The Next Name

Oshar opened his eyes slowly. His vision swam and his skin felt cold and clammy. He was lying on the wooden floor of his attic hide away, face down in a pool of his own vomit. His arm felt like it was on fire. He had set the bone earlier and then passed out while attempting to apply a splint.

He blinked and with a pained groan rolled onto his back. He did not know how he had made his way back here. After completing his mission he had stayed long enough to gather supplies before taking his leave. He mused wryly that an apothecary was a convenient place to have a violent brush with death.

Oshar forced his breathing to slow and focused on the steady beat of his heart. Allowing his mind to be consumed by the rhythm of his body he willed himself inch by painful inch to be filled with the holy purpose of his mission. At last he sat up and resumed the task of binding his arm. The burns and cuts he had already bathed and treated.

Minutes passed by as he completed his agonising task and then at last he made his way to the table when the scroll sat open, the kopehtka next to it. He released a great sigh of relief as he prepared himself to remove the name Nicolaus Caglistro from his list.

The next name would be a challenge indeed.