Flavio was an expert in mutilating corpses. It was his only magical power. He knew he was lucky to have any magic at all, but he was sure it was the most useless power in the kingdom of Koranth. There was really only one job for a man with such a power. Flavio was, naturally, an assassin.
Sweating into his tunic, Flavio hauled the old woman’s corpse up a circular tower staircase. He asked himself again why he killed people for a living. The money was decent, but it was difficult work, and splitting his fee with his victims cut deeply into his profits.
He stopped on a narrow landing, heart pounding, and vowed that he would exercise more and drink less. Sea breeze blew in through a castle window, and he stuck his sweaty face into it. Outside, it was a cool night, and stars glittered in the sky above the city of Obrechio and the seaside cliffs below.
“Hurry up,” Ada, his partner, said from several steps above. “If you keep going at this pace, it’ll be dawn by the time we escape.”
“Would you like to carry the dead body?” His voice echoed in the stairwell, louder than was prudent. She shushed him, but her steps pounded on the stone as she stomped up.
Fifteen minutes later, they opened the door to the tower chamber, and Ada shone a lantern around the dark room. A large bed stood on one side, covered in red brocade curtains, and a massive oak wardrobe stood beside it. The nearly full moon shone through a large open window, casting the room in a silvery gray light.
“Who’s there?” a feminine voice called from the bed. “Emily, is that you?”
“Lady Piera,” Ada said. “You need to come with us. Your life is in danger.” Ada set the lantern on a desk and opened the wardrobe doors, looking for traveling clothes for the woman.
“What are you saying?” Lady Piera climbed out of bed. “Begone at once, or I will call my husband, and he will dispatch you.” She folded her thin arms over her white nightgown as a gust of sea breeze blew pale blonde hair across her face.
“Your husband’s the one who hired us to kill you,” Flavio said.
“You’re going to kill me?”
“We’re going to stage your death and take you away from here.” Ada pulled a plain black dress from the wardrobe and handed it to Lady Piera. The woman took the dress, but stared at them, mouth agape.
“Why do you have a corpse?” The lady held the dress limply, her bottom lip quivering.
“I’m going to disguise it to make it look like you,” Flavio explained. “This way, your husband will think you’re dead.”
“Why not just kill me? Wives are killed every day.”
She wasn’t wrong. Flavio was only hired by the husbands who were too lazy or rich to kill their unwanted wives themselves. No one much looked into the murders, unless the case was particularly gratuitous, or the wife’s family was wealthy and actually cared what happened to their female offspring.
“Because we don’t kill women,” said Flavio. He did occasionally kill men and women who were trying to kill him, though. He wasn’t a fool.
Bending over the corpse, he held his hands over the dead woman’s elderly face. Under his splayed fingers, her features began to shift. He looked up at Lady Piera, trying to compare. Ada was dressing the woman, raising her arms like she would a doll. It was a good thing the noble was used to being dressed because she was pliable, and Ada was able to get her organized.
“You killed that woman,” the lady said as Ada pulled the dress over her head, leaving the nightgown on underneath it.
“This woman was eighty-seven and died in her bed.”
“My marriage isn’t perfect, but my husband doesn’t want me dead.”
“Lady, he imprisoned you in a tower,” Ada said.
“For the view.” She pointed at the open window and the sea beyond.
“He wants us to toss you out that window and make it look like you’ve committed suicide.”
Big, wet tears gathered at the corners of the lady’s eyes. Flavio rubbed his forehead. He hated it when they cried.
“I heard him telling Lord Giorgio that I’ve been depressed,” she admitted. “Which isn’t true at all. My garden has been looking especially lovely lately, and I really don’t mind not having babies. They’re rather a bother. My magic only works on raising plants, not children.”
“Your husband minds very much that you don’t have heirs,” Ada said. “So he wants to try again with a new wife.” She pulled boots out from the wardrobe, frivolous suede things that wouldn’t last a hundred leagues. Luckily, they weren’t going that far.
Finished with the old woman’s face, Flavio magicked the gray hair to blonde and ran his hand up and down the body, de-aging it. If his powers had worked on the living, he would have been a wealthy man, but for some stupid reason, they only worked on corpses.
After putting one of Lady Piera’s nightgowns on the corpse, he hefted it to the window. Waves crashed against the rocks below. With as much dignity as his screaming muscles could spare, he tossed it over the stone edge, careful to aim for the rocks and not the sea. It wouldn’t do for the body to be washed away. Lord Benelio needed proof of death to remarry.
“Time to go,” he said.
***
As they galloped through the night on three strong horses, Flavio considered his profession. Since his mother’s death, a week after his twelfth birthday, he had been a killer. His first murder had been his father, which would have been more difficult had the man not just killed Flavio’s mother.
Dogs barked in the distance, and he urged his horse faster. If they were caught, he and Ada would be hanged as kidnappers, and he doubted Lady Piera would last the year. Her husband would hire another assassin, one who would complete the job. He knew from experience that unhappy husbands didn’t stay unhappy long.
After stabbing his father several times, Flavio had manifested his strange power just in time to make his father’s corpse look like it had the plague. He had done the same thing to his mother’s corpse, just to throw the constabulary off the scent, not realizing that he would cause region-wide panic.
“Where are we going?” Lady Piera shouted over the pounding hooves.
“You’re going to the convent of the Sisters of the Water Goddess,” Ada said. “You’ll be safe there, and they have wonderful gardens.” Flavio knew Ada was lying. As an abbey, they would have gardens, but he hadn’t heard anything about them being special. Still, Lady Piera seemed satisfied, and that was all that mattered.
***
Flavio stood in Abbess Tula’s sparse office while Ada took Piera to the sleeping quarters to get settled in. The old woman eyed him with a frown, her impressive double chin pulled back against a domineering chest. Flavio backed away, but bumped into the wooden shelf behind him, jostling a stack of books.
“It’s a significant expense to take in a strange woman in the middle of the night,” the abbess said.
“Thank you for your kindness.” The bag of coins felt heavy in his pocket, and he was determined to keep at least some of them.
“The goddess rewards generosity.”
“I completely agree.”
“It is difficult with so many mouths to feed. I don’t know if we can keep doing this.” She stared at him blankly, and he wondered how a woman of the Goddess could be so good at extorting people. He reached into his pocket and extracted two silver coins, careful not to let her see how many there were.
“You don’t turn anyone away.”
“Yes, but having a spoiled lady will be annoying until she gets used to things.”
“She’s a garden mage,” he said. “She’ll be extremely useful.”
The old woman continued to stare until he gave her another two coins. She took them and tucked them into her flowing black skirts.
“May the mother bless you, son. You are Goddess-sent.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said grumpily and left.
***
“So did she leave you any money?” Ada teased. They rode their horses slowly home, the animals plodding sleepily on. Dawn was just beginning to lighten the moody, pale sky. If they were lucky, they would make it to his palazzo by the end of the day.
“Not much.” It would be enough to pay the peasants who worked on his farm, but not enough to fix the leaking roof. It was never enough. They rode in silence for a while until she spoke again.
“You’re a good man, Flavio.” Her horse huffed as it walked, and Flavio’s stallion snorted in response. Flavio didn’t feel particularly good. Dumping women in convents for their cruel husbands was better than murdering them, but he couldn’t pretend it was good.
“Don’t get sentimental on me now,” he said, uncomfortable with genuine emotion. “What’s making you maudlin tonight?” He knew she was thinking about her own attempted murder. Two years ago, Ada’s husband had grown tired of his wife preferring the company of women and had hired Flavio. Why these foolish nobles couldn’t just get a divorce was beyond him.
“You are a good man. Who else would go through all of this trouble?”
“You go through this trouble with me.”
“I have little choice. What else can a dead woman do?” She laughed bitterly. Flavio hated it when she called herself dead.
“You’re just feeling melancholy.” She was always like this when a husband tried to set up a suicide, because it was what her husband had wanted for her.
They fell silent as the horses walked the dirt road toward home. He remembered his gentle and kind mother. Would she be proud of him? He somehow doubted it.
***
Their next job came sooner than expected. Three days after arriving home, a magically trained pigeon flew up, landing on a broken plow Flavio was trying unsuccessfully to fix.
“Thank the gods,” he said, feeling not at all bad that he might have to kill someone. Anything was better than farming.
He found Ada, who was pretending to weed the garden, but was mostly napping in the sun, and handed her the letter. His partner read it and wrinkled her nose as if smelling something foul.
“I know this woman,” she said. He wasn’t surprised. Most of the nobles within a 500-league radius knew each other. Being orphaned at such a young age, Flavio had missed out on many of the connections. Being impoverished hadn’t helped either.
“Who is she?”
“Achilla Flox, everyone knows her. She ended up marrying the Duke of Golk. She was one of the richest heiresses in Koranth. She inherited a fortune when her parents and brother died.”
“Died under mysterious circumstances?”
“No, the flu. She happened to be visiting friends at the time. Most people are not murdered.”
“That has not been my experience,” he said. “So, should we turn this down? Is it too high profile?”
“No, she’s a good woman. She deserves to be saved.”
***
A week later, Flavio found himself dressed as a highwayman, sitting on his horse on the side of the road. Ada picked at her cloth mask with her gloved hand. Her gelding nibbled at the spare grass growing in the shade of the forest. It had taken some time to find another appropriate corpse so soon, but luckily for them, a poor young mother had died in childbirth, and they were able to buy the body.
The plan was to stop the duchessa’s carriage with the pretense of robbing it. The driver and guard had already promised to flee at the sight of the brigands, and Flavio and Ada waited guns drawn. Despite the shade, heat radiated from the summer sun. A fly buzzed around Flavio’s face, and he swatted it with an irritated wave of his gloved hand. The dead woman lying behind a stump was already beginning to attract them.
Finally, a cloud of dust rose in the distance, and Flavio sat up. “They’re coming.” The carriage approached, slowing till it came to a jerky stop. The two men seated in the driver’s bench nodded in acknowledgment, and the driver tied the reins to the cart. Before Flavio could say a word, the men disappeared with a pop, transporting them to safety. He glanced at Ada, who shrugged.
A maroon, befeathered hat poked out of the window. The lady looked at their masks and gave a disapproving huff.
“What is this delay? Driver, continue on,” she called to the empty bench.
“Duchessa, get out of the coach,” Flavio shouted.
“Like the hells I will.” The hat retreated into the carriage, and a maroon-gloved hand popped out. The glove promptly burst into an orange flame, which formed a fireball and flew at them.
“She’s a fire mage?” Flavio crouched as his horse reared.
“Apparently.” Ada slid off her horse, which took off down the road without her.
The fireball hit a nearby tree, and sparks burst out in a firework of burning embers. All fire mages were supposed to go straight to the army regardless of gender, rank, or social class. The kingdom of Koranth was equal in that it wanted all extremely dangerous magicians to be put where they could become easy cannon fodder.
Flavio leapt off his horse and dove behind a tree as another fireball flew at them. The flames licked at a dry bush, and Flavio worried that they were about to start a forest fire.
“Duchessa, stop that,” Ada said. “Your husband hired us to kill you.”
“That bastard.” The hat appeared in the window again. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You should know, I’m not going to let you kill me. You have five seconds to run.”
“We weren’t really going to kill you,” Flavio said. “That’s why we already have a dead body.”
“What in the Demon are you on about?”
After convincing her to come out, it took Ada and Flavio the better part of an hour to explain. The duchessa asked far more questions than any woman had ever asked before. Usually, the terrified wives just listened, followed directions, and cried.
“So you want me to fake my own death,” the duchessa said, sitting primly on the edge of a stump.
“Yes,” Ada and Flavio said at the same time. Ada glared at him, but he ignored her.
“But then my murderous husband will get all my money.” She sniffed, brushing her strong beak of a nose with her gloved fingers.
“He already has all of your money,” Flavio said. “He took possession of it when you married. That’s the law.”
“Well, I’ve always said it’s a stupid law.” The duchessa crossed her arms.
“I don’t actually write the laws,” Flavio said.
“No, you just enforce them.”
“I don’t actually do that either.”
“You know you’re luckier than most women,” Ada said. “Most women’s husbands are too poor to hire an assassin and just beat them to death whenever they feel like it.” They weren’t supposed to, but they claimed infidelity and avoided the gallows. It happened more than anyone liked to admit.
“Ah, yes, the poor little rich girl, who somehow possesses her father’s money, and her husband’s money, yet none of it is ever her own. I wonder if a golden garrote feels better than a steel one?”
“No one would make a garrote out of gold. Too weak.” Flavio played sullenly with the hilt of his dagger.
“If you kill my husband instead, I’ll pay you double,” the duchessa said.
Flavio considered this. He wasn’t opposed to murder, especially when it was murdering someone terrible. Still, it was bad business to go back on contracts. Well, to go back so that someone noticed. Or was that what he usually did? He was getting confused about the morality of his profession.
“We aren’t killers,” Ada said.
Flavio looked at her with surprise. “We aren’t?”
“We don’t really murder people.”
He realized that he hadn’t murdered anyone in the two years they’d been working together. That seemed strange.
“I will not allow that weasel I married to take my money while I go into hiding. It’s not right.”
“People will investigate his murder. He’s an important man.”
“And they won’t investigate mine?” the duchessa asked and then sighed. “Never mind, I hear it. Of course, they won’t. Still, it’s not right, and it’s time we do something about it.”
“Even if you get away with it, one dead duke isn’t going to change anything,” Ada said. “There are a thousand more who would do the same thing. You can’t murder all the men. I don’t even like men, and even I have to acknowledge they’re needed for things like making babies, and…” She paused, looking at Flavio with confusion.
“Thanks for that. We’re useful for more than just babies.” Both women looked skeptical, and Flavio decided he didn’t wish to press the argument further.
***
As the Duchessa Achilla held the lapel of her husband’s coat in her burning hand, Flavio decided that he should have asked for triple his regular fee.
“You spineless bastard,” the duchessa said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “You think you can murder me and take my money? I’m going to fry you like a duck wing.” She conjured a fireball in her other hand as the skinny man whimpered.
“I can’t believe you never told me that you’re a fire mage,” the duke said, his weak chin tucked against his chest. His nose ran, and he sniffed loudly.
Ada and Flavio stood behind the enraged duchessa, trying to calm her.
“You have to make it look like an accident,” Flavio reminded her. “People don’t accidentally burst into flame.”
“He accidentally fell into the fireplace. And stayed there. For a really long time,” she said, dryly. The duke whimpered, and Ada laughed, which Flavio thought was in rather poor taste.
“You can’t do this,” the duke said. He cowered against the wall, his face alight in the glow of his wife’s flaming hand.
“But you can?” the duchessa asked. The duke shrugged, but he glanced at the fireball and wisely said nothing.
“I suggest we remain calm and jam the plum down his throat as we planned,” Flavio said.
“Can’t you just magic the burns away?”
“Yes, but it’s a lot of work, and his clothes are all singed. You’ll have to put a new outfit on a dead body.”
“That’s what I’m paying you for,” she said, and Flavio couldn’t disagree.
***
And so, Flavio, The Murderer of Unloved Wives, became Flavio, The Killer of Unjust Husbands.
He had to admit, the money was much better, as he didn’t have to split it with the victims. However, he did split the money with Ada, who helped him repair the roof of the palazzo, because she liked getting rained on inside the house even less than he did.
“Do you think women will ever be equal in marriages?” she asked one day as they sat on his crumbling terrazzo, drinking wine and watching the sun set over the hills of his estate.
“Probably not,” he said. “Women are too smart. They’ll get the upper hand, eventually.”
She laughed and cut a piece of cheese off a wedge on the platter. It was an excellent pecorino bought from their neighbor’s farm. Much tastier than anything his estate had ever produced.
“I saw that you spent the night at Duchessa Achilla’s again,” he said. “Three nights in one week?”
“We’re working on the new laws,” she said with a blush. The duchessa was trying to change the property and divorce laws for women in the kingdom. He hoped that they would be able to do it, but he wasn’t holding his breath.
“Of course. Give her my regards.”
He watched the peasants toiling in the distance. They struggled with a large rock, unearthed while plowing a field. They yanked at it, trying ineffectively to wrestle it out of the ground. How a field that had been farmed for centuries could still have rocks in it, he didn’t know. They kicked it futilely, and he stood to help when they gave up and plowed around it.
Flavio shrugged and sat back down. Sometimes it was easier to go around things, though he knew it might break another plow, and he should go down and scold them. Instead, he selected another piece of cheese, leaned back in his worn chair, and watched the sun set behind the green hills of his estate.
