“If you should fail, child, we know it will not be because you didn’t do everything you could. If there is a path, we know you will do all you can to find it. We trust in you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Tears were watering her vision. She forced herself to hold her chin up. She would only frighten these people if she showed her fear.
“Kahlan, you must wed Richard with the Temper.” The Bird Man chuckled softly as if trying to cheer her. “He escaped wedding a Mud Woman before, as I had planned for him. He will not escape wedding you, if I have any say. He must marry a Mud Woman.”
She felt too numb to return the smile.
“Will you stay the rest of the night?” Savidlin asked. “Weselan would find joy in seeing you.”
“Forgive me, honored elders, but if I am to save our people, I must return at once. I must go to Richard and tell him what I have learned with your help.”
44
A woman stepped out of a doorway into the narrow, deserted alleyway. He had to stop, or collide with her. Under her shawl she wore a thin dress, and he could tell by the way her nipples stood out with the cold that she wore nothing underneath the dress.
She thought his smile was for her; it wasn’t. It was amusement at the way opportunity sometimes stepped into his path when he least expected it. He guessed it was his extraordinary nature that drew such events to him.
Expecting it or not, he was never unprepared to bend events to his advantage.
She returned the smile as she ran her hand up his chest and with a single finger stroked the bottom of his chin.
“There, there, love. Care for a bit of pleasure?”
She wasn’t attractive; nonetheless, the nature of the chance opportunity instantly ignited his need. He knew what this was about. By the way she stood close, commanding his attention, he knew. He had had this kind of encounter before. In fact, he sometimes sought it out. It was more of a challenge. With challenge came a rare form of fulfillment.
It wasn’t an ideal situation—there were distinct disadvantages, such as not being able to allow her screams to bring attention, yet there were still pleasures to be had, even like this. His senses opened to it. Already, he was taking in the details, like dry earth took in a soaking rain.
He let the lust take him.
“Well,” he said, drawing the word out, “do you have a room?”
He knew she wouldn’t have one. He knew what this was about.
She rested a wrist over his shoulder. “Don’t need no room, love. Just a half silver.”
Discreetly as possible, he swept his gaze over the close buildings. The windows were all dark. Only a few lights in the distance reflected off the wet stone. This was a warehouse district; no one lived in these buildings. There weren’t likely to be many people about, except passersby, like himself. Still, he knew he had to temper his lust with prudence.
“A little cold to be undressing out here on the cobblestones, isn’t it?”
She put one hand on the side of his face to keep his attention focused on her. Her other hand touched him between his legs. She purred with satisfaction at what she found.
“Not to worry, love. For a half silver I’ll have someplace warm for you to put it.”
He was enjoying the game. It had been too long. He put on his most innocent, inexperienced expression for her.
“Well, I don’t know. This seems somewhat crude to me. I usually like it best when there’s time for the young lady to enjoy it, too.”
“Oh, I do enjoy it, love. You don’t think I do this just for the half silver, do you? ‘Course not. I enjoy it. It’s my pleasure.”
She was backing toward the doorway she had come from. He let her fingers, curled behind his neck, guide him with her.
“I don’t carry any money that small.” He could almost see her eyes light with her luck. She had yet to learn that her luck this night was going to be bad.
“You don’t?” she said, as if preparing to withdraw her offer now that she thought she had snared him with tempting thoughts of what she was offering. “Well, a lady has to earn a living. I guess I’ll have to move along and see if I can find…”
“The smallest I have is a silver. But I’d be willing to give you the whole silver if it would mean you took your time and enjoyed it, too. I like lovely young ladies like you to enjoy it. That’s what pleases me.”
“What a love,” she said with clumsy, exaggerated delight as she took the silver coin when he held it out.
She stank. Her smile brought no beauty to her face, yet he reveled in the details: coarse hair, the smell of her body, the humped nose and small eyes. She was common, less than a man of his stature was used to, but this had its own delights to offer.
He listened carefully as he watched her. Other details were even more important, if he was to have his full pleasure from this.
She backed into the shallow doorway and sat on a stool waiting there. The doorway was just deep enough to hold them both, with his back to the alleyway as he stood before her.
It aggravated him that she thought him so ignorant, so foolish, so impetuous. She would learn just how wrong she was.
She planted a kiss on the front of his trousers as she fumbled with his belt. It wouldn’t be long. She wouldn’t want it to take too long, before she moved on to another place, reaping all the coin she could in the cloak of night.
Before she undid his trousers, he gently took her wrists in one hand. It wouldn’t do to have his trousers down around his knees when it started. No, that wouldn’t do at all.
She smiled up at him, clearly puzzled, but just as clearly sure she was bewitching him with her smile. He wouldn’t have to suffer it for long. It wouldn’t be long.
It was dark enough. Too dark to see for sure what he was doing. People saw what they expected.
While she still smiled at him, before she had time to question, he reached down with his other hand and gripped her neck. She thought he simply wished to hold her while she performed her service.
The way her head was tilted back was perfect.
With a thumb, and a small grunt of effort, he crushed her windpipe.
The smile transferred to his face. The choking sound wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions. People heard what they expected to hear, just as they saw what they expected to see. He hunched over her, to make it look as expected, while he crushed the life out of her.
“Surprise,” he whispered to her bulging eyes.
He luxuriated in her startled, strangled expression. When her arms went limp, he let them drop, and held her up by a fistful of her hair. He bent her head back over his thigh to help hold her up as he waited.
He had to wait only seconds before he heard the careful footsteps approaching from behind. More than one man, as he had expected. He knew what this was about: robbery.
Mere seconds more, and they had closed the distance. To him, time stretched with the anticipation, with the details of sights, sounds, and smells. He was the most rare of men. He owned time. He owned life. He owned death.
And now it was time for the rest of his pleasure.
He pushed his knee up against her spine and, with a quick yank, snapped her neck over his leg. He spun, bringing his knife up into the man right behind, slicing him open from his groin to his sternum. He spun past the man as guts slopped out into the alley.
He expected another man. There were two. A woman like this usually had two men to rob the man. He had never before seen three. The unexpected danger of this development made him reel with lust.
The second man on the right swung an arm. He saw the knife in the fist, and with a step back, escaped the sweep of the blade. As the third man advanced, he drove him back with a boot to the point at the base of the breastbone. The man smacked the wall behind and stumbled to his knees with a grunt of pain, unable to regain his breath.
The man on the right froze. In that instant, it was one on one. The face was that of a boy, really. Hardly a man, yet. With
a boy’s courage, he broke and ran.
He smiled. There was no more perfect target as they ran than a person’s head. The head remained nearly still while the arms and legs flailed furiously. That target was a core of stability in his vision.
He loosed his knife. The boy ran as fast as his rapidly pumping legs would carry him. The knife was faster, hitting home with a solid thunk. The young thief went down instantly.
The third man was coming up from his knees. He was older, muscled, heavy, and violently angry. Good.
A side kick broke the man’s nose. Howling in pain and rage, the man sprang forward. He saw a flash of steel and dodged to the side as he swept a leg beneath the man, taking his feet from under him. It all happened in a blink. It was a glorious event, this dangerous, raging bull charging madly.
He pulled in the details: the man’s clothes, the small rip in the back of his coat, his bald spot reflecting the distant light, his curly, greasy hair, the nick missing out of his right ear, the way he flopped when the boot landed between his shoulders.
It was when he was twisting the man’s arm behind his back that he saw the blood. Blood was something he kept careful track of. This blood surprised him. He hadn’t cut the man—yet. Nor was this blood from the man’s crushed nose.
He rarely had a thrill of surprise such as this unexpected blood brought.
He realized the man was screaming in pain. He screamed louder when the shoulder joint popped. He dropped onto the man’s back and smacked his head with the heel of a hand, breaking the man’s teeth against the cobbles and quieting him, somewhat.
He gripped the greasy hair in a fist and pulled the man’s head back, listening to the sound of the grunts.
“Robbery is a dangerous business. Time you paid the price.”
“We wouldn’t have hurt you,” the man burbled. “Just robbed you, you bastard.”
“Bastard, is it?”
Carefully, slowly, enjoying the detail of every inch, he slit open the man’s throat as he thrashed.
What unexpected pleasure this night had brought. He lifted his hands, curling his fingers, slowly sweeping the quintessence of death from the air, capturing the silken substance of it as it lifted in the darkness, and pulled it back to himself.