A Clean Death is the fourth in the Tales of The Lesser Evil and this is the ninth chapter.
This is a fantasy series—not quite grimdark, but dark nevertheless—with complicated and believable characters doing their best to survive in a world simply indifferent to their existence.
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Stitches and Tea
‘What? What are you doing out here? What is happening?’ Pepper asked, gesturing as a sweating naked man ran past them, clothes dropping from his hands as he did so, salt and herb scrub still evident on his skin. She knew she sounded worried and confused, knew that Hedda would pick up on this and no doubt comment, but the fact that her apprentice was alive filled her with emotion.
‘Let’s move, get back to Menna’s. I shall explain on the way,’ Hedda replied. As they began to walk together, she continued, ‘Rinc is dead. I have his ring. I was attacked earlier, a man tried to kill me, but I killed him first. I did it, Pepper, I did it.’
Pepper looked sideways at her, smiling quickly and squeezing the younger woman’s arm. Hedda smiled back, pride evident in wide, shining eyes.
‘Tell me all when we are safe—I was attacked too, and the attacker is still out there. Let’s return to The Generous Healing, gather our bags, then head for Menna’s. His place is probably the safest for us right now, short of going straight back to the Southspray Maree.’
Hedda nodded in reply.
‘They got away?’ she added.
‘Yes. She was very good. The watch came quickly, and I managed to run. If I had not, then I would now be locked up, or worse. Come now, less talking, more walking,’ but then she paused and stopped moving, despite her words, pulling Hedda around to face her and fiercely hugging her, whispering directly into her ear, ‘You have done so well, Hedda, and I am so very proud of you.’
Hedda and Pepper sat in the same room they had used to plan Rinc’s death, watching as Menna was stitched up by one of his servants.
‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘Whoever attacked me was good, but he was definitely local-good. It sounds like you two had out-of-towners. My guess is that the pair were assigned to follow you, but when you contacted me, they hired someone else for the job. Perhaps a contract? I have already sent word to The Pyramid, the council of those who oversee certain elements of Youlmouth’s business. I want to know if or why they would sanction this. The Point and I have a long understanding. Thank you, excellent job,’ he added and sat up, as the woman finished stitching his shoulder and left the room.
‘Your turn, Hedda, tell us exactly what happened,’ Pepper said, reaching for a second cup of rose and warmth tea.
This was something she had trained for since her earliest days in Pepper’s company. Even on the journey from Fea Little to Eastsea they had played games with memory, Pepper placing an array of objects in front of Hedda, then removing one, or swapping it for something else. By the time they arrived in the city that became their new home, Hedda was already good at the game and, over the years, she only got better, noticing every tiny detail and storing it away. Memory games were fun. She found it was like any other part of the body—the more she exercised her brain, the stronger it got.
She took a long drink of tea, then cleared her mind and began.
As they talked, Pepper would occasionally ask for clarification about something, drawing further information, or Hedda would occasionally pause, as a detail returned to her, something she had not previously considered important. They talked about the style of the attacker’s boots, whether his coat had bone, antler, wooden or metal buttons. What hand had he used to attack, how had he held his knife? She showed his purse, coins, jewels and pendant and discussed what story they told, then moved on to Rinc and his death.
By the time her report was complete, the three of them knew more than Hedda had realised she possessed. Pepper was a comprehensive and clever questioner.
The man who had attacked her had almost certainly been from Eastsea. The boots he wore, the style of his hair, the cuff on his coat, the stitching, the buckle on his belt. The confusing thing, however, was that Pepper did not know him, nor had she known her attacker—and she had thought she knew every professional killer in their city.
‘It makes no sense,’ Pepper said, for the second time.
‘No. Perhaps you will receive more news when you return to the city? Find out further details?’ Menna replied.
‘Perhaps.’
‘I have an idea,’ Hedda said. The thought had only just crossed her mind and she had not given it the depth of attention it truly deserved, but she knew it was too important not to mention.
‘Go on,’ Pepper said, pouring more tea for the three of them.
‘What happens to bodies recovered from the street?’ She knew that in Eastsea there was a whole business revolving around the disposal and various uses of corpses, as there was with the Gardeners behind the Silent Door in Fea Little. Everywhere was different, but everywhere had its methods.
‘They are all claimed by the Midnight Priests. Taken to the Temple of Midnight for a day and a night after discovery, after which they are sold to the highest bidder or simply cremated, their ashes strewn before the Black Pyramid in the Square of the Dead.’
‘Is that so there is a chance they can be claimed by relatives?’
‘Yes,’ Menna nodded.
‘Why don’t we go and claim the man I killed? We can use the details we know to describe him, say he is a relative from out of town.’
Pepper smiled, nodding and repeating, ‘Go on.’
‘Once we have the body, we can check for other things we may have missed. Assuming the body is still there. If it is, we could also wait, see who else comes to claim it. If anyone.’
‘Good idea, but what if the Guard is also waiting, wanting to talk to whoever claims a murder victim?’ Pepper asked, smiling. Hedda knew that expression, it meant she approved.
‘Go on,’ Hedda said, smiling back.
‘I suggest we go to the temple and—as you said—instead of claiming the body, we hide, wait to see if it is claimed by anyone else. Then, if they manage to get away from the watch, we have a talk with them. See if they can tell us anything useful. If they do not get away from the watch, then we rethink the plan. What do you both think?’
‘Good,’ Hedda replied.
‘It could work,’ Menna said, ‘However, I need to bow out this evening. I have other work to do, send a number of messages, listen to my shadows, ask questions. No offence, but if Youlmouth has unsanctioned operatives working here, there are those who need to know, those who need to talk to others and ask questions of their own. I fear you may have fluttered the dovecote. But, if we are going to do this, you need to move swiftly. The body will have been long-discovered by now, already resting in the Midnight Vaults. It is getting late—it may already have been claimed by the other woman. Who, I seem to remember you saying, is very dangerous.’
‘Dangerous, yes, certainly in hand-to-hand combat, but this time there will be no hand-to-hand combat. This time, we shall control events,’ Pepper said.
‘Time to plan?’ Hedda asked.
‘Time to walk and plan. I fear we may get little sleep until we are on the Southspray Maree. The poor captain, he’ll wonder where his charm has gone when I fall asleep on top of him.’
‘I shall leave you to it,’ Menna said, smiling. ‘My house is yours; anything you need before you depart, just ring the bell and it shall be brought. My people are remarkably resourceful and,’ he looked at his shoulder again, ‘rather good at sewing. I shall be out for a while, I suspect. I will see you before you leave though?’
‘Yes. You shall. Take care Menna, something strange is happening here. Until we know more, assume every stranger is a potential assassin.’
‘Oh, but Pepper,’ he laughed, ‘I do that every day. That’s how I’m still alive. Good luck.’ Menna left the room and Pepper and Hedda turned to one another.
‘Let’s do this,’ they said, in unison.
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