Silence fell as Satine removed the black scarf from her cloak. She retrieved her dagger from the dead man. After wiping it clean, she replaced the blade in its sheath.

She looked calmly across the counter to the proprietor. His mouth was hanging open.

"But…you're a woman!" he breathed.

"So you noticed," she shot back. "Congratulations."

Saying nothing more, she walked toward the front of the shop. First she reached up and drew down the window shades. Then she opened the door and turned its sign around, so that it now read "Closed." After turning the lock she walked back to the counter, placed her palms on it, and looked the sweaty man directly in the eyes.

"Until I leave here and these two bodies have been disposed of, you're closed," she said. "You are the consul named Ivan, I presume? If you aren't, I've just killed two men for nothing."

Slowly regaining his composure, Bratach's consul pointed down at the two corpses. "Why did you do that, you fool?" he asked. "We need no undue attention drawn to this place!"

Satine's eyes hardened. "I kill whom I choose, when I choose," she answered. Then she shrugged. "I wouldn't worry. They don't exactly look like two of Eutracia's finest. Besides, there is an easy way to dispose of this refuse, right in plain sight."

Raising an eyebrow, Ivan nervously ran one finger around the inside of his sweaty shirt collar. "How?"

"You're a consul, are you not?" she asked. "Simply use the craft to scorch their clothing and bodies. Then, under the cover of night, toss them out into the street. Believe me, no one will notice two more out there." Satine crossed her arms over her breasts and looked hard at Ivan.

"Now then," she demanded. "Why am I here?"

"Bratach didn't tell you?" he asked skeptically.

"Not really," she answered. "All he said was that this shop serves as some form of refuge. It's apparent he didn't tell you that I would be a woman, either. He seems to like his little games, doesn't he?"

"Follow me," Ivan said.

He turned and walked toward the back of the shop, where he disappeared around one end of a hanging curtain. With one palm resting lightly upon a dagger hilt, Satine warily followed.

The area behind the curtain was dark and musty. The consul narrowed his eyes as he called on the craft to light an oil lamp sconce on the wall. He lifted the globe free and carried it to a door. Creaking on its hinges, the door opened slowly to reveal a wooden stairway leading downward.

The chamber below was simple and utilitarian. Ancient, multicolored bricks lined the walls. Brightly burning oil sconces illuminated the room. There was another door in the opposite wall. Several beds were stacked on the dirt floor in a far corner. Shelves were piled with dried foodstuffs and containers of water, while another area held a rudimentary wine cellar. A table sat in the center of the room, holding a half-full bottle of red wine, stained glasses, and a scattering of playing cards. The air in the room was fetid and musty.

Putting down the lamp, Ivan beckoned her to sit. Then he poured two glasses of wine. He handed her one.

He raised his glass. "To the successful completion of your sanctions," he toasted. Holding his glass high, he waited for her to drink.

"After you," she said sternly. "I insist."

Ivan smiled. "Bring you all the way here, just to poison you?" he asked. "My, but you are skeptical."

"I'm also still alive."

Smiling again, Ivan took a deep gulp. Finally, Satine followed his lead. To her surprise, the wine was quite good.

"And now to address your questions," Ivan said. Taking a deep breath, he sat back in his chair and rolled his glass back and forth between his hands.

"This room is indeed a sanctuary of sorts," he began. "It is a place where we of the brotherhood loyal to Wulfgar might hide and transfer messages of importance to one another. There is a great deal going on in Eutracia that the wizards of the Redoubt know nothing of." He took another sip of wine.

"There are dozens of these underground sanctuaries scattered across the land," he went on. "Some are in cities, and some are not. They were built more than three centuries ago, during the Sorceresses' War, by slave labor controlled by the Coven of Sorceresses. It is even said that Failee-Wigg's late wife and First Mistress of the Coven-once held a strategic meeting here in this very room, when her forces were close to taking Tammerland.

"We mean to give the wizards yet another war. This time it shall be one that they cannot hide from behind the walls of the palace. The wizards of the Redoubt believe that all of their once-loyal consuls have fled to the Citadel. They couldn't be more wrong."

Satine put down her wine glass and leaned over the table. "Thanks so much for the history lesson," she said. "But I don't give a tinker's damn about your politics. Or who controls the craft, either. All I want is to complete my sanctions and collect my money."

"Understandable," Ivan answered, "given the fact that you possess no endowed blood. If you did, and if you had then been trained in the glory of the Vagaries, such things would mean far more to you."

"So what is this sanctuary to me?"

"Your assignments will most probably take you far afield. In addition, you may eventually be sought by the prince's forces. During that time, you may be forced to go to ground." He removed a folded piece of parchment from his trousers and handed it to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It's a list of both the rural and urban locations of all the other sanctuaries," Ivan said. He took another sip. "Carry it with you at all times. The list is too long to commit to memory. If you are about to be killed or captured, you must do your best to destroy it."

Satine shoved the list into her right boot without looking at it.

"We have also devised a method by which you will know whether a message awaits you, without your having to go inside. Do you remember the 'open' and 'closed' sign that you turned around just a little while ago?"

"Of course," she answered, her curiosity rising.

"Each establishment has two such signs. One printed in red, and one in black. If the sign in red is hanging in the window, then a message awaits you inside. If the sign is in black, then there is no message. Do you understand?"

Satine nodded. "But what about the rural sanctuaries?" she asked. "Surely they aren't shops as well, sitting out in the middle of nowhere?"

"Of course not," Ivan answered. "In most cases they are simple peasants' cottages. If there is a wreath of wildflowers pinned to the front door, there is a message for you inside. A bare door means no message."

"Very well," Satine said. "But I made it very clear to Wulfgar and Serena that I work alone. So what kinds of messages might I need to receive?"

"Information regarding the movements of your various targets," Ivan said. He smiled conspiratorially. "We have someone inside, one who is in a position to know such information and relay it to us."

Looking thoughtfully into her glass, Satine took another sip of wine. She looked back over at Ivan. Before she could speak, he handed her another parchment.

"Your first such message," he said quietly. "I suggest you read it now."

After reading it, she looked back into his eyes. His wicked smile had returned.

"As you can see, we suggest you start out small, so to speak," he said.

For the first time since Satine had come to Tammerland, she smiled, too. "I understand," she said. "But won't this make it more difficult to deal with the other targets later?" she asked. "The ones I am truly being paid for?"

Ivan sat back in his chair and sighed. "Perhaps," he said. "That concerns many of us on this side of the Sea of Whispers. Even so, this is how Wulfgar has ordered it. He wants them all dead, of course. But he wants some to suffer first as they helplessly watch their friends perish." He paused.