The first assassin ever to come after me was a tall fellow who smelled of fish and cheap wine. I was eighteen at the time and stabbed him more out of luck than skill as he tried to garrote me in an alley.
The second Blade had a name: Gray Lark. She had mixed a measure of ground glass into one of my meals. Ironically, it was during a particularly low point in my life, when I was using the smoke. The drug had been more important than food that night, and I ended up giving my plate to another addict. I watched him scream and cough up blood for hours. The next day, I hunted down Gray Lark and force-fed her the same meal. It was the only good the smoke ever did me, and I haven`t touched it since.
The third try was three years ago. His name was Hyrnos, and he tried to put a knife in my back in a dark alley — a traditionalis. The only thing that had saved me was my catching him out of the corner of my eye with my night vision. The running fight we carried out across the ice-slicked roofs of Ildrecca that winter`s eve nearly did us both in. In the end, I stayed on the roofs while he ended up on the street four stories down, but it was a close thing.
Three months after Hyrnos tried and failed, Alden came after me. It`s strange, having a knife fight in your bedroom with a woman you`ve known for years. I`d always known she was a professional, though, so I couldn`t really hold it against her, even if she was trying to dust me.
Of the four Blades who have come after me, I know one was hired by my sister, and I suspect a second. Both times, I have taken the assassin`s weapons and left them in her bed. Needless to say, this has done nothing to make amends between us.