The first order of business was to locate the message’s author. If it had been intended for another Protege, they would find their liaison embarrassed. With any luck, Rin would catch two in one swoop. Even one Protege would be an unexpected boon. It had been over forty years since the last one, and his escape had been very frustrating. Rin was too levelheaded to entertain any actual hope of two prizes, but the possibility did excite her. Such a windfall would be nice.
Her excitement vanished as quickly as it had arisen. The message likely was for her, after all. She was the only one who could not be recognized, though that alone didn’t prove anything. There were others who never had met or may not recognize one another, and the same mechanism sometimes was used to connect people who knew one another but were out of touch.
In fact, a century earlier Rin had employed a similar tactic, far more convincingly arranged, to attract Proteges. There already were rumors at that time of murdered Proteges, though nobody knew who or what was responsible. She published a call to arms, gathering others to unite against their unknown assailant. This approach had attracted only two Proteges before word of its true nature spread. Rin was unsure how efficient the flow of information really was, or whether she ascribed to agency the workings of mere chance. Whatever the cause, her bait caught nobody beyond those first two, and she eventually gave up the exercise.
It stood to reason that Proteges now were wary of such invitations and would not respond to one. The author surely knew this and would not expect the recipient to honor it. Or maybe they were completely clueless. But that was too much to hope for. Even the biggest idiot picked up a few ounces of common sense over the millennia.
No, the author clearly wanted to meet somebody whom there was no other means of reaching. Somebody who would not fear the assassin. It did not necessarily mean they knew Rin was the assassin. In fact, it almost certainly meant they did not. However, it likely did mean they knew she was unrecognizable. Otherwise, there would be safer ways to find her. Given how dangerous such a thing was, the author must be desperate to meet.
Rin wracked her brain. Only a few Proteges knew she was unrecognizable. They could have told others, but for various reasons she doubted they had. Which one was it? Rin’s feelings about the whole affair would differ significantly depending on the answer to that question. She decided there was no need to speculate. The course of action was the same in all cases. Show up, observe, and then act. She’d do as she pleased once she knew who it was. Rin only could think of one thing she would please to do, yet felt rude doing it to somebody who sought her out. Well, there would be time enough to consider that once the author showed up. They would not know who she was, and they certainly would not know what she was.
Rin selected a table in a quiet corner of “The King’s Horse” tavern. She always laughed at the names of British pubs. Even the king’s horse was important. Why was it never “The Merchant’s Whore” or “The King’s Coin” or something equally close to the hearts of patrons? From her vantage point she could see almost the entire place, including the entrance.
After nearly two hours, Rin began to wonder whether this was the right place. The location could only loosely be translated from the old language and technically was closer to “Deer at the Apex.” Of the pubs in the area, “The King’s Horse” struck her as the most plausible candidate, but it was possible the author meant something farther afield. Maybe the “Head of the Pony,” over in Kensington, or “The King’s Hunt,” south of the river. Each would be a stretch, but much of the old language was intended metaphorically. The listener simply had to deduce the appropriate idiom from the context.
It probably was “The King’s Hunt,” now that she thought about it. Well, whoever had gone to such trouble would not give up quickly. Time meant nothing to a Protege, and if it wasn’t a Protege then she had no desire to meet them. If need be, she simply could try a different pub every week. That didn’t strike Rin as an unpleasant pastime. She was about to get up when she noticed the woman sitting at the bar. Perhaps this was the place, after all.
The woman was wearing a head scarf, and Rin could not discern her features. She easily could be mistaken for an old lady were it not for the venue. Only on close examination was she figured like a younger woman. She must have walked in with a group of men or right behind them, because Rin had not remarked her entrance. There was something familiar about her, though Rin suspected this was a trick of the imagination. She had noticed such phenomena before. When walking in a crowd, her mind could see familiar faces where there were none. Perhaps it was a form of nostalgia, though Rin was troubled by the possibility of such a weakness.
No, it was not an illusion. The woman did seem familiar, even with her head obscured. It probably was that damned Priestess. Even if others lacked Rin’s unrecognizability, it didn’t mean they were easy to spot. After a few decades it was hard to recall a face, and after centuries it got much worse. Not to mention that people changed their manner of dress and the styling of their bodies. Rin was all too aware of the limits of her own memory, and they frustrated her beyond expression.
It had to be the priestess. Who else would want to meet Rin? She credited the woman with using a scarf, a clever but ineffectual counterpoise to her own unrecognizability. The woman had finished her drink, and the bartender said something to her. By now the bar was empty except for Rin, and she suspected it was near closing time. The woman shrugged and paid the bill. When she stood, the man smiled. “Maybe next time.”
It had to be her, but Rin could not get a good look at the woman as she left. Why was she being so coy? If the woman had gone to such lengths to find her, why make it difficult? Unless she was running from somebody. Well, Rin would find out soon enough. She had no doubt that this was the author of the message. It had to be her. A regular, once a week, waiting for somebody who never showed.
Nonetheless, Rin decided to be cautious. She didn’t wish to scare off her quarry, even if that quarry desired a meeting. For reasons she could not explain, she felt a sudden sense of urgency. Something made her want to dash out the door after the woman and grab her. Maybe she wouldn’t be back, and Rin never would find her again. She realized that she wasn’t afraid of losing her prey, but of losing contact. Was she lonely? The panic passed, and Rin took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. She had all the time in the world. Her friends weren’t going anywhere, until she put them there. Besides, she didn’t have any.
Rin approached the bartender casually, as if to pay her own bill. He gave her a perfunctory smile before proceeding to wipe the counter. One, two, three … Suddenly he looked up again, his face an odd mixture of confusion and desire. Rin quietly pouted. Three? Three?!? It took him until three to register how beautiful she was? Placing some money on the counter, she smiled at the man.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. Jilted lover?”
The bartender gave a nervous laugh. “Something like that.”
The man had a slightly guarded look, but Rin ascribed it to embarrassment in her presence. He quickly turned to attend to something behind the counter, an obvious effort to hide his awkwardness.
Rin wasn’t satisfied. “Oh, do tell. It sounds like such a romantic story.”
To her astonishment the bartender’s eyes narrowed, as if he had reached a decision about her and it wasn’t a favorable one.
“What’s your interest in her? She never bothers no one.”
Was he involved with the woman? One thing was certain: she must be pretty. As pretty as Rin? A man like this wouldn’t risk putting off a catch, unless he already had a bird in his hand — or thought he did. Rin’s brow furrowed, but not in jealousy. Who did she remember who was as pretty as herself? There were four plausible candidates, plus a few others if the man had eclectic taste.
Rin needed to know more but didn’t want to alarm the bartender. Most important, she didn’t want him to guess she was the one his lady was waiting for. She would be better served having him think ill of her than taking the chance he would run off and alert the woman.
“Pretty woman like that, hiding from someone. I know people who can help.” Rin grinned knowingly. “Depends if she’s proud.”
The bartender looked like he wanted to hit her. Rin realized she had misjudged the depth of his feelings for the woman and was grateful he was too chivalrous to act on them. If there was a fight, it would be difficult to explain how she emerged unscathed. Most likely, she would end up killing the bartender. That could drive away the woman for good. If there was one thing Rin had failed to learn, it was restraint.
To her relief, it did not prove necessary. The man contented himself with a lingering scowl and an ill-fated attempt to stare her down. Rin had gotten what she needed. Next week she would have to wait outside, unless she wished to risk a scene with the bartender. Once they formed an opinion of someone, people like him held by it, were loud in their expression of it, and had long memories. It wouldn’t do for the bartender to see her and raise a ruckus. Better to smooth things over now, in fact.
“I meant no offense. Just thought I could help,” Rin offered.
Before the bartender could respond, she blew him a kiss from the door and disappeared. Whatever thoughts the man had, he did not trouble to articulate them to an empty bar.
Hmm, why do I feel as though Rin may have wandered into a trap? I wish I could read the next section right now. :)