The Auditore Challenge - by Liva Wilborg

Chapter 1: Poison

The reason for his fascination was not her hair, although it shone like a copper-red beacon below him in the bright and festive lantern light, but the way she moved through the crowd. Lithe and willowy; not once caught in the sluggish movement of the hundreds of partiers in the streets, she moved elegantly, upstream, going where she pleased.

She once lifted her head, he assumed it was to look at the lanterns above her, and he saw that she was unmasked, unlike the other revellers. She never hurried but seemed to be out on a lonely errand of exploration and he sometimes caught sight of her wistful smile as she looked around her curiously. On occasion, someone would call out to get her attention, musicians would drop to their knees to serenade her and men in the crowd would simply turn and stare.

Ezio grinned in the starlit darkness as he followed her languidly from his vantage point on the rooftops. The night was only just beginning and he had no obligations. He had considered going to the thieves guild instead of to one of his lodgings or safe-houses scattered around the city; but if something more interesting presented itself, who was he to argue?

There was a balcony below him and he dropped down softly, unseen. He scaled the railing and made his way to street level in shades cast by coloured lamps and fireworks. He was grinning to himself in the shadow of his hood as he realised that following the woman was actually a challenge down here if he wanted to stay friends with the crowd.

There was something exquisite about her. Knowledge in her smile. A softness to her laugh as an enthusiastic man in the crowd hooked an arm around her slender waist and swung her around to the music of the festival, her curls bobbing around her face as she danced a few steps. A very firm and graceful exit as she dodged the embrace after a twirl and left.

Ezio caught up with her. Calmly, he followed her, walking just a few steps behind, studying the swaying of her body under the simple green and ochre gown. His unchallenged presence in the crowd kept her back free and she gradually slowed her pace until she stood still in the ocean of masked faces. Finally she turned. Her eyes were an icy, pale grey, almost white, rimmed with a circle of darkness that gave her a predatory look.

Wolf eyes Ezio thought to himself as he took in the contrast to the sweetness of her pink lips and the slight blush on her cheeks. He smiled.

"No mask?" she finally inquired; a heavy accent in her voice he couldn't place.

"No. But that makes us both special on a night like this. We should celebrate."

She gave a small laugh: "I should be home. I should not at all be celebrating."

"Where is home?" Ezio asked.

"I really should not be telling strangers in the street!" she stated.

"I agree. We should get off the street. You should let me buy you refreshments somewhere."

She laughed, incredulous: "Very smooth, Signore! But I really think I ought to go home." she said, not turning away.

"I understand." Ezio said.

"Really?"

"Of course. You must be exhausted." he said, cashing in a puzzled smile from her. "After all," he continued: "the journey from Heaven is long and tiring…"

There was a smile that very slowly spread on her pale face until he could see her small, white teeth: "So is the journey from Hell…" she finally said: "And really, how old do you think this line is?"

"I think this was what Adam used to try to charm Eve with."

"Do you think it worked?"

"Yes." He grinned: "Of course he was the only man in the world… But you cannot fault me for reverting to the classics when it's obvious you must have heard every single line before."

A small smile was kept carefully in check in the corner of her mouth: "I am not getting rid of you, am I?" she sighed.

"No!" Ezio stated.

She leaned close to him in the crowd and slowly pulled his hood off: "One drink, then." she stated: "One! And then I will go home."

o-O-O-O-o

The streets around them slowly grew more quiet and empty as they travelled away from the centre of the celebration.

"…But as I say, I'm still new to the city. I have almost no friends here." she said as they walked through the city in the direction of her lodgings, her hand resting on Ezio's arm

"I cannot believe that will last long, Mette." he said, pronouncing her foreign name slowly as if tasting it.

"I can. Friendship is usually slow. Friends are those whose respect and loyalty you have earned and who are willing to sacrifice for you. That takes time. I will probably not stay here long enough."

"I find that the respect I have for my friends happened in the blink of an eye." he said and then added: "What could a lady be doing that would keep her travelling like that?"

Mette laughed and stopped by a house in the street of dyers: "This is where I live." A stray burst of fireworks exploded over their heads casting dancing golden shadows on her face. "Thank you for the drink and for walking me home." she said giving him a testing smile.

"You are welcome, Madonna." Ezio touched her hand on his arm. "I will find you tomorrow and torment you with a slightly less classic line."

Mette took his hand: "You would really leave? Without expecting anything for your trouble?"

"What trouble? What did you think I would do?"

"I… expected that you were not the kind of man to return. More the kind of man who is gone in the morning."

"Only if you want me to."

"I'll let you know." she whispered, leaning closer to let her lips brush his very lightly. "Come with me."

Ezio opened his mouth to reply, but she quickly kissed him quiet. "I'm sorry." she finally whispered, breathlessly.

"What for?"

"Ending the chase game so soon, but I realized that I need a friend. If only for a little while." She led him up the narrow and winding stairs of the house, each floor a tenement, and unlocked the door to a small apartment only furnished by a table and a bed. Their lips were apart only for long enough to let her light a candle from the embers in the brick oven built into the wall.

"Thank God for light." Ezio finally breathed, taking in her beauty in the flickering light, his fingers proficiently undoing the string keeping her outer gown closed.

"You are very armed…" she giggled between kisses. "May I disarm you?"

"If you can." Ezio grinned.

"I like a challenge." Her fingers undid his sword belt, discarding the weapon on the nearby table. The knife belt, the ammunition, the money was discarded with it, and she laughed softly as Ezio pushed her dress down over her shoulders and hips, leaving her in her under-gown.

Mette's curious fingers undid his doublet, searching for weapons under his shirt as their lips met. She laughed softly as she padded down his arms, stopping at the bracers: "These are probably weapons too…" she laughed, and then sucked in her breath at a metallic glint off a blade resting snugly under the leather:

"Fuck…" Mette whispered: "They really are weapons. Are you at war?"

Ezio lowered his eyes, almost shamefully and his fingers quickly undid the familiar buckles. "I am at war." he said quietly and put the blades down: "But not with you."

A cat-grin slowly spread on her lips: "Not yet." she purred and led him to the bed, pushed him down and crawled after him: "Are there any more weapons I should know about?"

"…" he drew a breath to speak, but thought better of it and they both laughed: "No, I'm not going to say that..." he grinned as his fingers explored her skin.

"Straying from the classics already?" Mette smiled, leaning in over him in the bed, holding something in the palm of her hand. "I'm almost sad about this." she said, caressing his chest as she blew a handful of the powder she held in her hand into his face.

It was less than a heartbeat's confusion before Ezio raised his arm to grab her, pinning her down on the bed. He tried to blink the powder out of his eyes. Her smile slowly faded and her beauty swam before his blurry vision.

"What did you do!" he demanded, pushing her forcefully further down into the mattress. Mette just lay still under him: "Their names were Taddeo and Arlo." she said: "And their mother loved them both..."

The burning sensation in his eyes intensified and Ezio pushed himself off the bed, feeling a wave of horror as his legs threatened to give way beneath him. "Who!" he demanded. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Steadying himself against the wall, furiously rubbing his eyes, he felt movement nearby and struck out. He heard Mette gasp when his fist connected with her shoulder. In his hazy field of vision, she jumped away, only to step close again, fast and agile like a dancer, to slice him across his lower arm. It was just a thin cut, hardly worth his notice, and still half blinded, he reached out for her as she fled towards the door.

"I guess I want you to be the kind of man who is gone in the morning..." he heard her shout as he stumbled forward.

Warm blood stuck his shirt sleeve to his skin as he fell towards the table where his weapons lay. One part of his mind was turning over the fact that she was not only a woman, but a beautiful one of her kind. The other was satisfied that she would make a lovely corpse. Ezio leaned over the table, steadying himself for a moment, his eyes closed, he took a deep breath to calm his body and reduce the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

There was the swish of her gown, the click of her heels as she reached the landing outside the door and stopped; the movement and breath of at least three others were audible. Heavy footsteps, armour pieces clanking, weapons being drawn.

"His money will be your tips for the evening." he heard Mette say. "Remember, it has to be slow."

Ezio heard the swoosh of a heavy weapon travelling slowly through air and he raised his blurry gaze to see three men enter. Broad, armoured, the one in the front wielding a heavy club which he swung testily. Ezio didn't need his eyes to know that the man was grinning. They always were. Hoping his feet and legs would carry him he closed his fist on the hilt of his rapier, anger bubbling under the surface. He took a slow step closer to the men advancing, steadying himself with a hand on the table.

"What's the matter? Felling a little bit poisoned, lover bo-" the man in the front mocked, raising his weapon, but the sentence was cut short when Ezio leapt forward, closing the gap between them; the slender, pliable blade hitting the man's eye and travelling forcefully through the skull. The man dropped, pulling Ezio with him. The world swam for a second, and the assassin struggled to keep his balance. There was an audible chink as the blade, stuck in a bony crevasse, snapped as it fought to leave Ezio's hand.

"Fuck, I thought you said he would be weak!" came a shocked yell from one of the two men remaining. The other man gave a horrified kind of snarl and lashed out with a knife which slashed across Ezio's shoulder, only biting lightly through the padding of the heavy doublet, doing little damage.

The flickering light from the candle and the embers in the small oven and Ezio's blurred vision conspired to confuse him, but he closed his eyes and kicked. He heard a scream as the man who had called out fell to his freshly broken knee.

Still hoping his woozy body would obey his commands Ezio dropped down and hit the screaming man on the floor with the hilt of the rapier, the metal ornamentation protecting his hand bending slightly with the impact.

"He is in there. Hurry. Double pay to the first man to break a bone." Mette shouted out on the landing and Ezio heard the sound of several more people coming up the stairs. He planted a fresh blow on the face of the man on the floor and suddenly a wave of nausea and disorientation hit him and he rocked backwards involuntarily, feeling as though the world was trying to throw him off. A sound of air displaced by swinging knife just where his face and neck had been the second before he tilted over violently reminded him that there was no time for weakness. He heard shouting on the stairs, footfalls just on the landing outside.

Quickly making a decision, knowing it would hurt, knowing he was only alive because of luck and surprise, he turned towards the man who had just swung the knife at him, shouldered him and pushed him forcefully towards the window. The man made an odd, gasping yell at the impact and swung the knife aimlessly before the glass of the window broke against his back.

In Ezio's dizzy gaze, the look in the man's eyes was almost comical when he felt nothing to support him on either side but the assassin tackling him. The reckless fall seemed suspended in Ezio's mind. The moment frozen. His mind clear. Below him in the moonlight was a thin rope, suspended from pulleys in the wall on either side of the street, to let the craftsmen who occupied the surrounding area dry their dyed cloth. He didn't think any further than that, it was enough to give him hope and a course of action to follow. Time returned full force. There was the rush of air, the scream of the man he was holding on to, the horrible thrill of the fall.

Ezio's hand caught the clothes line.

The attacker was still holding on to him but continued to fall to the street below and the assassin gave a pained gasp as the force of the fall threatened to pull his arm out of its socket. The man fell, the knife he held kissed the assassin's leg on the way down.

The clothes line gave a crisp snap and broke. Ezio felt the embrace of an unforgiving brick wall as he was flung downwards again, desperately scrabbling for something else to break the fall. His fingers caught a window ledge, but the street below seemed to reach for him.

I'm going to die now was the calm realisation at the front of his consciousness and then he hit the tightly suspended awning of a stall below. Something in the frame broke and released the fabric canopy, dumping Ezio, bleeding and battered, on the street below. He lay still for a few moments, wondering why he wasn't dead.

A few steps away, a moaning could be heard, and Ezio blinked dispassionately as he stared at the shadowy spectacle before him. The attacker had hit a cart of hay standing in the street and was now lying below the wagon, where the impact of the fall had deposited him when he fell through the bottom of the cart. The man squirmed slightly as he lay in Ezio's line of vision, amazingly not dead yet. A pool of blood, looking like ink in the moonlight, spread under the broken cart.

Slowly and painfully the assassin picked himself up, nearly keeling over, disoriented. He heard voices in the street:

"He's on the other side of the building." "Make him suffer!" and "Go! Get him."

Ezio sighed.