The Thoughtful Blade

          Two men walked down a cobbled street. One walked with the confident steps of a man running a familiar errand. The other trailed half a step, unsure of his surroundings in the purples and grays of a moonlit city at night. He was bald and, despite the night chill, sweated visibly. They skirted around a stilted lamplighter at work, giving him and his line of flickering orange a wide berth. The bald man was vaguely aware of a shape growing against the night sky.

He said, “That’s the old cathedral?”

The other replied, “That’s right.”

The bald man said “It looks bigger up close.”

The man smirked at this. He said, “They usually do.”

          The shape became a spire as they neared, and the bald man felt stone eyes gazing down from the buttresses lining its sides. They climbed a few wide steps. The bald man noted a large archway with a wooden gate, but the man motioned otherwise and led him around to a smaller side door.

             A short dark corridor opened up to a main floor mazed by book cases. Moonlight glinted off the dust floating between the high shelves. His guide navigated to where the altar should have been. Instead, there was a desk with a lit candle illuminating an orange face. The face set down an ink pen and looked at the two men.

“This is an odd time to search for books.” The face said.

“Yes, but my need is great tonight,” the bald man said.

“It must be.” The face said. His gaze shifted to the other man. “Thank you, Rhys, wait in the back until we are done.”

“Yes, Mister Auxilatrix.” Rhys replied. He nodded a farewell to the bald man and slid away from the candle light.

The face said, “Now, Mister Covington, what can I do for you?”

Covington peered around suspiciously. He said “Is it safe to speak in the open like this?”

“We aren’t in the open, and it is safe.”

Covington related his needs quickly, to the point, and with a guarded passion. Auxilatrix took a moment to measure the situation, then made an offer. Covington sighed, accepted.

“I know you have an impressive stable, Mister Auxilatrix. Thank you.” Covington said.

Auxilatrix’s eyes flashed in the candlelight.

“It will be done tonight. And don’t thank me. This is a transaction. A heavy contract.” he said.

Auxilatrix went back to his writing. He spoke loudly. “Rhys? Mister Covington is ready to go.”

Rhys appeared, patted Covington on the shoulder, and led him away. Auxilatrix continued to scribble until he heard the door groan shut behind Covington and Rhys. He set his pen down.

“You know the location?” Auxilatrix said to the darkness.

“Yes.”

A man stepped to the edge of the candlelight.

“Are you prepared?” Auxilatrix said.

“As much as time permits.”

“Forgive me, Russell. I know this is a rush job, but I would not have asked it of you if I didn’t think you could handle it,” Auxilatrix said.

“No need to flatter, sir,” Russell said.

“I wouldn’t flatter you, Scarborough. Simply a fact,” Auxilatrix replied.

“Yes, sir.  I had better be off, sir. Our window is closing,” Russell said.

Auxilatrix picked up his pen and began writing again.

“Yes, you had better.”

Russell Scarborough stepped from view.

“Oh and Scar?” Auxilatrix paused to address the stillness, “be careful.”

Auxilatrix listened for the door as Scarborough left, and then began writing again.

He never heard Scar leave before, why should this time be any different?