The Night Runners: First Year

Chapter 2

Two days later, right after breakfast, Emalynn and Katrynn walked into the lecture room – and stopped in surprise at the realization that they were both waiting in the same room.

"You are in the same group as me?" Emalynn asked, surprised.
"I can't talk about it," Katrynn said, obviously putting on her rather 'serious face'. "I wasn't told that information anyways."
"Kat," Emalynn said mildly, "this isn't..." She sighed. She knew how her younger sister could get.

Eyeing Katrynn critically, Emalynn noticed that Katrynn had appeared to make some sort of effort that morning. Her boots gleamed, her dark pants and blouse and vest were all spot and stain free. At least at first glance. Katrynn's short black-brown hair had been pinned back into a tight ponytail and hair oils (in order to ensure that no strand of hair would come loose). To her less informed teacher, this new transformation would be welcome but Emalynn knew that this was not to be treated lightly. The signs of Katrynn's obsessive personality were subtle, but they were there!

Emalynn herself had worked hard to look as professional as possible with her favorite hardy, dark vest, light yet trim assassin's tunic, well-worn pants and favorite shin-high soft-soled leather assassin's boots. They were her pride and joy – a gift given to her by her father, ordered from Messrs. Blakely and Hardinger directly. Usually, her incredibly slowly darkening curly blonde-brown hair was loosely tied back; however, today, Emalynn, like Katrynn, had taken the time to pin back her hair. A good assassin, her father had told her time and time again, is not only hard-working but also immaculate and orderly. Unlike Katrynn who struggled to maintain orderliness in all aspects of her life, Emalynn was the epitome of organization. Sometimes to the extreme.

The two Romans appropriated two chairs and sat in the small lecture hall and looked about. It was one of those extra classrooms that were rarely used, as was evidenced by the lack of chalk dust in the air, the dead fly shriveled up on one of the windowsills, the locked cabinets and the ordered chairs which had been set upside down on the desks. It would make a passable meeting place, Emalynn thought approvingly, if it wasn't on the first floor and so easily accessed by the general public. My meeting place, she reminded herself a little smugly, is so much better.

Watching the clock tick by slowly – they were fifteen minutes early – Emalynn wondered what her mentor really was like and what two other students would be part of the group. Assuming that Katrynn is in fact in my group... Will there be two Second Year students? Or more First Years? Running through the First Years class lists mentally, Emalynn shuddered. There were two classes for the First Years and the class in which she had been slated, along with Katrynn, boasted a few odd apprentices, a few bumpkins and a few crazies.

A few minutes before the clock's hour hand had reached the appointed time, a group of four adults entered the classroom soon followed by two disappointingly familiar faces. Two men, two women and two other First Year girls. Great, Emalynn scowled noticing that one was the crazy young lady from the Court and the other one was a country bumpkin. This is going to go well.

Swiftly she assessed the mentors, trying to gauge which of the two male assassins would belong to the name of Colin Shermore. The fact that there was indeed a nicely set up, dark-haired young man in blacks and tans (and speaking with a Westron accent) gave Emalynn hope. The world was not entirely filled with darkness anymore.

"All right everyone," said the young Westron. "Let's gather round and introduce ourselves. We've got a lot to cover today so our initial meeting is going to feel rather fast, but if any of you guys have questions, feel free to ask." As he spoke, the man who Emalynn hoped was Colin Shermore smiled easily and every now and then glanced at the other three assassin masters-in-training with an air of encouragement.