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The highwayman watched with interest as the doctor approached the pool. She knelt and looked into the waters, bending down far enough that the beak of her mask nearly touched the water. Vatteville entertained the thought for a second that she was going to dip it in and drink, like some bizarre fusion of woman and bird. He chuckled quietly at the image, causing the doctor to spin and glare at him through her thick, opaque goggles. She turned back to the pool and unbuttoned one of the pouches at her side, pulling out a sheath of thin strips of paper. Pulling one out, she leaned forward and dipped it into the pool, holding it under for a moment.
“Why have we stopped?” Vatteville turned back to see their fellow companions finally join them: the leper and arbalest’s heavy armour forcing them into a much more ponderous gait than the nimble highwayman. Underneath his mask the leper was as inscrutable as ever, while Poussin bore her usual frown. She peered over at the doctor, adjusting her grip on her massive crossbow.
Vatteville shrugged. “The good doctor is attempting the creation of a new perfume. Apparently gutter muck and fish guts is the highest of fashion in Paris.”
As usual, Maci ignored them both. She pulled the paper out of the water and gently flapped it in the air, watching it dry. The paper immediately turned a vibrant shade of red, receiving a soft grunt from the doctor in return. She stood up, then walked to the cart, brushing past her two observers and the silent leper. Rummaging around in its contents, she pulled out a small, dark green bottle. She walked back, and as she passed by Vatteville heard her quietly muttering to herself, her voice made muffled by her mask. As she reached the pool, she pulled out the cork and upended the entire contents into the pool. Pulling out a small wooden spoon from another one of her many pouches, she carefully stirred the mixture into the water.
“We don’t have time for this,” Poussin grumbled. The highwayman raised his eyebrows, smiling under his scarf.
“Don’t we? We have exterminated most of the vermin in this section of the cove, and we have plenty of time before the ship arrives. What harm is there in indulging her?”
“I don’t know about you, bandit, but I would rather spend my time in the inn then in a dark tunnel stinking of rotten fish. Tell her to hurry up.”
“Tell her yourself.”
“Fine. Maci! Get your over-educated ass moving!”. Vatteville turned to the doctor in expectation, only to see her staring into the pool. He looked at the arbalest and grinned, raising his arms in sympathy. Poussin spat out a foul swear, then walked over to a comfortable-looking rock and slumped down, beginning to examine her crossbow.
Meanwhile, the doctor had applied another one of her small strips of paper, and was again waving it to dry. Now the paper had turned a soft shade of purple, and Maci let out a soft grunt of satisfaction. She seemed to consider for a moment, and then began to unbuckle her mask.
Vatteville’s jaw dropped open in shock. Now this was a moment worth stopping for.
Mask removed, Maci’s features remained covered by a dark green hood. She leaned forward, and pooled water into another spoon she had removed from her belt. She carefully sipped it and, finding it adequate, she leaned forward and pooled water into her hands. With a sharp, birdlike motion, she splashed the water on to her face, and sighed with relief.
The highwayman carefully moved forward. None of the doctors in the estate had removed their masks in front of him before, and there had been times where he had been deeply interested in what lay beneath. Perhaps they were horrifically mutated, the result of years of self-experimentation. Perhaps they were godlike beauties, hiding their features for fear of unwanted attention. Perhaps they were just extremely ugly. Perhaps-
Maci turned, and Vatteville froze.
“One more job, and I’ll be finished. We can take the boy and move to the city. There will be always opportunities for men who hunt for them.”
“Be careful, Vattie. My father grows ever more paranoid. I fear whatever security he will employ next will prove too much for you.”
He had smiled, and kissed her, and held her face in his coarse hands.
“When am I not careful? And I have not yet found the man faster than I, nor cleverer. One last job, Elizabeth, and you, and I, and Lucas can flee the bastard once and for all. I promise you.”
She smiled. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead against his.
“I love you, Vattie.”
“And I love you too, flower to my wheat, moon to my stars.” She laughed.
“When did the bandit become a poet?”
He had been climbing out her window, and turned back, smiling.
“When he found true beauty in this world”.
It had been so easy. Two men, easily dispatched. He was elusive, evasive, persistent, and no carriage guards would ever match him. The horses bolted, and he turned with honed reflexes, firing once. The carriage rolled to a halt, and he easily strolled over, opening the door, ready to seize the riches within.
Why was she there. Why were they there. They were only supposed to meet in the evening. Why were they here. What had he done. What had he done. What have I done. What have I-
“Never seen a woman before?”
Vatteville released his grip on his pistol, willing his panicking heart to slow down. Maci did not look nearly as similar as his Elizabeth as he had first thought. Her features were sharper, her nose longer and more protruding. As opposed to Elizabeth’s soft golden curls, Maci’s hair was lank and greasy, the result of constantly being covered by her mask. She glared at him, water dripping off the end of her nose.
He shook his head, clearing it. “No, madam. Just never you without your mask”.
She sniffed. “And with good reason. The filth and disease that infests that hamlet, it is no wonder half of you look the way you do. Just think, if you washed that scarf regularly, your acne wouldn’t be nearly as bad”.
Vatteville paused, momentarily offended. Then he grinned, underneath the old red cloth.
“Just that you have noticed my appearance, madam, is a great compliment.” Maci snorted, and buckled her mask back on to her face, her voice regaining its muffled quality.
“Noticed like I had noticed rot in wood, stains on walls, disease in ignorant peasants. It is my duty to notice the horrors of the world, and your personal hygiene is no different”.
Her barbs were, perhaps unintentionally, easing Vatteville’s heart. His shock had dissipated, and the memories had faded, ready to return in more quiet or darker times. For now, he could smile again.
“Good lord, are you finally done?” Poussin stood up from her rock, pulling her crossbow strap tight against her shoulder.
“Another victim of unsanitary practices,” Maci hissed. Poussin raised her eyebrows, staring at the doctor.
“If I catch you trying to burn my rabbit again, I’ll use you for target practice.” Maci made a dismissive gesture, and began to move deeper into the coves. Poussin spat to one side, and followed. Vatteville shook his head, and began to follow, then stopped and turned back.
Talbot, the leper, still stood by the wagon. His face was still hard, and unmoving, but had taken on some new emotion. Some form of understanding, or sympathy. From under his mask, his deep, grave voice spilled out.
“We have all lost someone, Vatteville.”
The murderer stared at him, then turned away. If he wanted compassion and absolution, he’d go to the damn church.