The Rightful Eleanor Garsenda

“So, how did you come to understand our language?”

“Understand? Well, yes, I comprehend. But it is an aspect unique to me.”

“You’re saying we’re stuck with you.”

“I wouldn’t describe it as such, but yes. I highly doubt you will find another mage or person with my talents.”

“That settles it, then.”

Dave kicked the knife away from the rogue undergoing rigor mortis.

“So what are we going to do with the bodies?”

In the alleyway, the odd trio gathered around the aftermath of the battle. Dave had seen his fair share of endings, with parts of the end credits scattered all around or tangled in wire. Those damn stretcher boys. Poor bastards.

“Can we hail the guards?” Watermann asked. “It was self defense. You ran away, we put down our arms first.”

“Witnesses?” Eleanor asked.

“Us two, and if you would be so kind.”

The mage girl stared at the state of the corpses.

“You’re not even selling me on that story…”

Dave sighed. He took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair, wiping away the sweat from his brow. “At least back then, we could let the rats or buzzards pick them clean. No wheelbarrow, no potato sack… how did you even get involved with these guys?”

“I was in over my head,” Eleanor sheepishly replied. “My wand broke, and I needed money for a staff. No one wanted to loan out that sum, especially to a woman of my stature. And I really, really tried!”

“Understandable. I wouldn’t loan to a little girl either. And if I did, I wouldn’t expect my money back.”

Eleanor pouted at his continued insistence on her youth, but continued.

“But all the contracts dried up, and then they tried to…”

“These must be sicarios then…”

“Sicario? What’s that?”

“A term from another country. Means contract killer.”

“But we need to dispose of these men. And if the slavers are part of an organization, we might need to leave the city.”

“Or strike first.”

Watermann looked on hesitantly. “Lieutenant, can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Make it quick. We need to figure out something here.”

“Right.”

They huddled close to each other.

“Are you out of your mind? What happened to being cautious? I didn’t sign up to murder people we don’t know on behalf of a little girl that we barely know! If your theory holds up, then we need to leave. Now.”

“I know. But do we have any other choice?” Dave whispered back. “This is our only link to a world completely different from ours. I’m not letting her go that easily, especially after what she did to me.”

“Exactly! That’s why we should leave and find someone else to get rid of her mafia problem. Am I going mad? A mafia! Do you see what they do in the cities of the New World? That’s what you want to fight?! Some organization you’re comparing to the ruthless cutthroats of our world?”

“Mafia?” Eleanor's interest piqued. “What does that mean?”

“Means nothing!” Dave shouted, hushing his voice further.

“Bollocks it means nothing!”

“She was going to be enslaved! Who knows how many people didn’t have her means?”

“You’re a good officer, Parker, but no hero of antiquity. Especially not me!”

“Fine. Look—first, let’s deal with the bodies, then we figure out what to do next.”

“Right.”

They broke up and looked over the scene of their doing and cringed. Being fresh, they still had some semblance of life in them that made the spilled organs and glassy eyes hard to look at. Eleanor approached first, frisking each man and looting them of their possessions.

“No point in these where they’re going.”

She looted a purse with a sum good for a day, their instructions, and a folded piece of paper fringed with blood.

“Instructions,” she read. “There’s a small list of three locations and streets.”

“Hmm,” Dave thought. “Probably safe houses or sheds for goods. Very organized.”

“I’ve found an assortment of golden klerks and bronzes. A good amount split amongst us.”

“You think that’s a good idea? What if they dust for prints?” Watermann asked.

“Prints?”

“Ah, I should have guessed…”

“Better for us,” Dave pivoted. “Eleanor, do you have one of those purses?”

“Yes, here.”

She handed him the purse, and he emptied the contents, giving back the money except for a lump sum of coinage. The lieutenant eyed a specimen.

“Looks like a goddamn guinea…”

He clasped his palm before casting the coins across the floor and tearing the purse open.

“Not very believable, but it should be able to buy us some time.”

The mage girl perked up. “If the guards don’t get here, then the disposal expert will. If it’s a mere confrontation between thugs, then he’ll throw out the bodies so miasmas won’t fester.”

She nodded. “Very clever, I must admit.”

“Nothing clever about murder,” Watermann muttered. He silently prayed over the men, knowing they were sinners and of the evil kind, taken in by temptation to do the devil’s work. A tragedy on all fronts.

Don’t act so sentimental now—was what Dave wanted to say, but he kept his peace.

The rickety sound of a wheelbarrow started in the distance. No time. The trio scanned the area for cover and found it in a little inlet where the walls stopped. They moved the most mutilated bodies there and left the rest to stink up. Full of bile in their throats and retching from the flies, the soldiers made quick work. Eleanor stuck her nose up as she made the final cosmetic “adjustments” to sell the new reality.

“Pater noster qui es in caelis… God forgive me—hrk!” Watermann threw up a little in his mouth.

Eleanor heard the oncoming wheels that rocked along the stones grow into a looming shadow.

“He’s here!” she whispered.

“Right!” Dave corralled the two onto the other side of the alley. “Walk. Don’t run. Make yourselves at peace.”

And so they left, entering the street, leaving behind the scene of murky defense to the whims of the man who stopped his cart at the foot of the corpses. A merchant, his goods weighed heavily in his cart, and the man studied their faces intensely. The corner of his lips lifted a bit before falling, as his eyelids retracted from their shocked expression.

“Good riddance,” he whispered. Nobody had to know. Not even he, as the cart continued carrying goods down the way undisturbed and unmolested for the first time.