Assassin’s Fate

And if he lived, he would tell the others who had killed Symphe and Dwalia. That made my heart beat faster. Had I left any proof of my guilt behind? The loose cuffs of my blouse covered my hands. I pushed them back and examined my palm. The cut was now a fine white seam. It did not look as if it had happened last night. I poked at the marks on my tough soles. A twinge of pain. I sent more healing to them and they eased. I donned the sandals, experimenting with the straps until they didn’t strangle my feet. I paced around my cell, practising walking without limping or wincing. It was not easy. Feet remember pain. I thought of the filth and serpent spit I had trodden in. Would the closed cuts become infected? I had no way of knowing. I sat down on the edge of my bunk and waited.

The keeper of the cells came carrying her tray of food-bowls and then returned with jugs of water. The food was neither good nor bad. The vegetables were cooked and the fish was smoked. It was adequate in both type and amount. She moved as calmly as she always did, spoke as little, and the occupants of the other cells were as subdued as ever. Except for my cuts, the faint smell of the oil on my hands and smoke in my hair, the previous night might have been a dream. I said nothing but tension built inside me. How long before someone noticed that Symphe was missing? How long before someone took food and water to Dwalia’s cell and discovered the bodies?

The keys and the knife were two lumps in my thin mattress. I avoided sitting on them and tried to imagine how I would behave today if last night had never happened. What if I had slept the night through and awakened to another long day in my cell? What would I feel, how would I think? I must be that girl today. I hoped Prilkop would not betray me. I did not think he would, but scarcely knew why I had that trust in him. He had seemed so sad for me.

I’d killed last night.

I felt every muscle in my body tighten and then go loose. I thought I might faint. No. I could not and must not think of that. I’d done what I had to do. Now as I waited for the murder to be discovered, I had to wait as if I were a girl expecting to spend the day talking to a scribe. I had to be the girl who hoped for her own little cottage and nice things to eat. I practised hopeful smiles. They felt like grimaces.

I did not wait long. I heard the doors open and lay down on my mattress, feigning sleep. I heard footsteps. More than two people were coming. But I did not move nor open my eyes until Capra said, ‘Bee. Get up.’

I moved slowly, rubbing my eyes, looking at them through my fingers. Capra was standing at the cell door, looking regal in her long gown of deep blue. She was breathing through her nose, as if some strong emotion raged in her. There were four guards with her, and Fellowdy and Coultrie stood behind them. I did not recognize Coultrie at first for his white cosmetics were ruined. Little remained of them except at his hairline and in the lines of his face. He was weeping and his extravagant green sleeves were smeared with white paint and tears.

I looked from one to another in confusion. Then I smiled at Capra hopefully. ‘Are we going out again today? Am I going to tell you more of my story so it can be written down?’ I stood, my smile covering how I gritted my teeth against the pain of my sore feet, and came to the barred door.

A fake smile bent Capra’s mouth. ‘You are coming with us. But not to talk to a scribe today.’ She put her hand on the barred door and tried it against the locks. It did not move. She half-turned to Fellowdy and Coultrie. ‘Can you see how ridiculous this is? Look at her. Scrawny. Uneducated. Childish. And behind a Lock of Four.’ She handed a guard a key. ‘Here is mine.’ She presented another key to him. ‘And here is Symphe’s. It was in her pocket.’ It dangled on its elaborate fob.

The guard inserted and turned them. Coultrie shouldered past Capra to seize the bars of my door. He shook it and I was glad it was still half locked. His face was livid with rage. ‘She is wicked! Vindeliar told me all she has done to him. She killed Symphe and then she killed Dwalia! She stunned Vindeliar with her magic!’ He pointed a shaking finger at me. ‘You cannot deceive me. I have spoken with Vindeliar myself! I know he speaks truth. When Capra and Fellowdy speak to him, they will know, too! They will give you the slow death you deserve!’

‘Be silent, you moron!’ Capra snapped at him. ‘Your keys, both of you! Present them. And then we take her to a place where this can be done more privately.’