Six of Crows: Cloaked in Shadow

Chapter 1 - Unknown

The cloaked man waited in the gloom of the empty cabin. He adjusted his grip on the knife handle, rubbing his long white fingers over the ivory surface. Looking down at his hands, he realised he was trembling - not from fear, but from adrenaline. Soon it would all be over.

Well, not for him, at least.

The ship lurched, and he stumbled, cursing. Even after three years he still wasn't fully used to boats — especially huge pirate ships — or the temperamental Ketterdam weather. If only Ketterdam wasn't so critical to both his plan and the entire world, being the international city of trade. Then he would be able to burn it down without suffering any losses.

Maybe after he had accomplished what he needed to.

The tenseness in the cabin was almost tangible, the air thick and syrupy with suspense. Only the dense shadows filling the cabin eased the man's pounding heart. He'd always loved darkness; it was his willing servant, and under its cover he was next to invisible. The shadows knew him as their master and they would flock to shield him from prying eyes.

He forced his breathing to remain even. It wasn't the thought of the blood that would soon stain his hands that made his pulse flutter bird-like with anxiety, but the eager anticipation of the death to come.

A sound. The man stiffened. His hand sought out his knife once more, comforting himself with the knowledge that it was there. Uneven footsteps came to his ears - those of a lot of men, most drunk, none sober. Laughter and slurred goodnights filtered from under the door, the footsteps separating as their owners returned to their various cabins.

Then silence, broken only by the wobbly footsteps of someone walking in an uneven line towards the cabin.

Quickly, he darted to the left of the door, so he would be behind it when it opened.

The handle turned—

—a bead of sweat rolled down the man's brow—

—and the door swung open.

A red-haired pirate ambled in, stretching and yawning. He didn't look much, but the man knew he was the captain. The man also knew he wasn't just a captain.

The pirate turned and began to close the door behind him. The man stepped out from behind the door, silent as a shadow, and raised the knife. He must have somehow alerted the other man to his presence because the pirate spun round, eyes widening. An arm went up to shield the blow. The knife sank into him with a wet thump — but his shoulder, not his heart. He gasped, falling. As he tumbled his fingers nudged a heavy vase from its perch and it toppled to the ground, slicing through the silence with a deafening clang.

By all the Saints and everything that is holy! thought the man, head darting to the door to see if the noise had alerted the crew. And sure enough, startled grunts and heavy footsteps came from the corridor.

The man hesitated for a second, looking down at the pirate's unconscious form. He was so close!

He set his jaw.

He was going to have to wait.

Three seconds later, the crew burst into the captain's cabin. They looked around for the man, but he was gone - melted away into the shadows.