Risky to take the time to pray, but her conscience required it. She crossed the room and listened again for sounds though she expected none. Several minutes’ walk had her free of the house and down the back alley, the sight of his body burning fresh in her mind.
At the street corner, she ducked behind a bush and pulled a moist, white rag from the bag she’d tossed beneath the bush earlier in the evening. She clinched her eyes shut as she scrubbed her face and ground her teeth from the burning sting. Odorless though not painless, the oil on the rag removed the grease from her face and hands.
She continued scrubbing until the white fabric’s corner came away clean, although she left a smudge or two on her forehead and cheek. Too clean a face and she’d stand out in the dirty cloak she had retrieved from the now empty bag. Goat piss stained the cloak’s bottom corner. Adelei’s nose twitched as she drew it closer to her body and raised the hood to cover her bald head.
Adelei didn’t hide as she made her way across town toward the inn, but she didn’t advertise her presence either. She took notice of the boot heels scraping on the cobble or a cough from an ambling night guardsman. Anything that meant someone other than her was out and about in the predawn hours. As she passed through another dark alley, her footsteps echoed, and she slowed her pace. The echoes slowed, but a moment too late, and Adelei ducked around the corner of the bakery, dropping to her heels in one swift motion. The crates out front masked her shadow, but the second shadow didn’t join her. Instead, whoever followed her stopped just out of sight around the building’s brick edge.
A black pebble skittered across the road and came to rest three inches from her feet. A second one and then a third joined it moments later. Adelei leaned against the crate beside her.
“You heading to the inn?” a voice hissed. The Amaskan stepped around the corner, his hood casting deep shadows across his face. He angled his pointed chin to expose the circle tattoo at the jaw joint. Neither his voice nor the marking told her his identity, only that he could be Amaskan.
He studied her as much as she did him: both stood with more unease than their relaxed shoulders conveyed as they stood feet apart with their weight resting on their toes. Their dark-colored outfits appeared identical, though his sleeve bore a slight tear near his wrist, and his hand, curled up within the layers of his breeches, surely must have rested on knives of his own. When their gazes met, neither smiled.
“Anur’s blessing this night,” she said. The hand on his blade twitched, but he said nothing, and she repeated the question, this time with the correct deity. “Asti’s blessing this night.”
“May blades find evil in its height.”
Three tests passed. Adelei removed her hand from her pocket and suppressed a chuckle as he mimicked her action. Across the street, a dog barked. Someone shouted, and the sound was silenced. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“There’s been a change in plans.” Adelei frowned, and he continued, “Is the job done?”
“It is.”
She dug the heel of her soft shoe into the dirt at her feet. Great. The King must have sent him to ensure the Magistrate had died slowly. A bead of sweat on her forehead trickled down the side of her face, but she made no move to wipe it away. Instead she ignored it completely and cast a bored look down the street toward the inn.
He caught the motion and nodded in the inn’s direction. “You’re to return to the Order at once.”
“Too risky to travel at night. Leaving town now will draw only unwanted attention.”
When his hand reached for his belt pouch, she tensed. Adelei ignored the piece of parchment he retrieved, and her gaze moved directly to the gold coin between two of his fingers. Not merely gilded as some Sadain coins were, but solid gold and bearing only circles in the markings. When he held it up, she swallowed hard.
He was an apprentice to the Masters. Why was he sent way out here? Why was he sent after her?
“Your orders are to return at any risk,” he said and palmed the coin. Adelei took the parchment and unrolled it with unsteady hands.
Return with all haste. -B.
One simple line in handwriting she recognized. Master Bredych. She nodded to the man and muttered, “Anur’s blessing.”
Her nerves itched to shoot down the road at a dead run, but that would bring more attention than her exit already would. Instead she snatched one of the discarded broken bottles from the bakery’s porch and tucked herself back behind the stack of crates.
Why risk two Amaskans in town just to get her home a day earlier? Out of sight, she unwound the wrapped fabric from her waist and arranged it as a veil, wrapping it around her head and chin. The corners were tucked into the top of her skin-tight tunic, and she dragged her fingers across her jaw to make sure her tattoo was well-hidden from view. She gave her head a good shake and adjusted the veil until convinced it wouldn’t come loose.
Swift fingers removed a crimson sash tucked into one of her boots, which she wrapped around her waist to give her outfit some color. She couldn’t do anything about the tunic’s tightness—she’d have to hope nobody paid it much mind with the noise she was making. She would have changed clothes anyway as the streets grew too wide to hide in, even at this hour, but she hated the next part. Drawing attention to herself was not her strong point.
She’d arrived in town a regular sword-for-hire. It was how she had intended to
