Free Rhapsody, Child of Blood by Elizabeth Haydon

generating quite a din. Generally the middle of the day was a dismally quiet time at the Hat and Feathers; today it was as loud as a holiday night. No wonder Dee loves her, Barney thought, chuckling to himself. She's good, for business.
    Few noticed the stranger enter over the clamor of voices and clinking of tankards.
    He made his way impatiently through the crowd, searching the tables until he came to hers. The man stood over her, waiting for her to look up, but she ignored him and continued with her writing, frowning as she scratched out the occasional mistake.
    Finally he spoke. "You're Rhapsody."
    She did not look up, but moved a few of the papers into a neater pile and drew forth a fresh sheet of parchment.
    'Well?"
    She still did not favor him with a glance. "Oh, sorry. Thank you for reminding me."
    There was a pause, and then she spoke again. "If you'll excuse me, I'm rather busy."
    The man swallowed, choking back the anger her dismissive tone raised in his gullet.
    He could feel the eyes of some of the patrons shift to him, and he attempted to keep his voice calm.
    'I am here representing a gentleman friend of yours."
    There was no break in her concentration or the focus of her attention. "Really? And who might that be?"
    'Michael, the Wind of Death."
    The hubbub in the Hat and Feathers died away, but the young woman didn't seem to notice or care. "Either they have redefined the words gentleman and friend in this language, or you're making very sloppy use of it," she said. "What does he want?"
    'Your services, naturally."
    'I'm not in the business anymore."
    'I don't think your professional status is of much interest to him."

    For the first time she stopped writing and looked up at the stranger. The eyes that met his contained no hint of fear and were such a startling green that he took a step backward. "Well, what he wants is not of much interest to me," she said evenly. "Now, if you will kindly excuse me, as I said, I'm very busy." She returned to her work once again.
    It took a moment for the man to recover his composure. As the look of rage spread over his grizzled features, the bar patrons began to exit or at least move to safer corners. His hand slammed down on the table, fingers spread wide to crumple the pile of parchment.
    He stopped in the nick of time, the blade of her dagger pressing between his middle and index fingers just before the point of drawing blood. The motion that had put it there was so quick and fluid that he hadn't even seen it.
    Rhapsody looked up at him for only the second time.
    'Now, I believe I've been polite, but you don't seem to be listening. If you have smudged one note of my work you will henceforth only be able to count to six, and you will need to drop your pants to do so. Now please, go and leave me in peace." With all eyes now on her she reinked her quill and returned to her work, her hand still on the dagger.
    The stranger glared at her, removed his hand gingerly from the table, and left the bar, jostling past a few of the remaining patrons and slamming the heavy wooden door behind him. Barney watched him go, and then came to Rhapsody's table, a look of concern wrinkling his kindly face.
    'Don't you know who he works for, darlin'?" he asked anxiously, watching Dee begin to gather the plates and debris left on the hastily vacated tables.
    Rhapsody was methodically stacking the parchment leaves and rolling them into scrolls. "Of course. Michael, the Waste of Breath. What a ridiculous name."
    'I wouldn't be talking so disrespectfully, love. He's become a lot more dangerous of late. And he has a lot more ears than he used to."
    'Oh dear. And he wasn't all that attractive to begin with." Rhapsody stuffed the roll of papers into her oilcloth satchel,
    and began to pack up the small items on the table, saving out only a wilted primrose and a scrap of vellum.
    She corked the inkwell and tied it carefully into the pocket she had sewn within the sack, wrapped her harp in its burlap