There were thirty left.
She was sitting at her desk in the side room that was lit by only one lamp, and turned as I was but a few feet away. “You!” she said. There was no fear on her face, only disgust. “Ungrateful creature, after all we did for you.”
I raised my dagger to her neck, not swiftly enough. Her nails raked the left side of my face. Blood was pouring from my eye, even as it did from her throat. She had heard me, seen me, and all she showed was disgust? I made sure she was dead. There were bubbles of bloody spittle foaming from her mouth. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and yet, she was smiling.
I left the scene with an uncustomary haste, not fully concentrating on removing any sign of my presence other than her body. Why had I made a mistake? Always I was so careful I was not seen or recognised, that my victim could do naught but die. Why was she smiling?
Making my way back to the port, I stayed in the shadows and hid my face underneath my hood. It would not do for anyone to see a bloodied man leaving that particular Tavern. My face stung with pain; her scratches were deep and I could not see from the eye she had clawed. Back to the ship and to my small bunk in a curtained off section of the main cabin I retreated, where I could tend to my wound.
(With hindsight, I certainly did not notice the small brown and white dog that must have been under the table Ghala had been sitting at. The dog must have followed me back to the Shakilgimil. No barking, no fuss, not at that point.)
Amris, a young and eager lad of seventeen, was on lookout duty. He hailed me as I boarded the ship. “Is all well, sir?” he asked.
I knew I was unsteady on my feet. That was not like me at all, and it was no surprise Amris had picked up on something. “Yes, just a little trouble with a cheating card player,” I muttered, keeping my head low.
“You are injured. Shall I get a surgeon?”
I had to stop the lad meddling. “You should see the card cheat! I beat him black and blue; he will be sleeping off our disagreement until late tomorrow.” I forced a laugh as blood poured down my cheek and into my mouth. “No, do not trouble yourself with running for a surgeon at this time of night. I can manage this little scratch. I have managed far worse for years. Keep your post.”
And thankfully he left it at that, else I may have had to kill him too.
The captain was aboard, though not in the cabin as I entered. I retreated to my small corner, and pulled out my shaving mirror from my haversack. Whenever I talked, the scratches opened up to weep bright red blood. But I was alive. I had completed my task. I filled the corner basin with water to cleanse the wound. A good amount of blood was on my cloak, likely not visible in the dark. As a precaution, I shoved it underneath my bunk. Then I put my blade atop my ironbound chest. It would not do to get any of the poison into my own wound. But my face and eye - with talk of a murder going round the port in the morning, I would appear rather suspicious. I could not leave the ship for a while. Nor did I really want the crew setting eyes on me and then blabbing in the city. Well, we had left our worst drunkards in the Shield Isles, but even so, it would not do.
I had borne worse by far. Some of the scratches could be hidden soon by growing out my beard a little more. Some would not. And the eye! I struggled to open it a little. It hurt like fire, so I quickly closed it again. But I had some vision in it. If I kept it clean, it should heal on its own, I told myself.
Crazy Old Majid came into the cabin. “I brought ye some stew, sir. Cook just finished wipin’ out the pot an’...” He halted and looked at me. “Why, your face looks like it was drugged across a rocky shoal! Must have had the strength of a gale in her fingers! Yessir,” he wheezed, coming closer, “Old Majid knows all about them hell-cats that haunt the harbour looking for a bit o’ fun! Sit yesself down on ye berth and eat up, an’ I will bring a spoonful of bitters!”
“You will not.” I had to find some way to conceal what had happened that night, or I would need to murder half the crew. “I took a punch to the face, bruised my eye socket, ‘tis all. Serve me right for letting any man creep up behind me. Coward he was.”
“So you gave him the cat-o-nine tails, and scuttled his ship, did ye?’
“He is unconscious down one of the alleyways near the Gut. Alive when I left him, but can’t say for sure now.”
Majid cackled. He knew the most dangerous area of the city well. “I can rustle up an eye patch sir, quick as the lightnin’ ter use. It will make ye look extra dapper, if I do say so meself! All the ladies love a dangerous man. Sometimes I wear two, one over each eye, to look ex-tra genteel.”
It was a thought. With a full beard and an eye patch, I would be able to venture out sooner than I expected.
“Do that, then. I will eat and rest a little. Wake me if anything untoward happens.”
Majid’s eyes widened. “Un-torward? On this here ship? Perish the thought,” he said, and hobbled off.
And I was alone again. I knew there was nothing for it; I needed to hide the scratches under something worse. I stood, and deliberately and enthusiastically walk into the nearby wall. I knocked myself out on the overhead beam.
By the time Captain Naraal returned I was awake again. The whole side of my face was swollen and bruised. It hid most of the give-away signs linking me to Ghala the former tavern keeper. An eye patch was lying on the table by my bunk. I put it on.
“And how big was the man?” the Captain laughed. “Tazakr, I have never known you to pick a fight, and never known you to come off worse when challenged.”
“Big enough. I hardly saw him. My own fault for being off guard.” Home and safe, I thought. “Ha! I must have forgotten what the Gut’s like after midnight.”
“Well, let me know if there is anything I can do. I have told Cook to bring your food and drink, and Majid will be glad to gossip, if you get bored. There is some kerfuffle in the City he’ll be glad to talk about - some woman was found in the Gut with her throat slit. She was the proprietor of The Broken Pillar. They are saying it’s the Shadow Man again.”
I tried to look surprised, but not too interested. “Another killing, eh?”
“Yes. Be glad that you were not that tavern keep. You need to hurry up and heal. The King wants to show some folk the Shakilgimil. Potential passengers, important people. Not his aunt,” he quickly added, before I could ask.
“I wish she would hurry up and give Balkumagan back to us.” I lied.
Naraal snorted. “I bet he wishes that, as well. I have an appointment with her later. We’ll see how persuasive I can be.”
