by Claire Frank
Refolding the paper, she gazed out at the water as the breeze rustled through her hair. As much as she’d enjoy a long stroll in the arboretum, she had preparations to make. She tucked the paper away and rose, already making a mental list of the things she would need for her journey.
***
Rhis folded her cloak and placed it in her pack. It had taken several days for Sebba to make the necessary arrangements for her journey, booking passage on a ship headed across the Narobian Sea. The ship would take her as far as Sunhold; from there, she would have to purchase a horse and travel overland to Tindale, and then onto the small hamlet of Harmoth. Judging from the map she’d procured, she estimated it would take her several weeks to reach her destination, provided there were no storms or other delays. She sighed as she wrapped a set of slim daggers and placed them in with the cloak. It would be a relief when this contract was over.
Sebba entered on quiet feet, his hands folded in front of him. “Mistress, there are a few things left to attend to.”
“What would they be?” Rhis asked.
“Well, it appears you will be away for an undetermined amount of time,” he said.
“That’s correct.”
“Of course, I will make sure your affairs here are kept in order, but what of the other servants?” he asked.
Rhis glanced at him. “What of them?”
“If I may, I’d like to keep them on while you’re away. I’ll be certain they are kept busy enough.”
“I don’t see why that would be necessary. You are more than capable of running the household in my absence. You can restaff the villa when I return.”
Sebba’s mouth hung open for a brief moment. “Yes, but … what I mean to say is, I thought—”
“You thought what?” she said.
“The girls have nowhere else to go, Mistress. It would not be a terrible expense to allow them to stay.”
Rhis couldn’t keep the annoyance from her voice. “That’s hardly my concern, but do what you will. Find a way to deal with the cost.”
“Very good, Mistress.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
She picked up her pack and strapped it to her back, giving Sebba a nod. It was unfortunate she’d need to be away so long, but once it was over she’d have enough wealth to go wherever she pleased. She walked through her villa and out the front door, leaving it for Sebba to close behind her, and made her way down to the harbor.
FOUR: ON THE ROAD
Rhis rose early, leaving her room at the small roadside inn just as the light of dawn began to wash over the world. She’d arrived in Sunhold the previous day, after an uneventful journey across the Narobian Sea. The weather had been mild, and after a few dangerous looks and flashes of steel, the crew had left her alone for the duration. Once in Sunhold, she’d purchased a horse and spent an uncomfortable night in a narrow bed, the accommodations provided by her inn barely serviceable. Although she sorely missed her comfortable villa, she realized she was getting too soft. It wasn’t so long ago that the cheap inn would have seemed like unfathomable luxury.
Sunhold was a port city surrounded by vineyards, the rows of cultivated grapes stretching out over the hills. Even at this early hour, the air was warm, and the cloudless sky promised a hot day ahead. Rhis was fair-skinned compared to the dark Sunholders, and she kept a drape of beige fabric over her head and shoulders to keep off the sun. Workers were already trudging into the fields as she passed out of the city into the countryside beyond, and she remembered what Cormant had said about the wine from Sunhold: best in the Empire. Resolving to buy a cask of wine and have it shipped home on her way back through the city, she kicked her horse forward and continued toward Tindale.
She followed the road for two days, and spent the second night under the stars, missing even the meager accommodations in Sunhold. Her map told her she should be approaching a town, but as the third day wore on, she saw no sign of habitation save a few farmhouses amid the rolling hills. Mountains loomed in the distance, and the road was hot and dusty, with very little traffic going in either direction. Just as she had decided to search for a suitable place to camp for the night, she noticed lines of smoke drifting up into the sky. Urging her horse on, she topped a hill and looked down into a narrow valley dotted with olive groves and vineyards. The road meandered with the flow of the land, passing through a small town, the buildings spreading out from the road on either side in a lazy sprawl. With a sigh of relief, she rode down the hill, hoping to find a decent place to rest.
The buildings were stucco, in shades of coral and tan, their rough exteriors spattered with dust and faded from the sun. Most had arched entries with colorful flowers painted around the doorways. Finding an inn, Rhis tied her horse to a post on the side of the building and went in through the small wooden door in front.
She emerged into a courtyard with wood beams for a ceiling, open to the sky above. Trailing vines ran across the wood supports, dangling small white blossoms. A few patrons sat at tables, their clothes dusty, their skin deeply tanned. A man in loose brown pants and a long turquoise tunic raised his eyebrows as she walked in, and came forward to meet her.
“Just passing through?” he asked in a clipped accent.
“Yes. Do you have a room available for the night?” she asked.
He pressed his lips together, narrowing his dark eyes as if considering. “Possibly.”
Rhis regarded him with an even look and produced a few silver Imperials, dropping them in his hand.
He plastered on a wide smile. “Very good, then. I have a room available. This way.”
Rhis followed as he led her through the courtyard and beneath an open arch. A hallway branched in both directions, the smell of fresh bread wafting from the left. He took her to the right, past a few closed doors. Drawing a chain of keys from his pocket, he unlocked one and waved her inside. She brushed her fingers against the doorway, giving it seven quick taps before she entered.
“My wife makes sure the rooms are clean,” he said, and Rhis noticed a forced friendliness in his tone. “You can eat in the courtyard tonight if you’d like. Breakfast, too, once the sun is up. Will you be staying more than one night?”
“Just one,” Rhis said. She set her pack down and gave the room a cursory look. The floor was hard-packed dirt, and the bed appeared to be a mix of straw and wool. A few hooks hung from the plaster walls, and a small table stood beneath a tiny window.
A woman slipped in, bearing a pitcher of water, and set it on the table. The innkeeper cast her a stern look. She lowered her face, and Rhis thought she saw a flicker of fear in the woman’s eyes. Her dress was frayed at the edges and she tugged on her sleeves, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. The innkeeper cleared his throat and jerked his head toward the door. Without a word, the woman scuttled out. He gave Rhis a small nod and left, closing the door behind him.
***
After freshening herself as best she could without a proper bath, and donning a relatively clean set of clothing, Rhis went back to the courtyard for a meal. The same woman brought her a plate of dried figs, slightly withered olives, a bit of meat that smelled rather like goat, and a thick piece of crusty bread. She washed the meal down with a cup of red wine, sipping it as she watched the local patrons from her table in the corner. A few cast wary glances her way. She didn’t worry overmuch; she’d leave in the morning and they’d forget she had ever been there.
A crash sounded from somewhere in the interior, followed by a man shouting. Rhis took a sip of wine and watched the other patrons over the rim of her cup. They shifted in their seats, casting uncomfortable glances at each other, or at the ground. After a brief silence, the woman came through the doorway, bearing a pitcher. She kept her head bowed and her hair fell across her face, but Rhis could see a bright red mark across her cheek. Although Rhis didn’t particularly want more wine, she held out her cup, beckoning the woman closer.
“Is he your husband?” Rhis asked.
“The man who runs this inn, are you married to him?”
She let out the breath and clasped the pitcher with both hands. “Yes.”
“Did he do that?” Rhis asked, gesturing to the woman’s face with a nod.
“What? No,” the woman said, lowering her head further as if trying to hide behind her hair. “No, of course not. I … tripped. I’m so clumsy. I’m always breaking things.”
Footsteps sounded from the hallway, and the woman’s eyes widened. She took a few steps backward, then turned and scurried away, her bare feet padding across the packed dirt without a sound. The innkeeper emerged from the corridor, shooting a glare at her as she passed, before bringing a basket of bread to another small group sitting at a table in the center of the courtyard.
Seething with anger, Rhis turned the cup around in her hands and licked her lips as she watched the innkeeper. The woman’s fear was almost palpable. Between her skittish demeanor and her injuries, Rhis had no doubt who had caused them. Narrowing her eyes at the innkeeper, she considered what she should do. Only once had she ever taken a life she hadn’t been paid for, and she never bothered in other people’s affairs. But seeing the smug innkeeper in his well-mended clothes, a false smile plastered across his face, made her grind her teeth. His wife was a slip of a woman, too small to defend herself against her husband, and Rhis had no doubt the bruises she could see only told part of the story.
Rhis’s hand strayed to her cheek, and she ran her fingers down the side of her jaw, biting her lip against remembered pain. She couldn’t abide a man who beat his wife, and as the innkeeper walked through the doorway she turned her options over in her mind.
***
Rhis woke well before dawn and readied her horse, securing her belongings to the back of the saddle. Dressed in dark leggings, soft leather boots, and a hooded tunic, she pulled the cowl up over her head and slipped back into the courtyard of the inn. The building was quiet, but Rhis could hear the sound of someone moving about the kitchen. On silent feet, she crept down the hallway and paused, pressing her back against the wall as she looked. As she suspected, the innkeeper’s wife was up early, pulling bread out of the hot oven. Good. It meant the innkeeper was probably alone.
Farther down the hallway, she found another door and pressed her ear to the wood, listening. At first the room seemed silent, until she heard faint sounds of movement and the creak of the bed. Rhis raised her veil across her face, pulled out a slim dagger, and eased open the door.
The innkeeper stood in front of a small washing table with his back to her, pulling a tunic over his head. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. The soft click made him start to turn, but she was already inches from him, the point of her dagger digging into the coarse skin of this throat.
He sucked in a breath as if to speak, but Rhis shushed him. She kept one arm wrapped around his shoulders, pressing the dagger into his neck, while she pulled another knife and pressed it between his legs. “Don’t move,” she said, her voice a harsh whisper.
His body stiffened and he let out a whimper, as she dug the point of her blade into the soft flesh near his manhood.
“I know the truth about you,” she whispered in his ear. “Men who hurt their women are nothing but sniveling cowards.” She held him there a moment, pressing the tips of her daggers into his skin. “Put your hand on the table.”
He hesitated, his arms shaking.
“On the table,” she said, enunciating each word, and scratched her blade along his throat, just enough to draw blood.
With another gasp, his trembling hand rose. He swallowed hard, the putrid smell of his fear washing over Rhis, and placed his hand on the table.
“A man has a number of small limbs, doesn’t he? Some he favors more than others,” she said and shifted the blade near his manhood.
“No,” he whispered, his whole body shaking.
“I will leave you this. For now,” she said. “But I’ll be watching you, and if you continue to beat on your woman, I will relieve you of your precious cock. To ensure you remember, I’ll simply take this.” With a quick motion, she pulled the dagger away from his groin and hacked off the small finger of the hand splayed out on the table, her razor-sharp blade cutting through flesh and bone with ease.
Rhis let go as the innkeeper gasped a choking breath and held his hand in front of his face. Blood spurted from the wound in time with the rapid beating of his heart. By the time his scream cut through the silence of the early morning, she was already stealing through the courtyard and out the front door to her waiting horse.
FIVE: TARGET
The days on the road passed without incident as Rhis continued inland. Her legs and back ached from the saddle, and she alternated walking and riding to keep herself limber.
After passing through Tindale, a town that seemed to believe itself an important city, she set off toward Harmoth. The road wandered through grassy hills and farmland, the nights cooler as wind drifted down from the mountains. The stretches of empty space between farms diminished and, after two more days, the outskirts of the hamlet could be seen in the distance.
Edged on one side by a narrow river, Harmoth was rustic, with small stucco and stone buildings clustered together around a central plaza. Farmland surrounded the village in every direction, the hills a patchwork of neat rows of crops. Rhis could see people working in the fields under the blazing sun, and curious onlookers watched as she led her horse into town.
A few children ran by, pointing and giggling as they ducked into the shadow between two small buildings. Rhis slowed as she approached the center of town, wondering if Cormant had given her the right location. This out of the way farming village was an unlikely place to begin the seeds of revolution. The town was tidy, the surrounding farmland obviously productive, but it was isolated and couldn’t possibly be home to a large enough population to feed an uprising. There hadn’t been talk of revolt in Tindale, or even Sunhold, and the towns along the way had seemed relatively peaceful. Perhaps her initial assessment had been wrong, and her mark was not the leader of a band of revolutionaries.
A tavern had a faded sign out front, and the tavern keeper showed her to a small room in the attic with a low ceiling and a bed that was little more than a mattress on the floor. She kept her story to the innkeeper vague, telling him only that she was passing through. Knowing the people would be wary of a stranger, she changed into simple brown traveling clothes: a beige blouse covered by a long overdress, with slits up the sides for ease of movement and riding, and dark pants underneath. As the late afternoon sun crawled across the sky, she emerged from the tavern and decided to make a quick circuit around town.
The children found her again as she wandered into the town plaza, following at a distance with open curiosity. A mother called to one from a doorstep and the waif scurried home, waving at her friends before she ducked through the doorway. The mother’s eyes lingered on Rhis. Making sure to relax her face, Rhis offered the woman a quick smile and kept walking, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible.
The central plaza was circular, with a tall marble statue of the goddess Iona in the center. Sprigs of ivy and grapevines were laid out at the statue’s feet, small offerings during the growing season to protect the harvest. Rhis walked around to the back of the sculpture and sat on the edge of the base. From the small pack she carried, she pulled out a handful of honeyed nuts. Holding them out in her hand, she nodded to the children who lingered nearby. They giggled, whispering into each other’s ears, before the tallest girl of the bunch came forward.
“Go ahead,” Rhis said, giving her voice a friendly lilt. She didn’t particularly care for children—they were unnecessarily loud and dirty—but earning their trust would help ease their parents’ discomfort at having her in their town.
The girl gave her a shy smil
e and plucked a nut from her hand. Rhis nodded to the others and they crept forward, each reaching out to take a nut and popping it into their mouths. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a few townspeople watching. Keeping her face serene and pleasant, she dusted off her hands and smiled at the children as they bounded off in a little knot of knobby limbs and patched clothing, kicking up dust as they went.
As she stood, a plump woman approached, wiping her hands on her apron. Her hair was done up in a bun and her long dress brushed the ground as she walked.
“New in town?” the woman asked.
“Only passing through,” Rhis said. “I’ll be here a few days at most.”
“That’s all right,” she said, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “I’m Chara. We don’t get many visitors out here. What’s your name?”
“Hava,” Rhis said.
“Where are you headed?”
Rhis hesitated. The town gossip. She’d need to tread carefully. What this woman said about her to the rest of the townspeople could make it difficult for her to do her job. She needed the residents to speak freely when she was in their hearing, so she could determine the identity of her mark with certainty. If she simply asked for someone by the name of Asher, as soon as he turned up dead, people would suspect it had been her. If she played the part of innocent traveler with no specific interest in any of the villagers, and ensured the death appeared either natural or accidental, she had a far greater chance of walking away without anyone being the wiser.
“East. I’m trying to find someone,” Rhis said.
“Oh?” Chara asked. “Way out here?”
