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“Indeed.” I admit I was a bit intrigued. I looked back to where he was standing, but the man was nowhere in sight.
An hour later I found myself back at the balcony, having made a half transit of the room, speaking with a number of my neighbors, letting them see the “me” that I wanted known around the town. It would be a bit longer before I could withdraw and return home without committing a social faux pas.
I caught sight of the stranger only twice, always at a distance. It seemed an odd little dance the two of us were doing.
The sun had begun to disappear over the horizon, letting dusk streak itself across the waters of the bay as the three-quarter moon appeared in the sky. The full moon would come in a day or so.
“Is the wind from the south, Lady Sable?” It was my admirer stepping up beside me. His words were pitched low, intended for me alone.
“Pardon me, m’lord?”
“Is the wind from the south, Lady Sable?”
I was a little taken aback. No one should have known my Guild name, let alone that phrase, in Yallon’s Bay.
“Ask about the weather and it will change in a blink.”
Sign, countersign.
“How do you know me?” I demanded.
“The Widow told me,” he said. “After the proper payments, of course. I hope I get my money’s worth.”
I wanted to turn and walk away. This man knew far too much about me for my liking.
“Very well, but this is not the place to talk. There are too many ears attached to wagging tongues,” I said.
It wasn’t that I really wanted to hear what he had to say, or, frankly, gave a damn. I just didn’t want anyone else hearing it.
Besides, I was not happy at his being here at all, I had been very specific about my wishes. Of course, knowing The Widow, enough money would make her forget my degree. She knew I could say no; that’s an option all of us have, and the Guild would still have the money, since the introduction fee was nonrefundable.
“Fear not, I’ve laid a minor glamour around us. All anyone will hear will be whispers that no one can quite make out and none will approach, thinking it a near romantic tryst.” He reached up and took my hand. He didn’t lean forward and kiss it, just did a slight bow.
“You are prepared.”
“I try.”
“I need you to kill someone, and it must be soon.”
No big surprise there. “First, there are some niceties to be observed, m’lord,” I told him. “The courtesy of your name would be a good start, though I suspect I could find it out easily from any one of a dozen people around us.”
“My name is not necessary. The only name you need is that of she who I want you to kill.”
“On the contrary, it is very necessary. You have sought me out, at some great expense if I know The Widow. Obviously you know who and what I am.”
“A killer,” he said with a certainty in his voice. “As are all the Kyber Guild.”
“Understand this,” I said. “I know of five ways to kill you, where you stand, without even breaking a sweat or staining my clothing with blood. Three of them would look like you had just died a natural death. So shall we start again?”
I could see him thinking, wondering just how far to take my challenge to him, wondering perhaps just how far I would go right now.
“Very well. I am Rathbin of the House of de Costa.” I vaguely knew the family name, one of the lesser elven houses, too much human blood for the High Houses to give them more than the briefest acknowledgment, too much elf blood to “fit in” as more than a token among the higher born human clans.
“See, that didn’t hurt at all,” I said.
De Costa sca
“That is her, your target. Her name is Layra. She is my sister.”
On more than one occasion I had heard my children threaten to kill each other, but the next moment they would be laughing and playing together. De Costa was taking sibling rivalry a good ways further along the track than normal.
“I must decline your offer.”
De Costa’s face went paler than it had been, then ran red with anger. ‘What! You can’t! She must die by your hand!”
“Not by my hand. Do it yourself if you are that adamant. I decline. I’m on holiday; there is no argument that will persuade me otherwise”
He grabbed me, his face a grim mask of hate, long finger tightening around my arm. “It must be you!”
With my free hand, I slapped him hard and then drove my knee into his groin. That was more than enough to get him to let go of me. I stepped away and saw him draw back, my unexpected attack being quite effective.
In spite of the glamour that de Costa had cast, that little exchange caught more than a few people’s attention.
Cyma came ru
“Lord de Costa just needs to learn that when I say no, I mean no.”
I left Cyma doing what she did so well, drawing the wrong conclusion.
Over the next two days I saw de Costa a half dozen times, always silently staring with the same grim face. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if he wanted his sister dead; I just couldn’t figure out why he insisted that I had to be the one to do it.
That was why, two hours after sunset, on the third night since the party, I was sitting concealed in the branches of a tree just outside of his house.
I had plumbed certain local sources to find out what I could about the man. It turned out not to be much. He had come from the south, but no one knew exactly where, arriving in Yallon’s Bay a month before, having purchased the house through an agent earlier in the year. That proved he had money, but I knew that since even a chat with The Widow can cost an arm and a leg, not to mention your firstborn.
What bothered me was that there was even less to discover about his sister than about de Costa, save that she lived only a mile from her brother. There was endless speculation, but no hard facts.
I had taken to my bed early in the afternoon, complaining of a sour stomach, leaving instructions that I was not to be disturbed. If anyone looked into my bedroom, they would see a figure enshrouded in heavy blankets.
De Costa had spent most of the evening in the house’s library, studying a number of documents and books that looked very old. Just before midnight he finally blew out the last candle and left the room. I remained on my perch for a slow count of a thousand before dropping onto the balcony outside his window.
Once inside, I lit a small candle and put it into the metal holder I had brought; the shutters could be opened one at a time to direct the light where I wanted and to keep it to a minimum.
I sat down and began to study what he had left behind. The books were old and had the smell of ages on them. One of them left the palm of my hand tingling after I touched it. I could make out only a single word embossed on the cover, Aubic.
There were also loose papers, written in a clear concise hand, spread over the desktop; most were business dealings, nothing personal.
“I think you might find something interesting in the lower right-hand drawer, Lady Sable.” A section of the bookcase on the far side of the room had swung open. De Costa stood there, a much too satisfied look on his face.
Damn it! I would have read the riot act to any first-year apprentice who didn’t check for hidden doors when they invaded a room.
“Good evening, Lord de Costa. I get the feeling that you were expecting me. I presume that you’ve got a spell on the chair to keep me from getting up.”
“Actually, no,” he said leaning against the bookcase frame. “But before you decide to bolt or to use any number of those skills that I know you possess, I think you really should look at what is in the drawer.”
I rose up slightly, just to test his words and could feel no restraints, sorcerous or otherwise. It would only be the matter of a few seconds to get me out of the window. Opening the drawer, I found a wooden casket. The wood was smooth, almost silky, to the touch. The hinge and latches were almost impossible to find; whoever had made it had been a master craftsman. I doubted that there would be any sort of contact poison. That seemed to be a far cry from what de Costa had in mind.