Chapter Four: Sara Tonic
Horses did not get along with Sara, so she figured that it was just as well that the caravan did not supply her with one. It seemed that the beasts were rather uncommon, actually. There were two riders, both gentlemen, judging by their clothing and disdain for everyone who were forced to walk. The wagons themselves were pulled by oxen.
The two men had a large family who rode in the wagons, along with their belongings. These people obviously thought that, whatever cargo they carried, was very valuable. They imagined the men, and women, hired to guard them would be the ones to cut their throats in the night. So, in the end, no one traveled comfortably on the way to Snowy Down.
The caravan paid each of their guards a silver dime per day. It was a good way to make a living and most of the people working for the caravan were old hands at it. There were a few grizzled veterans who laughed at the passenger’s concerns. They told them they were in more danger of a dragon attack than highwaymen. Around the fire, one named Haywood told stories of traveling the High Road, outside of Snaketown.
“I’ve seen more fighting than most professional soldiers, down there, and for half the pay. Don’t you worry lass, you’ll be as safe as a merchant’s coin with me.”
It was the last night of the journey, which had Sara on edge. In her experience, on any ill-fated mission, the worst was always saved for the end. She was sitting in the shadows, wrapped in a blanket that smelled like horse, with the plasma pistol warm in her grip. She did this each night, relying on the caffeine pills to keep her going. The only sleep she would get was a light one, interrupted by the slightest breeze.
One of the caravan guards had wandered off into the woods “for a piss” and had not come back. Someone very unfriendly was out there. Sara did not worry or put too much thought to a plan. These bandits, or whoever they were, were after either the cargo and whatever the passengers had on them. Sara crouched in her hiding place and waited.
A few minutes later, men emerged from the treeline. They were dressed much better than thieves, black suit coats and white shirts. Assassins then, she thought. There were a dozen of them, maybe more. They moved silently into the center of the camp with practiced ease. The moon was hidden by clouds, but they could apparently see through the dark. They raised pistols and swords, and began killing. The sounds of the screams and igniting black powder filled the air.
Everyone who drew breath was a target, women, children, and caravanners. Sara felt a small amount of pity for them. The two gentlemen, apparently the targets, had really pissed someone off. The killers were fast and efficient, it must have cost a good bit of coin to hire them.
All of the assassins remained standing once the work was done. One had been stabbed in the leg, but he did not seem too bothered by it. Sara had decided before it began that this clearly was not her fight, so she remained motionless. The men looted the bodies for valuables. In the wagons they found things they liked. After a few minutes, they walked into the forest and disappeared as quickly as they had come.
Sara walked quickly away without looking back. She did not look for valuables to steal from the corpses. It was not guilt, exactly, that she felt. If she had tried to interfere, she would be dead too. The only thing she could have done was try to take as many as she could down with her. She felt angry, both with herself and the men in suits; angry enough to forget that she had not been paid the silver dimes promised. Her thoughts were bent on avenging her wounded pride. I should avenge those people too, she reminded herself.
Moving by herself, Sara could move faster than the caravan. She marched throughout the night, taking the last of the caffeine pills. At last, when the sun was beginning to rise, she made it to the edge of the city. Sara rented a room at the first inn she came across and slept until the sun was setting. She felt weakened from the caffeine withdrawals and from the relentless pace of the night before. But, she also felt relief: she was alive. She had survived against all odds.
Across the street was a tavern, filled with drunken patrons. Sara felt she could use a drink. She straightened her jacket and checked her pistol, then walked inside. At the bar she nursed a single ale and listened to the gossip. Apparently, it was Lord James Walsh and his family that were murdered, along with an entire caravan. It was widely suspected that the murders were the work of the second oldest of the Walsh brothers, James, who nicely profited from it all. Sara noted the name to memory, but did not give the matter any further consideration. What had caught her attention was the name ‘Hadrian’. It was a large bald man talking to his friends. Sara came over and sat down in the empty seat across from him.
“Hey there, pretty lady.” He gave her a wink. Sara had seen much more disgusting things, but he was far from appealing. Still, she forced herself to smile at him.
“Hey yourself. What are we talking about?”
The man on her right, missing his front teeth, grinned at her. “The darkest secrets in the city, love. Ones that make kids cry out in the night and make grown men go white.”
“Nearly a hundred years ago, this whole city was thick with witches, and others of their like.” The bald man said and the others all nodded.
Sara noticed there was another woman at the table. She was better dressed than anyone in the tavern, an elaborate black dress. Plenty hidden pockets for weapons. The woman was watching Sara closely, but said nothing.
“Finally, enough was enough. We burned them all, or at least, most of them. There are still some hiding about, perhaps in this very tavern.” The man with the missing teeth said, his hand moving to rest on Sara’s knee. She let it stay and even leaned in to talk to him.
“Do you know any of these witches?”
“No, not me. Well, not personally. But we’ve all heard what happened to the Walsh family.” He nodded nervously to the woman. “They of course deserved what they got, and more.”
The woman laughed quietly and gave the impression of a smile. Sara only caught it from the corner of her eye. She studied the other woman more carefully. Her black hair neatly arranged and pinned up with silver, with a face as sharp as a razor, and she was attractive, even Sara had to admit.
“Did you say something about a man named Hadrian?” She asked innocently and cleared her throat. “I sure am thirsty.”
The toothless man jumped up and went to the bar.
“He’s moving up in society, marrying one of the Walsh daughters.” The bald man said, stretching his shoulders.
The woman was now paying very close attention to Lilan.
“Is he noble born?”
“Hells no, but just as bad, getting into bed with them. I’d like to see the day where he swings from the end of rope, both him and his new wife.”
The man returned with her drink and Sara stood up. “Let’s go some place quieter.” She did not like the woman in the black dress and wanted to get away from her.
“Sure, sure.” He grinned and led her to the back of the tavern. It was just as loud, but they were out of sight of the other woman.
Sara did not drink whatever he had brought her, it was probably drugged. She set it down and looked him in the eye. “Got any money?”
“I’ve got enough.” He said happily.
“Then let’s find a back alley.” She said, leading the way out the back door. Another couple was doing what she had suggested against the far wall. It did not look particularly comfortable.
Sara led him far from the other two, who would not have noticed much anyway. The toothless man started to unbutton his pants. She drew her pistol and aimed it him. “Quit that. Don’t yell either or you’ll be dead before anyone hears it.”
He looked at her furiously, but stayed silent. It was very intimidating gun.
“Hand over your purse.” She punched him in the side of the head when he reached for his hidden knife. “Slowly, asshole.” He handed her the leather bag.
“Huh, mostly copper. You can keep that.” She took out five dimes, stamped with a lion and a eagle on either side. The rest
she handed back. “This is payment. In exchange, you are going to tell me about that woman in black.” Sara pushed the gun against his chest. “And this is keep you honest.”
The man cleared his throat. “She’s one of them. The Black Coats, or whatever they call themselves these days. She goes around to the taverns every night, looking for drunk nobles. Then they go into a back alley together and she kills them.”
“Black Coats? Dress fancy do they?”
He nodded. “Yeah, mostly rich kids. Though there are some that scare the shit out of me. She’s one of them. Slit your throat if you even look at her wrong. She hates sympathizers more than anything. Don’t say anything good about the nobles, or you’ll be next.”
Sara thought for a moment. She knew she wanted to kill this woman, but was not too sure why. The world just seemed like it would be a better place afterwards. She took the gun away from his chest, but did not lower it.
“Go back inside. Brag about me, or whatever. And mention a couple of drunk lads, fancy looking, out here puking their guts out. If you don’t…” She grinned dangerously.
“Okay.” He said, thankful to get away.
“And give me your knife.”
The woman came out a few minutes later, gliding like a shadow. Sara had pressed herself against the wall and was now behind her.
“Heard you were pretty good with a knife.” Sara said, not moving from the wall. In her right hand she had the dagger, her other rested on the holstered pistol, in case the woman reached for a gun.
She turned around slowly, a knife materializing in her hand. A killer’s smile on her lips. “Sympathizer?” She hissed the words like a snake.
“No, I just don’t like your face. Or your people.”
The woman nodded slowly, then the knife was suddenly flying through the air. Sara had already detached herself from the wall and was too far to the right. The dagger would have caught her in throat otherwise.
“You are good. Your eyes gave you away though.” Another knife sailed through the air. They were balanced, so they didn’t spin. Sara fell to all fours like a cat and rolled forward. She brought her own blade up so fast that the air whistled around it. The woman’s dress was cut up the front and there was a slash across her face. She had moved back enough to avoid most of the cut though.
She hissed angrily at Sara and stabbed at her with another dagger. Sara danced aside, once, twice, and a third time. Then she moved to the woman’s left side and stabbed into her lower back. The fight was nearly over now. The woman was bleeding out, quickly. Her face became a mask of terror and pain. Sara kicked her in the back of one knee and the woman went down.
“Now it wasn’t very fair of me, picking a fight with you. I’m much more dangerous than you could have guessed, but then again, you don’t fight fair either.” The woman passed out a few moments later.
Sara rifled through her pockets. The woman had a small fortune in silver coins, more of her throwing daggers, and a wickedly curved knife. Sara smiled and took it all with her, leaving behind the borrowed knife, sticking in the woman’s heart.
In the morning, after spending the night in a stable in case someone came looking for her, Sara received directions to the Walsh estate. After hearing so much about this man Hadrian, she wanted to seek him out. She headed for the Southern edge of the city, a section everyone referred to as Oldtown. It was the oldest part of Snowy Down, and it was where all of the important nobles lived. At the Walsh place, a servant gave her further directions, these ones to Mr. Hadrian’s residence. It was on the Western edge of the city. New buildings were built out there. Sara sighed and cursed this foolish quest. Then she started walking.
It was late afternoon by the time she reached the house. She had eaten on the way and passed the time by memorizing as much of the city as she could. The buildings used by the public were in the city center. Places like the market, a multitude of churches and temples, city hall, and a large park green were all there. The South side was were the nobles and their servants lived. The West was for wealthy merchants and craftsmen. The North side was for everyone else. No one who wanted to survive the night went to the Eastern part of the city. Inns, taverns, brothels, and anything else you could want were spread throughout the city without apparent plan. Many people agreed that the North side, often called the Common Quarter, was where the best brothels were.
The Hadrian House was modest in size and in style. It did not draw the eye, but was not unpleasant to look at. Sara had to circle the block a few times before finding it. She decided that it was a very sensible place to live. If anyone came after Mr. Hadrian, they would have to take an extra hour to do so. She was annoyed, however, with how long it took to find. Her feet hurt, her legs hurt, and her back hurt.
Sara was granted a meeting with Mr. Hadrian right away, which she did not expect.
“Good evening Miss.” He said from behind his desk, standing politely.
“Sara Tonic.” She said, then shrugged. “Call me Sara.”
“And you can call me Hadrian. Rather than talk here, let’s go and find something to eat.”
She nodded and he led her downstairs to the kitchen. He sat at the table while the cook, a large and elderly lady, worked swiftly behind him. Sara studied him for a moment. Much like the house, there was nothing about him that drew the eye. He was in his mid-thirties, though he had a brooding look in his eye which made him seem older. Short brown hair, no beard, a plain face, and medium proportions. Not really much of wizard. He looked like an accountant, boring and ordinary. She smiled. Of course, that was the point.
“You obviously seem to have me figured out.” He said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Maybe.” Sara crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. “Have you considered you might be in danger?”
Hadrian frowned deeply. “From whom?”
“Well-dressed killers, calling themselves the Black Coats. They stalk the streets at night and seem happy to kill as many nobles as they can find. Soon you will join their list of targets.”
He was quiet for a moment, thinking.
“Why have you sought me out?”
“I heard of you in Lordsburg and I was curious.”
“So you followed me?”
She shrugged. “It’s really more of a strange coincidence. Your name keeps coming up. And here I am, stranded in this place, perhaps for good.”
Hadrian raised an eyebrow, but kept his questions to himself. “Here you are. Is your curiosity satisfied?”
“I was expecting a beard and a staff.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Not that it matters. I don’t like these men in suits and I’m guessing that you don’t either.”
“That’s it? That’s enough of a reason to hunt these Black Coats?”
“I’ve been starting fights all my life. I don’t see any reason to stop now.”
Hadrian thought for a long time, evaluating her in some way. “If you are looking for employment, then I could use a bodyguard. My wife will need one. I suppose I had better hire a few house guards as well.”
“How much do you pay?”
“For you? A half-dollar per day.”
She whistled. “Deal. As long as you help me get these guys, right?”
“Agreed.” He stuck out his hand and she shook it, coming away with a large silver coin. “There’s your pay for the first day. Go and buy new clothes, those ones smell like a sewer.”
The cook put down two plates, piled with fish and potatoes.
“So I’ll be staying here then?”
“Yes, you’re own room and everything. After we eat, I have some business to attend to. Feel free to take the night off.”
“Thanks boss.”
Hadrian grunted and began eating.