As satine guided her black gelding through the by-ways of Tammerland, she took in the sights and sounds of the human suffering that seemed to fill the streets. She was not surprised by what she saw, because Bratach had explained both the condition of the orb, and its expected effect. Following a discreet distance behind the carriage-of-four that the consul had hired, she quickly realized that even his detailed description had not done the situation justice.

It was afternoon in Tammerland. The gray sky threatened heavy rain at any moment. Pre-storm winds rose occasionally, picking up litter from the streets, where grim groups of citizens served in makeshift burial details, pushing wheelbarrows or pulling handcarts piled high with corpses. Arms, legs, and heads hung over the carts' lips; the lifeless eyes stared out into space, giving the unnerving impression that they could still see.

Pulling her horse to a stop for a moment, Satine reached into her cloak and removed a black silk scarf. Hoping to keep the stench of death from her nostrils, she tied it around the lower part of her face. She clucked to her horse and they began moving again.

She hadn't wanted to come into Tammerland this soon. Too many people knew her here. She had hoped that this visit could wait until later, after she had drawn out her primary targets. Then she could finish her sanctions quickly and retire. But Bratach wanted to be sure that she was familiar with the address he had given her, the place he referred to as his sanctuary on this side of the Sea of Whispers. She would soon have need of it, he told her.

Narrowing her eyes slightly, she realized that she still didn't know what he had meant by that.

She remained in awe of the technique the consul had employed to slip them safely past the prince's fleet. Bratach had finally ordered the frigate anchored just off the Cavalon Delta. After augmenting his spell to keep the ship invisible in his absence, Bratach had ushered Satine and a group of armed demonslavers into a skiff, in which they had made their way up the Sippora River to the very outskirts of Tammerland proper. Only then had Bratach caused himself and Satine to become visible again. The skiff and her demonslavers had departed, heading back to the frigate waiting offshore.

Bratach's carriage stopped. Satine knew Tammerland well, for she had been raised there. But the city held bad memories, and the sooner she was gone, the better. She had two errands to perform, and then her mission could begin.

Looking around to orient herself, she found that they were on Tamarac Boulevard, one of the main thoroughfares that led to Bargainer's Square. The address she needed was just across the street.

Just as Bratach had told her, number Twenty-Seven Tamarac Boulevard seemed to be an archery shop. The sign dangling above its doors was carved with the image of a single arrow. It truly was a working place of business. But according to Bratach, the shop had a good deal more to offer her.

Without comment from its passenger, Bratach's carriage moved away. He had told her that they should never be seen together, other than in the confines of the shop. Should she need him, she could arrange to meet him through its auspices. In truth, she was glad to be rid of him. He was, she thought, little more than Wulfgar's endowed errand boy, and she disliked being told what to do by anyone, especially a subordinate. One corner of her mouth came up. Even if he can make ships disappear, she thought.

Glancing up and down the boulevard, she saw no one familiar. Keeping to the opposite side of the street, she dismounted and tied the gelding to a nearby rail.

She stepped onto the sidewalk, leaned up against an oil lamp pole, and cast her gaze across the street. There was no way to discern whether there were any customers inside the shop, so now seemed as good a time as any.

Slipping her hands beneath her cloak, she found the handles of her four daggers and gave them each a tug, loosening them in their sheaths.

She pushed off from the pole, removed the scarf from her face, and walked warily across the street. As she entered the shop, the little bell at the top of the door cheerfully announced her presence.

The place was spacious and airy, belying the impression of shoddiness it gave from the street. All manner of archery equipment-some quite finely crafted, even by Satine's high professional standards-lined the walls and littered the various tables. While looking over the goods with an expert eye, she surreptitiously studied the other end of the shop.

A man Satine took as the proprietor stood at the far end, behind a long wooden counter. Two patrons stood there, loudly arguing with him over the price of a dozen arrows. They were impoverished, greasy-looking men, and their manners matched their appearance. The proprietor was a short, balding man. Red garters held up the sleeves of his sweat-stained shirt. He was doing his best to keep control of the situation, but the rowdy customers were becoming ruder and more threatening with every passing second. Their speech was slurred; Satine guessed that they had been drinking.

Grabbing up a longbow from a nearby wall, Satine strode purposefully to the counter. As she approached, one of the men leered at her. Several of his teeth were missing, and she could smell the ale on his breath. Ignoring him, Satine held up the longbow.

"How much?" she asked.

"Wha-what?" the owner asked, as he turned away from the two men. He gave Satine an angry look, as though she were a nuisance rather than a paying customer.

This was getting her nowhere. It was time to let him know who she really was. Holding the bow higher, she pointed to its string.

"Is this catgut, or something else?" she asked. "I understand catgut is hard to come by these days."

As expected, she watched a surprised look come over the man's face.

"It's catgut," he answered. "Makes for the best strings, you know."

"So I've been told," she said. His coded reply had been exactly what Bratach had told her to expect. Now the only obstacles were the two miscreants standing by her side.

She placed the bow down on the countertop and slipped her hands beneath her cloak. As she did so, she sized up the situation. The man standing nearest her would have to be dealt with first. The other was a short distance down the length of the counter.

She usually only killed for money, but this was different. Not only had they both seen her here, they were unnecessary distractions. Her sanctions had to be protected, and these men were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. One corner of her mouth came up. This would be so easy that it almost wasn't worth doing.

The nearest man turned to look at her. His angry eyes were bloodshot.

"Someone ought to teach you some manners," he snarled. Still refusing to look at him, she remained motionless. When she didn't reply, his hand started moving toward her.

When his hand was close enough, with a single, smooth move Satine turned on one heel, grasped his hand in midair, and then turned it over. She heard the bones crack.

Then she grabbed one of her daggers and plunged the blade directly into his body. With a quick, upward thrust, she sliced him open from his groin to his breast. When she felt the knife strike bone she stopped, twisted the blade upward, and thrust its point into his heart. As he collapsed, she pushed him away with the sole of one boot.

The other one was coming for her. She raised the bloody dagger over her head and let it fly. It twirled end over end twice, and then buried itself into the man's throat. As the blood burbled from his mouth, he tried to reach out to her. Then the light went out of his eyes, and he collapsed facedown onto the floor.