Aud looked at the foam leaf in her coffee cup and thought about when she stabbed a man to death with a sword. His name had been Torkel. A short, sinewy man with a strange face. Tonight, she would kill another man with the sword. Anton. Aud had seen him outside the city library.
She sometimes wondered where she got it. The sword. When had she found it? Purchased it? Since then, she has killed at least one man. Maybe two. Or three.
But no more than that.
It was hard to remember anyone other than Torkel. Could there have been more than three? No. One every month since she got the sword. Built it?
Aud looked up and saw herself reflected in the café window. She looked young. 19, maybe? When the sword came for her, she had also been young.
She had been young for so long now.
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