The Bounty Hunter

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Despite her exhaustion Safita was woken up fairly early by the faint rays of the sun which drifted in through the window, leaving golden dew drops on her face. She dressed hurriedly and headed downstairs, eager to begin her new job as soon as possible.

She sat down at the bar and ordered some food to break her fast; she had barely taken one mouthful when a cloaked man sat down beside her. “Enjoying the spoils of the job, I see,” he muttered.

“Go away before I fight you Ultuc,” she hissed.

“Oh that is no way to treat an old friend,” he pouted.

“You are no friend of mine.”

“I was of the opinion that we had… an understanding.”

Safita scoffed. “Yes, an understanding where you try to take all of my jobs before I do; I know your tricks Ultuc, you will not win. You are not my friend, and no such understanding exists.”

“Make no mistake,” he hissed, his eyes gleaming in anger from beneath his hood, “I will find out why that man wanted to see you, and I will do the job better than you. Even the mighty must fall one day Spider, and this time it’s your turn.”

“Get out of my sight before I slip my dagger through your ribs,” Safita muttered darkly, relaxing only once she saw his cloak disappear from her peripheral vision.

“Get out Ultuc,” she complained immediately as she sensed someone sit down beside her.

“I know now who you speak of but I am not Ultuc,” said her client from the night before.

“My apologies,” she said through clenched teeth, “do you have the information?”

“Yes, it’s all here,” he said, handing her a small picture and a piece of parchment which was absolutely covered in miniscule cramped writing.

“Hmm…” she said as she looked it over quickly. “Yes, that was prompt. That is all I need from you, you may go now.”

“I am not used to being ordered around by bounty hunters.” From beside her she felt the man bristle in anger and she barely restrained a huff of annoyance. Palace people clearly had no idea of their place in the Outlands, thinking that they could strut around and lord it over the outlaws who lived there and once again she instinctively reached for her knife, stabbing it into the counter faster than he would have expected possible. “I am no mere bounty hunter,” she hissed, her knife vibrating slightly beside his hand. “Do not forget that we have as low an opinion of you as you do of us. Now get out or I won’t ask politely next time and you may well find yourself missing a few limbs.” The man frowned angrily before turning to leave with a vicious sneer curling his lips.

As she ate her breakfast she read the information about the prince, quickly forming an idea of what he was like and where he might go. She quickly became as absorbed in it as she usually did, creating a person in her mind as she did so, and imagining how he might react to being outside the palace.

“Not many can sneak up on me,” she said as yet another person sat down beside her, “even when I am busy.”

“Oh I was not sneaking up on you, merely sitting beside you to order breakfast,” was the reply. Safita turned to him, wanting to eye him up and get the measure of the man who was sat beside her but her wishes were brought up short. His cloak was pulled down low over his head, keeping most of his face in shadow and what was visible was covered by a black cloth, concealing his identity from even the most prying of eyes.

“There is a reason these places are empty,” she said coldly.

“Oh, do you have a very bad odour?” he teased. “Personally I can’t smell anything but then some of the men who frequent this place are obviously strangers to personal hygiene.”