Chapter 4
Chapter four
After a quick shower, Hallie came back down the shallow stairs wearing a pair of the soft slippers that most of the women wore all day around the city, wide-legged navy trousers, and a hip-length white tunic top with a single pocket at the front.
The clothes, like the ones she’d worn earlier, were of better quality than she was used to, but when Hallie had been assigned to travel to the Lucien Islands and beyond, Cotovatre had insisted on gifting Hallie some clothing that the lady claimed she no longer wore.
Hallie hadn’t been able to find a gracious way to refuse, and had been deeply grateful for her ancestor’s kindness over the past weeks.
The extra clothes had allowed Hallie to blend in and move more comfortably in the stifling heat.
Although she was dressed in soft house clothes, Hallie had hesitated in her room before reluctantly adding a belt under the tunic to carry her flexi-cuffs and the weapon she’d been issued.
Kasmo and Oreste would have kept an eye on Manju and would have reported any escape attempts.
As no alarms had been raised, Hallie assumed Manju was content to stay here for the moment and didn’t think he was going to require restraints again.
But she was still working and she was trying to get used to carrying the weapon.
She’d moved the holster and cuffs to the small of her back for comfort and ease of movement.
She supposed she should find it strange that she was far more uncomfortable carrying a weapon than the magical artefact currently tucked into one of the trouser pockets.
The zauber looked like a jewelled egg but was an ancient and complex work of magic that had chosen Hallie as its bearer.
Despite having no voice or face to express itself, the artefact had made known that it did not like being left behind and so Hallie had taken to carrying it at all times, and it had simply become part of her wardrobe, unlike the gun.
Girard carried his weapon with the same natural ease that she wore her normal work clothes, and one day, perhaps, she’d get to that point.
For now, though, she was aware of the weight of the gun as she reached the ground floor.
Kasmo stepped out of the shadows and put her hand on her heart. Hallie had given up trying to reassure the young woman that no such courtesy was needed.
“Oreste has shown your guest to the dining room. Food will be served shortly,” the woman said.
“Thank you,” Hallie said and headed for the dining room, aware of the sound of her feet against the tiled floor even as Kasmo drifted away in silence.
Hallie always felt large and clumsy next to the slender, delicate woman.
It was not Kasmo’s fault, but Hallie had wondered once or twice if the other woman might give her lessons in how to move so gracefully and silently.
She paused in the doorway to the dining room, realising that Oreste hadn’t just shown Manju into the room but had stayed with him, perhaps to make sure their guest didn’t make a run for it.
The dining room was Hallie’s favourite of the house.
It was a large rectangle, with a low, highly polished wooden table in the middle surrounded by floor cushions.
The walls were painted with fantastical murals of plants and birds in vivid colours so that after dark it felt like sitting in the midst of an exotic zoo.
The whole effect was enhanced by the small water feature at one end of the room and the air that was scented with tantalising trails of Kasmo’s cooking that had made their way through the house.
In what Hallie still thought of as an odd choice, the doors to the room were set at either end of the long wall, but it did mean that no one sitting at the table had to have their back to a doorway.
Manju, dressed in the same clothes as he’d been wearing earlier, was standing by the table. Oreste was a few paces away, watching Manju closely.
“Dear lady, you look delightful this evening,” Manju said, putting his hand on his heart and bowing slightly.
“Thank you,” Hallie said. She was never quite sure what to say when people paid her compliments. She looked at Oreste, trying to think of a polite way to dismiss him. “Thank you, Oreste.”
“Of course,” he answered, and left the room on silent feet. Perhaps he and Kasmo had had the same training in how to move soundlessly.
“Please sit. We’ll be eating soon,” Hallie said, and took a place on the closest side of the table, which meant Manju would need to sit on the other side, farthest from the doors.
He took his place without complaint, settling on the heavy floor cushions and looking around with a smile. “This is a truly beautiful home.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Hallie agreed. She gestured to the pitchers of fruit juice and water already on the table. “Please, help yourself.”
“No wine?” Manju asked, mischief back in his face.
It was a trick question, Hallie knew. Almost no one in Minamaan drank alcohol. It seemed both a religion and a custom.
She was spared the need to respond by Girard’s arrival.
He looked much better. There was still a bruise and some swelling on his head, but there was more colour back in his face.
He’d also changed out of his blood-stained clothes into wide-legged dark trousers and one of his normal t-shirts.
Hallie spotted his own gun and flexi-cuffs at his belt as he settled on the cushions near her and was glad she’d thought to bring her own. It was clearly a work event.
No sooner had Girard taken his place than both Kasmo and Oreste came into the room carrying trays of food. The smoky scents curled into Hallie’s nose and her stomach growled. It didn’t seem all that long since she’d had the snacks Kasmo had prepared earlier and yet she was starving again.
“Grilled vegetable skewers, with spiced lamb and fragrant couscous,” Kasmo said, as she and Oreste added the bowls to the table. “A simple meal, but I hope you enjoy it.” Kasmo seemed unwontedly humble about her cooking. She presented most meals with the description of them being simple.
“It smells wonderful, thank you,” Hallie said. Manju and Girard echoed her comments and Kasmo and Oreste left the room, closing the doors behind them.
With the trickle of water as an accompaniment, Hallie tucked into the food on offer, adding a little bit of each dish to her plate from the common bowls. She liked this way of serving a meal. It felt relaxed, somehow.
“This truly is remarkable,” Manju said, closing his eyes as he took the first bite of food. “A gifted cook is worth his or her weight in gold.”
“I agree,” Girard said.
“My best friend is a very gifted cook as well,” Hallie said, deciding the keep the conversation light to start with. “So I have been very spoiled.”
“But no, good food is never something to feel spoiled about. Only to be savoured,” Manju said.
The sincerity in his words took Hallie by surprise. She was used to his act of being a charming rogue, and the mischief that seemed second nature. The quiet truth was startling. And made her like him more.
“We were on the Lucien Islands a few days ago,” Girard commented, as if he, too, had decided to keep the conversation light. “We had some amazing grilled fish.”
“Oh, the islands,” Manju said, as if remembering a particularly wonderful time. “Yes, their seafood is extraordinary. Did you try the tentacled squid?”
“No, I did not,” Hallie said, trying not to flinch.
She hadn’t hidden her revulsion well enough. Manju laughed. But it wasn’t a mocking sound, more a rich tone that invited her to join in. “An acquired taste, I grant you. But, deep fried, with just a squeeze of lemon? Perfect.”
“I am finding that I don’t like my food to be able to look at me. Or seem like it might try and strangle me,” Hallie said, and drew another laugh from Manju.
“Something we share,” Girard added, smiling.
Of course, Manju took that as an invitation to begin to describe some of the worst things he’d ever eaten. Rather than finding it revolting, Hallie found herself charmed again, and laughed, along with Girard.
She was almost bent double with laughter at Manju’s description of a snake dish he’d been served somewhere in the desert when the zauber at her hip flared a warning.
Not a moment too soon. As she straightened, laughter dying, the door at one end of the room opened and a shadow appeared.
Hallie opened her mouth to cry a warning. Too late. There was a dull cough and Manju crumpled sideways, eyes open and unseeing, a small, dark hole in the centre of his forehead which had not been there before.
Hallie moved, scrambling to her feet, Girard with her, fumbling at her back to reach for the gun.
Girard was quicker. He fired. Three shots in quick succession, past Hallie’s shoulder. The bullets hit the door jamb as the shadow ducked out into the corridor. He ran, Hallie close on his heels.
The shadow hadn’t gone far. There was another soft cough and Girard whirled, bringing his gun up and firing again, blood blooming on his t-shirt. He slumped against the door jamb, the hand that was holding the gun trembling.
Heart thudding, mouth dry, Hallie pressed herself against the wall just inside the door, gun held in both hands, and watched as Girard slid to the floor.
He was still breathing, but the blood was spreading.
Hallie clamped her jaw shut against a useless cry of alarm or worry.
She wanted to go to him, make sure he would be alright, but dare not move.
The gunman was still loose and could kill both of them before Hallie made it to Girard’s side.
Where is he? - Hallie asked the zauber.