She paused at the door, eyed him, standing flushed and dishevelled. ‘I’d rather be what you call a nobody than contaminated by this.’
Walking away, she heard the glass burst against the door.
* * *
Later, in town, she knocked on another door. A sturdy one of thick oaken blanks, a garland of rare herbs strung across its front, fragrant and colourful.
The door opened and she stared into the face of her old patron and teacher, Agayla. The woman looked to be sharing the same headache Tattersail still nursed. She appeared pale, her eyes red and sunken, her hair rather frazzled and unkempt. But she opened her arms wide and gave her visitor a warm hug, drawing her within.
The shop looked just as it had before. As if no time had passed at all, and Tattersail cleared her throat. ‘I’ve been a—’
Agayla raised a hand for silence. ‘No need,’ she murmured. ‘Would you like some tea?’
Tattersail felt as if an immense weight had been lifted from her and she dared an attempt at a smile. ‘Thank you. That would be … yes. Thank you.’
Over tea – Agayla’s wonderful reviving herbal tea – the older woman eyed her as if attempting to take her measure. ‘What did you make of the storm?’ she asked, perhaps trying for neutral conversation.
Tattersail laughed weakly. ‘I was unconscious almost all night. I fell and hit my head.’
‘Ah.’ Agayla nodded. ‘So what do you plan now? As I said, there are schools in Kan that would take you in an instant. I will write a letter.’
Tattersail shook her head. ‘No.’
Agayla raised a brow. ‘Really? No?’
‘No. I was wondering about those old-style mage academies in Tali. Are any of those still taking students?’
Agayla sat back. She raised her gaze to the ceiling, which was cluttered with sheaves of hanging drying herbs and clusters of leaves and bundled desiccated flowers. ‘Old imperial style battle-magics? Really? Obsolete, I should think.’
But Tattersail was nodding. ‘That’s the training I want.’
Her slim, bird-like mentor studied her tea. ‘It just so happens that two such academies still exist. They are small, however. Without prestige among the courts…’
‘I don’t care about that. I want that training.’
Agayla finished the tea. ‘Well, if that is what you want, I will write you a letter of introduction, of course. You can take the first ship out to the mainland.’
Tattersail fought to suppress a blush of shame. After the things I said to this woman … She felt her eyes becoming hot and tearing up. Nothing had worked out as she wished. Everything was so ruined …
Agayla watched her silently for a time, then said, gently, ‘Sometimes it is okay just to cry.’
Chapter 16
Lee waited out the storm in the sprawling combination tavern and gambling room ground main floor of the Golden Gyrfalcon. Her table was towards the rear, where she sat leaning her chair back against the wall. With her sat a lieutenant and some guards – a paltry few now that business had fallen off so dramatically.
In fact, all she could be said to control was Geffen’s old place plus a few warehouses down at the waterfront. Support just kept dribbling away as talk spread of the deadly knifer heading the opposition. She was frankly thinking of getting out of the business altogether. Trying another line of work.
It was far into the night when the storm petered out. Some of the sailors and local patrons claimed they heard hounds howling through all the thunder and rattling of windows, and talk naturally turned to the island’s legendary Shadow Moons.
Lee just rolled her eyes; of course all the damned dogs were out there howling at the banging shutters and claps of thunder. Natural, wasn’t it? No need to reach for any supernatural explanation.
Stupid island hicks.
Gasps sounded then from the front and several of the late night crowd jumped to their feet. Lee motioned for one of her boys to take a look, but even as the guard rose to his feet the source of the commotion appeared pushing his way across the room to them.
It was their friend Cowl. And he looked in a bad way.
The gasps were for the bright blood that smeared the man’s shirt front, hands and face. He pulled a chair to Lee’s table and sat, daubing at his bloody nose.
Her remaining lieutenant, a young gal named Ivala whose ruthlessness impressed even Lee, shot her a look that said, Now’s our chance to rid ourselves of this asshole.
Lee gave a slight negative shake of her head.
‘Get me a Hood-damned rag, would you,’ Cowl croaked, his voice hoarse.
None of Lee’s three guards, nor Ivala, nor Lee moved to get up.
The assassin cocked a brow to Lee, who sighed, and motioned to one of the staff. She called over, ‘Bring a wet rag,’ and the serving girl ran for the kitchens.
‘What happened to you?’ she asked. ‘Get mugged?’
The young fellow – actually probably only slightly younger than she – shot her a warning glare, then glanced significantly to her guards.
Lee rolled her eyes again, but waved them away. ‘Get some sleep, everyone,’ she told them. They all got up to go, leaving the two of them alone.
The servitor came back with a wet cloth that Cowl used to clean his face and hands. Lee watched, her hands tucked up under her armpits, leaning back in her chair. It occurred to her that the man’s nosebleed, or whatever it was, appeared far worse because of his near sickly paleness.
‘Notice anything strange about the storm?’ he finally asked, the cloth now pressed to his nose.
She shook her head. ‘No.’
He snorted, then winced, cursing, and pressed harder on his face.
‘Why?’
‘Our friends are back.’
Lee poured herself a fresh glass of red wine. ‘Really? You mean the two you’ve been waiting for?’
‘Yeah. Them. Turns out that Dal Hon mage is the real thing. He’s damned strong.’ Cowl took the glass just as Lee finished filling it, and drank.
‘Hey! That was mine.’
Cowl tossed the rest back.
Lee gestured impatiently for a servitor. ‘So?’
‘Looks like it’s knife to knife for us. Him and me. Which is fine. I prefer it that way. No confusion as to the results, if you know what I mean.’
Lee took a fresh glass from the servitor and poured again. ‘Whatever.’ She eyed the fellow and hoped her disapproval was clear. ‘Listen, them and me, we got an understanding. You go after that Dancer fellow and they’ll think I’m behind it. I don’t want that kind of trouble.’
The damned assassin laughed again – wincing once more and holding his head. Once he’d regained his composure he waved her off as if dismissing her. ‘The only reason you’re still here is you’re too small to bother with. But…’ and he raised a hand as if to forestall any umbrage from her, ‘I take your point. I’ll make it clear that it’s personal and professional. Just between him and me.’
Lee was sceptical but let it lie. ‘Fine.’
He stood, pushing back his chair. ‘Thanks for the drink.’
She raised her glass to him. Here’s hoping you die, asshole.
* * *
After helping Urko carry Nedurian to a room, Cartheron went to the bar and pulled a tankard of weak beer, then slumped into a chair. The rest of the crew did likewise. It was quiet now, the only noise being Urko talking at a table with all those who hadn’t been outside, explaining, as best he could, what they’d seen.
‘So … they’re back?’ Tocaras asked.
‘Don’t know,’ Cartheron answered. He glanced to Surly at the bar. ‘They disappeared again.’ She stood leaning against the counter, arms crossed, glaring at the air ahead of her. ‘So,’ he prompted, ‘what do we do?’