"The Gargoyle´s Shadow" by James K Bowers

  — The Gargoyle's Shadow  —           "I'd think twice, Scorpion," said the young woman.  Her skin was pale blue and she seemed out of place with her clothes and hair dripping wet.  "This one has done nothing.  Besides, you have money enough."
        "Leave him to his work, Mynorra.  It will be hard enough to make this shot without your babbling."  The man carried on this conversation quite well for someone whose throat was slit from one ear to the other.  "For that matter, had you not been sharing your charms with half the town, your husband might never have paid Scorpion just to rid himself of you.  If you were innocent, you wouldn't be here bothering us, and I could get on with admiring Scorpion's technique."
        Turning to the man, she continued to argue her case, all the while making sure her logic would not be lost to Scorpion's attention.  "You worthless sell-sword!  Just because you were a soldier, Brannus, don't think you know everything there is to know.  You were no more than a fool yourself.  If it weren't for your drunken bragging, my husband would never have found out.  You know as well as I that Patch Gundren is innocent of any sin that warrants this kind of punishment."
        Brannus shrugged.  "Innocence hasn't a damn thing to do with this and you know it.  Besides, the money was good.  Now, shut your mouth."
        "It's not fair.  Why should Patch be punished?" Mynorra continued.
        "By all that's unholy, girl!  Death isn't punishment if it comes swiftly.  Did it occur to you that your husband paid more for your death than mine?  No?  Well, that was to ensure your death would be slow.  And the more time I spend with you, the more I believe I would have paid even more than he did.  The only punishment Patch will likely suffer is an eternity of listening to your prattle.  If you don't like it, don't watch."
        The man known simply as the Scorpion did his best to ignore them as he waited patiently for his quarry.  The market square was crowded with merchants, slavetraders, beggars, and all manner of humanity's dregs.  It smelled of offal and urine, of animals and dust, of sweet perfumes and pungent spices.  The drone of hundreds of conversations melded with the clatter of metal on metal and the shouts of hawkers expounding the worth of their wares.  The early morning hubbub of market activity was rivaled only by the colorful visual assault of ripened fruits, brightly dyed silks, and the flamboyant theatrics of an occasional tumbler or juggler, vying for coins from the pleasantly amused.
        In a huff, Mynorra turned from Brannus.  "Scorpion, you know this isn't right.  Patch has always been fair to his customers.  Well, maybe a little unbending, but that's to be expected from one in his trade," she admonished.
        His perch, high atop the cathedral, afforded Scorpion an excellent view of the market square.  After weeks of studying his next mark, Scorpion had determined that this approach to his task would provide him the best likelihood of success, coupled with the best likelihood of escape.  Who would pay more than cursory attention to one of the dozen gargoyles glaring menacingly out at the city?  Scorpion's disguise itself was as much a work of art as was any of the other eleven stone guardians. Yes, posing as a cathedral gargoyle was a stroke of genius, even if Scorpion was the only one who could appreciate it.
        Brannus, always one to appreciate the subtleties of Scorpion's craft, leaned closer to voice his approval.  "Never mind her.  Hell of a suit you came up with, Scorpion.  Can't wait to see this shot."
        The disguise was, for all it's perfection, rather simple in its construction.  A far greater task was the clandestine removal of the original gargoyle occupying this perch.  Perhaps even more daunting was the problem of hiding the ungainly thing in plain sight.  The absence of a moon last night had helped keep others from seeing him as he worked, but, ironically, also prevented him from seeing what he was doing.
        The cathedral itself was an aging, abandoned relic.  Worn and weathered, it stood out of place here in Silva's Lower Third, testimony to the city's growth and the vagaries of religious fancy.  The importance of the poorly-remembered minor god had waned and eventually his priests and followers found more truth in the teachings of other temples, moving on to worship in the greater splendor and opulence of the Temple Third.
        Now, disguised as one of the forgotten god's sculpted guardians, it was merely a matter of Scorpion remaining motionless and vigilant.  Sooner or later, 'Patch' Gundren would make his way from his breakfast at the Good Rest Inn, through the market square's chaos, to his pawnshop northwest of the cathedral.  Like clockwork, at dawn, apprentice shopkeepers had opened the shop to the public.  And, like clockwork, at dawn, Patch entered the Good Rest.  If Patch remained on schedule, Scorpion's gargoyle shadow would still be hidden from view on the rooftop of the shop.
        Beneath Scorpion's crouched yet menacing form lay a bow and a single arrow.  Regardless of the outcome, it would be all he needed.  Risking a second shot would not be an option.  After the lone arrow was loosed, it would be up to his skill at disguise, a bit of misdirection, and the ineptitude of the city guards.  Two of these, of course, were well within his control.  Unfortunately, Scorpion knew he could not always count on the overpaid city watch to be as unobservant as they traditionally were.
        The morning sun was warm on Scorpion as he continued to watch the Good Rest for any sign of the pawnbroker.  This would be an extremely long day.  The sun would get warmer as the day progressed and he must convincingly imitate a stone gargoyle until night again robbed men of their sight.  With luck, he would still be alive tonight to move the true gargoyle back to its rightful perch, for he had absolutely no interest in making a career of cathedral perching.
        Resting comfortably on either side of Scorpion, legs dangling over the ledge, sat Brannus and Mynorra.  "Ten to one says Scorpion puts that arrow through his heart.  Clean, swift death for old Patch is where I'd put my money,"  wagered Brannus.
        "Dolt!" replied Mynorra.  "You haven't had money since you were among the living.  And swift or not, it still makes no sense killing Patch.  I remember when I was a young girl and had lost the money my mother had given me to buy flour from Miller Temms.  It was Patch that found me sobbing in the square and promised to make everything right.  Plucked money right from my ear, he did.  Enough for the flour and a bit of fruit.  No, he doesn't deserve this at all."
        That was enough to set Brannus chuckling.  "Oh, so now I see what this argument is all about.  Can't stand to see one of your childhood heroes take an arrow.  Well, you know what, my girl?  Today's the day.  Old Patch ain't as innocent as you might think, dearie, and Scorpion here's gonna take care of the problem.  Not only that, but he stands to pick up a fair amount of coin for this service to the community.  So, what about my wager?  What do you think Scorpion's aim is like today?  Quick kill?  Or are we gonna get a messy show here with old Patch flopping around like a fish on a spear?"
        "Stop it, Brannus!  I'm in no mood for your crude humor.  I still say it isn't fair."
        It was hard to tell if there were tears running down Mynorra's cheeks or if the droplets were merely more reminders of her watery grave.  In either case, it made Brannus no difference as he pressed onward.  "Fine, so we don't have any money to wager, but we've got other things to ante.  How about this: If Scorpion misses, or the kill isn't quick and clean, I'll be quiet while you try to talk him out of killing the next one. But, if Scorpion makes this a quick kill, you have to be quiet next time."
        Patch emerged from the Good Rest and began to make his way across the market square.  His gait was unhurried.  After all, with four apprentices minding the shop, his only purpose was to absorb profit.  With little perceptible motion, Scorpion's left hand tightened on the bow and his right gathered up the solitary arrow.
        "Scorpion, please..."  Again Mynorra's plea failed to sway the Scorpion from his chosen course.  Scorpion's motions were measured and sure as he gracefully raised the bow and nocked the arrow.  Mynorra turned to Brannus, then.  "He won't listen because of you, Brannus.  Consider it done then.  I accept your ghoulish wager.  If I can't save Patch, then maybe I can save someone else."  Tracking his target and hoping no one was looking in his direction at just that moment, Scorpion took aim.  In one motion he loosed the arrow, threw the bow outward and to the west, and resumed his gargoyle pose.
        Patch had just reached the open doorway of his shop as the arrow buried itself in his chest, the bloodied tip protruding in front.  A look of surprise was all he had time for as he fell facefirst into the doorway, amid startled and shrieking onlookers.
        Brannus whooped.  "What a shot!"  Turning to Mynorra, he gibed," Just a damn shame we don't have money, don't you agree, Mynorra?"
        Mynorra answered with a gesture best described as decidedly unladylike.
        A bow clattered to the stones below, a sure sign that the assassin was already on the run.  Faces turned to the rooftops, eyes searching hawklike to catch even a fleeting glimpse of the killer.  Several in the crowd were pointing upwards, but none in Scorpion's general direction.  City guards converged on the southern edge of the market square, to prevent escape, to search if necessary.  Twelve gargoyles stood, glaring down from their lofty cathedral perches, motionless as stone. Scorpion silently cursed the heat and waited patiently for a nightfall he knew would be long hours away.