That afternoon saw Elizabeth loitering with intent outside a small community hall near the city’s centre. Her hangover had kicked in hard, compounding the pain from the brawl in the tavern, and she squinted against the harsh glare of the sun as it reflected off the puddles scattered about the uneven cobblestones.
She rubbed her eyes and took another swig of wine from a skin she’d stolen on the way here. Sure, conventional wisdom held that water was the best for recovery when hungover, but Elizabeth found herself conceptually drawn to the even older adage about the hair of the dog. Unfortunately, she held herself back from drinking too much, which limited the medication’s effectiveness. She had just sobered up, she wouldn’t have time to go around that carousel again before she started work for the night.
With a grumble, she tucked the wine away and pulled out a different skin, this one full of fresh water. It tasted heavenly, but she still made a show of grimacing and sticking out her tongue, though for whose benefit she couldn’t say. Maybe she wasn’t quite as sober as she thought?
Ah, to Pit with it all, what’s taking those damn musos so long?
The string section of the Masque de Nuit was going through a final rehearsal inside. She had to admit, they were good, much better than her, and their dedication to their craft couldn’t be denied. They had played the same song seventeen times in a row now, the lead violinist barking a sharp ‘again’ after each repetition was complete, dissatisfied with some error in tempo or pitch that Elizabeth couldn’t discern. It made her want to bang her head against a wall, hard, but at least it had given her ample opportunity to memorise the song. It was a sombre, tragic sounding affair, but with some tweaks Elizabeth was sure she could turn it into a rip roaring dance number. Salazaar had no idea, but she was about to revolutionise the tavern live music scene when she got home.
Home. The word made her scowl. Curse Jack and his insidious words, worming their way into her brain. She had been so happy, so sure of her lot in life, and then the affable idiot had to gone and planted the seed of doubt in her mind. Why was it so hard to shake off his words? She had known and served the Master for years. He had always cared for her, taught her, and showered her with praise and gifts of powerful arcane weaponry. So why was she putting any stock in the words of a stupid street urchin?
She paused and waited for those damn voices to start up again, they had made a habit of it lately whenever she was upset or conflicted, but they remained curiously silent.
Figures. Just when they might have actually had something useful to say.
She was still pouting when the community hall doors opened and a dozen and a half odd musicians streamed into the sunlight. They were clad head to toe in formless black robes, a simple mask of polished silver obscuring each of their faces. It was the group’s gimmick, when in public they always concealed themselves behind their outfits, so no one knew who was actually playing. It prevented individual musicians from gaining critical acclaim, but added to the mystique and prestige of the group as a whole which had seen them wildly successful over their two decades of operation. Elizabeth supposed it was a fair tradeoff for a lot of musicians, sure they miss out on the fame, but at least they would always have a full coin purse and a full belly.
It worked out well for Elizabeth, too. Jack had pointed out that the concert was clearly a trap. The announcement had been made after the raids were conducted and as the stream of escapees falling into the Watch’s net had dwindled. It had become clear to the authorities that they wouldn’t catch the duke’s assassin, and spread word of the performance in his honour to draw Elizabeth out. Which meant she once again needed a disguise. A half masque and a fancy dress wouldn’t cut it this time. She needed something with far greater coverage.
She leant against the wall, ducking her chin as though dozing, but clandestinely inspected the musicians through half-lidded eyes.
There.
At the back of the group walked a muso, about Elizabeth’s height and clearly female. Once the group had passed, Elizabeth pushed off the wall and grabbed her satchel. Inside was a change of clothes and some rope. She usually busted it out for particularly fun weekends, but today it was purely for business. She followed the group, watching her prey and practicing her movements. The unsuspecting violinist chatted with one of her compatriots, but from her posture and the emphatic gestures of her conversational partner, it was clear she wasn’t much of a talker.
Same height, same build, doesn’t talk, Elizabeth thought to herself. Sorry, darling. But you are too perfect to pass up.
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*
“MmmmmMMmm!” the poor girl cried through her gag. The musician, when unmasked, had turned out to be a young brunette from southern Calandor, roughly around Elizabeth’s age. She was currently hogtied in the basement of a small boutique alehouse after having been divested of her costume.
Elizabeth had been unsurprised to find they didn’t wear much underneath the heavy black fabric, so was glad she had the foresight to bring extra clothes, although undressing then dressing the struggling woman had been an ordeal. She sank back on her haunches when the last collar thread was done up, panting from the exertion.
“You know, you could have made that easier. For both of us.”
“Mmm!”
“Yes, yes, I know it must have been very scary for you, but I did keep saying ‘don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you’.”
“Mmhmm!”
“I said that was an accident! If you hadn’t been struggling so much I wouldn’t have lost my grip! That elbow to the face was as much your fault as mine.”
“Mmmm?”
“Look, love, the less you know, the better, alright? Just sit tight. The owner will be back in around eighth bell tonight. He’ll find you and let you out.”
“MMM!”
“Oh, don’t worry, I checked him out before. He’s a lovely older gentlemen, completely harmless. Runs the place with his wife of thirty years and their three daughters. You’ll be safe with them, probably even get a free meal and drink out of it.”
“Mmmm…”
“Well, I don’t very much care, alright? You aren’t in a position to be making demands. Just be grateful I didn’t rough you up, which I very easily could have! Especially since you were being such a pain in the arse. Tell you what, if we ever see each other again, just come up and give me a slap. I’ll buy you a drink to say sorry and we can see where the night takes us.”
The girl’s eyes went wide as she stared up at Elizabeth. “Mmm?”
Elizabeth gave her a saucy wink and climbed up the ladder into the cooling afternoon air. She had a little over an hour to get her gear and get into position at the concert hall, which really should be ample time, but she’d rather be safe than sorry. Jack was wrong about the Master, but she still didn’t want to cock up this job.
“Hello, my dear.”
Elizabeth froze, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow. Slowly, she turned around, peering into a darkened corner. The alehouse was closed, the shutter boards drawn over the windows and the doors closed, casting the inside into gloom, but the darkness where she heard the voice seemed a little too dark. And then it moved.
She yelped and jumped and the Master chuckled as the indistinct blur resolved into his outline. Even though she watched it happen, Elizabeth wasn’t sure if his camouflage had been magical in nature or he was just that good at hiding in the shadows.
“Master? What are you doing here?”
“I heard of your exploits. Very nice work, by the way, blowing up his leisure boat then executing him on the very platform they used to hang criminals. I always love your theatrics.”
“I’m sorry, boss. But the job’s not done yet.”
“So I hear. His son, was it? Taken up the old man’s mantle, purged the Watch and galvanised the nobles.” He shook his head. “Nothing is ever easy, is it, my dear?”
“I’ve got it handled,” Elizabeth replied, thrusting out her chin. “He’ll be dead by the end of the night. Most of his posse too.”
“Oh, dear me, Eliza. Please don’t misunderstand why I’m here.” He glided over to the counter and took a seat, then leant over the bar and poured two pints of ale. “I came to watch you work, and offer my help if you wanted it. Nothing more.”
“Really?” she asked, moving to stand beside him.
“Of course, my dear. I didn’t expect this job to be such a hassle, but as always you exceed my expectations. I am so proud of you,” he said, reaching a gloved hand out and stroking her cheek. Elizabeth closed her eyes and leant into it, then accepted the offered drink.
“Thank you, Master. I needed to hear that.”
“Oh?” he asked, raising his own drink to his lips but offering no further comment.
“I… I need to talk to you about something. Before I left, when you hit me-”
“Eliza, I said I was sorry.”
“I know! But, you’d never treated me like that before. It… scared me,” she finished, staring into her drink. The surface rippled a little, in time with the faint tremor in her hands. She waited for what felt like an age, but the Master didn’t reply.
In the back of her head, the voices started.
Oh, no. You’ve done it now! One said gleefully.
He is going to be so, angry! Said another.
She fought the tears welling in her eyes as she looked up and found him frozen, his glass halfway to his face. Slowly, he placed it down on the counter and stood. Her tremor turned into a shake and she clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt, but unexpectedly the Master sighed and wrapped her in a bear hug. His embrace was tight, squeezing as much as he could without hurting her, and his shoulders bounced up and down with his sobs.
“I am so sorry, my dear, darling girl. I never wanted to scare you. You know I would never actually hurt you, right? Please, tell me you know that.”
“I do, Master,” Elizabeth cried, her tongue almost tripping over the words as she burrowed her face into his chest and returned the embrace. “I’m sorry, please stop crying I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You have nothing to apologise for, Eliza. Amongst all the members of our family, there are none I value and love more than you. I was so, wrong, for doing that to you. You are a delicate flower, you need sunshine and nourishment to grow and I stymied that. How could you have done anything but rebel? I promise I will never leave you locked up again.”
“It’s alright, Master. I know you were just trying to protect me.”
“Always, Eliza. Always,” he said, pulling away from the hug and wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Now, tell me: what delicious plot have you cooked up for tonight?”
Elizabeth hesitated a moment, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. “I couldn’t possibly give away the surprise, boss. You’ll just have to be at the Emperor’s Concert Hall at sixth bell sharp.”