it would end for him as it had ended for the woman on his table. He no longer
wished that the curse be removed.
The blueness was beginning to spread, bringing with it dis-orientation and
nausea. He would not be able to complete his message to Lythande. With a
trembling hand, he clutched the stylus and scrawled a final warning:
Go. or send someone you trust, to the Beysib wharf where their
ships still lie at anchor. Whisper ‘Harka Bey’ to the
waters; then leave quickly, without looking back –
The transformation sped through him, blurring his vision, softening his bones.
He folded the paper with a gross, awkward gesture and left it on the shroud.
Paralysis had claimed his feet by the time he’d fumbled the door open and he
retreated back to his private quarters, crawling on his hands and knees.
There was much more he could have told Lythande about the powerful, legendary
beynit venom and the equally powerful and legendary Harka Bey. A few months ago
even he had thought that the assassin’s guild was only another Ilsigi myth; but
then the fish-eyed folk had come from beyond the horizon and it now seemed some
of the other myths might be true as well. Someone had gone to considerable
trouble, using distilled venom and a knife point to make the wound, to make it
seem as if the Harka Bey had slain the courtesan. He did not personally believe
the Harka Bey would trouble themselves over a Red Lanterns woman – and he did
not truly care why she had been killed or who had killed her. His thoughts
surrounded the knowledge that the methods of the Harka Bey, at least, were real