The Bounty Hunter

Chapter One

Chapter One

Safita bent over the small bed and grabbed the pack which she had stowed there the night before. The owner of the inn was an old friend but it was an old habit which she could not break. She rifled through the bag, checking everything against a mental list of supplies and making sure nothing had been taken in the night. Once she was satisfied that everything was as it should be, she fastened her tunic tight, pulling at the ties on its sleeves and adjusting her belt on her hips. She stowed the small dagger her father had given her in her boot and laced them up, tying them tight against her legs.

She surveyed the room one final time and swept her cloak around her shoulders, fastening it there with a small brooch, the only ostentatious trinket she kept; striding out of the room she left a gold coin on the bar and walked out into the sunlight.

The smell of mingled spices lingered on the air and the calls of the market sellers drifted towards her ears; as she marched through the town purposefully she cursed herself for sleeping in so late. Safita was not a morning person and she allowed herself to lie in a little longer when she was not working but never to this extent.

“Good morning mistress,” cried one of the stallholders. “Would you like to see my wares?”

“I’m afraid I’m here on business,” she replied regretfully as she passed him. Suddenly a young child appeared in front of her, his enormous eyes containing a rogue spark of mischief as he grinned up at her.

“Hergun would like to see you Miss,” he said. “He wants me to tell you he’s in the shop.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, tossing him a small coin and changing direction, navigating the narrow streets easily. Finally Safita reached a small wooden door and stopped in front of it, knocking four times in quick succession then waiting and knocking once more. A few moments later the door was opened to reveal a portly man whose wide smile very nearly covered his entire face. “Safita!” he beamed. “Come in! Come in!” he cried, ushering her inside.

The weak candles did very little to light her way, especially against the dark stone walls of the passage, but Safita had been there so many times that the twists and turns were second nature to her. After a minute or two they emerged in a small backroom, two wooden benches running along each wall.

“Please sit down,” Hergun asked, pushing her onto the bench as he sat down opposite her. “I knew it was you.”

“Of course you did Hergun; you sent a boy to fetch me only minutes before I arrived.”

Hergun gasped in horror. “That’s not true! I was waiting for you for at least twenty minutes!” he cried, making Safita laugh.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have given him fifteen kurft then,” she smiled.

“Fifteen kurft!” Hergun exclaimed. “I gave him twenty just for delivering the message! That little wretch!”

“Nevertheless, what did you want Hergun? I don’t have long; I have to be on my way to Scaera soon and I need to get organised. I have plans.”

“And was saying goodbye to your oldest friend part of these plans?”

“Truthfully… no. My sword is coming with me so why would I need to say goodbye?” she teased.

“Very funny.”

“I might have dropped in on my way out of town,” she admitted. “But it’s always a bad idea. You keep me here talking and then I’m late for everything else.”

Hergun laughed and clapped his hands together. “Too true my friend!” he grinned. “But I have news for you,” he said, suddenly serious.

“Oh yes? What is it?” Safita questioned, her curiosity piqued by Hergun’s change in mood. “A new sword?”

“No, although I do have something in that region for you as well; no, I have information from Scaera.”

“I leave for Scaera this afternoon! Why would I need your information when I can find it out there?” she replied.

“Someone’s looking for the Spider. He has not been very discreet in his enquiries, at least, not around bounty folk. Word travels quickly in these parts, you know that as well as I.”

“Well why should that interest me?” she asked dismissively, examining her short fingernails as if they contained numerous secrets. “I can meet him when I’m in Scaera in a couple of days.”

“Well…” Hergun paused for a moment before adding one final piece of information, “Ultuc is onto his case.”

Safita bit back a scream. “That traitorous, treacherous- how quickly can you get a message to The Flying Dagger?”

“Not as quickly as you can ride there.”

“Why is it always me?” she moaned, hanging her head in her hands.

“Because you, Safita, are the best. And life is hard at the top.”

“I have to go. If Ultuc gets there first…” she stood up swiftly, preparing to spring out of the door.

“Wait!” Hergun pleaded, grabbing her arm. “What about the bow I found you?”

“A bow? You found me a replacement?”

“It’s a beauty,” he replied with a self satisfied smile.

“I’ll take it,” she said impulsively.

“But you haven’t seen it yet. That’s not at all like you.”

“I trust your judgement Hergun and I need to be gone. It’s a two day ride to Scaera and Ultuc must not beat me there. I still need to buy more supplies-”

“You don’t need to rush that much; last I heard he was in Sicara.”

“But he will have left by now, meaning he’s at least half a day ahead of me, if not more! I will take the bow Hergun and then I must leave.” Hergun sighed in defeat and led her into the front of his shop, bending behind the counter and pulling out a long and elegant bow, made of a wood darker than the deepest hour of the night. Safita could feel it call to her soul as he placed it into her hands and she ran her fingers over its contours.

“See, I knew it Hergun. It’s perfect already; there’s no need for me to try it. How much?” she asked, digging in her pocket as she searched for her money bag.

“No charge. Not yet, at least,” he said hurriedly before she could argue with him, “just take it and go. I’ll make you pay me once you’ve earned yourself a small fortune working for the Palace.”

Safita knew not to argue with good fortune when it was staring her in the face so she thanked Hergun profusely and ran out of the door, the bow strapped to her back alongside the matching quiver.

She grabbed as little food as she thought she could survive on, only buying some salted pork and a loaf of bread and not even bothering to barter for lower prices; she had done well on her last job anyway and would not be short of coin for a while. Her shopping done Safita raced to the stables and leapt on her horse, galloping out of the gates and along the road. “I’m sorry Sansa but we will have to fly as we have never flown before,” she muttered as the trees flashed past, merely a blurry green wall as they sped down the path. The breeze whipping Safita’s face brought with it the sweet smell of the spring flowers and the fresh fragrance of the damp earth and, despite her urgency, Safita couldn’t help but inhale deeply, savouring the smell of freedom.