Page 59 of The Shadow of Breninsol
Valen took a long drag of his pipe, making the scar on his lips stand out and let the burnt vanilla curl around them. “I won’t insult you by asking if he’s dead.” He said as he stuck his pipe between his teeth and unrolled the stained handkerchief to reveal a silver ring still attached to the severed finger. “You didn’t fancy bringing me his head?”
“Didn’t want a decapitated head smelling up my place. A finger is easier to travel with.”
“I do like your practicality, Nora,” Valen said with a quirk of his lips, the pipe still in his mouth. “I need you to get some information on Westgate Street.”
She raised a brow. “Why?”
He narrowed his eyes at her through the tobacco smoke. “It’s my city. I need to know what goes on in it.”
“You’re wasting my skills. You sure you don’t have anyone you want killed?”
“Bloodthirsty much? You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman as murderous as you.”
Eleanor quirked her lips. “Clearly you don’t know many women.”
He made a noise as he sucked on his pipe. “I thought you’d have welcomed the break from killing.”
“Maybe I like it,” she replied with a dangerous smirk.
Something flickered in his eyes. “I don’t doubt that…but this, this is a task I can’t give to just anyone.”
She narrowed her eyes. What wasn’t he telling her? Did this man distrust his own men? “Valen—” she began. She wanted to reassure this man but didn’t know how. She knew he’d stab her in the back at a moment’s notice, but she’d do the same to him. Perhaps from that mutual knowledge that she felt kindred of some kind with him.
“That’s all I need from you this time. Come back when you have the information, and you’ll get your payment,” Valen interrupted curtly. His tone was all business and reminded her she was there to serve him and his purpose.
She took a long inhale. “I’d prefer a different type of payment this time.”
“Oh?” he said, intrigued. Eleanor had never changed the conditions of their exchange before. It’d been clean and simple arrangement. He’d ask her to kill certain people, and she got paid. It wasn’t a sizable sum, but it was enough money to put towards her debt with Madam Grace and fuel her heavy reliance on alcohol. But now she was changing it, and it was…personal.
She took a drag of her ale, then settled it down. She knew he wouldn’t like her request. “I want a favour, no questions asked.”
“It’ll cost you,” he said with a smile that implied he could ask much more from her in exchange for what she wanted.
“I’m getting you the information you want.” She reminded him.
The leaves glittered with red embers as Valen sucked on his pipe. Then he exhaled a long drag of scorched vanilla that had a hint of something musky. “I’ll be the judge of what it’ll cost when I have the information.”
She gritted her teeth, not liking the conditions, but this was the course she’d set out on. She had already made this decision by coming here tonight. “Fine. I’m looking for a pendant. I need to know if there’s more of them out there.”
“Jewellery,” he scoffed. “You’re wasting my time with jewellery? Go to the markets or see the Brigadier.”
“You know the Brigadier?” Eleanor asked with a raised brow.
Valen puffed out a cloud of vanilla smoke and said with a playful purr in his voice, “Nora, I know everyone.”
While the cloud dissipated, she considered her answer. She wasn’t going to tell him anything she didn’t need to, and neither was he going to willingly offer up information. “They won’t have what I’m looking for.”
He sighed as he held his pipe between his lips and pulled a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink pot from a drawer in his side of the table that she hadn’t been aware of before. “I’ll need to know what I’m looking for,” he said, pushing the items towards her.
She dipped the quill, acknowledging how dangerous this was, but the risk was worth it. Everyone who knew what it truly meant was long dead, as there were no real witches left.
He sucked on his wooden pipe, watching her draw the symbol.
When she finished the rough sketch with her last quill stroke, he asked, “Why are you looking for something like that?”
“Promised an old aunt a pretty birthday gift,” she replied with a false, innocent smile.
Valen chuffed at her sarcastic response but said no more.
