Secrets of the Swords, Book 1

Chapter 37: The Courier, Part 2

The man had timed his interruption well, the courier realized. Had he confronted her any earlier, she perhaps could have schemed up some sort of plan to evade him, and had it been any later, they would have been too close to the letter's destination for their encounter to not draw suspicion and put the delivery at risk.

She muttered a curse to the Five-Headed Hare under her breath as she approached the door of the tavern and knocked for admission.

"Fat lot of good all those heads do for you, can't even be bothered to warn me about someone sneaking up – Hello!" The door had opened, and she drew back her hood and flashed her courier's crest in explanation of her sudden appearance at this late hour. "I'm here to deliver a letter to one of your patrons."

"There aren't many left," the woman replied flatly, opening the door wider so that the courier could pass over the threshold.

"The atmosphere tends to be less...cheery, when the candles have burnt to the bottom of their wicks," the tavern-keeper continued to explain, when the courier stopped to take in the handful of hunched figures that still lingered with their latest drink. "Anyone with any self-compassion would have turned to their bed at a much more respectable time of the night."

"As long as the recipient is here to give me the other half of my payment, the atmosphere doesn't concern me," the courier said, tipping the other woman a coin. "Any idea who that person may be?"

"Over in the far corner," the tavern-keeper pointed with her chin. "He's been coming pretty consistently the past few nights, and always sits in the same place. Never talks to anyone but the servers. Perhaps he's been expecting a message for a while now."

Nodding her thanks, the courier left to approach the man. Much like the tavern-keeper had mentioned, the candle set out to light the man's table was sputtering low, casting flickering shadows against the wall behind him that from across the tavern made it difficult to make out the details of his clothing—details that would help her identify him to the city guard who had stopped her on the road earlier. The man's face was also mostly hidden, though more due to a half-curtain of long dark hair than the shadows.

The courier glanced down as she came to a stop before his table. Sure enough, the man was wearing a ring in the shape of the three-winged Green Serpent, as her client from the theater had mentioned. Now she only needed to check the code word.

She cleared her throat, painfully aware of the man's gaze on her as she continued to stand there. "Sir, are you expecting a letter?"

The candle on the table sputtered as the man turned slightly, his face still mostly hidden in the dim light. "I am."

"All right. The phrase I have for this message is masked dancer."

"The performance starts even before the curtain rises." The response was immediate, and the man continued with a challenge of his own. "Twelve marksmen or one archer?"

"Even one arrow can fell an enemy," the courier responded, repeating the phrase that the man at the theater had told her she would need to answer.

The man held out a hand for the letter, palm-up, and she hesitantly placed the bamboo tube in his hand. His fingers closed around the wood, but he didn't withdraw his hand, and the courier tensed uneasily. He was watching her, waiting for her to retreat.

"Is there something else?" he asked, slowly and steadily. It was only then that she realized her hand was still holding the other end of the bamboo, and she let go with a sharp intake of breath.

"No, my apologies," she said. "It's just...been a long day." She gestured vaguely across the tavern. "I'll just, uh, go over there and wait for your decision on whether to send a response."