowed herself to be led toward the house.

Sirejj kept his staff at the ready, walking behind her. Before completely exiting the clearing he pulled her spear to him with the force, planning on keeping it. He was a little disappointed he wouldn't be able to fight, and slightly suspicious at how easily the Phindian agreed to go with them. He didn't trust she wasn't plotting something.

Memories of the Citadel swirled in Tarkin's mind unprinted as he walked, keeping his rifle leveled at the Phindian. He'd have liked to be the one to deal the killing blow to Sobeck. The warden had tormented him personally on a few occasions.

"What is your employer's motivation?" he asked curtly.

"No idea," the Phindian replied with a cheery grin. "Sorry. He wasn't specific, he just wanted you and your wife dead."

Thalassa? Tarkin raised an eyebrow. Both of them had their fair share of enemies; it could be anyone.

"How long have you been stalking the governor?" Sirejj had not felt a her presence trailing them, but then again they had been extremely preoccupied.

"I've been planning it for about two months, but I've only been tailing him for about three days." She turned to look at Tarkin. "You went to a lot of trouble not to be noticed on Atoa. Why's that?"

"Good question," Tarkin retorted.

Sirejj chuckled. Them bickering was amusing. "You're very good at what you do. Even I didn't notice you." He replaced his staff on his back and instead carried her spear. "You may have almost succeeded in taking down your target if you'd paid a little more attention."

"I was paying great attention," she retorted. "But it's hard to anticipate a se and opponent when you're being grappled by the first. What's your role here, anyway?"

"You're a chatty one. Are all Phindians like that?" He half twirled her spear in his right hand. "I do admire the weapon though, as crude as it is."

He glanced over at Tarkin for a moment to survey the damage. He certainly looked rough, but one could now begin to visualize the hardness of this man. Most imperials would've been a sniveling mess after getting thrashed like he had. But it seemed as if Tarkin became even more focused through his pain.

Tarkin looked winded and disheveled, and his face had taken a beating. Other than that, he seemed to be taking things in stride. His true feelings were hidden fairly well, but the anger and discomfort he felt rolled beneath the surface.

"It's rude not to be vocal about feelings," the Phindian replied. "And I resent your use of the word crude! That's a fine, functional weapon. I made it with my own two hands!"

"I'll appreciate it even more on my wall then, knowing some care was put into its construction." He was finding her weak points, but he was also curious. It wasn't often a skilled independent hunter rose above the scum of the guilds. He wondered where she came from, what drove her.

"Did your family teach you this craft? Or self taught perhaps?"

"Self taught, but heartily encouraged by my mother. And yourself? I see you have a very fine weapon there." Her eyes widened in surprise and fascination. "Is that bone?"

"It is." He couldn't help but be proud of it. "I assembled it...the only thing I didn't do was forge the steel myself. It has finished many a hunt for me." Her staff may prove useful in probing her mind if she'd truly invested so much of her emotion into it.

Still her confidence, or just lack of concern about being captured by an imperial officer and a nightbrother, irked him some. He was used to people being at least a little apprehensive when he threatened them.

"Impressive," she said with approval. "And you, Governor? Do you make your own weapons?"

"When necessary." Tarkin was mildly uncomfortable with the ease woth which she was speaking to Sirejj, but he took it in stride.