Page 13 of A Skirl of Sorcery
Chapter
Six
I’d never been inside another assassin’s home. If I hadn’t already known Louise I might have expected a stark interior with various weapons on display, but she’d never placed importance on the tools of her trade – beyond the plants outside. Despite her profession, she was a warm person with a surprisingly caring nature. She’d told me at her retirement party that the thing she was looking forward to most was the opportunity to ditch every black item of clothing she owned because she wanted colour in her life. It was a sentiment I understood; in fact, it was part of the reason my hair was now dyed purple.
So I wasn’t surprised that Louise’s house was welcoming, with its colourful artwork, bohemian fabrics and comforting clutter. Light beamed in through every window, illuminating corners that were free of dust balls. I wished that my house could be this clean but alas, that was next to impossible with five cats shedding fur on a minute-by-minute basis.
A glass-fronted display contained an astonishing collection of thimbles: small thimbles; big thimbles; whimsical thimbles; magicked thimbles. There were thimbles shaped liked bears andcastles and knights and, I noted approvingly, cats. ‘You do a lot of sewing these days?’ I asked.
Louise grinned. ‘Nah. I just like collecting them. Call it a bad case of nostalgia or a source of relaxation, a psychological buffer against past trauma or the enjoyable pursuit of rare items. Collecting thimbles fills a need in me that can’t easily be explained.’
I shrugged. ‘Everyone needs a hobby, I suppose. There are far worse things you could do.’
‘I could be spending my retirement talking to cats.’
I cocked my finger and thumb at her like a gun. ‘Watch it.’ She smirked.
She directed me to a small, well-appointed lounge then disappeared to make tea. In less than five minutes she was back with a tray laden with mismatched china, a steaming teapot and home-made cakes.
I eyed her baked offerings with envy. ‘I keep trying to bake but I rarely have much success.’
Louise snorted. ‘I remember your lack of skill in making poisons so I’m not surprised that you struggle with baking. The measurements need to be precise and you have to follow the recipes exactly.’
‘When was the last timeyoufollowed a recipe exactly?’ I asked.
‘I’m so good that I don’t have to,’ she replied serenely. ‘Tea?’
I allowed her to pour me a cup, picked it up with both hands and leaned back in my chair. ‘I’m here because I want to ask you about ban siths.’
She looked surprised. ‘Ban siths? Why on earth would you be interested in them?’
‘It’s a long story,’ I explained, ‘but essentially I’ve rented one of the spare flats in my house to a ban sith and I have a few concerns about her.’
‘If you have concerns then why not kick her out?’ Louise asked mildly.
‘It’s not quite that straightforward.’
Her clever eyes were watching me. ‘It rarely is.’ She folded her hands in her lap. ‘Ban siths tend to remain amongst their own kind – safety in numbers, that sort of thing. It’s unusual for one of them to leave their people.’
‘So I’ve heard.’ I licked my lips. ‘Once upon a time you warned me away from ban siths.’
‘I did.’ She paused for a beat. ‘You know what a ban sith does?’
Everyone knew, but I nodded anyway.
‘I bet that you don’t know all of it.’
I returned my full cup of tea to the tray and leaned forward. ‘Go on.’
‘Not all ban siths are created equal. Some are more sensitive and more accurate with their powers than others. And there’s more to their skill than predicting impending death. They arein tunewith death, it’s as much a part of a ban sith’s life as breathing might be to you or me. They can sense death approaching and they can sense when it has passed.’
I was slightly puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘In my twenties, soon after I joined EEL, I was contracted to kill a druid. He was a nasty sort and deserved what was coming to him. I don’t need to go into details – you know the sort of man I’m talking about.’
Unfortunately I did.
Louise continued. ‘The contract required some complicated body removal because he couldn’t be found at the scene of his death. I had to transfer his corpse to the steps of Tweed Hall, near Crackendon Square.’
