Stalking the Beast

by Howard Andrew Jones

  Lisette invented a relative in Absalom that the expedition reward money could be sent to and put her name to the form.

  Once everyone was through with the paperwork, Elyana spoke briefly about what she expected come the morning, and the mayor spoke a little longer about honor and pride and the pursuit of vengeance in a noble cause and interspecies cooperation and other rot like that. Lisette tried not to let her eyes roll. Half of the expedition folk hung on his words like he was a newly anointed saint come back from Heaven.

  Afterward, she and Karag retired to an inn close to Madame Celene's and sat at a table in the back of the common room, slowly nursing a decent homebrewed ale. There were plenty of seats due to the locals having some big celebration outside—a farewell and good-luck party, near as she could tell. The idiots could stay up late drinking if they wished. She knew there would be hard days ahead, and she meant to spend a final night lying on a comfortable mattress.

  Karag dined with her. He'd been in a sour mood ever since he'd returned from mixing the preservative for the heads last night, now stored in a chest in Madame Celene's cellar sealed with one of their locks.

  It wasn't the head-chopping or body-dumping that had angered the dwarf, but the thought of having to take any kind of orders from a half-orc. Karag had been going on about how his brother and some of his uncles had been killed by orcs ever since. She'd never seen Karag so emotionally invested in something apart from dog races.

  After Karag was through with the pile of greasy sausages and the salty cabbage, he pushed his plate aside and took a long swig from his third mug of ale. Then, finally, he cast a sidelong glance her way and took an awkward stab toward dinner conversation. "So, who'd you sign to have your money sent off too?"

  Lisette smirked. "My dear sister, in Absalom."

  That got his full attention, and his eyebrows rose. "I didn't know you had a sister."

  "I don't."

  His brow wrinkled.

  "I lied," she said softly, then sipped from her own mug.

  Karag shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then frowned. "I don't know why you'd do that. I signed up my cousin Otrek."

  What had gotten into Karag? Usually he'd be chuckling at this. She stared at him, hard, to make sure he hadn't suddenly developed a dry sense of humor. He hadn't. "First," she said, "I don't plan on dying. Second, do you think these country rubes will actually get Otrek the money if you end up dead?"

  "I think they might," Karag said defensively. "And Otrek could use the money. He's on the outs with the rest of the family."

  She leaned back against her chair and took another long sip. "You're just full of all kinds of private details this week. First you went on about the orcs jumping your family, now it's all about your hardscrabble cousin."

  Karag's look was baleful.

  "I don't know what you're worried about," she said. "But if you plan on kicking off, I can make sure the money gets to him."

  "My cut for the other job, too," he said darkly. His eyes locked onto hers. "Some of my family's got magic. I expect I'd have ghost powers to haunt you if you didn't keep your word."

  Her laugh dropped short as she realized he was deadly serious. "Sure, Karag." She took another swig.

  Karag set down his mug. "I'm going to go listen to the music."

  "If you like," she said, and the dwarf hopped down from the chair and stomped away. There was a brief rise in the sounds outside as he pushed the door open. Some low-voiced man was leading a number of others in a sing-along about Darvin the hero. Lisette thought she could live the rest of her life without hearing another song about the plucky young man and his adopted halfling brother, but everyone up and down the Sellen seemed to be requesting the tales these days. The sound dulled once more as the door swung shut.

  She ordered another ale, for she liked the taste, and she wanted something to keep her throat wet while she dined on the local fare. It wasn't especially good, but she didn't really care. She was dead tired of fish, which seemed to be served with most meals here along the Sellen.

  She was finishing her food when Venic, the little wiry fellow from the expedition force, wandered over with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  There'd been no missing him all through the competition. Venic had professional killer written all over him. He was small and dressed in drab colors, with a plain face and a shock of black hair. Apart from the good shave and the well-trimmed nails, there wasn't much memorable about him. Just the way a good assassin would want things.

  "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked. Even his voice was nondescript. He had a plain, mild tenor, with no regional accent.

  "Why not?" she answered.

  He hooked a foot under one chair leg to pull it out and sat down beside her. He watched as she worked another helping of stewed cabbage onto her fork, then drove a knife into the cork and worked it free of the bottle. He sucked in a sniff and a smile passed briefly over his face. He poured a drink into one of the glasses, pushed it toward her, and poured himself another.

  "I've had enough already."

  He flashed a toothy smile. "Indulge me. We two are some of the chosen. Let us drink to our success."

  "I don't like Galtan wine."

  That brought him pause. He shrugged, then raised his own glass to her. "Then I will drink to the beauty of my dinner companion."

  He raised it a modicum higher, then brought the glass to his lips and sipped.

  "I know who you are," he said softly, leaning a little toward her.

  "Of course you do. I am Lisette Demonde."

  He smiled. "Everyone in Delgar knows that. I mean I know who you really are. Your reputation precedes you. For instance." He pointed at the right sleeve of her jacket. "I know that if I were privileged enough to glimpse the flesh along your wrist, I would find the tattoo of a small black snake."

  "A snake?" she said, feigning amusement. What she felt instead was a cold, blind rage. Who was this man?

  "They say you're the only one who ever left the Black Coil alive."

  This was very bad news. How could he possibly know so much? "I'm a bounty hunter, not an assassin."

  He smiled thinly. "You need not be coy. Only an idiot would be going on this journey to actually kill the beast. And you and I aren't idiots. I thought, given our shared profession and likely...overlap of goals, that we might provide each other a certain professional courtesy." He swirled the wine in his glass and leaned forward conspiratorially. His voice was low. "This is not, as they say, a target-rich environment. For instance, I'll get paid if my targets drop. It does not matter, really, who strikes the bull's-eye. So there's no need for competition between us."

  Inwardly, Lisette groaned. Outwardly, she pretended to consider his words before looking up at him through her lashes. "This isn't the place for this kind of talk."

  "Of course."

  "Perhaps we should retire to my room at Madame Celene's, down the street. Bring your wine. And see if there's anything for dessert."

  "In this place? It's possible, I suppose. You take the wine, and the glasses. I'll follow shortly."

  Complications. She didn't need complications. She'd hear him out and decide what course to take, although she was inclined to simply kill him and have Karag drop another body in the Sellen later in the evening. It astounded her sometimes how discrete the dwarf could be about such things.

  Madame Celene's was but a short walk away, and she told the woman's nephew, lounging in the front hall, that she was expecting a male guest. The young man fought down a smirk, managed a nod, and promised to send him up.

  Only a few strands of weak evening light filtered in through the window of her room now, casting the meager furnishings in shadow. There was a single bed, a bedroll for Karag, and the small chest with its grisly contents. Apart from a worn dresser, a chipped bowl for washing hands, and a tarnished metal plate that served as a mirror, there was only the lantern. This she lit.

  She then slid one of her pistols under the pillow, divested her
self of her gun belt, and undid the top button of her blouse. She was not especially well endowed, but she had curves, and a flash of that flesh was enough to distract many men. She took a moment to fluff her hair. Women always strove so hard to get every hair into its perfect place, but she'd learned men preferred a wilder look. Surely it had always worked on Kerrigan, whose dark eyes had lit with desire when she thought herself at her most ill-kept.

  She worked through the sudden pang deep in her chest at thought of those strong brown hands. She had loved his hands, no matter that they were perpetually powder-stained, just as her own were now. She'd thought him plain, at first...

  She frowned at herself and pinched some red into her cheeks. Stay on task. She poured a little of the wine into a glass and set the bottle and the other glass on the floor beside her.

  The knock came on her door, and she called for the man to enter, then lowered the wine as if she had just taken a sip. She hadn't detected the scent of anything in the wine, but why not have him thinking she'd consumed some?

  Venic flung the door wide and considered the room carefully before striding inside.

  "Were you expecting a surprise?" Lisette asked.

  "In our line, shouldn't I always?" Venic glanced behind the door as he shut it, then returned his attention to her. "I thought you didn't like Galtan wine."

  "Sometimes I like different things."

  He stepped to the dresser and set down a chipped platter supporting a round pastry. "Pie," he explained. "It looked fresh."

  "I noticed. Blackberry pie. But what I don't know is your own name. Your real one."

  He smiled wryly. "I am Devin Mervil."

  She didn't know him at all, but she allowed a twitch of one eyebrow, as if she had recognized the name and tried not to show her true reaction.

  "So you've heard of me."

  "You seem clearly to have heard of me."

  "Oh, I surely have. Did you really kill an Alkenstar marksman after you made him your lover?"

  People were saying she killed Kerrigan? She worked hard not to let her anger show. "Is that what they say?"

  "That's what they guess." He moved forward and sat down on the bed, leaning close, but setting his hand beside her knee rather than upon it. "They say that you have no loyalty but to money."

  What a little bastard. "No good bounty hunter does."

  "Assassin. And you're supposed to have been one of the best."

  "I'm flattered people think so. I'd prefer they think of me as a bounty hunter. It comes with fewer complications."

  "Does it?"

  "Why don't we get down to it, Devin. Who're your targets?"

  "The elf and the half-orc. Of course."

  "Both of them?"

  "They have enemies."

  "What sort of enemies?"

  "Does it matter? What of you?"

  "Just the half-orc."

  Devin's eyebrows lowered. "That's strange."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "The elf is the smart one. Kill her and he's just another warrior."

  "Oh, he's more than that. I saw him fight today. You didn't mastermind some other attempt on him, did you?"

  His surprised look seemed genuine. She paused, lifted up goblet and bottle, and poured him a drink.

  "You're not playing with me?" he asked. "There're three of us after them?"

  "There were four of them," Lisette said. "Galtans, I think."

  "Galtans?" At that, his nostrils flared. Good. She'd pegged him right. He'd been bought and paid for by the Galtans, and was incensed that his masters had dispatched someone else after his quarry.

  "He killed all four of them in a trice." She snapped her fingers.

  His eyes flicked alertly up to study her own. "How close a look did you get at them?"

  "Very close. I was following."

  "You were following him, but didn't slay him while he was distracted?"

  "I have very specific instructions," she admitted slowly. "Then was not the time to act."

  "Very interesting. And what are those instructions?"

  Her smile was coy. "What of you? Why haven't you acted yet?"

  "Obviously, it will be far simpler to kill them on this expedition and have it look like an accident."

  "Obviously."

  "Is that what you're waiting for?"

  "Somewhat." She pushed at her hair, showing off her slender neck as she adjusted her posture. "And you're saying that you get paid regardless of who does the killing?"

  "So long as they end up dead, and I am in the vicinity. And you?"

  "I think my contract would be honored if the beast managed to kill him off."

  "What do you think about the monster we're to go hunt?"

  "I don't much care."

  "You don't?" Devin snorted. "Haven't you listened to the gossip?"

  "Talk is free. And I don't care enough about the matter to learn the truth."

  Once more he studied her. "You're planning to kill him as soon as possible, aren't you. Maybe the first night?"

  "No. You?"

  "I'd just as soon get it over with. The beast, whatever it is—and I think it's probably some kind of demon—kills indiscriminately. You did hear about that entire river hamlet it demolished, didn't you, on the East Sellen?"

  "No."

  "How incurious of you. Well, I think it would be good if we could arrange to kill them at the same time. You please your employer, I please mine, and we both get paid. I just need to make sure they're both dead."

  "Hmm." Lisette tapped her lip, blinked at him. "That might suit. I've got to know, Devin. However did you hear about my past?"

  Devin laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Did you think you'd completely erased your past with a name change? You're too memorable. It would be better for you if you were plain. But you're a beautiful woman, and your weapons are too distinctive."

  "They are. They ensure I'm remembered as a bounty hunter. Not an assassin. One works within the law, the other without." Kerrigan's words, and she could almost hear his voice as she said them. She was surprised at herself for speaking them—she didn't need to justify herself to this man.

  He took a long sip, then swirled the wine in his glass. He seemed to think that an essential action while drinking. "The weapons merely ensure you're distinctive. They always told us not to stick out, didn't they? I wonder if the reason you ‘switched' careers is that you got tired of not standing out. Understandable, I suppose, if somebody looks like you."

  He was wrong again. Whatever his name might truly be, he was blunt and obvious. "I've lost count of the number of compliments you've given," she told him. "Compliments are one thing. But if you really want to please a woman..." she paused to cross her legs, leaning just a little toward him, "you should learn to give her what she wants."

  "Which is?" She saw his eyes slide involuntarily down toward the gap in her shirt.

  "I took special pains to erase my past in Cheliax," she told him. "I would very much like to know how you knew my name, and the order I served."

  He chuckled. "If I told you, I'd reveal my employers."

  "That's no secret. It's the Galtans. What do they want with me?"

  "How did you—"

  She smiled fetchingly. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe."

  It was that moment that her hand came up with the pistol. He was accomplished enough that he batted her hand aside. With a flick of his other wrist a blade slid into his hand, but Lisette was already rolling off the bed and avoided his knife thrust.

  He cursed at her and came off the mattress. Lisette spun and crouched now, catlike, pistol extended. But when she pulled the trigger the weapon clicked. Misfire!

  Devin drove in quickly. Lisette was no stranger to knife fights, but neither was Devin, who wielded his blade like an extension of his own arm. She thrust the hand aside as it jabbed at her rising form, then rabbit-punched him and stepped to his left.

  Devin grunted and stumbled, and she reached for her weapons belt. Her han
d closed on the pie plate instead. Her master had hammered home the lesson that you use the weapon you have, not the one you wish for, so she didn't grab again for the haft of the other pistol. Devin had recovered and was advancing until the berry pie plate hurtled at him. Nimble though he was, half the dessert caught him on cheek and jowl, and the plate slammed against his forehead. Not a fatal blow by any means, but a fine distraction. He struck a half second later than he might've, partially blinded by warm berries and their juices.

  He missed. Lisette had dropped, bracing herself with one hand while her leg swept him. He fell, cracking his head on the bed frame before he slammed into the floor. He was still lying there, partially stunned, when she came to stand over him with her second pistol.

  She cocked it. "Last chance. How did you know who I was? My hair is changed. My weapons have changed. My dress has changed. I have left the west. No one should know."

  Lisette put her boot on Devin's dropped knife and dragged it closer to her. While he moaned and felt his head, she crouched for the knife and rose with it in her left hand.

  "I'll count to three," she told him.

  "That gunshot would bring attention," he replied weakly.

  "You'll be too dead to care. One."

  "You won't risk controversy."

  "You were trying to rape me. Two."

  "You'll shoot me anyway!"

  "No. On that you have my oath. Tell me what I wish to know. Three."

  "Okay! Okay!"

  Lisette's finger did not tighten on the trigger. "Speak, then."

  "My order has word of you. I think all assassin's guilds have word of you. From the Black Coil."

  "I left with their blessing." Why would he dare lie, now? Lisette's lips twitched up in a near snarl despite herself.

  "I don't think your old master sees it that way. Your description and your choice of arms have gone out to all of us. We're to report any sighting back to the Black Coil, for payment."

  Lisette almost hated to ask. "Why?"

  Devin's eyes met her own, reluctantly. "I don't know. But I do know that if you are seen to be acting as an assassin and not a bounty hunter, it's to be carefully noted."