Delicia De La LuzHe muttered and irritably drank from the bottle by his elbow. His eyes, blue and tired, stared at the maps in front of him spread across the large wooden table and could make no sense of what was drawn or written there. He had been at this for hours, trying to find that Spanish galleon with 10 000 reales on board. She had to be there somewhere – his information was good as to that. First hand in fact.More Like This
At that he smiled, chortling, and took another swig of rum. Smacking his lips, his mind a little fuzzy – it was late and this was not his first bottle of rum, not by a long shot – he rubbed his sand filled eyes. Glancing out of the stern window he started. It was later than he'd thought. He could just see the edge of the moon. He should have been abed long since. His glance caught the three-candle candelabrum on the table. The candles were more than half burned.
“Damn me...” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. He'd have to do this tomorrow. When his pa
La Una VeritaVerona 1483 CEMore Like This
Ezio pivoted on the ball of one foot, his other leg lashing out in a roundhouse kick to the knee of the arrow-less archer facing him. The man went down and before he could recover he felt the bite of the Assassin's blade in his throat. He choked to death, his last breath a gurgly rattle. His eyes glazed as his soul departed.
The Assassin did not stay to admire his handiwork. He had no time for it. His victim was running away and he had to catch up to him if justice were to be served. He skimmed lightly over the city, using roofs and cranes and air bridges to keep up with the two men who had split up on him to try and escape. He'd tracked one down to a brothel where his fair friends had snagged the poor unfortunate in their seductive coils. He'd been merciless as the man had gaped at him, with such horror that for a moment Ezio had felt pity for him. He had banished that feeling though by reminding himself that the monk was one of those indirectly responsible for his fami