Assassin's Curse (13 page)

Ah, such sweet release.

Without giving Clara a second glance, Mave walked over to the wagon and eased up to the mule.
 
He patted the mule’s neck, looking him over to determine his usefulness.
 
A carrot from a bag Clara carried on the front seat was all he needed to befriend the animal.

“Well, maybe something good can come from all this after all,” he said, patting the mule.
 
“Looks like I’ll be riding to Rocher after all.”

He did not bother to hide Clara’s body.
 
If anyone came looking for her, he doubted the search would include the ditch along this lonely stretch of road.
 
Besides, he was sure that the wolves and jackals would finish her long before anyone came looking.
 
Climbing aboard the seat, he wiped the blood Clara had left behind off the seat and clucked Jed into movement.
 

“What do you say, mule?
 
Are you up for a nice trot back to Rocher, hmmm?”

Mave chuckled to himself and gave the mule a swish of the reins.
 
In short order, they were turned around and headed back to Rocher.
 
He put his pack on the seat and settled in for a pleasant ride in the countryside.
 
It really didn’t matter to the
mule which
way they headed as long as he got his carrots.
 

It was early evening when Mave saw the lights of Rocher.
 
He pulled on the reins and stopped the wagon in front of the only hut where he was likely to get any information, the village healer.
 
It was easy to spot the hut with the bundles of herbs hanging from the porch.
 
Most healers knew everything that happened within their communities as a consequence of treating ailments, cuts, bruises, and the occasional broken bone, and, of course, through the indiscretions of its residents.
 
It was a natural tendency of patients to confide in their caregiver and it made the healer the best-informed person in a village.
 

Mave put on his best face and rapped at the healer’s door.
 
After a moment’s pleasantry, the healer invited Mave into the sitting room.

“Well, two strangers in as many days,” she began, smiling widely at the assassin.
 
“I must say if this keeps up I shall be seeing to the needs of more outsiders than those who live here.
 
My name is Emilie, by the way.
 
Would you care for some tea?”

Mave’s interest piqued at the young healer’s admission, feeling confident that the other stranger she was referring to was Jeda.
 
“No thank you, Emilie, but I do believe you can help me in another way.
 
I am looking for my brother and my two nieces who were travelling south.
 
I believe you might have met them.”

“Why yes, that’s who I was talking about.
 
They came to town yesterday with Clara and left again this morning.”

“Thank the gods you’ve seen them.
 
I have been looking for them for days.”

“But I’m afraid they’ve already left early this morning, heading to Willows Peak.”

“Willows Peak, you say?
 
Where might I find this place?
 
It is most important that I find him.”

“Of course, I understand.
 
Family is most important.
 
Willows Peak is the next village south of here.
 
Just follow the main road and you’ll run right into it.”

“And how far is Willows Peak from here?”

“I’ve been told that it’s a good three days’ walk from here on foot,” Emilie replied, pursing her lips, and pushing a wisp of hair back into her bonnet.
 

She did not like admitting that she had never actually been to Willows Peak.
 
She was the village healer and was supposed to know everything hereabouts, but the best she could do was rely on what some of the other villagers had said who had journeyed there.
 
It made her feel more inadequate, knowing there was one more thing she was not an expert on.
 
Sometimes it was very hard being a young, new healer in a remote village.

“Course, it’d be more like one day if you’re riding,” Emilie continued, rambling on incessantly.
 
“Now if you hurry, you might catch up to them on the road.
 
They were walking and are the only travelers heading that way so I don’t suspect they’d be able to catch a ride with anyone.”

“I see, thank you so much,” Mave replied, standing to leave.

Emilie stood as well, trying to forestall her visitor’s departure.
 
“That’s it then?
 
Must you leave so quickly?
 
No ailments, sore muscles, or cough to speak of?”

“No, I’m just looking for information about my brother,” Mave replied, placing a copper on the table between them.
 
“As you said, if I leave immediately, I might catch them on the road.
 
That’s exactly where I want to meet them.”
 

Emilie looked at copper and then back at Mave, perplexed.
 
“Can’t say I feel right taking coin for a bit of information anyone in town could have told you for free,” she said.

Mave picked up the copper and pressed it into the young healer’s hand.
 
“Nevertheless, you’ve done me a good service and I feel obliged.”

“Well, thank you, kind sir,” Emilie said, feeling the warmth of Mave’s hand as he squeezed the coin into her palm.
 
Unfortunately, she did not see the knife in his other hand.
 

“No problem, none at all,” Mave said, smiling broadly.
 

In the next moment, Emilie’s eyes shot wide open as the warmth of Mave’s hand turned into a vice grip.
 
She was about to protest when he leaned forward and thrust his knife straight into her heart.
 
The attack was so quick that Emilie did not have a chance to scream.
 
She slowly sank to the floor, blood pooling around her limp body.
 

“Yep, no problem at all,” Mave repeated, watching the young woman die.
 
He had decided not take any chance that Jeda might have told this woman about the guild’s contract like the last one.
 
With Emilie being a witch, he had to strike hard and fast.
 
Looking down at the dying woman’s comely shape, he did wish he had more time.
 
He wiped his knife on her dress and stowed it back in the sheath hidden in his sleeve.
 
With one last look around the hut, he picked up his copper coin and turned to leave.
 
As he exited the front door, he came face-to-face with a crowd gathering outside.

“See, I told you it wasn’t Clara I seen riding in here,” one of the men said.
 

He pointed at Mave.
 
“Here now, where’s Clara and what are you doing with her mule and wagon?”

Damn villagers, never can mind their own business.
 
Can nothing about this assignment be easy?

Mave wasn’t bothered by the number of people in the crowd surrounding the wagon as much as he was of the time it would take to deal with them.
 
Time was the one thing that he didn’t have enough of, especially if he wanted to catch up with Jeda on the road.

“If you’re talking about the previous owner, I met her on the road and purchased the wagon from her.
 
I was in desperate need of speed and she graciously offered to sell her wagon and mule.”

“Now that’s a bold-faced lie, it is,” another spoke out.
 
“Not enough gold in the kingdom to get Clara to part with old Jed here.
 
She loves that old mule like he was one of her children.”

“I am telling you the truth,” Mave insisted.
 
“I bought the wagon.
 
Please move aside, I must be leaving immediately.”

“You don’t look like you could afford to buy a pot to piss in, let alone a wagon and mule.
 
And what’s with that blood there on the seat, eh?”

By now, the crowd was becoming agitated when another villager spoke out.

“You don’t look injured and if you ain’t bleeding, I’m thinking the blood belongs to Clara.
 
What did you do?
 
Rob the woman and steal her wagon?”

Mave wanted to get out of the village quickly without a dozen more questions that he had no intention of answering.
 
The villagers looked angry and they would probably keep him there asking more questions.

“I didn’t rob the poor woman,” Mave said.
 
He crossed his arms and reached into his sleeve for his hidden knife.
 
“I did much worse than that.
 
I killed her for getting in my way.”

Mave whipped his arm forward and sliced across the village leader’s neck.
 
He wanted the maximum impact from his attack and severing the man’s jugular was just the thing.
 
A fountain of blood spurted over the crowd as the man wheeled in agony.
 
It created the desired effect of instant panic.
 
The women in the crowd began to scream and most of the men got turned around in confusion, exactly as Mave planned.
 
The villagers were either trying to get away from the bleeding man or trying to help him, but they only succeeded in knocking into each other.
 

With a scream, the man’s wife rushed forward trying to save her dying husband.
 
The closest villagers backed away from the downed man, hemming in the rest of the crowd and effectively cutting off any help at capturing Mave.
 
The one large man with a wooden staff, the only one who remotely concerned Mave, was trapped in the crush of bodies trying to escape.
 
He took the opportunity to jump up on the wagon and give Jed a mighty slap with the reins, causing the mule to lurch forward into the crowd.
 
The smell of blood and the panicked villagers got the old mule moving quickly, plowing through the crowd in his effort to get away.
 
More than a few of the villagers had to jump out of the way to safety or risk getting run over by the wagon.
 
One of the men who escaped the hemmed-in circle ran beside the wagon and tried to jump on, but a well-placed kick in the face knocked him down to the road.
 
Mave sneered as he felt the wagon bounce and heard the man scream.
 

You won’t be trying that again.

None of the others tried to jump onto the wagon after seeing their fellow villager go down.
 
Mave steered south, continuing to whip the old mule, and left the village in an uproar.
 
The angry, confused mob stood yelling and cursing, but were too disorganized to put up much of a chase.
 
Mave, while continuously looking over his shoulder for any sign of pursuit, did not let up on the mule until a good stretch of road was behind him.
 
A few miles out of the village, he finally reined poor Jed in, judging they were safe and could slow down a bit.

“OK, slow down old boy,” Mave called out to the old mule.
 
“No sense in you running yourself to death for no good reason.
 
We have a long way to go yet.”

***

When Jeda finally decided to stop for the day, the sun had already set.
 
Thick, dark forests lined the road, but the sky still shone with the ambient glow of early twilight, allowing Jeda to find a small clearing for camp.
 
It was hidden by a copse of trees a few meters off the road; perfect for the fire Jeda wanted to set up.
 
Normally he would have forgone a fire in preference to the security a cold camp would provide, but with two babies to care for, he was not willing to let them catch a chill.
 
The fire would be large enough to provide warmth from the chill night air, but not so large to attract any
unwanted
attention.

He set rocks in a circle around the fire pit to absorb its heat.
 
Once he was satisfied the fire could not be seen from the road, he warmed milk for the girls.
 
He propped them up using some fern branches, loosened the ties of their papooses, and let them hold their own milk the way Clara had shown him.
 
While the girls contently drank their milk, he made himself a quick meal, then sat back and ate while watching them.
 

There were so many thoughts coursing through his brain that it was hard to sort them out.
 
The babies were still small enough and he had developed a simple routine of sorts in caring for them.
 
He could easily travel carrying them in their papooses, and finding milk and porridge should be no problem with the number of farms and villages along his route south.
 
What concerned him most was when they grew older and he would not be able to carry them or feed them so easily.
 
How would he care for them at that point?
 
How would he protect them from those chasing them?
 
Would he have to constantly be on the move?