He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. "Who are you?" I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. "Vengeance," I say softly.

This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.

Do you need anything before I go? I want you to return my wits, I long to say.

He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out.

So.... You are well equipped for our service.' 'Which is?' 'We kill people.

I pause at the door, wishing I could find a corner and sleep until my head clears, but the sailor said the abbess is expecting me, and while I do not know much about abbesses, I suspect they are not fond of waiting.

I stare at him coldly. "I do not care for needlework." I pause. "Unless it involves the base of the skull.