Day 4

Emm

The sky above Cape Town was a boiling grayness. Emm shouldn’t have been here, standing and marveling at the sight. Luck belonged to legends he’d heard in his childhood about the Wild Arrow or the Wavemaker. And yet, he couldn’t explain what had happened to him. The hideous woman and her guard didn’t kill Emm. She was furious, granted, shouting and threatening at Emm. Her guard stood silently, interested more in the Royalblood who had brought Emm to Cape Town.

The snake’s bite would’ve killed Emm if not for Cape Town’s impressive stash of medicine and rapid treatment of a man called Rigial-Pik. Emm wasn’t surprised to learn that Red Bill had killed the previous healer and ended up dead. It’d piss off Butcher for sure but if this Royalblood stayed here, Emm’s ex-boss might not be able to do anything.

The backyard of the inn was desolated. Emm hadn’t thought he’d return to this place. They’d spared his life but he wasn’t free. A mob outside of the inn wanted his blood. Siddy killed a young girl there and in their eyes, Emm was just another bandit. They craved blood. I can almost taste it in the air.

The door opened and a stout, dangerous-looking old woman popped out her head.

“Food.”

They left me alive and now they feed me. Why?

Without another prompt, Emm entered the inn, and his stomach growled as his nose picked up a scent of cooked meat. The Royalblood sat on the chair, feet on the table. His coat hung on the wall but the wide-brimmed hat remained on his head, tipped forward keeping the man’s face in shadow. What was strange about this entire situation, it was his name. No one knew it. Emm was vaguely aware of some dealings between the mayor and the Royalblood, no details.

“If you wish to eat here, you’d better get your feet off the table,” the old woman snapped and Emm wondered if she was brave or insane. After joining Butcher’s bandits, he’d learned hundreds of stories about the cruelty of Royalbloods. She had no self-preservation. The Royalblood didn’t attack her or even retorted. He simply took his boots off the table. Emm joined his table and then two plates full of steaming meat, bathed in gravy, arrived. Emm reached for the food, hesitantly while the Royalblood devoured it.

“You aren’t half bad—”

Her hand shot and punched the Royalblood in the head.

Emm froze. She was about to die... The man laughed instead. It left Emm speechless. Were the bandit’s tales a lie or was this Royalblood different from the others? Even the woman realized what she’d just done and apologized.

“Don’t mention it, woman,” he replied stuffing more meat into his bursting mouth.

After the meal, the front door opened and Emm considered sneaking away into one of the many shadowed recesses in the room. The hideous woman entered, followed by her bodyguard, tattoed and scarred brute. His left arm was immobilized. It must be broken and Emm wondered who had done it. Emm had only nabbed him with a chromium-drenched knife. It wasn’t meant to kill or break an arm. The guard offered him a flat stare without any emotions in his eyes. He resembled Perkins in that respect. An unsettling realization.

“Let’s talk about the deal,” the ugly woman said.

“Here?” the other oldie scowled.

“Yes, here,” she snapped.

The Royalblood looked up but his expression didn’t say anything to Emm. He couldn’t read people as he could read nature.

“Let’s hear it,” he said.

“Alright,” the ugly woman said with an angry swallow. “We’ll forget about the boy if you’ll go and get someone for us.” She wanted him to go after Butcher? Or maybe Siddy...

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“It depends who and where.”

“His name is Giliad and he’s in grave danger.”

The bodyguard that accompanied the woman, stilled. Emm noticed a sudden lack of motion coming from him. The other woman however slapped her hand against the table.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said furiously. “What do you plan with that lout?”

Emm wished to retreat into one of the recesses and stay there.

“Giliad wished to leave the town and I gave him my blessing. But he must be saved. He’s heading for Soto to challenge his boss.” She pointed at Emm. “He’ll not survive the encounter.”

“And how do you know that?”

The bodyguard stepped in and said.

“We have our intel, Tenoch-Ile. Enough to say, Giliad isn’t on the level of someone like Butcher who is a bastard Royalblood.”

“You have my attention...”

“Good.”

“But not my agreement. Not yet.”

The ugly scowled which made her harder to look at.

“What do you want more? You can keep the stolen coins and medicine!”

Tenoch-Ile’s mouth opened and her jaw almost hit the ground. Emm didn’t know these people and their reactions seemed out of the context. He didn’t know who Giliad was and didn’t really care. There have been tens of fools who have come to challenge Butcher over the years. But none of them was a Royalblood. If he agrees to go. Does it mean the end of Butcher’s band? With Perkins gone and Red Bill dead, only Yellow Bud and Black Jon remained. None of them a Royalblood.

“A coin is good. Medicine will sell, but I need to know why you want me to save him. People never care for others out of a good heart. What’s the reason?”

“Does it matter?”

“For me, yes. It’s a matter of going or not.”

The bodyguard stepped in even closer and said.

“Let’s discuss it, mayor.” Something in his voice got Emm’s attention. Was this fear? Could people like him even be afraid?

“That’s a good question. I’d like to know it as well.”

Yamil

A few hours earlier

Yamil sensed a phantom pain of being cut. There were over three hundred cuts over his body. But right now only this one itched. The boy who was brought here unconscious turned out to be the bandit who had cut Yamil two days ago. While it was unexpected, the company he arrived, made Yamil doubt himself. He didn’t judge the mayor’s decision to not send a party after the bandits who had kidnapped her daughter. Some people weren’t cut to be parents and some parents would rather get rid of their children. He’d seen both things happening over and over in all kinds of places. But then the things got significantly weirder and he didn’t know what to make of it. He was a soldier. People paid him to stab other people. I’m not so sure that it’s true. Since his arrival to Cape Town 17 years ago, Tenoch-Ling has been molding him into someone else. Something more refined.

Pain shot through his broken arm. One day was far too short to expect much healing but Rigial-Pik was not doctor Charcot. Rigial-Pik was just another healer a poor substitute for the deceased genius.

“Mayor, what do you plan to do about the Royalblood?”

Tenoch-Ling’s desk was bending under the weight of paper stacks. She was frantically going through them, searching for something. The loss of the doctor hit her more than Yamil expected. Zuma was still a valid option. The man harbored a sixth sense for cocktail-making which could be exploited. The bastard Royalblood was a pain, but for five gold coins, they’d see his head sheared off his shoulders. Yamil already sent inquires about the moonflower extract possible failure to work as intended and possible headhunter availability. In a month, Zuma would be working back in Cape Town.

Tenoch-Ling glanced up and her brown eyes lit up.

“Got it.”

“What?” Yamil grunted as he stepped closer to the table.

“The letter. One important letter.”

“We should focus on the Royalblood, Tenoch-Ling. He refused to give his name and the stolen coins. But more than anything, I don’t like that doesn’t want to see the bandit hang.”

Tenoch-Ling lifted a yellow sheet of paper with uneven scribbling on it. If that was the letter she referred to, then it was a very old letter as well. Was this some kind of permit or a writ of protection? Some Royal Houses sold such services to the commoners. They were rather expensive but out of all people Yamil knew, Tenoch-Ling was able to afford it.

“I am, Yamil,” she said in a trembling voice as her eyes slid over the text. “This is the final proof that I made the right choice.”

Yamil squinted at his boss. He respected her managerial and entrepreneurial acumen but right now she talked nonsense.

“Mayor, what is this?”

She rarely smiled, and even now, her expression didn’t exactly achieve it. But she certainly was in a good mood. Interesting. Even with the loss of the doctor.

“Forty years ago, Charcot came to this village with a bunch of letters. All sealed and addressed to me. Except one.”

Yamil frowned. He didn’t think he understood...

“The first one stated, I’d be bitten by a two-tongued serpent.”

What kind of scam was Charcot involved in back then?

“It spoke the truth.”

“It could’ve been arranged.”

“Of course, except all other events recorded in the letters. Not so much. The last thing spoke of this day, Yamil. Do you understand this? Over forty years ago, someone foretold things that happen now. Possibilities...”

Yamil opened his mouth to argue. To tell her she was raving. Except, Tenoch-Ling was the sanest person he’d ever met. He found no words. Only the echo in his mind.

Possibilities...