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'Be off with you and open it privily then. You're standing between me and
paying
clients!'
There were none present, Hanse assured himself before he said, 'In a
moment,'
and thumb-nailed the brownish wax along the lip-like closure of the
walnut
shell. He knew Moonflower was frowning, believing that he should be
more
secretive, but he also knew what he wanted to do. A gesture, merely a
gesture.
The scrap of extra fine leaf-paper he took out and poked, still folded, into
his sash. Pressing the shell closed and thumbing the wax into a semblance
of
seal, he proffered it to the S'danzo seer who consistently proved that she
was no charlatan.
'For Mignureal,' he said, pretending shyness. 'To scent her... her clothing, or
something?'
For a moment the flicker of a frown appeared on Moonflower's doughy face,
for
her big-eyed daughter was quite taken with this dangerous youth from
Downwind,
whose means of income was no secret. Then she smiled and accepted the
scented
shell. It swiftly vanished into the vast cleavage of what she called her
treasure chest, under her shawl.
'You're such a nice boy, Hanse. I'll give it to her. Now you git, and inspect
your message. Maybe some highborn lady wants a bit of dalliance with
your
handsome self!'
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The rangy young man called Shadowspawn had left her then. Smile and
even
pleasant expression left his face and he swaggered like a Mrsevadan
gamecock.
Face and walk were part of his image, which none would dare say might stem
from
insecurity. Still, Moonflower's words would not have made him smile
anyhow. He
was not handsome and knew it, as he knew that his height was no more
than
average. The biggest thing about him was his ego - although his lips, which
some
thought were sensuous, were to him too full. His nickname others had given
him.
He did not dislike it; his mentor Cudget Swearoath had told him a nickname
was
good to have - even such a one as 'Swearoath'. Hanse was just a name;
Shadowspawn was dramatic, with a romantic and rather sinister sound
that
appealed to the youth.
He left Moonflower remembering how he had indeed dallied with a beauty of
means.
Highborn she was not, though she had been from the palace, and richly
garbed.
Hanse had been touched both in his ego and in his greed, by her attentions.
Only
later had he discovered that it was not truly he she was interested in. She and
a fellow plotter were in the employ of someone back in Ranke -the
Emperor
himself, perhaps envious or wary of Kadakithis's good looks? - who wanted
to
discredit and destroy the new Prince-Governor, him they called Kitty-K-at.
They
had elected to use Hanse in their plot; Hanse had been their dupe! - for a
while.
But that was done with, and on this later day he left Moon-flower and
swaggered
along the streets. His eyes were hooded and the weapons all too obvious on
him.
Some stepped off the narrow planking of the sidewalk for him, and
(quietly)
cursed themselves for it. Still, they would do it again. In appearance, all
tucked in behind his eyes and abristle with sharp blades, he was 'about as
pleasant as gout or dropsy', as a certain merchant had once described him.
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Well, he was alive. Both the lovely plotter and her traitorous Hell Hound co
conspirator were not. Further, Kadakithis was grateful. And now, as
Hanse
discovered to his astonishment back in his quarters, the Prince-Governor
had
actually sent him a note!
Hanse recognized the seal and the scrawl at the bottom from other
documents.
Since Prince Kadakithis knew that Hanse could not read, the bit of fine
paper
contained not writing, but clever drawings. The Governor's seal, with a
hand
extending from it, beckoning to a dark splotch. It was man-shaped - a
shadow.
Under that was an untidy jumble of (turnip slices?) with straight lines raying
up from them. Shadowspawn's frown was a momentary thing. Then he was
nodding in
comprehension - he hoped.
'The P-G wants me to come calling on him, and here's a promise of reward:
shiny
coins. He sealed up the message in the walnut shell and gave it to one of his
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