Careless self-defence leading to the death of an innocent had been the charge. Four hundred docks, halved. Normally, Shurq could have paid the fine and that would have been that. Alas, her argument with the landlord had been over a certain hoard of gold that had inexplicably vanished from Shurq’s cache. Without a dock to her name, she had been marched down to the canal.
Even then, she was a fit woman. Two hundred docks were probably manageable – had not the retrieval rope snagged on the spines of a forty-stone lupe-fish that had surfaced for a look at the swimmer, only to dive back down to the bottom, taking Shurq with it.
Lupe fish, while rare in the canal, ate only men. Never women. No-one knew why this was the case.
Shurq Elalle drowned.
But, as it turned out, there was dead and then there was dead. Unbeknownst to her, Shurq had been cursed by one of her past victims. A curse fully paid for and sanctified by the Empty Temple. So, though her lungs filled with foul water, though her heart stopped, as did all other discernible functions of the body and mind, there she stood when finally retrieved from the canal, sheathed in mud, eyes dull and the whites browned by burst vessels and lifeless blood, all in all most miserable and sadly bemused.
Even the lawless and the homeless shunned her thereafter. All the living, in fact. Walking past as if she was in truth a ghost, a dead memory.
Her flesh did not decay, although its pallor was noticeably unhealthy. Nor were her reactions and deft abilities in any way diminished. She could speak. See. Hear. Think. None of which improved her mood, much.
Bugg found her where Tehol had said she’d be found. In an alley behind a bordello. Listening, as she did every night, to the moans of pleasure – real and improvised – issuing from the windows above.
‘Shurq Elalle.’
Listless, murky eyes fixed on him. ‘I give no pleasure,’ she said.
‘Alas, neither do I, these days. I am here to deliver to you an indefinite contract from my master.’
‘And who would that be?’
‘Not yet, I’m afraid. Thieving work, Shurq.’
‘What need have I for riches?’
‘Well, that would depend on their substance, I’d imagine.’
She stepped out from the shadowed alcove where she’d been standing. ‘And what does your master imagine I desire?’
‘Negotiable.’
‘Does he know I’m dead?’
‘Of course. And sends his regrets.’
‘Does he?’
‘No, I made that up.’
‘No-one hires me any more.’
‘That is why he knew you would be available.’