by Kiki Howell
“What are you doing here?” The desk clerk from the morning, whose name badge said George, asked.
“You tell me.” I sneered back. “This certainly isn’t my room.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. What are you doing here?”
“No, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Nooma, no one has time for your games. You are not supposed to be here. You are supposed to be lying low, staying out of sight. Wandering around the town like this, you will escalate the war.” He charged angrily.
“You are the second, or possibly third person, to identify me as Nooma. My name is Bree Brigand. Check your records. My photo ID was verified, with my credit card, when I checked in. Whomever you believe I am, I assure you, I am not.” I answered as haughtily as I could manage. For as little as I actually knew about my real identity, I suppose there was a possibility that I was this Nooma everyone seemed to believe me to be.
“Then explain this...” He replied, holding up the walking stick from the closet.
“Don’t touch tha...” I challenged too late. As I issued my warning, before I could finish, the recessed cap of the walking stick was popped off and it was turned over to allow the Una-Mor to slide out into his waiting hand. In less time than I could have made it to prevent the contact, the hilt once again found my palm, the sword singing it’s eerie melody as yet another body fell before me.
“Great. Now what?” I asked the empty space.
Camp
I WAS SURPRISED to discover I was merely in the basement of the small inn. I had expected I would have been transported elsewhere. I was not surprised to find it was well past nightfall when I located and checked my watch. Conveniently enough, my belongings, meager though they were, were all in a trash bag just inside the door. At least I didn’t have to recover or replace them.
When, several hours later, no one had come to check on me or the desk clerk, I surmised that he had not shared our whereabouts with anyone else, or anyone else who knew, was not suspicious yet that he had not reappeared. I tucked the body into the corner behind the door. There was no way I was going to risk trying to dispose of it. But, I also was not about to be found with it. Outfitted with what I could manage, I left the rest of my belongings in the bag, but took it with me to find somewhere else to dispose of them. As near as I could tell, everything was present so I would not be leaving anything behind.
What to do next was easy, just as much as it was difficult. I needed to get out of there, but to where? One of the few persons who had any recognition, or potential recognition, of who I might be, was now dead in the corner. I was effectively back at square one.
Surprisingly, getting out of the inn was not as difficult as I had imagined it would be. Thankfully, I did not notice any surveillance of the basement, the backstairs, or the back door I exited through from the kitchen. If anyone else knew I was down there, they were not actively preventing me from leaving. The sliver of moon was at full pitch when I finally emerged. It was desperately cold, and there was a thin veil of fog in every direction.
I certainly could not go to another inn. It was also too late to try to secure transportation elsewhere. I was on my own, with no idea where to go, or which way to try.
Thirty meters later, I again had company. At the end of the block, before I could turn the corner, a car pulled up against the curb. The rear window lowered and a woman’s voice broke through the fog.
“Get in.” The voice commanded.
I adjusted my direction to head toward the rear bumper and beyond. The car would have to come around to follow me, and by then, hopefully, I could be gone. “I don’t think so.” I called back over my shoulder.
“It really wasn’t a request.” The voice said softly. “I thought perhaps we could do this the easy way this time.”
“This time?”
“This time, next time, any time. You should not be here. I am offering you an out and a way to escape. You do not have allies here.”
I spun on my heel, enraged at her tone. “I also don’t have enemies here. None of you know me from anyone. How dare you suggest where I should, or should not, be.”
The laughter was soft and lilting. It carried ahead of her next words. “Of course I know you from anyone. Don’t be silly.”
“I. Am. Not. Nooma.” I asserted firmly.
“No, you are not. That much, I am certain.”
She had my attention now. Evidently she knew who I was not, and by the tenor of her comments, perhaps who I was. “You are certain?” I challenged.
She leaned out the rear window just as a stray band of moonlight broke through the fog. The resemblance was a bit unsettling. “Of course I am certain. I’m pretty sure that I know who I am, and I am Nooma. As such, you cannot possibly be.”
It took a moment, but the shock wore off. Then, my temper flared. “All right then, who am I? Or I should say, who do you believe me to be?” I charged with one first firmly planted on my hip, still holding the garbage bag with the rest of my belongings.
To her credit, she didn’t rise to the bait. “Look, I will be happy to have a discussion, at length, about who you are, and why you are here, but not here, in this place, right now. It is not safe here. You can get in, and we can go from there, or you can turn to run, and we will help you in shortly.”
My hand was a vice grip on the walking staff. I knew that in the short space I would have no problem getting away, though the burn at my back reminded me I had no idea how I had been disabled before. I weighed my options. She did not blink as I did so, but watched me intently.
“And just where will we be going?” I asked, feeling I needed to have some idea of what I was considering.
“Somewhere safe.”
“You’re not going to tell me more than that? Why should I trust you?”
“No, I’m not. For the safety of everyone there, it would be better if you don’t know where we are going, until we have determined if we can trust you.” She stated matter-of-factly.
It seemed I was considering the choice between a bad decision, and a bad decision. Either way, I was going to end up going with them. I would rather do so with my faculties online than to face having the choice taken from me. “And if I don’t wish to stay once we arrive?” I questioned.
“Then we will see to it that you are taken somewhere else, but you cannot stay here.”
“Fine.” I acquiesced finally, though only temporarily.
The trunk popped open at my one word response. My face must have given away my thoughts. “No, you will not be riding in the trunk. There is not room in the seat for your belongings.”
“My staff stays with me.” I stated adamantly. There was no way I was going to be letting it out of my sight now.
“Fine.”
Once inside, I made sure to leave as much real estate between her and me as possible across the back bench. We didn’t immediately pull away. It was curious, but I remained quiet waiting. If she was hoping for me to speak again, she was going to be disappointed. I was waiting too. Her face gave little away as she perused me in the silence. Eventually, she finally spoke. “Where is Goodman?”
“Who?”
A male voice from the front seat interjected. “George.”
“The clerk?” I asked surprised. “He’s in the basement.”
Nooma sighed. “Anwar, be a dear and go get him. We cannot stay here. We’ve already lingered too long.”
The front seat passenger side door clicked open on squeaky hinges. The car shifted as the male extricated himself from the vehicle. I debated how quickly I could get up, out, and be away as I watched the shadowed figure disappear back down the block. Do I tell them, or do I wait? The truth was coming, the question was who would deliver it? “Should I mention that he’s dead?” I dropped softly into the quiet space.
Her head spun around slowly, but not without dramatic flair. “That is unfortunate.” She turned to the driver then. “Follow him. We will need to retrieve Goodman for l
ater.”
As the vehicle was engaged and crept toward the back of the small inn, I had only a few moments to determine the delivery of the next piece of news. This just kept getting better. “I should probably tell you he’s not coming back. He’s dead, and will be staying dead.”
Her eyes closed, and her shoulders fell as she sighed. Her head turned toward me before she opened her eyes again. “Did you kill him?”
“No. I did not.”
I could not read the expression on her face. I didn’t have to wonder what she was thinking for long. Her window lowered once again. “Anwar, five minutes. Burn it down. You know the drill.”
Anwar nodded his head before slipping in the kitchen door I had come from. The car kept moving once he was inside. Evidently, we were not waiting for him, or he was joining us elsewhere later. “Now what?” I asked. I did not attempt to hide my curiosity or irritation.
“Now, we leave.” She answered cryptically.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I told you already, it is not safe here. I would not be here but for the reports that I was seen here, or rather, you were seen here and mistaken for me. You, and I, need to be gone...right now, before this gets any worse than it already is. You can tell me later what happened to Goodman.”
I kept my mouth shut and my face pointed straight ahead. Only my eyes moved to scan the path of our departure. The why’s and where’s were not being shared, so I would have to take in as much information as I could on my own, not that I could discern much as we traveled through the blanket of fog.
I knew we were beyond the town when the sound of the road changed from paved to loose. Which direction we were going, what road we were taking, or what could possibly lie ahead of us was lost to me. With each crunch my irritation grew.
Unable to rein it in, I finally snapped. “Where are we going?”
“Camp.”
Assassins
HOURS LATER, THE sounds changed again. About the same time, the thick fog was gone too. If we had driven in a straight line or in circles I had no way to gauge. How we got where we were was as elusive as where we actually were at all. What I could see, was that we were now traveling inside what I could only assume was the belly of a mountain. I had not noticed any descent to indicate we were down below ground level, but the walls of rock on either side of the car were definitely not for show.
The close echoes of the narrow tunnel eventually spaced out as we reached an open area. I was surprised when the vehicle stopped, it was Anwar who opened my door. Evidently, however we had traveled, was to one degree or another, a circuitous route if he managed to be here before we arrived. From this central hub, I could count six spokes, not including the one we had come through to arrive. When the trunk once again popped open, I retrieved the bag of my belongings and waited.
“This way please.” Nooma chimed.
I fell into step, but did not speak. I was not sure what to expect and didn’t want to miss anything if I would need to find my way out at some point alone.
“Sinta will take you to a room where you may deposit your belongings. You can join me after.” She said over her shoulder as we reached a fork.
Anwar continued on with her, as Sinta motioned for me to take the other path. Every twenty meters or so was another fork. By the seventh or eighth, I had lost track of the turns. Left, left, right, left I knew were the first four, but after that I was no longer certain. If I had any hope of escaping this labyrinth on my own, it would be by accident. I had little faith I could navigate it successfully with any degree of certainty.
The offered accommodations were sparse and Spartan. I’m not sure what I thought I expected. Somehow this wasn’t it. I dropped the bag of my belongings at the foot of the rough bed. If I never found my way back here to claim them wouldn’t really hurt. Sinta waited at the entrance. When I moved to join him, my staff still firmly in hand, he finally found his voice. “You can leave that here.”
“This will not leave my side. It can come with me, or Nooma can come to me. That point is not negotiable.” I stated adamantly.
What he thought as we stared one another down, I can’t claim to know. Eventually, he turned and we left. Another un-recountable set of turns later, I found myself in a surprisingly comfortable looking receiving room. Nooma sat in a soft looking oversized chair. She had changed since we arrived and now wore a heavy, cabled, bulky sweater. I nearly chuckled out loud. Once upon a time, I had one that was almost its twin.
“Sit.” She motioned to another chair.
I did as she bid me to do, but did not speak. I was not yet sure of my role here, or hers for that matter.
“Let’s see if we can suss this out, shall we?” She offered with less bravado than she had used back in the town.
“Okay.”
“Why are you here?” She opened without pretense.
I had to pull back the irritation from my voice before I spoke. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“For starters, because you should not be here. Because, great lengths were taken to keep you from this place, this area, this world.” She answered directly.
“If that’s true, then you know who I am.” I charged and questioned without actually asking.
Her lips twitched but the rest of her was stone still. “Yes. I do know who you are. I will offer you quid pro quo. But, you must answer me first.”
It was quickly exasperating. How do I answer the question? “Like it or not, the truth is, I don’t know why I’m here.” I began. “I don’t know what led me to this place. I went looking for answers, with no idea how to find them, and stumbled on the town. I overheard someone who thought they recognized me, but it was as you, not as me, so I hung around, hoping to put the pieces together.” I paused. “Your turn.”
I watched her hands come up, her fingertips applying pressure to her temples. Whatever answer she was hoping for, the truth as I knew it was evidently not it, or was somehow a complication judging by her reaction. If I was hoping that her ‘quid pro quo’ was going to be quick, I was absolved of that possibility long before I had an answer. She waited what felt like an eternity before she spoke.
“You’re name is Asa.” She finally said.
When she did not continue, it was all I could do not to jump from the chair and spit nails. “And...”
Her exhalation was so forceful I felt the breeze reach me across the space. “And...your mother, Astrid, was my sister.”
“So you’re a-“
“No! And, don’t say it.” She interrupted.
“But...”
“Astrid was my half-sister.”
“So that means...”
“Uh, uh, uh...quid pro quo.” She cut me short, holding up a finger.
“Quid pro quo?! I answered your questions. Answer mine.” I demanded.
“Quid pro quo in the original Latin means ‘this for that.’ I gave back, in proportion to what you offered me. You want more? Then you give me more.” She stated emphatically.
Her position and posture were dramatically different than the relaxed lounging I noted when I entered the space. Now, she was perched on the edge of the chair, her spine rigid. I couldn’t fathom what more she could possibly want. “I answered the question you asked. What else do you need?”
“Why are you not with the Brigand’s?”
“Because they’re dead.” I answered flatly. Evidently she did know who I was, and where I’ve been all this time. I wondered what else she knew.
“Did you kill them?” She asked sounding weary.
Why is that always the question, did I kill them? Why would I? “No. I did not. I would not.”
“How?”
I didn’t need her to elaborate beyond the single word of her question to understand what it was she wanted to know. But, it was time for me to turn the table. “Quid. Pro. Quo.”
“I am a half-blood. Now, how is it the Brigand’s are dead?”
The irony of my answer was going to b
e so sweet to drop in her lap. “By a half-blood.”
“Dammit!” She dropped heavily as she rose and began to pace. She paused when she turned back toward me. “That still doesn’t answer why you are here, trying to put pieces together, as you said. The rest of the clan there should have taken over when the Brigand’s fell.”
An uneasy feeling crept up my spine. This conversation, and the quid pro quo back and forth, were potentially going to force my hand to reveal things I did not want to reveal. I was going to have to be extremely careful about how, and what I said. “Bitrum, and six of the others, besides my parents, also fell. The clan, as you called them, is in shambles.”
“Sweet Goddess. That can’t be true.” She said out loud, though I’m not sure she was talking to me. “But what led you here? Why would you even be looking? They were your family. They were your kin.”
My turn. “Uh, uh, uh....quid pro quo Nooma.” I said with a wry grin.
“What?”
Since she seemed to be fond of asking multiple questions, I would follow her tack. “Where is my mother? And, who is my father? And, who gave me to the Brigand’s?”
Irritation flashed across her features. “Astrid is dead. They both are. And, I took you to the Brigand’s. The assassins had already found both of them, but not you. We weren’t sure they even knew about you. So, we hid you. Do you understand now why you cannot be here? Why it is not safe for you here? Why anyone suspecting your relationship to me, who could put two and two together, might be a huge risk to you? After the lengths we went to, to make sure that you were safe, you waltz back in here and announced to the world that you exist? Why? Quid pro quo Asa... How did you come here? Why?”
I probably looked like a fish on land. My mouth opened several times, but in response to everything she had just said, I could not form the words to answer her. Assassins? Assassins killed my parents? Why? Once again, I found myself with more questions than answers, but she was waiting, staring me down unblinkingly waiting. How could I possibly tell her?
Then again, my mother, both my mother’s, were dead. It hardly mattered now. “My mother told me as she died.”
