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Appears in
Published 2016
The assasin visits Yashim
The Tartar sidestepped easily, but Yashim was at his back
“Yashim tensed his stomach. His shoulders bunched.
And he jacknifed. He took a step forward, his shoulders dropped, and he doubled at the waist.
He sensed, rather than felt, the blade slicing through the soft skin behind his ear.
He kicked back abruptly with one leg.
His hope was that the Tartar had lost form: killing Venetians was like liming a tree for birds.
His foot connected, but not hard: the next moment, the Tartar had a grip of his ankle. Left hand – Yashim wrenched himself forwards and took a mouthful of the bed.
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