A coach with iron bars, yes of course. And the driver is in the uniform of a man-at
—And they are leading him in, and he suddenly twitches as if I'd poisoned him, but I didn't go near him! Honest!—
They didn't wait. Good. Die slow, you butchering, murdering, heartless, child-killing bastard. Die slow and in agony. Feel your heart stop, know what is happening and that you can't prevent it. See your life ooze away, and think about the crimes you've committed to bring this about, and may you rot forever in Verra's prismatic hells.
—men all confused, staring at the one who claws at his chest and turns red, he is breathing smoke, I can see it and smell it, a harsh acidic-smelling smoke—
They picked the same way Zollie was made to look, and that I faked. Lack of creativity, or just a sense of irony? I don't much care. Yes, Loiosh, stay with him, I want to see every second of his death agony.
—eyes popping, face a terrible twisted thing, head shaking back and forth—
Yes, you miserable son-o-a-bitch, yes. Feel every second.
—and finally, at last, he is still, eyes open and staring at the sky—
I take a moment to relish, to enjoy. It heals my soul. It is nearly as good as I imagined it would be, though I'd have liked it to have lasted longer. If there is price for revenge, I'll pay it, and pay it again. Whatever horrid destructive thing this is supposed to do to my soul must have been done long ago, or else if it just now happened I didn't notice.
—they stand around the body, looking all about them for what isn't there—
They look helpless. But they know what happened. Time to move on, Loiosh, it's all over here.
—and up and over the town, people and food and places getting small, smaller, tiny—
"Boss?"
"You knew that would happen?"
"Not that quickly. I wasn't sure I'd have the pleasure of watching."
Now — "The Coven. They're trying to cut their losses. They're trying to figure out if they can blame this on someone else, or maybe just get out of town."
"Will it work?"
"It might have, if I had let it"
— her form flying up, couldn't help but loop once, chase each other, only quickly, then she was gone, and claws grip hard into wood —
Yeah, there's the smug bastard, standing now, talking, gesticulating, and glancing at the door. He's heard something of what's happened, but still doesn't know.
— and he goes outside; so do I, up, seeing him again, circling once, just a harmless jhereg high in the sky, nothing here to see, then back —
He's standing outside the Guild hall, staring at Chayoor's body. Will he panic, or think it through? Doesn't matter either way.
— standing, staring at the body, circle now, high up, no need to take chances —
Looks like he's thinking it through. Fine. Think all you want, bastard. I remember when you first walked up to me and introduced yourself. I knew then something was wrong with you. But you shouldn't go trampling over people's lives like that; sometimes they take offense, and sometimes they can do something about it. And now you're putting it all together, making sense of it, realizing what must have happened. Are you realizing, too, that it's too late to do anything about it? How are you feeling about now?
—And he turns and walks eastward, fast, almost running, pace increasing, now he is running, only I fly much faster—
Yes, toward the woods. Probably the same place he was before. No other choice, either; whether he panicked, or reasoned it out, he has to run to his Coven. And it seems he did both. He figured out what was going on, and his reaction was right; in the same way a man is right to scream when his leg is being twisted to the breaking point. Or so they tell me.
—under the eaves of the woods, trees appearing as white streams of air that flow about them showing the path—
Oh, a different place, then. They have more than one, or different entrances?
—and bushes move, and a hole, air flowing hot from it, but there is room to—
"No! That's enough! Wait there"
"Okay, Boss. Whatever you say"
But I knew how he felt; I wanted to get my fangs into him, too.
17
Boraan: Now, now, my dear. Don't take on so. You know there will always be another body.
[Curtain] —Miersen, Six Parts Water Day Two, Act IV, Scene 6
I realized that Meehayi was there, and had been talking for some time.
"I'm sorry," I told him. "I was distracted."
"I was telling you what happened."
"The Count has broken the Guild and arrested its leaders. Chayoor is dead, apparently killed by witchcraft. Are we ready to go yet?"
He stared at me.
I love doing that to people. It's a weakness.
"How did you—?"
"Are we ready to leave?"
"Almost," he said. "I'm just waiting for Father Noij to let me know the boat is ready. How did you know what had happened?"
"I have sources," I said. "I suspect people are also out looking for the Coven."
He nodded his eyes still wide.
"Would someone in the mob out there like to know where the Coven leaders are right now?"
His eyes widened some more and he nodded. "East of town about three-quarters of a mile, where the road suddenly makes a sharp right, if you continue straight, there is a path that leads down a hill to a brook."
"Ostafa Creek," he said.
"Cross the creek and bear left for about three hundred yards. When the creek turns left, look to your right for a clump of bushes. Move them aside and there is a hole in the ground with a ladder."
He gave me a look I couldn't read, and went out.
I could now hear commotion in the street outside of my window; I imagine there was a panicked meeting of all the shopkeepers, wondering what they were going to do now, and mothers gossiping about what had happened, which was already starting the transformation from news to history to myth. Five hundred years from now, there will have been a great battle between the witches and the Evil Guild, in which they slaughtered one another, and would have laid waste to the region if the Young Count, riding at the head of his army, had not arrived in the nick of time.
My name would never appear, which was as it should be. We assassins are not big on appearing in news accounts or history books.
The street became quiet.
Meehayi came back in a few minutes later. "They've gone off," he said. "To—"
"Are we ready to leave?"
"There was a little delay."
"What sort of delay?"
"Father Noij was trying to talk them out of going to see the Coven."
"Ah," I said. "Did he have any luck?"
"They ignored him. He should be here soon."
I nodded and tried to wait patiently. It was more difficult than it ought to have been; but this was the time when, if something were going to go wrong, it would. And being helpless has never been high on my list of favorite things.
I listened to my breathing and waited, not thinking very much about anything. My legs itched under the splints.
"Boss, a mob has just arrived. About thirty of them."