140 – Karen’s Flight

         Karen tied her horse aside and put her things she had pulled off the Caplan’s cart down on top of Caspian’s pack and things, as though Caspian’s were her own. She then did her best to stand aside from the troopers.
         As the party departed The Captain sat on his horse and watched. The two he detailed to stay behind mulled about lining up the dead, and generally cleaning up. He watched as the party started filing out and then nudged his horse over to where the Assassin was watching all this from across the fire. The cargo cart was rolled to a stop beside the Captain, and six small heavy sacks were dropped from it. They landed with the heavy sound of coins. The cart then rolled on at the end of the departing line. She picked the sacks up one at a time. Opening them in turn, she sifted through a mixture of coins and precious stones. The rest of the Queen’s twenty five pounds, and the rest of the Viceroy’s one hundred twenty five plus separated into six twenty five pound sacks.
         “Is that satisfactory?” The Captain looked down at the assassin as she put the sacks aside one at a time.
         She looked up from the last. “Yes. Treat them well.”
         At that he reined his horse around and rode out after his company and joined the rear guard.
         Karen shifted the contents of the sacks, finding an honest mix of silver, gold, platinum, and gems, as agreed on. She secured the tops of the sacks, set them among her gear, and sat down to watch for a moment, as her meal finishing cooking. She watched the two men riffle and sort the dead and their belongings. The valuable stuff was being stacked to one side as the seven guards bodies were readied for burial. They left Caspian and Cyrril completely alone after putting him at the end of the line. The bodies ready to be buried, they came and sat at the fire.
         It was dinner time and they were hungry. She had carved what she wanted from one of the animals over the fire. She pulled a chunk of bread from the finished loaf, and put it aside, and some roasted vegetables from the dutch oven. Karen set the rest aside where it would stay warm. The men helped themselves to the food without asking. They were going to be working late to get the dead buried, and did not want to work on empty stomach’s.
         Her own food finished, Karen got up and started to mess about with her stuff, putting the money with her saddle bags, being sure it clanked loudly, as she balanced the load. She had noticed that they had pocketed the money from the dead. Greed was an easy taunt. So was sex, particularly when she added some psionic goading to it. She leaned over letting them get a good view of her rear as she shifted about. They made approving noises but she was not fully sure if it was over her or the cooked food, or something else. She was not quite sure of them yet.
         Then she heard the creak of hard leather as one of the men stood. He stepped toward her. Now she was generally sure of them.
         She drew her wrist blades, waited a moment while charging her psionics, and spun. Her stiletto in her right hand went into his chest through his steel breast plate, and into his heart. She pulled it back out quickly, slicing his lung. She sliced across his throat with the other knife in her left hand, opening his vital arteries and veins, among other things. The other man was starting to move when she threw her stiletto at his face. His head jerked from the impact. He fell back over the log, and lay still. She had caught the man in front of her to use somehow, and now just let him fall to the ground to finish bleeding out, his sword fell to the ground between them as his hand lost strength. They had meant to kill her after all; whether by orders or not did not matter.
         She wiped her knife on his shirt and sheathed it on her right arm. Then she went and pulled her stiletto from the others face, holding his head down with her foot to pull it from the bone. She wiped the blood and gore from it and sheathed it on her left arm. Moving quickly, she packed her gear, then Caspian’s gear. Next she pulled the extra gear from both of the two horses left for the burial detail and replaced one with Caspian’s, and the other with the sacks of money. She then saddled her own horse and secured her gear to it. Once done, she walked one of the borrowed horses over to the line of bodies, and swatted a buzzard away. She then picked Cyrril up and stuffed him in a sack. She tied it to the saddle of the horse with Caspian’s gear. She then tied Caspian’s staff horizontally to one side of the saddle. Last she picked up Caspian and hoisted him onto the back of the horse, securing his foot in the stirrup, and walked around the other side.
         With his head at her head level as he lay across the horse, Karen charged her psionics. She touched his head, and reached in. There. She found the block she had put there earlier, and removed it. That done she withdrew. He would wake before lunch tomorrow. She put his arm under his staff, then secured the reins of the second horse with her money to the saddle of the horse she put Caspian on.
         Taking the reins of Caspian’s horse, Karen mounted her own horse and rode out, away from Skarg. She did not care what anybody thought of the scene. If asked, she would only reply that she had properly disposed of the wizard’s body.

         After leaving the camp, Karen rode the horses back to the town they had left this morning. It was near midnight, and drizzling when she came out of the forest into the back yard of a house at the north end of the town. She tied the three horses to the veranda post, and proceeded to pull her saddle and bags from her horse and set it on the veranda. Next she pulled Caspian’s gear from the horse he was on, including the bag with Cyrril. Last she pulled her money from the third horse. She used her guild insignia as a key and opened the back door. She propped it open and then went for Caspian.
         She pulled him off the horse and onto her shoulders. Then she carried him into the house, down the hall, turned left and went upstairs. She unbolted the first door on the left at the top of the stairs, carried him in, and dropped him on the bed. As she came downstairs, the Housekeeper was bringing all the bags inside.
         “There is a man in the room upstairs. Strip his wet clothes off him, and let him sleep.”
         The Housekeeper nodded at this.
         Karen then went back outside into the rain, and untied the two borrowed horses. She led it them into the woods and then swatted them. They went a few steps under the forest canopy, then stopped and slept where they were. She turned and went back to the house. Being branded military horses, they would find their way home eventually, or not.
         She took her own horse aside into a stable and saw to its feed and water, and checked its feet. The horse was asleep before she left the stable.
         Going inside the house, Karen locked the door behind her as she went. Her saddle and other tack rested on a wood bar for the purpose next to the door; it would need oiling in the morning. The bags of money were piled under the saddle. She then went upstairs, and around to the end of the short hall where her gear was all piled. She unlocked this door, and went into the loft room. She dragged her stuff into the door, to hold it open as fresh air circulated in. She then went to find the housekeeper just tucking Caspian into bed. His wet clothes draped on the chair. His things are on the floor by the coal burner. The housekeeper looked up when finished.
         “Shall I launder his clothes?”
         “In the morning.” It was too late to worry about that. “Just keep breakfast bland, and warm.”
         The housekeeper nodded in ascent, and shuffled past. Karen caught the old woman’s wrist as she made a quick swipe with a worry stick.
         “Not tonight.” She released her grip and the old woman left
         Once the old woman was on her way down the stairs, Karen picked up the bag with Cyrril in it from the top of the pile. She opened it and pulled his limp form out. Suddenly he was not so limp. With a quick move, he clamped her thumb in his jaws, drawing blood. Karen dropped the sack, grabbed around his ribs and wings, and applied increasing pressure. He snarled some, and then turned to gasping as she prevented him from breathing. He let go, and she dropped him on Caspian’s chest. He gasped for air, not quite ready to continue the fight. She moved the staff from behind the door, to between the dresser and the head of the bed, against the wall. She then put a rock next to it on the dresser. Cyrril hissed at her again, but made no move to attack.
         “Oh, hush. It’s too late in the evening for that.”
         She then left the room, closing the door behind her.
         She went back to the room she had taken for herself sucking the blood from her thumb, tasting for anything bad, then spit in a chamber pot, and shut herself in. She then stripped to her skin. She piled her tools on a dressing table, and left all her clothes on the floor in a pile. She picked up a bath sheet, which she wrapped around herself. She then went back down stairs, and into the kitchen. Here she found the usual warm water and wash tub. She filled the one with the other, and sat in it relaxing. Once the chill had left her, she drained the tub and made sure the reservoir would refill. She dried off and went back upstairs, taking a lump of burning coal with her. The coal went in the stove; the towel went on a peg. She treated her bite wound, dug out her sleeping clothes, put these on and curled up in the bed.

         After awaking fully and writing in her journal the next morning, Karen went out to see what was next to do. She quickly saw that the housekeeper had been up and about. The muddy tracks had been eradicated. The horse tracks in the yard were gone. Cyrril was still in the room and Caspian out cold. All his fabric and leather things were gone; the rest sat on the table or dresser. A small bowl with hints of blood sitting on the dresser and Cyrril looking sated on the bed, told of attention there as well.
         Breakfast was found warm on the stove in the kitchen. Karen had her fill of the mush, bread and butter, and juice. She then asked that something with broth be made for lunch. The housekeeper was busy washing Caspian’s things in the wash tub, but nodded in response. Karen dodged a thrown knife as she left the kitchen. She returned to her room and sorted through her things, pulling her equipment out of the packed gear. She opened the wardrobe and dug through it for an outfit near her size. She found under-things in her size, and put them on. The rest was a bit oversized, but useable. She dressed in trousers, tunic, and sandals. Once in this she took all her personal stuff down to wash. She did her own washing after helping set Caspian’s out to dry on the lines in back. The sky was clear and the air fresh, the winter chill telling of the storm just past on the eastern horizon.
         After all her stuff is set out to dry, Karen went back upstairs to check Caspian. As he was not yet awake she left him be. She went back to her own room and through her gear cleaning and oiling it. She did not damage anything this time, so no repairs needed to be made. Once all this was cleaned, she turned to the money.