Chapter 3

The night sky in Exile was a blinding darkness. Only the flickering lamp lights shredded visions to the surrounding but even so, it was on a tiny radius thanks to the wrecked condition the bulb was in. The street stretched endlessly into the darkness and Martin could barely see what lied ahead.

Lester pulled his hat lower and tilted his head slightly sideway at Martin.

"Lower your head," he whispered. "You won't want your face to be seen."

Martin and Emily nodded and did as instructed. The trio proceeded deeper down the street.

Down at some point, at the corner of Martin eyes, he noticed a few man skinny to the point where their bones were protruding, lying on the floor or leaning against a wall.

One particular thing about them bothered him. Their eyes were ripped of hopes and emotion, so empty and hollow that it made him shivered. They reminded him of something - a feeling, almost like... fear.

Turning into an alley, Lester stopped in front of a wooden door and knocked twice with the ring hoistered to the door.

It creaked open and revealed a plum - if not, pudgy - man with beards and mustache covering almost every part of his features. He lowered his head and squinted through the darkness at Lester.

"Tavern closed for now," he said in a grumpy voice.

Lester met his eyes and replied confidently, "Takeaway. A well done steak and a jug of beer."

To anyone, it wouldn't make sense but to Martin, he immediately knew it was a form of code to prevent lost or unwanted people from entering. The man nodded and led us in.

After closing the door, he ambered sluggishly but briskly to a corner and switched the lights on, impressive for someone of his size. It flickered a few times before basking everything in its warmth and granting vision.

Judging from outside the door would do no justice to the size of the Tavern. It was huge beyond Martin expectation, stretching far and wide, enough to host up to a hundred people if he had to guess. Everything was made from top-quality woods: the bar table, round tables, chairs, wine shelves, walls, floor and ceiling.

Martin scrutinized his surrounding as they settled down in front of the bar table. "Why is there no one around?"

The man turned and picked one of the wine glass hooked onto the rack before he started wiping it.

"Ope'ing hour one min'te ago," he replied in the same grumpy voice. "Orders?"

Martin leaned closer, his elbow rested on the glass top. When he was about to speak, Lester interrupted by squeezing his shoulder and shaking his head.

"Like I said, one well-done steak, one jug of beer and add three vodkas, one for each of us," Lester replied.

He shifted one seat to the right, leaving an empty slot in between him and Martin. Then they waited in silence. It didn't take more than ten minutes before people started filling the tavern, although, all of them had their 'mask' on. 

A tall person, slightly taller than Martin, slipped into the empty seat between them.

"Well done steak, and a jug of beer," the person spoke in a whisper-like and seducing voice.

Martin guessed she must be around her twenties.

Lester nodded. "Here's the well done steak price." He handed a small coin bag to the woman and watched as she checked the content and nodded in satisfaction before he continued. "Recently, eight cops were murdered, their hearts removed. The government announced it was a deed of a professional assassin. What do you think?"

She turned her head slightly, the slim and neatly cut pieces of white papers attached around the rim of the conical hat fluttered sideway for a second before settling back into their places.

"That." She paused. "Will require additional payment, another well done steak would do the job."

Lester eyed her suspiciously and hesitated for a moment. "What makes you think the information you hold worth that much, is it even credible?"

The woman stifled a laughter. "Revival spell - is all I can say with the amount of payment right now. Rest assured my information is guaranteed to be credible. If you don't believe me, the talk will end here."

It all makes sense now, Martin thought. Heart is like the container of magic and furthermore, the spell needed an insane amount of it. Then why bother to cut their shoulder rather than straight away tearing their hearts out? Perhaps...

As she was about to leave, Lester fished out another bag of coins and handed over to her. "Fine, tell me all that you know."

"Are you sure? It might bring you unnecessary trouble. Even death."

Lester nodded.

"You're a curious guy," her voice was mixed with chuckle. "Address me by Broker."

Lester nodded and chose to remain silent.

"Quite the conserved type, aren't you? Anyway, have you heard of the tale that once spread far and wide across the land?"

"Tale?"

“Yes... Tales of The Spider Queen..."

This time Martin definitely felt it up his body �" millions of ants crawling and biting into his flesh �" he shuddered with fear.