Heath narrowed his eyes at the big barbarian singing at the top of his lungs. Other faire goers stared as they passed, or stayed close to hear him bellow along with the minstrels.
Davit nudged him, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. How does he expect to actually assassinate anyone when he's so...brash. Loud."
"You think he's an assassin?" Heath arched a brow and crossed his arms.
"I saw the badge back near the mutton roast. He's definitely part of the Guild."
Heath blew an exasperated breath. After their latest heist, he wasn't surprised some nobleman had paid for Guild killers. The embarrassment he and Davit had caused certainly demanded repercussions. He just hadn't expected it so soon.
"I know," Davit said, shifting beside him. "Jacque needs to hurry up so we can get the hell out of this city."
He touched the shoulder straps of his pack, testing the weight of it. Jewels, gold, object d'art, all waiting to be fenced. They just needed their contact to get here. They'd be miles away by dusk, if only Jacque got here.
The barbarian began a silly dance to go along with his boisterous singing. More people stopped to watch the impromptu performance.
Davit laughed, holding his pack closer. "So ridiculous. Even if he weren't an utter buffoon, how would he expect to go unnoticed?"
Pain lanced through Heath, sharp and icy, causing him to stiffen. Soft words filled his ear, a feminine voice still in her youth. "He's there so you don't notice me."
She laughed and he fell to his knees.
