Guildmaster Solomon was a heavy set man, his robes were heavily soiled down the front from spilling food and ale as he ate. His wife, obviously much younger, tsked and tried to take his plate of roasted chicken, telling him he was being rude. Mackinley hid her emotions behind her Hushai mask and waited for Master Garvin to give a command. When the woman reached again the Guildmaster slapped her, adding fresh bruises to her face.
Her grey brown eyes were lifeless, this was a woman who was likely slapped and hit daily: Mac recognized the signs from her memories of the orphanage. She hated the Guildmaster, but she was trapped, her eyes betrayed her disgust and Mac wished she could teach her to control and mask the emotions, certain it was part of why she was beaten. Her dress, surprisingly, was expensive cloth, stitched neatly with fancy embroidery: even her apron was well made. Garvin did not seem to notice the strike.
"We will be ready at dawn, Guildmaster," the Hushai master was saying. The two men had already discussed and confirmed the contract in writing. Garvin had half the payment tucked away. The two Hushai bowed and left the Guildmaster's home.
They led the horses away, choosing to stay on foot. "Master, must we always ignore the suffering of those we encounter during a mission?"
"No," Garvin shook his head, "You did well masking your reaction when he struck her. Guildmaster Solomon is from a state where wives are little more than slaves and treated that way."
"That's terrible," she said, "I was treated like that before you and the others Chose me, it's a horrible life."
"I agree, young one, but we were hired and it is the custom of his people."
"Could we quit?" she watched her Master closely, "I don't trust or like him."
Garvin shook his head, "not without having a Hushai here to replace us. Not without jeopardizing the reputation of the Hushai."
Mac considered this and didn't ask anymore questions. As they walked back to their lodging Mac watched everywhere, like her training had taught. She saw pickpockets and noblemen, merchants and slaves, even--to her surprise--guards in the royal colors from three states.
Garvin took her into the market to collect items for their food stores for travel. He showed get how to select the best dried meats and they found a vendor who sold small sachets filled with grains mixed with dried spices and vegetables: for making broths and soups, or rice dishes like they serve in the desert countries, she was told. Garvin bought ten of those and several pounds of dried meats-- just in case, he told her.
It was the first time she'd been in a market, the first time she'd been able to buy more than a half rotten apple, the first time for a mission and the first time she'd ever stayed in an inn. The inn reminded her of the barracks on a festival night: music and dancing and loud voices. She could hear them in her room-- another first was the privacy she would have, she'd expected to share a room and sleep on the floor but Garvin had told her that would not be appropriate.
Their horses were being cared for by a stable hand, Garvin spoke to him about having the animals ready to go in the early hours of the day and then they returned upstairs to their rooms.
"Master," Mac stopped Garvin before he entered his room, "where can I practice? I need to run through my patterns."
"You can't here," he told her, "this inn does not have a yard with enough space for the length of your weapon." he rested a hand on her shoulder: "there will be other days you will not be able to practice as well." Mac questioned him, "where would you practice on a boat or when disguised or when hiking through countries where it's illegal to carry arms?" he pushed open the door to his room, "we are not amongst other Hushai anymore, things will be different everywhere you go."
Mac didn't like his answer, she decided as she stared at his closed door. Noise above drew her attention and she realized her master had not considered the roof. With a discrete smile she stowed her own packages in her room, and strapping her pudao to her back slipped out the window to climb to the flat roof.
Grey birds launched into the sky as she swung her legs up and surveyed her surroundings. The view of the city was incredible, it seemed to go on forever, but unlike what she was used to, most of the buildings were the same height. She could see the colorful covers in the marketplace and, further away, the shimmer of light that indicated a body of water. Surveying the space she decided that the roof may not be perfect, she would have to stay vigilant but it would work. Some of the pigeons had come back but scattered again as Mac settled into her opening stance and began her stretches.
Quieting her mind came naturally, the slowing breaths of meditation as much a part of her as the patterns. She blocked out the sounds of the street and let the pattern move her.
Unseen in the shadows of the rooftop of a neighboring building an apprentice rushed below to fetch his master and the two stood in the shadows of the door, "That, young Thaddeus, is a Hushai," the master told him, "watch the movements."
"All I see is a blur of color," the apprentice told him. Thaddeus was enthralled.
"This one might be an Elite Hushai," the master told the boy, "it is said they study nothing but battle, their bodies are their weapons. An Elite can kill a man with a thought." he chuckled when Thaddeus gasped, "it's not true of course, but they can be quite deadly." the master's own eyes widened when he saw what Thaddeus saw: the blur of color that was the Hushai leap into the air towards the roof they were on. They waited as the color stopped and a young woman smiled at them.
"This Hushai has excellent hearing," she bowed politely, "You were stood in the shadows just right but sound on the wind can betray your position," she told them. "Always check which way the breezes are before you speak if you wish to remain hidden," she demonstrated by holding up a finger.
"You honor us, Master Hushai," Thaddeus hid behind his master, "I am Guildmaster Jonas."
"Of the Clothmakers guild," Mac finished, "My master showed me the symbols on your home," she admitted, "I am not a Master Hushai yet, just a Junior Hushai, this is my first time away from our training grounds since I arrived."
"Surely you just," Guildmaster Jonas fixed his robe from where Thaddeus had hidden, "many Hushai have traveled here, I've hired them myself and I've never seen the proficiency you demonstrated. "
"Thank you for your kind words," Mac controlled her facial reaction to stop the blush she felt, "my Master is below preparing for our journey, I have a habit of practicing many hours with my pudao: as I'm sure your apprentice does with the threads and stitches you instruct him on, the roof was the only space I could be sure would be clear of people. I am sorry for disturbing you Guildmaster."
"Not at all," Jonas smiled, "Thaddeus, go fetch that blue scarf. I know better than to ask your quest, but may I know your name so that I can request you the next time I have a shipment that needs guarding? An apprentice with such skill and devotion to their craft will prove to be an excellent Master when it's their time."
"Mackenzie," she bowed her head at the perfect incline, "Junior Hushai Mackenzie at your service Guildmaster."
Jonas smiled, "And so your master has also instructed you that I am from Harven in the far corner of the country where bowing is only done to the king."
"No Guildmaster," she admitted, "your apprentice did when he responded to your commands."
"Very astute," Jonas smiled and indicated that his apprentice should give the scarf to the young Hushai. "A gift from the Clothmakers guild," he told her when she protested, "it matches your eyes and one day when you save my caravans from robbers and thieves you will feel you have earned the gift, but for now you will accept it as a kindness from an old man who has enjoyed your demonstration and your time."
"Thank you," Mackenzie folded the scarf and tucked it into her belt, "your kindness will not be forgotten Guildmaster." She eyed the roof of the tavern and said her farewell, knowing her master would be looking for her soon for dinner. She stepped onto the edge of the wall nearest the Guildmaster's home and with practice of years ran until she lept toward the inn. she landed with a silent role, her pudao never striking the ground. With a silent wave she ignored her watchers and moved into her final stretches and meditation.