Sethel grabbed the bag of coins. He leapt to his feet only moments before the small table and chairs faded from existence. Sethel walked over to a nearby room opened the door. Upon entering it he looked at the floor before speaking to his hidden guest.
“My guests were Robin Fairborn, and the other was Magus Mendel.”
“How fascinating after all this time my lost quarry is now within reach.” Odin said in a deep and calculating voice.
“I am sorry what did you say? Sethel asked.
“None of your concern and I trust you made no mention of me?”
“No.” Sethel lied, knowing that cyclops suffered from diminished hearing.
“You had better be right about Leone.” Odin warned.
“So, are we finished?”
“Yes, good satyr, and remember we never spoke. Unless you desire a shorter life span than the one the ancients gave you.” A leather sack landed at Sethel’s hoofed feet, and it rang full of coin.
“I know when to keep things unuttered.”
“Good, I never knew satyrs were capable of such a quality. You are quite a useful fellow; I may have need of you again.”
Sethel looked up and saw Odin lower his spell gun.
Odin walked past Sethel, his black suit made him look like a tall shadow. Sethel did not even turn around as the assassin left his shop. The Satyr’s eyes watered as remorse settled on his heart. All his life no one trusted him except Robin. The coin purse before him on the floor did not seem to have much value, when compared to his lost friendship. Sethel’s thoughts became interrupted when the door to his shop burst open. The satyr trotted into the next room. Sethel stood before two Elite Eleven Police who held their batons in the ready.
© Cathalson – 2008 / CANNOT BE USED WITHOUT PERMISSION.