Savage Messiah

CHAPTER LXII

Pushing with her heels, Satine casually rocked her chair back upon its two rear legs and took another sip of ale. It had gone flat some time ago, but she didn't care. Placing the pewter mug back on the table before her, she carefully looked around.

The tavern was a forlorn, ramshackle place. She sat by a window that looked out on to the street. A small fire burned in the fireplace to her left, occasionally sending the comforting smells of smoke and soot her way.

Other patrons-mostly men-sat at tables nearby, slowly drinking their way into the evening. Although she had received several curious glances when she first walked in, none had approached her, and for that she was thankful. She didn't need any unnecessary attention just now.

Since she had killed Lionel, this was the first time she had departed the quiet, out-of the-way inn where she'd been staying on the other side of Tammerland. Now she kept an eye on the archery shop across the street, waiting until she felt it was safe to venture out to see what word Bratach had for her.

So far she had seen nothing unusual. She had recognized none of the passersby in the street, and she had seen no one loitering about the shop. Several archery customers had come and gone, but that was to be expected.

She lowered the front legs of her chair to the floor. Pulling several low-denomination kisa from her pocket, she let them jangle to the tabletop. Then she pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head and walked out of the tavern.

Evening was falling and the air had become cooler. Leaning casually up against the outside wall, she looked up and down the street. She saw nothing to concern her. But there were still two customers inside the shop and she wanted them gone before she walked over.

To pass the time she watched a ragged lamplighter approach. Carrying a ladder, he trudged slowly along from one lamp pole to the next. Hunched over and ancient-looking, he was blanketed with soot.

He leaned the ladder up against the pole before the inn and climbed up to remove the globe. He lit the wick, and the lamp came alive, casting his shadow long across the ground. He replaced the globe, then climbed down, picked up his ladder, and slowly made his way toward the next pole.

What a fruitless existence, Satine thought as she watched him. How much better it is to be a huntress. If I die, at least I will die quickly rather than slowly, from sheer boredom.

She suddenly found herself thinking of Aeolus, and the Serpent and the Sword. She had not been back to see her onetime master since she had swung through the skylight and choked one of his students unconscious. She missed the old man, and hoped that he was well. She also missed the hard, ascetic life that the school had once forced her to tolerate, before she had come to love it. Often she wished that she could go back there for good and live in peace. Perhaps one day, she thought. But only after all of this is over.

At the sound of the archery shop door opening and closing, she turned to see the two last customers leaving.

Glad for the darkening night, Satine shifted her weight away from the wall and walked quickly across the street. She opened the door and stepped in, the little bell at the top of the door cheerfully announcing her presence. She lowered the hood of her cloak and looked around.

Ivan was alone, standing behind the counter. When he saw her, his expression darkened. He nervously pointed to the front of the shop.

"Lock the door, turn the sign around, and pull the shades!" he said anxiously. As Satine turned back to do as he asked, he growled, "We expected to see you here before this! Where have you been?"

Satine walked to the counter and gave Ivan a hard look.

"That's my business," she shot back. "Is he here?"

Ivan nodded and waved her around to the other side of the counter. He walked to the rear of the shop and parted the curtains. Cautious as ever, Satine place her hands loosely atop her dagger hilts and followed Ivan down the stairs.

Bratach sat alone at the shabby table. As Ivan and Satine descended into the basement, the consul looked up. He smiled.

"Take a seat," he said to them.

Ivan sat down. Satine turned a chair around to straddle it. Bratach lifted a half-full bottle of wine and held it out to her. Satine shook her head. He refilled his glass.

"Suit yourself," he said. "By the way, Lionel the Little, as he was called, is quite dead. He committed suicide in his own quarters three nights ago-and in the royal palace, of all places. It was a hanging followed by a disembowelment. What a mess! Just imagine the uproar it caused!"

It was clear that despite his sarcasm the consul was impressed-a rare occurrence. Holding the wine glass high, he tipped it in her direction. After talking a sip, he placed the glass back on the table.

"How on earth did you manage it?" he asked. "I half expected never to see you again. But here you are."

Leaning her forearms on the back of the chair, Satine smirked at him.

"No assassination is impossible," she answered. "I thought you might understand that by now. I told you I could do it, and I did." She flashed Bratach a look that was all business.

"I didn't come here to listen to something I already know," she said.

"The sign in the shop window tells me that you have news. It had better be more than the fact that the gnome has met his maker."

Bratach looked at Ivan, then back at Satine. "Oh, my news is important, I assure you," he said. "But you aren't going to like it."

"Tell me."

"The wizards of the Redoubt know who you are. Worse yet, they have your description."

Her jaw set, Satine took a breath and sat back a little.

"How?" she asked.

"A captured Valrenkium told them. The prince's Minions took him from his village and the wizards forced him to talk. They also know about Reznik. We have no word that search parties have been sent out looking for you, but we don't know that they haven't been, either. How do you wish to proceed?"

Taking a deep breath, Satine looked toward the ceiling. This was the worst possible news. Still, she remained calm. She looked back at Bratach.

"I will continue with the sanctions," she said.

Bratach looked narrowly at her. "Very well-it's your neck. I needn't tell you that you must use extreme caution from now on. Wulfgar will be arriving soon. Because of that we have decided to up the ante, so to speak. This will only make things more difficult for you, but there it is."

"What do you mean?"

Bratach reached into his robe and produced a parchment, which he flattened on the tabletop. He picked up a knife and rammed it through one of the portraits depicted there.

"This is your next victim," he said. "I suggest you approach your task with care."

Satine recognized the face immediately. They've upped the ante indeed, she thought.

"What else can you tell me?"

"Very little, I'm afraid. As far as we know this person is still out of the country. We await word from our confederate inside the palace. When we have more information, we will tell you. Until then you must wait."

Looking around the dingy cellar, Bratach smiled. "Might I recommend that you hide here until we learn more? I know it's not much, but staying here would save you time."

Satine shook her head. This was the last place she wanted to be holed up. Now that the wizards had her description, she knew she needed to stay off the streets, but it wouldn't be here, in a dank cellar with Wulfgar's consul and his greasy lackey.

"I'll make my own arrangements," she said.

"Very well," Bratach answered. "But you must check the shop window every day-twice a day would be even better. We cannot be sure when your target will return to Eutracia. But when it happens, you'll have to move fast."

Nodding her agreement, Satine stood from the chair. "Is there anything else?"

Bratach shook his head. "Just make sure that you come into the shop the moment you see that we have news for you."

Satine walked to the door. As she opened it, its hinges creaked. It would be a long walk back around to pick up her horse, but it would be the safest way.

After giving the two men a final look, she entered the tunnel and closed the door behind her. The winding, dimly lit passage yawned before her.

She had been wise to refuse Bratach's offer to stay in the cellar. But she also knew that she could no longer risk staying at the inn she had chosen. After going back to collect her things, she would have to move on. As the sound of her footsteps rang out against the bricks in the tunnel floor, her mouth turned up into a slight smile.

The Gray Fox knew exactly where to go, but there were things she needed to do first.

PART 4 DELIVERANCE