When finally I left Ridia's house, the rain had stopped, and a light grey color announced morning's eventual arrival. I snuck back into the house that Rico and Christen were sleeping in. I lay on the cold floor, threw the blankets over myself. Rico's fire had long gone out, and the air within was icy. I held the blanket over my mouth and nose, trying to keep the air warm. After laying on the floor for only a few moments, I fell asleep.

As I dreamed, I felt the icy pendant against my chest, like a link to the physical world. I stood in the middle of a endless lake, upon the water which was still and dark as glass. It reflected the stars, and the moon above me, but I was not caught in the reflection.

I woke suddenly. I sat up and rubbed my arms trying to warm them up. Christen and Rico seemed to have already left the house for the day, perhaps off to find some food. The remains of a fresh morning fire smoldered in the fire pit. However, it seemed that the flames had been overcome by the cold. Though there was a wooden panel in our own windows, the curtains were still with frost, and when I picked up my empty flask, it was cold to the touch and covered with a fine layer of frost.

“Fine morning.” I muttered. I pulled my cloak off the floor and shook the ice out of it. How could it be so cold inside? I draped the cloak over my shoulders, pulled on my gloves, and wandered out of the house with a newly filled flask of liquor, and a few coins hidden away. It was my intent to find someone willing to sell some wine. Outside, the air was cold, but it didn't seem half as cold as it was inside. Perhaps that was because though the sun was half-hidden by a thin blanket of clouds, some sunlight did reach the earth.

I rubbed my gloved hands together. Where were Christen and Rico?

Then, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A flicker, perhaps the end of a cloak. I looked around the house that I had seen the flicker disappear around, and peered down the alley. The old man stood at the end of the alley. He beckoned with his hand, and then disappeared amid more houses.

What did he want. I was cold and hungry, I didn't have the time to deal with him. I had sleapt most of my last day away here.

I walked down the alley, and looked down where he and fled. There was another alley, leading out into one of the few, what one might call, main roads in the village. Had he wandered out there?

I walked down the alley. The grass crunched under my feet, either dead from lack of sunlight, or frozen. I looked about, and saw a door leading into a house open off to the side. within, I saw a flickering candlelight.

Silently, I walked to the door. I set my hand on it, and pushed it open. A gnarled old claw-like hand grabbed my wrist. I allowed myself to be pulled into the house, but as soon as I was, I pulled my hand away from my captor, and pulled out my dagger.

“No need for that, assassin, just wanted to talk to you for a moment. Concerning your job.”

The old man set the candle down on a table. I was in a house just like Ridia's, only it was much darker, with the windows boarded up even during the day. On the table lay only the one lit candle, much of the rest of the room was hidden in darkness.

“I had heard that you went to visit Lady Ridia last night.”

“Perhaps.” I muttered. Of course, it would be easy for him to have a spy watching me, .

“From what I had been told...” The old man said, “You went in, and left near sunrise. However, Lady Ridia is not dead. Why is that? Did I not pay you enough?”

“No, your payment was ample. The opportunity was not... Right.”

“I had heard that there was the sound of much chattering coming from her house last night.”

“Information gathering. She knows much that I could use.”

The old man shook his head slowly. “I wonder if perhaps you are not right for the job. Clearly you and Lady Ridia know each other-”

A sudden jolt ran through my stomach. He was considering canceling the job! Such things had happened before, of course, but mostly because the situation had changed regarding the one to be killed, or even the employer had second thoughts. No one had ever doubted my ability to take a life.

If I was paid, I did the job,

“- I am disappointed though. I had heard from the stories that you were heartless, that you could, that you would take the life of anyone presented to you, for a fee of course... I suppose the stories are-”

“You give me the job, and scarcely give me time to do it.” I snapped. “Give me time.”

“How much!? I'm an old man, and I-”

“I will be leaving in the morning,” I said, I turned my back on him, and walked to the door, “That is all the time I will need; the job will be done by then

***

I stood before the plain wooden door of Ridia's house very quietly. I almost expected to see Christen or Rico come from around the scattered collection of houses and pull me back to the caravan. I had not seen them all day, and after my last encounter with the old man, I scarcely desired to seek out their company. I spent most of the day sharpening my dagger and drinking wine.

I knocked on the door. A moment passed when I thought that perhaps Ridia wasn't there. I hadn't bothered to check the windows, maybe she had heard of the plot to kill her. Of course, I was the perfect person to kill her. I was a man who she once, and perhaps still did love. Even with her powers, she would let me get close to her. It would be only too easy to slide a dagger between her slender ribs.

The door opened a crack. Through the dull light of the cloud covered moon, I saw her face peer out.

There was silence between us.

“Why did you come again?” She asked. He voice sounded uneven, unsteady.

“You sound like you didn't expect me,” I said, “Or that you didn't want me to come.”

She opened the door enough for me to enter her house. The house was dark, and the blankets on the bed were half off. I glanced at Ridia, and noticed that the gown she was wearing had been quickly pulled on. judging from the wrinkles. I suppose I had woken her up.

“I still have some tea-” Ridia said slowly, “Though the fire is out, and it would take a while for me to rekindle it...”

I couldn't listen to her. Every word she spoke, even the simplest words reminded me that the woman I was to kill was Ridia. My Ridia. Mind you, I had killed Cara well enough, had I not? And wasn't I even closer to her when I slew her than I was to Ridia now?

Ah, but that was different. I hadn't thought about killing her, I hadn't known it was Cara until it was too late.

“I know you drink a lot-” Ridia said, “I have some old wine I bought from someone earlier. It's not great, or if you wanted to eat something, I have some bread. It's stale though... but you never minded that before...” she walked to the table, where a decanter sat. She stood silent, unmoving, starring at the wooden table before her.

Her back was turned to me, it could have been so easy, she was so unprepared, so unprotected. I could almost have called her naive.

“I won't let you leave again... Not like you did the last time.”

Her comment caught me off guard and pulled me out of my musings.

“What do you mean.”

“Just what I said, I won't let you leave again.”

My mouth was faster than my mind, “I didn't want to.” I said.

“I know!” Ridia cried. She took several calming breaths. The dull light that lit up the small house from the moon outside showed a glittering bead fall from her face and onto the table. She was crying. “I know that... I know that..” She finally said, “It's for all the reasons you told me. It's too dangerous, you're too dangerous, I would have... I could have-”

“Died.” I said.

Ridia clutched at the table as though to keep herself from falling. “I didn't care. Did you think I cared!? I would have gone with you to visit death with a smile on my face...”

Many long moments passed, silent moments inched their way through time.

“You're back.” She finally said. “And I won't lose you again... If you must leave, and I know that you likely will... I can accept that, but not without a word. Not without a goodbye, not without... Not without hearing you say my name just once more, not without having you hold me again...”

The clouds passed, and the bright moonlight poured through the crack in the curtains of the open window. A cold wind ran through the house, pulling at the hems of the gown Ridia wore.

“Say something.” she said.

I clenched my fists. With nothing but pure determination in my mind, coursing through my veins, I walked quickly to her and puller her to the bed where the moonlight rested. I pressed my hand to her chest and sat over her. A dull, dead ember in her eyes sparked and a flame gave dying life back to her eyes. For a moment, it may have been as thought she hadn't aged at all, as though I hadn't aged, as though everything between the last time we lay together and now was nothing but a nightmare.

Then I drew my dagger, and killed the moment.

Ridia saw the dagger, glittering like ice in the cold moonlight, and the fire died in her eyes. Her breaths came out long and shuddering from her now pale lips.

“I knew this would happen.” I whispered, my own voice shaking. “I knew!” I adjusted my grip on my dagger. “I might have been paid to do this. I might have seen you taken, tortured and killed just so someone could draw me out! You should have ignored me when you saw me. You should have let me deal with the mob, then I would have left. You should never have thought about me again after I left. Damnit!” I clutched the dagger, “I told you! I warned you! 'You will die if you stay with me- and I might be the one to kill you!'”

The room was suddenly far more silent than it ever had been. The last syllables which had escaped my lips echoed in my ears.

“If I could have spent a few more years with you... Months... Even days... It would have been worth it if I could have spent them with you.”

“Even if I was the one who killed you? Even if the last face you saw was my own cold-”

“Your face was never cold, Stiri, never to me...” She drew in another breath, carefully, savoring the taste of it. She knew she had few left. “I would have been especially happy if it was your face that was the last face I ever saw before I died.”

“And why-” I said, my voice shuddering, “Did you think I wanted to kill you!? I loved you!”

I plunged the dagger down.

I got to my feet, leaving the dagger where it lay. I snatched the decanter off the table and staggered out the door, leaving Ridia, staring at the glittering dagger sunk deep into her straw mattress next to her.

***

The next morning there was a knock on the door of the caravan. It woke me from a deep, alcohol induced sleep. My head was heavy and dizzy, my mouth tasted like death. I sat up, and scraped the gunk from my lips, then cleared my throat with a large drink of wine.

There was another knock on the door.

I cursed under my breath. “Wait.” I said. I got up and started to pull on my tunic. It was likely the old man out there, banging on my door to know why I hadn't kill Ridia yet.

No, I hadn't killed Ridia. I could have. I was in the position to, and I almost did. But I didn't. Ridia was still alive. Now what would I do.

Dressed, I stumbled to the door, and pushed it open. It wasn't the old man waiting there, but Christen, holding a small bundle in her hands.

“What?” I snapped. My head was spinning, and I could have used more sleep.

“You said we could leave today.” Christen said, “And we had better. Some old man gave me this to give you.” She held out the small bundle. I took it, and peeked inside.

Inside was a large amount of silver, and on top of that, my dagger, stained in blood.

“Where did this come from?” I asked.

“Were you so drunk last night that you don't remember?” Christen snapped, “Someone went to check on Lady Ridia only an hour ago, I think it was the old man, or one of his friends. They found Lady Ridia, laying dead on her bed, your dagger stuck through her stomach.

I dropped the bag. My dagger fell to the wooden floor of the caravan, tinkling with the sounds of silver falling against it.

Christen sighed and knelt over, picking up the coins. After a moment, I picked up the dagger. Slowly and diligently, I worked at cleaning the blood off the dagger and onto my cloak.

Either she had killed herself, or someone else had killed her. Someone else would have used their own dagger. The chances that someone else would have done it, with my dagger, on the same night as I had tried, and then didn't take the credit and the silver for having done it.

No, she had killed herself. And I didn't know why.

“Come on, you've killed her, can we go now?” Christen said as she passed the bag once more filled with silver up to me.

“I didn't...” I said, but tapered off.

“Didn't what?”

“Nothing” I said. I sheathed my dagger. “Nothing. Lets get out of here.”