Night

1

The figure hides in the shadows at the mouth of the alleyway. It was nearing midnight and the flickering lights spilling out of the tavern across the street are the only illumination available. A man exits the tavern and begins to make his way home, staggering drunkenly across the street.
He passes close to the alley and the cloaked figure darts forward, his arm around the man's throat before he even has a chance to call out. He pulls him back into the shadows with a surprising amount of strength for one of his size. Before the man, still in shock at the sudden attack, has time to even think about struggling, the arm around his neck is replaced with a knife, the blade glinting silver in the soft light spilling out of the building across the street.
The man, caught by surprise and dazed by the speed at which his attacker had moved, reacts not at all like a man who has seconds left to live should. A smirk graces his face. He no longer acts the drunken fool.
The cloaked figure senses the movement behind him and whirls around, learning too late why this particular job had felt so wrong, silently cursing himself for not trusting his instincts and refusing the contract. A little more than a dozen men surround him on all sides and this time he curses aloud. All the exits have been covered. There is no hope of escape. The knife leaves his hand, embedding itself in the chest of one of his attackers and the same hand reaches for the sword at his waist. Three more men  have been cut down before they have time to react.
The cloaked figure is so focused on the men in front of him, so furious with himself for letting his guard down, so focused on defending himself, that he forgets the man he turned his back on. A cry of surprise is heard, then he falls to the ground, the man behind him sheathing his sword and inspecting the figure at his feet, watching for the telltale signs of breathing that would indicate that the assassin was not dead, only unconscious as he had intended.

"So, this is the shadow. This is the man people whisper about. This is the legendary assassin."
He smiles, having accomplished what so many had tried and failed to do. His employer would be happy.
"You, tie his hands and be careful not to bump his head too much carrying him back to the ship."
He knew that if the man never woke it would mean all their deaths, not just his. A stab of worry shoots through him at that thought. A worry not for himself, but for his men. As their captain it was his job to keep them alive to the best of his abilities, a job he already felt he had failed, judging from the six men lying dead on the ground.
They move out, leaving the bodies of their dead behind. They would send others back to collect them when they reached the ship. The man carrying the cloaked figure walks quickly but carefully, as though fearful of the slender person he has slung over his shoulder.
Walking a few feet behind the rest of his men is the captain. He walks silently, one hand on the sword at his belt on the off chance the cloaked figure awakens before they reach the ship. His mind drifts to the speed the man had moved at, and to how he had been almost invisible hiding in the shadows. He had yet to see more than a brief glimpse of the man's face although his curiosity was rising. Few had ever seen the shadow's face and lived to tell.
They boarded the ship and with a quick shout to the crew the boat began heading for open waters. He tells his men to lock the prisoner in the cell and to have a guard keep watch at all times.
The captain knocks twice on the door in front of him and enters when the occupant bids him.
"My lord." The man gives a quick bow before rising and facing the man seated behind the desk. He does not wait for a reply before continuing, having learned by now that his employer would want him to get straight to the point and therefore waste as little of his time as possible.
"We have him. He managed to take out six of my men, but we have him." The man at the desk looks up from the papers he had been examining.
"Is he as described?"
"He's tall, yes, however he's quite slender. He's stronger than someone of his build should be, though. I haven't seen his face. I thought you'd like that honor."
The man at the desk smiles, a rarity that that the captain, despite having been working for his employer for nearly ten years, has never before witnessed.
"Excellent." His employer's voice is as impassive as always, though there is a certain light in his eyes that almost makes the captain pity the man he had spent so much time trying to capture.
Almost.