6. Episode The Peacock and the Crow
Crow listened and stood there as this power of force, but truly heard what the physician said. It was important to learn what someone was telling. More often than not, one could hear hidden thoughts between words and with it gained knowledge that could be fruitful when used properly. He didn’t nod, nor gave any indication that the words meant something to him, perhaps because of the awareness that even the Physician could be bribed, tortured for knowledge about him. There were to many that would dance on his pyre if he came to an end. Who would blame them ? He was only a killer now.
Perhaps his fear would be unfounded, the woman only a slave and what would her words be of worth. Still he was certain that even words of a slave could put a man before the gates of the city of dust. He had number of stories when it came to this. Many were shared by the campfire too young recruits that would be beaten into the killers, they needed to become. He often had wondered why some believed there was some honour in his caste. Why they felt this inner urge to spill blood over a that bit of gold and yet he himself was one example. A man that had been disappointed by life and wished to cheat the Reaper of Death. If he had only given it more thought then, he might have been there for his daughter and Anna which now had to give birth to a child that had been conceived by the rape of his last victim.
Crow turned his face to the physician when he mentioned the scars. “In truth I did not know, but I have to meet a slave or woman that carries none.” He said as if unbothered by them and keeping his detached appearance. In all these years it had become this shield of coldness, which had become thicker by the years. How could a killer truly survive if he would start to care, it was the ruthless thought of being unbothered by whomevers life was paid for. When the physician went out of sight he looked at his own hands that were able to commit murder and yet these had carried the wounded peacock to here. “Why?” he mused to himself fully aware that life had its own tricks and treats without any legit explanation. However the mentioning of the scars was taken to mind, perhaps in his mind it made sense as to how she had become the bitter peacock he once met. How would one endure pain and not have a way to answer it, find a way to secure oneself for not happening it again. Was her bitterness a wall to hide behind ? Was her elusive way of being, a mask that hid her true heartdesire ?
The words that were shared, were known to him. He couldn’t quite remember who had taught him the words or their meaning. Still he knew them and gave him the understanding that he hadn’t found her by accident. Perhaps the higher powers that some barbarian slaves talked bout did exist or again the wheel of his life wasn’t easy to comprehend. Either way he knew that the name he once was given was significant to the girl and perhaps if they were able to share information he might learn as to why.
The story of dark clad men, fully disguised and as the wind swift, calculated and more importantly of an iron state of mind weren’t the killers of today. They were perhaps better, more in touch with what they were and what they were able of. He once heard a story about a man that could catch arrows while blindfolded simply because he was able to hear them and turn to it without having to see it. He wondered for a brief moment if he would be able, but such needed trust and at the present he was quite sure that he didn’t have that trust in his own abilities.
He looked at the physician that seemed to wait on an explanation as to the words the girl had spoken in her delirium. “I doubt the meaning of the words would help her get well, Physician.” He replied as to warn the man “I didn’t pay you for hearing her out while she is in this state. I simply pay you to treat her so she can serve as to what she is – a slave.” His voice held nothing of his thoughts or emotions. He wouldn’t share his own concerns, thoughts or puzzles to the man, just as he wouldn’t do it with anyone but those very few he trusted. Even those could be seen as a blemish to what his caste brothers so often spoke of : Alone with Gold and Steel.
When the Physician walked off he wondered what T. would say, one of his most trusted comrades. There were a few select others but they were hardly the ones he would share thoughts with when it came to the more philosophic thoughts or puzzles life brought him. T. would perhaps just as much as he, desire to look further, fearless for what one might needed to face. “A fire, a crow and the dark fighter have a connection to the peacock, but what ?” he silently asked himself.
He looked up when he was summoned and waved his hand gallantly to the physician. “Lead.” He simply stated when he spied the curious look of the man upon his manners. He knew that the mere gesture of his hand might have betrayed his high caste origins but it didn’t matter anymore as in the present he was the low caste killer, called Crow.
When next to the bed he instantly noticed that she hadn’t slept calm or tranquil, she herself seemed to be haunted by demons in her unconscious or restless sleep. The white of the sheets in so much contrast with the black of her hair or the taint of her skin. How helpless she seemed and yet he knew that she would still give a powerful struggle if anyone dared to end her life. He was certain that in her dreams she was like him and wondered what would have happened to her if she had been born a boy. He didn’t speak, tried hard to keep his face unreadable while he waited – patiently – as ever for what the physician wished to address.
Crows Murder 
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