Hospital of Mercy

          The knock on the door, when it came, was soft but insistent. He had been waiting for it for so long that he had begun to wonder whether something had gone amiss. His candle had burned down to a nub and the moon was setting, the sky already losing the depth of its blackness. He had busied himself for hours with writing dispatches, pausing frequently to listen for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. There was no need to inquire who was on the other side of the door. The Admiral dropped his quill and pushed himself up from his desk. 

          “Come,” he said softly. The door opened at once. 

          The man who slipped inside was silent as smoke, clothed in black, with a face one would forget instantly. Brown hair clubbed at the nape of his neck, average height and build. He bowed curtly, dark eyes flicking over the floor, where a few drops of blood stood out on the marble like wine on white linen. 

          “It is done,” the man said simply. 

          “What kept you?” the Admiral hissed through his teeth. “You should have been back hours ago.”

          The man in black shrugged. “Carriages pulled up in the alley just as I was leaving. I had to wait it out until they all got back inside. There was a commotion, someone fainted from what I could tell.”

          The Admiral scowled. “Why, did you leave her in the street on display? I hope you made it quick, in any case. You remember your orders. No marks.”

          “There were no marks. She struggled, but there was no noise. It didn’t take long. An apoplexy, a sudden fit. As we agreed.” The man held out his hand, palm upturned, the guttering light from the dying candle making the lifelines appear deeply etched in his skin. 

          The Admiral sighed, turning back to his desk and pulling open a drawer. “You could have returned by boat,” he said as he rifled for coins.

          The man shook his head. “Impossible.” The Admiral snorted in disgust, counting ducats into the man’s waiting palm, which curled around his payment and promptly disappeared. 

          The man in black cocked his head, perhaps a touch condescendingly, the Admiral thought. “Have you not been outside?” he inquired. His tone was even, respectful. But there was a sneer buried deep under the question. The Admiral could sense it, but decided to let it pass. This man would always believe he knew more than everyone else, but he was mistaken. Let him keep believing the upper hand was his. His ignorance was worth more than the satisfaction a rebuke would bring.

          “No,” the Admiral answered, genuinely interested now. “Why?”

          Rather than answer the man turned away and made for the door. He stopped to hold it open however, and waved the Admiral through, his movements agitated and urgent. They descended the stairs in silence, the Admiral’s curiosity growing with every step. Three flights down, they reached the foyer. Only one torch was lit, making the mosaic pattern of the tiles seem alive, writhing with mischief. The man seized the torch and beckoned towards the grand arch of the heavy double doors at the front of the house. 

          “See for yourself,” the man said grimly, sliding back the bolt and letting the doors swing inward. He held out the torch and the Admiral took it. He peered cautiously through the doorjamb, then leaned all the way out and gaped open-mouthed at the emptiness that yawned at his feet. Where there should have been water, there was only dry stone and silt. The canal was gone.