The Bounty Hunter

Chapter Forty Six

Chapter Forty Six

Safita sat silently at one end of the table, cutting her meat into ever smaller pieces without any intention of eating it.

“Ultuc has been sentenced to death,” Nell said eventually. “I found out this morning.”

“How long did the trial last?”

“Two hours… I’m surprised it took them that long though. The laws have been in place for centuries.”

Giving Nell a single nod she watched her brother eat for a moment, lost in her thoughts. She had, of course, been present at the trial - like most of the city - although nobody she knew would ever find out about that; she had seen Ultuc pleading - a sight which had made her beam with amusement - for the right to be allowed to leave; she had seen him begging the king to let him return to his mother and she had pitied him. It was disgusting to pity someone like Ultuc and yet she had, and she had spent the morning fervently hoping that she never found herself in that position. “What about Varenna?” she asked, still overcome by the listlessness which had seized her that afternoon.

“I am afraid her parents will have to return home dissatisfied; the courts haven’t found anyone else guilty… though not for lack of trying.”

“And Ultuc?”

“He maintains that he knows nothing of what happened; he is to be executed for being a bounty hunter.” Nell paused and looked at his sister warily before pursing his lips and trapping whatever thought he was about to put into words. “Why are you so interested in him? I know you found him but… I heard you’d come across him… but I thought that you disliked him.”

She shrugged, the gesture at odds with the dress she wore. As she remembered her mother repeating endlessly when she was younger, ‘Ladies do not shrug’. “He’s a piece of work,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean I want him to die. Maybe I thought I did before but now…”

“You’ve forgiven him for his actions and you think he deserves to live.”

Eyeing Nell incredulously and frowning at him she paused, her sullenness exacerbated by her displeasure at being interrupted. “No Nell,” she replied, “I don’t mind him dying but right now I’m not angry with him; I wish it more when he has annoyed me. As it stands, I’ve found that grudges are surprisingly easy to overcome. Also I did, of course, hope that it was going to be me to deliver the final blow.” Nell blanched and she smirked at him mischievously.

When their dinner was over Safita returned to her room and, once she had been unlaced from her dress, collapsed on the bed. Ultuc, however much of an abhorrent and arrogant imbecile he was, was about to suffer the penalty which she had avoided. Not only was there a sick irony in the similarities between their positions, but he was trapped because of her decisions. Slowly she sat up and moved to her armoire; there, at the very back, were her old clothes: her cloak, her tunic and her camers, all neatly pressed and folded. Behind all of those were her weapons, their edges glinting in the moonlight.

She looked at them and grinned; in an instant the lethargy which had plagued her all day melted away and she knew what she was going to do - though the reasons behind it still escaped her. After all, life always needed a little more adventure in it. Besides, this way she could triumph over him permanently.

She dressed quietly, wincing as the material - rougher than that to which she had become accustomed - scratched her skin and astonished at how heavy the cloak felt about her shoulders; when she was ready she crept down the stairs, pausing at every step to listen for her brother. His light flickered in the library and thrice she heard footsteps resound along a corridor in the house. Her breath came in shallow pants and she could hear her heart pounding as she turned the handle of the door; opening it so that only the smallest crack of evening leaked through she slipped out into the star-shine of the night, letting it click shut behind her. Once she was outside she raced down the path, not stopping until she was two streets away and gasping for breath.