In my mind, I walk back through the exchange as I saw it. Though distracted by the mercer, his behavior at the door before entering certainly fits with what I was expecting. I saw him talking with Rakatha. I didn’t see them exchange anything, but who else would stop in to a bar for less than five minutes to talk to an alcoholic ex-pit fighter? I didn’t see him tuck anything in his pockets after leaving, nor adjust anything as he walked. Though, if he had simply stowed the report Rakatha gave him before he left the bar, I would not have seen it. Afterward, he went straight to the gate and I had him in my sight the entire time. If he had put it at a dead drop, I would have seen. No, the only stop he made was…
The woman. Perhaps the flirting was a ruse, and she was actually the drop-off point.
Shit.
Had he known I was tailing him even then?
I didn’t pay close attention to her and, at this rate, have no way to locate her. If she has the report, then I will just have to accept that the information will find its way to whomever requested it, and I still know absolutely nothing about them except that they are careful.
I check the body one last time, but this time for anything that might incriminate me if he is found. Satisfied there is nothing that could come directly back to me, I leave the body where it lay and go to find a stream to wash up in.
My owl alights on a nearby branch as I finish cleaning the blood and dirt from myself the mundane way. He hoots his opinions at me. Rolling around on the ground dirtied my robes. Kneeing the man in the face and getting stabbed in the arm left a bit of blood here and there as well, but it’s not noticeable enough to prevent me from re-entering Nodkis tonight.
I look at the man’s dagger after rinsing it in the stream and find the maker’s mark. I know not whether this mark is benign to possess, so I don’t want to keep it anywhere but in my mind. I sear the image into my memory and leave the dagger.
The return to town is uneventful, but I am on high alert for the woman or anyone else who might be paying any undue attention to me. I think she was brunette and dressed as any young maid would be. She wasn’t all that young, though, now that I think about it. Mid-thirties, probably. She seemed matched in age to the man when he spoke to her.
I see no one, but get a new inn for the night on the good side of town anyway.
Taking extra care, I rearrange the entire room to make a more defensible, and less assassin-friendly, configuration. The bed is placed next to the door to the room such that the door could be opened to create either a shield or an escape route depending on which direction the assailant came from. The chair is placed upside down under the window, with the chamberpot balanced on one leg such that it would fall were anyone to come in the window. The curtains are closed tightly, and I take the added step of tacking them to the window frame using some nails I pull up from the floorboards. I also arrange the mattress, pillow, and blanket in such a way that it appears that someone is in bed, but then will sleep on the floor in the shadow of the bed frame. I keep all my gear about me, just as I would do when camping alone in the wilds. I can get up and escape in a moment’s notice without leaving anything behind.
I ward my room, do my nightly routine, and drift off to sleep gripping my dagger at my waist.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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