Wraithblood: The Elixir, Episode 3
“Your terms are acceptable,” you say.
“Capital,” says Nasser. “Meet me at the coffeehouse of Megabyzus at noon. Go to the back room, and when the guard at the door asks for a password, tell him ‘transmutation’. I look forward to a mutually profitable venture.”
“Wait,” you say. “We’re discussing this in broad daylight. In a coffeehouse? The numbers do not add up.”
Nasser smiles. “Madame, you surprise me. Surely you know the best place to hide something is in plain sight, no?”
He bows again and leaves. You pause long enough to clear the severed fingers of the thugs off your doorstep (making a mental note to sharpen the blades in the trap – the cuts are a little ragged) and then pace back into your workshop, your mind in turmoil as it tries to trace out the equation of your deal with Nasser. Working for Raggan, you know, was probably a bad idea – you need the money, but Raggan is something of a blackguard. Nasser has a better reputation. But what does he want? His scheme might end with you dead, or arrested, or on the auction block as a slave.
A spasm goes through your hands, and you want a vial of wraithblood…
No. You’re not doing that again.
To keep your mind occupied, you walk past the statue of Rioghath and work on commissions for a few hours, and then prepare to leave for the coffeehouse of Megabyzus. Istarinmul is not a city where one unescorted woman can walk about safely, so you pull on a ragged white robe and heavy turban. With them, you look like a boy of the Sarbian desert tribes, come to the city to sell goat wool and cheese.
Of course, you have other tricks in case of trouble.
A pair of bracers equipped with spring-loaded knives, the blades coated with the exotic paralytic poison your father used to control troublesome slaves. A small handheld crossbow, the darts likewise tipped in the poison. Spring-loaded knives in your boots, and a trio of smoke bombs on your belt. And a pair of goggles on a leather headband, equipped with a variety of lenses.
Once you are ready, you step outside and lock your massive door behind you, blinking in the blazing midday sun. The whitewashed walls of the warehouses around your workshop gleam in the light, and…
Two men in leather armor walk towards you, hands on their swords.
“Strake,” says the first man in Anshani. His eyes focus on yours for a moment, then he nods. “Zosimus wants you. You will come, now, or we will take you. Your choice.”
You know the name. Zosimus is a Nighmarian gangster, and he runs the Dockside alleys with an iron fist. Why he wants you, you have no idea – but you are reasonably certain you will not still be alive when he’s done with you.
But both the men in leather armor looked relaxed, unconcerned. Clearly, they do not expect any difficulty from a five-foot-two wraithblood addict.
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