Deed Done

:After leaving the temporary reprieve of relaxation at the springs behind, he had gone in search again for the second man. Knew where he would be at that time of night, the man was a complete creature of habit. The fellow went into the offices he rented above a paga den, a place where he could make whatever deals he wished, and the Scribe waited down below. Lurking as usual, a shadow among many, and not terribly interesting to look at if one were to pass by.

When the lamplight died out in that room, he finally moved. On stairs, stealth was not his strong suit, but he made it up to the next level and found the man was half drunk anyway. A nice bottle of Arian wine, something the man probably didn't buy for himself, was still on a rickety table that was a makeshift desk. The Scribe pushed the man out of his chair, and the fellow came up, ready to fight. Not a boxer, but with the man already inebriated, the Scribe was able to knock him out with a punch to the jawline. The man's feet moved to one side, and he swayed, then fell down. The Scribe was too busy swearing to notice most of it, until the man hit the floor.

With the man out, an injection was given, just enough to keep him asleep while the Scribe worked. His hands and feet where tied with binding fiber, and those then strung up to a ring by the fireplace. The man's sandals were taken off, one tossed in the fire, and the other forced into his mouth. Clean scalpel this time, the Scribe never used the same equipment more than once, and both daggers-the one from Strophe and the one from Idgie. First, he cut off two fingers, putting them aside. Then, while perhaps not with the precision of a Physician, but he managed to use the scalpel easily enough, and removed the man's toenails by cutting away at the flesh surrounding them. The Scribe was performing the action on the second bound hand by the time the man woke up. Yes, a good degree of blood flowing from his appendages since hands and feet had more vessels and capillaries that many other parts of the anatomy. His eyes bulged, and he wanted to scream, but not much came out due to the shoe stuck between his teeth.

The Scribe, who by this time was annoyed more than anything else, reached up and dealt with the man's eyelids for him. Cutting each one away, and adding them to the growing pile near his own booted foot. Next, the lips. By this time, there was enough blood to be an issue, so the Scribe picked up the bottle of wine and poured it over the man and the pools gathered around him. There was choking sounds from behind the shoe, but the wine doused most of the blood that had not coagulated, and the Scribe handled the clotted matter with a few scraps of cloth laying around the squalid interior. His tools were similarly cleaned, and put away as they should be. Dosing the man again, and packaging the items he had accumulated, the body was pushed down the outside stairs.

Dragged to one of the hatches, which was opened, and the drugged man dropped into a pool of water. He'd drown, but he'd be asleep while it happened, and thus the worst was over. The scalpel was clean, but tossed in after him as well, the daggers remaining with the Scribe on his way back to the school.

Going back down into tunnels, his package with him, the Scribe left it on the table by the sleeping Slade. A short note:

Slade,
The fingers are for Strophe and Idgie. The nails, lips, and eyelids are yours to keep. The deed is done, and I hope you are faring better now. I will be sleeping no doubt until evening. See that the items are given to the Physician and her sister.

Lucian