Chapter 1.
A figure slid through the village like a ghost. Moonlight encrusted the edges of every shape with silver. Stars glittered coldly overhead as the figure slipped into one of the silent houses.
Some kind of criminal had been ravaging the poor of this town for weeks now. People called him the Snake, because he didn't kill outright, but left instead deep puncture wounds over the body. They were easily infected, and to make it worse, a new kind of sickness had found the town as well. The sickness caused the wounds to balloon up, looking red and angry. Attempting to do anything to these welts simply caused them to burst. People were getting sick just from watching.
She was lucky today. Throughout her visits, most of the patients had been uncomfortable, but not so near death that they couldn't be healed. Elders sighed, parents stretched, and children smiled after the cool water banished the marks and eased their pain. Only a few were conscious, and they all muttered about angels.
The Painted Lady came and went as unceremoniously as possible. One could never know what kind of villains snuck through the nights. She couldn't afford to lose precious time for her patients.
It was a few hours before dawn when she healed her last patient. The last thing she wanted to do was start searching for the Snake. But she knew it had to be done. If the Snake could be convinced to stop hurting the poor, perhaps she would be able to take a rest now and then. The Painted Lady crouched into a recess in the alley walls and flattened herself to wait for any news.
She did not have to wait long. A short while after she let out a shrieking, frightened woman's cry into the night, a slight noise tickled her ears. A short, squat man hurried down the alley, his head jerking nervously back and forth. The Painted Lady tensed. An assassin.
The assassin didn't have time to scream as a piece of coarse cloth was stuffed down his throat. Heaving the struggling man to the very back of the alley, the Painted Lady shackled him to the ground and let a dozen or so frozen shards of ice float menacingly in front of his face. Very slowly she removed the gag.
The man seemed to be more intelligent than the usual criminal. "What do you want?" he hissed very quietly, his voice rough with fear. The Painted Lady nodded her approval and let some of the ice shards fall silently to the ground.
"Where can I find the Snake?" A startled yelp escaped the assassin's lips before the Painted Lady clamped her hand down over them.
"Quiet."
Seeming to know he wouldn't be able to escape anyway, the man relaxed and closed his eyes. "You know of the Snake… but no one ever knows about him. How do you know?" The shards moved closer, and the assassin coughed quietly. "Right, the Snake. No one knows where he sleeps or who he is, but after his work he goes to a tavern – The Sleeping Maiden," he amended quickly as his shackles tightened briefly.
The Painted Lady smiled grimly. "His appearance?"
"Ugly. Two knives at his belt. Short, very muscular. Fast hands. He likes to cover his face with paint – kind of like yours, miss."
The ice shards dropped and the shackles melted. Still the assassin did not move. The Painted Lady eyed him critically. "Why are you an assassin?" she asked curiously.
Relieved, the man sat up and crossed his legs into a more comfortable position. "I always had skill with knives. Ma said I would be a great carver someday. That was before this, of course." He pointed at his beer belly. "I got into drinking. I can't stop. Ma threw me out after I had used all our money and cut off my pinkies." He held up his hand, and the Painted Lady realized with a start that he only had four fingers. The man shook his head. "There's not a better way to make criminals, miss. With this hand I cannot carve like I used to. I have nothing to sustain me, no line of work I can pursue," he went on, holding up his hands dejectedly.
The Painted Lady felt sympathy well up in her chest. She knew most people didn't choose to become criminals. They had no other skills, couldn't get into a line of work because of their appearance, or were simply afraid of themselves being mugged. But there were still those who relished their work, and she despised them.
The assassin trembled as she removed his knives and capsules of poison. She pocketed them for later disposal. She couldn't risk them breaking and contaminating the water supply.
"What am I supposed to do now?" whined the man as she turned to leave. The Painted Lady smiled at him bleakly.
"There are centers for people like you; don't you know? Down the street, take a left in front of the warehouses, and follow the line of trees. You can't miss it." She stepped back and allowed the man to scramble away.
Resolutely she left the alley and faced the other direction. The tavern of the Sleeping Maiden it was.