bed and produced a circular sheet of paper, a piece of cloth and a small knife from beneath her dress. She arranged all this on the bed and then picked up one of the worn, old slippers by the end of it and placed it on the sheet.
The woman took a moment to achieve total concentration and a mental grip on the forces that had been her birthright. Her inheritance.
Then she took the keen little knife and cut her forearm. She didn’t flinch, just stared at the thin trickle of blood as it ran down the pale arm and gathered in her palm. Blood had power, especially when given willingly.
She said the first word in a language no human being had come up with and dipped an index finger in the blood pool. She continued whispered incomprehensible words; terrible words that sent ripples through the Divide and drew power from the Underworld as she wrote runes on the sheet.
Her handiwork was precise and elegant. It would have been pretty if it hadn’t woken more ill power with every stroke and every whispered word.
The runes formed a circle around the shoe like a garrotte, themselves almost whispering about terror, death and agony.
The woman with the thin limbs and small face finished the final stroke and spoke the last word. The power hung in the room and in her symbols and eyes. Then she spoke the name of Aron Vogn with cold harshness and the power was released.
The curse was activated.
The serving girl placed the shoe exactly as it had been and then bandaged her cut with the cloth. If anyone inquired making up a story would be child’s play. Next she folded the sheet twice and hid it in her clothes. Then she calmly swept the floor, pushed the chest back into place and left.
“Serving girl,” Katja muttered as she crawled back to the present. She was a bit surprised at the darkness around them before remembering it was night.
Serdra watched her, waiting for information.
“She came to sweep. Used...” Katja shook her head. “She used a slipper. As a link.” She pointed at the shoes though they weren’t visible in the dark.
“A good choice,” Serdra said. “Can you find her?”
“I...” Katja thought. “I didn’t get a name or anything like that. But I can recognise her face.”
Serdra was silent. Katja seized the chance to strain her ears. There was still nothing to hear in the building.
“A Brotherhood agent will make every effort to have private quarters, preferably with an open fire to destroy evidence. One can of course do so under people’s noses, but that would be the perfect situation a good agent would try to achieve.”
“So we start by looking into small cribs?”
“Yes.”
Serdra fell silent again.
“So what do we do, Katja?”
Tests, tests, tests , Katja thought.
“Weee,” Katja said, drawing the word out, “should...” She stopped. “Ideally we should interrogate her about who sent her and why, but these aren’t ideal circumstances for that. However, we are in a good situation to kill her. And we don’t know whether she intends more murders, or what.”
Katja pondered some more. They were in a dangerous place and would possibly never know which decision had been the correct one.
“Isn’t it best to cut weed immediately?” she said. “Since we have the chance?”
Katja suspected Serdra’s ensuing silence was meant to test her belief in her own words.
“It would be good, yes,” the woman then said. “It’s always good to eliminate a member of the Brotherhood. But this is a perilous situation and we badly need information on what is going on. Let us find her first and find out enough that she can be easily grabbed later on.”
“As soon as possible then, I assume.”
“Yes. As soon as possible. And if that doesn’t turn out to be an option I expect we will repeat this break-in and kill her in bed.”
“Fair enough.”
“Still, keep your knife at the ready,” Serdra said. “She mustn’t survive finding out about us.”
Returning to the hallway wasn’t easy
The woman took a moment to achieve total concentration and a mental grip on the forces that had been her birthright. Her inheritance.
Then she took the keen little knife and cut her forearm. She didn’t flinch, just stared at the thin trickle of blood as it ran down the pale arm and gathered in her palm. Blood had power, especially when given willingly.
She said the first word in a language no human being had come up with and dipped an index finger in the blood pool. She continued whispered incomprehensible words; terrible words that sent ripples through the Divide and drew power from the Underworld as she wrote runes on the sheet.
Her handiwork was precise and elegant. It would have been pretty if it hadn’t woken more ill power with every stroke and every whispered word.
The runes formed a circle around the shoe like a garrotte, themselves almost whispering about terror, death and agony.
The woman with the thin limbs and small face finished the final stroke and spoke the last word. The power hung in the room and in her symbols and eyes. Then she spoke the name of Aron Vogn with cold harshness and the power was released.
The curse was activated.
The serving girl placed the shoe exactly as it had been and then bandaged her cut with the cloth. If anyone inquired making up a story would be child’s play. Next she folded the sheet twice and hid it in her clothes. Then she calmly swept the floor, pushed the chest back into place and left.
“Serving girl,” Katja muttered as she crawled back to the present. She was a bit surprised at the darkness around them before remembering it was night.
Serdra watched her, waiting for information.
“She came to sweep. Used...” Katja shook her head. “She used a slipper. As a link.” She pointed at the shoes though they weren’t visible in the dark.
“A good choice,” Serdra said. “Can you find her?”
“I...” Katja thought. “I didn’t get a name or anything like that. But I can recognise her face.”
Serdra was silent. Katja seized the chance to strain her ears. There was still nothing to hear in the building.
“A Brotherhood agent will make every effort to have private quarters, preferably with an open fire to destroy evidence. One can of course do so under people’s noses, but that would be the perfect situation a good agent would try to achieve.”
“So we start by looking into small cribs?”
“Yes.”
Serdra fell silent again.
“So what do we do, Katja?”
Tests, tests, tests , Katja thought.
“Weee,” Katja said, drawing the word out, “should...” She stopped. “Ideally we should interrogate her about who sent her and why, but these aren’t ideal circumstances for that. However, we are in a good situation to kill her. And we don’t know whether she intends more murders, or what.”
Katja pondered some more. They were in a dangerous place and would possibly never know which decision had been the correct one.
“Isn’t it best to cut weed immediately?” she said. “Since we have the chance?”
Katja suspected Serdra’s ensuing silence was meant to test her belief in her own words.
“It would be good, yes,” the woman then said. “It’s always good to eliminate a member of the Brotherhood. But this is a perilous situation and we badly need information on what is going on. Let us find her first and find out enough that she can be easily grabbed later on.”
“As soon as possible then, I assume.”
“Yes. As soon as possible. And if that doesn’t turn out to be an option I expect we will repeat this break-in and kill her in bed.”
“Fair enough.”
“Still, keep your knife at the ready,” Serdra said. “She mustn’t survive finding out about us.”
Returning to the hallway wasn’t easy
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