Assassin's Curse (9 page)

“I ain’t in no position to help the likes of you and I ain’t never heard of no witch named Miriam,” the decrepit old healer spat at him.
 
“Get on your way and leave an old woman to her sleep.”

The fact that Jeda had awakened the old woman well past the middle of the night probably didn’t help his cause, but he had always thought the village healers to be compassionate to the poor and needy.
 
Having him show up so late at her doorstep with two babies strapped to his body sure seemed needy enough to him.
 
Unfortunately, that was not the case with this healer and she slammed the door in his face.
 
Jeda momentarily thought to break down the door and show the old woman what it meant to be disrespectful to a guild assassin, but that thought lasted only a second when he realized a low profile meant leaving no dead bodies in his wake.
 
He knew he would be followed, but why make it easy for the guild to pick up his trail?

He turned from the old crone’s door to survey the tiny village, looking for shelter where the babies and he could sleep for the night.
 
He spotted an old, ramshackle barn that would afford some cover for them and headed off in that direction.

That bitch.
 
How stupid can a witch be?
 
I don’t know jack shit about taking care of babies, but now, whenever I look at them, I have these feelings.
 
Soft feelings, like I want to take care of them.
 
It’s all bullshit, but I can’t help myself.
 
I have to take care of them, protect them, and make sure they grow up straight and true.
 
What in hell’s name does that even mean anyway?

At least you two are still sleeping
, he thought, checking the papooses tied to his front and back.
 
As if on cue, they began to fuss.

“You must be kidding me,” Jeda mumbled, struggling to get the milk he had purchased at the market out of his traveling bag.
   

“Looks like you have your hands full there.”

Jeda twirled around to face the speaker, dropping the sack of supplies as two fighting knives fell into his hands from the hidden sheaths under the sleeves of his jacket.

“Whoa there,” the woman said, stepping back. She held her hands up while still holding her water buckets.
 
“Don’t mean you
no harm.
 
I was just out getting some fresh water from the well.”

“What are you doing out in the middle of the night?” Jeda asked the woman, looking around for any others that might be with her.
 

“Name’s Clara and I’m the baker for this village,” the woman explained.
 
“Folks ‘round here get up early and want bread soon as they’re up.
 
That means I have to get up even earlier to get it ready for them.”

“Baker, huh?” Jeda asked, looking at the two empty water buckets the woman held.

“Yes, I don’t mean no harm to you or your little ones.
 
I just heard them fussing and thought you might need a helping hand.”

Jeda thought on Clara’s words and glanced down at the twin strapped to his chest.
 
Both had strangely quieted when Jeda had confronted the woman.

“I guess I could use a hand and maybe a place to rest.”

“Well, if you put them knives away, I’ll take you to my house.
 
It’s already warm with the morning fire, but I have to get some more water for the day’s cooking first.
 
Come along.
 
You and the babies can rest in the kitchen and get a bite to eat.”

“Thanks,” Jeda replied, making an exaggerated effort to put his knives away and ease the tension he saw in the woman.
 
He picked up his sack of supplies and followed her to the well.
 

“I did stop at the healer’s hut to try and get some help, but she slammed the door in my face.”

“Yep, sounds like old Bertha,” Clara replied.
 
“That’d be the day she helps anyone that ain’t near dead.
 
You’re lucky that’s all the old witch did to you.
 
As you can guess, she’s not very friendly.
 
Most folks round here rather suffer through their ailments than go see her.
 
She can be one nasty woman, that one.”
 

Clara seemed the amicable type, chatting nonsense and gossiping about the old healer as they walked to the well.
 
Jeda sized her up along the way, ensuring that she posed no danger to him or the children.
 
She was medium height, a big-boned woman with ample curves.
 
Strands of loose, dark hair were escaping from her headscarf, and her apron was covered in grease spots, exactly what he would expect to find on a baker.
 
Her hands had trace amounts of flour stuck to them and he began to relax, believing her story.
 

Clara got her water and led Jeda and the babies back to her home.
 
Along the way back, when they passed the old healer’s hut, Clara told him that the only reason Bertha was still the healer in the village was because they could not get another one to replace her.
 
Jeda spied candlelight shining through one of the healer’s windows and wondered what she was up to.
 
It was not long before they reached Clara’s house and, as promised, the inside was warm and smelled of the fresh loaves already cooking in the large oven.

The front room was a cozy kitchen with a large table where Clara kneaded her dough, a wall of shelves where she stored the baked bread to sell, and a small table and chair for her to sit and enjoy her meals.
 
Clara motioned Jeda to the table and chair and retrieved one of the hot rolls already cooling on her shelves.
 
She cut up the bread and offered it to Jeda, along with a battered cup of water.

“I’m sorry but I don’t have much more than that,” Clara told him as she began preparing more bread.
 
“I don’t have any food for babies.
 
I haven’t had cause for any of that kind in quite a while.”

Jeda sat down in the chair and removed the papooses, setting them on the table in front of him.
 
“I have milk for them,” he replied, opening his supply sack.
 
“We just need a place to rest for a bit and then we’ll be on our way.
 
I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Clara began to make the next batch of bread, watching Jeda out of the corner of her eye as he struggled to prepare the milk for the girls.
 
He didn’t seem the fatherly type and, when the babies began to fuss, it became apparent he didn’t have a lot of experience in taking care of children.
 
What could have happened to their mother?
 
Whatever it was, she did not want to pry into any personal business.
 
The knives that Jeda had brandished earlier in the street were still fresh in her mind.
 
He had an air of danger about him and the only reason Clara was willing to help was because of the babies.
 
Finally, after a few, frustrating moments watching him, Clara decided that the babies’ welfare was more important than her fear.

“There’s actually an easier way to feed them, you know,” Clara said.

“Actually, I don’t know,” Jeda said.
 
He was not used to finding things so difficult to accomplish.
 
Since he had been cursed with the girls, his entire life had become one challenge after another.
   

“Let me show you how,”
Clara
said, slowly moving to the table.

Jeda watched the woman approach him like he was a wild animal.
 
She held out her hands as if to show him she held nothing dangerous in them.
 
The scene was so comical he laughed out loud and nearly frightened her to death.

“What?” Clara cried, jumping back.
 
“I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I know that,” Jeda replied, still smiling.
 
“And I’m not going to hurt you either, so relax.
 
We’ll get through this a lot easier if we both trust each other a bit.”

Clara stood up and straightened her apron.
 
“Well, fine then.”
 
She walked forward and took two of the milk containers from him.
 
She twisted the ends of each to make a nipple so the twins would be able to suckle from them.

“You do it like this,” Clara explained, propping the milk container up on each baby’s blanket.
 
Positioned correctly, the twins were able to reach and grab the containers and drink away contentedly.
 
“This way they can drink the milk and you can move about.”

Jeda saw the ease with which Clara fed the children and wondered where her own might be.
 
“I can see you have experience in this matter.
 
Where are your children?”

It was Clara turn to laugh.
 
“My children are long grown up and gone.
 
They’ve been out of my house for years.
 
It’s just me and my Jed these days.”

“Jed?” Jeda asked, momentarily confused at the name she mentioned.

“Now, don’t go getting alarmed.
 
Jed is my old mule I use to bring my bread to the next village.
 
That’d be the village of Rocher, south of here.
 
They don’t have a baker there, but they do have a fine healer.
 
If you really need to find a good healer, she’s the one I’d go and find.
 
Forget about old Bertha here.
 
I usually go to Rocher twice a week, but it ain’t that far: round trip takes about a day.”

Jeda recognized the village name as the one Miriam mentioned and knew that was his next destination.
 
It should not hard to find, but an idea came to him.
 
“When is your next trip?”

“Matter of fact, I’m heading that way tomorrow.”

“Would you mind if the girls and I came along with you?” Jeda asked.
 
“It would be a lot easier on us if we could ride on your wagon.”

Jeda had no worry that the trip would wear him out, but if anyone was tracking them, a wagon with a man, a woman, and two children would not attract the attention that a man carrying two infants would, especially in these small villages where gossip went around like wildfire.

Clara thought about Jeda’s request for a moment.
 
Jeda was a dangerous man, but the children could probably use a more-experienced hand in caring for them.
 
The longer she stayed with them, the more Jeda could learn about how to take care of them.
 
“Sure, I would enjoy the company,” she said.

“I would also like to rest here for the day and night,” Jeda said, “if you could manage it.”

“Don’t see as that would put me out too much.”

“I have coin to pay, too,” Jeda said, laying a silver penny on the table between them.

Clara stared at the coin lying there.
 
It was a lot of money, more than she could make in a whole week and definitely more than a night’s stay was worth.
 
“With that kind of money, you and the girls can have my room and bed for as long as you like.
 
I’ll just sleep here in the kitchen.”

“Just the day and night will do nicely,” Jeda said.

“Well, if you’re sleeping here and coming with me tomorrow, I should at least know your name.”

“My name’s Jeda.”

Clara laughed at that. “No wonder you startled when I mentioned my mule’s name.
 
Mind you now, we leave early in the morning, well before anyone else is awake.”

“That would be just fine with us,” Jeda replied.

Elizabeth put down the missive she had just read.
 
The note had come by carrier pigeon early that morning from Bertha, one of the outlying members of the Black Coven.
 
Bertha was a healer in a small village outside of Constantine.
 
Elizabeth had brought her into the coven years before.
 
She had been an easy recruit as the old woman held open contempt for everyone in both her mannerism and ministrations.
 
It was a simple matter of informing her that others felt the same about the masses as she did.
 
They were cattle meant to serve their betters.
 
Bertha had agreed to keep her position in the small village until the time that the Black Coven would need her.
 
When Elizabeth had sent carrier pigeons out to her followers to be on the lookout for the wayward twins, she had no idea that she would get an answer so quickly
  

The message was short but sweet:
 

Our charges arrived early this morning under the care of a lone traveler.

This was exactly the news that Elizabeth needed to control the situation with both the High Council and her sister.
 
Being one step ahead of everyone else would allow her to direct and control events before anything spiraled out of control.
 
She would direct the destinies of the twins and their final contribution of bringing the Witch Stone back to her.
 
She would ensure that the High Council would rule the world with her as its head.