| Lyzle's background |
| Like many of the street urchins, Lyzle had spent many a cold night sleeping under whatever shelter she could find, dreaming of a life of wealth and importance. She vaguely remembered her father being beaten to death by a city guard and (on a separate occasion) her mother�s throat being slit after being raped while trying to make enough coin for a meal. These memories seemed unimportant; just another day of life in the downs. It could have been worse, she supposed. She could have been taken as a slave. There was a lot of that going around lately. Lyzle paced the reception hall of Master Zornhal, cursing under her breath and rolling her stiletto through her fingers, a habit which was becoming an old one. When the room filled with a burst of warm air as the two main doors opened, Lyzle stopped mid-stride and tensed. Her eyes filled with rage as she watched the old wizard enter the room. �You set me up!� She sneered. She lunged for the old man, but before she could close the distance, she felt her body lock into place, every joint frozen magically. The old man was good. He didn�t even have to mouth his incantation or gesture, just a flick of the wrist and she was frozen. Lyzle spat. �You sent me to my death, old man!� The old sorcerer hobbled up to her, unafraid. �I should kill you for your insolence,� he whispered as he flicked her long black braid over her shoulder. �I sent you to be tested. I had to know with what length I could trust you.� He ran a bony finger, bent with age down her cheek and along the nape of her neck. He paused at her collar and with one swift movement withdrew a small bag she had been hiding in her shirt. �I believe this belongs to me.� He smiled. Lyzle rolled her eyes, unimpressed. �I told you I would recover it.� �That you did my dear,� he said turning from her. He snapped his fingers and at the sudden release Lyzle nearly fell to the ground. �How many did you kill?� �All of them,� she said, crossing her arms defensively. �All?� he asked, raising an eyebrow. �Are you sure?� �There were eight of them, seven humans and a halfling.� �Ah then you did not kill them all.� He said with a smile, very amused with himself. �That means someone lives to know about you. You are more valuable dead. Oh Livia� he called, turning to a servant door off the main room. �Come and meet the woman who murdered your mate.� From out of the shadows stepped a thin woman dressed in dull brown rags. She was elven and moved towards Livia with the grace of a dancer. The elf stared at her with piercing, dark eyes. �My dear, meet Livia. She will be your tutor. And when you are finished with your training, the survivor will carry out my next assignment.� The two women went to a run down warehouse on the outskirts of the downs which would serve as training grounds. They both lived there and were not allowed to leave. Guards had been posted at all exits and the doors and windows had been barred magically and set with dangerous runes. Once a day the sorcerer peered through a small box he had prepared, assessing the women�s progress. Any supplies they would need had been provided. The training was intense. Lyzle learned to sleep light and to be more aware of her surroundings at all times. Livia�s teaching method was simple: she attempted to murder Lyzle at every opportunity. Some attempts were outward and straightforward, some were more covert. After three weeks Lyzle returned to the old sorcerer�s manse beaten and bloody, but clearly the survivor. �Transportation has been arranged. Your contact will meet you when you arrive. The password is Swordfish. If you fail and live�� �I will not fail!� ��if you live, you will beg for death after I have found you.� |