by Karen MacRae
It had been easy to get Ebdry to take Sifry to the library. All he’d had to do was threaten to tell the King’s Guard where to find the wee keepsake he’d hidden in the man’s house. Bloody underwear and Tullen or a little trip to the library was not a difficult decision. To be fair, the professor had done a good job holding doors open and delaying things so he could follow them in.
He relived the moment when the librarian had come into the room to get the books after Sifry and Ebdry had left. She’d been a nice plump blonde, just the way he liked them. He’d been tempted to grab her then, spend a little quality time with her, but he’d needed to know where the books were kept before he killed her. It had been so easy to follow her through to the secure area. She’d looked over her shoulder a couple of times, sensing something not quite right, but she’d shrugged it off when there had been nothing there. He smiled. She’d probably thought the murders were scaring her into imagining things.
The book room was empty when she’d climbed the steps to put the books back. She hadn’t seen the blade coming until too late. He remembered her frightened cry lingering in the still, fusty air and the incredible sensation of warm stickiness against her cushiony mounds of flesh. It had felt so good, he hadn’t been able to resist plunging the dagger in a few extra times. It was a shame he couldn’t have risked more.
He wondered how long it would take them to discover the body. He’d dragged her into a dark alcove and shoved her under a bench, covering her with his blood-stained violet gown. Not the best of hiding places, but most of the white gowns were at the promotion ceremony so it was a quiet night in the restricted section.
No one had come in while he’d quickly sliced the pages out of the books and no one looking at the bookshelf would guess the two spines were empty. He had to stifle a laugh as he thought about his brilliance. All he’d had to do was scan the first couple of pages to check there was nothing important in them then stake out a spot by the exit, right where everyone had to sign out. The first fragment of paper he’d sacrificed from the Introduction hadn’t worked. It hadn’t been big enough. The second had though. It had gone into the gaping side of a professor’s right shoe. His face when the alarm went off! Pyteor had nearly laughed out loud. The third attempt had been just as funny. The novelty had worn off when he thought no one would ever open the door wide enough for him to get out at the same time, but it had finally happened on the sixth attempt. So much for their impossible security! Elona was right: these academic types were even more stupid than ordinary people. They couldn’t see the easy for looking so pretentiously at the hard.
Pyteor dropped his three new books into his bag and made his way down the stairs to leave the Hub for the last time. He glanced across at the Physical Arts’ building. It looked like the outer doors were open, but all he could hear was the quiet hum of people talking while a crowd of Quorum Guards looked in. He remembered the executions were due about now and considered sneaking in to see them, but Elona wouldn’t be happy if he was even later. No, he needed to pick up the gold and get to the ship, just as she’d told him. It was a shame about Sifry, but Ebdry could take the blame. There was no way to get his master’s father out of the professor’s house with the King’s Guards there questioning him non-stop about the murders.
The talk at the gate was all about an incredible sword fight and the capture of the King’s Shaper. Pyteor grinned as he waited for a suitable gap in traffic to slip through. Could it get any better?
He was just walking away when he heard about a load of spies being killed. Eight of them. Disguised as Quorum Guards. All with tattoos. Their leader was an ugly woman with black hair. One hell of a Sword Fighter. Apparently, she worked for the madman currently murdering hundreds of thousands of people over on the continent. She’d killed those poor girls the other day in the Rim for some heinous reason too.
Pyteor fell to his knees in shock. Elona was taken? He couldn’t believe it. An old man in a blue gown pulled him up, picking up his heavy rucksack as if it was as light as a feather.
“You all right, son?” he asked, helping the boy to a nearby seat.
“Yes, sir, thank you. I’m fine.” He wasn’t though. He was on his own. He thought about telling the Captain that his men were dead without Elona there to soften the blow. He thought about making it the whole way to the Mastran border by himself. He was terrified.
Ah, he realised, but every second of pleasure and every part of the reward would be his. Nothing would be shared. He shivered as he remembered the bliss his master had granted him in Alscombe; nothing compared to it, not even thrusting a dagger through soft, feminine flesh. His mind filled with images of Nystrieth’s followers falling at his feet as they had Elona’s, his fame spreading in the glorious new world his Emperor and God would establish. He picked up the discarded bag and had a quick, reaffirming look inside before striding off down the street as if he had the world at his feet.
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Anna’s story continues in ‘A Shaper’s Farewell’
- the last in the Aura Shaper trilogy
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The author would be very grateful if you would take a few seconds to leave a review on amazon
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