5.10

1P 5:13
She who is in Babylon, chosen together with you, sends her greetings.

She tied the veil back so it wouldn't blow, so her features could never be made out through the oblique light glancing through gauze and knotwork. She had a strong nose and dark, wide-set eyes—an anomaly in the city. Anyone could pick her from a crowd or describe her after the barest moment of contact. She was different in an easily communicable way.
Perhaps she was in the wrong profession.
She forced her feet to slow, steady beats to counter the erratic staccato of her heart. She was closing, of course, on general notoriety. She couldn't work for more than a few months in any part of this sprawling metropolis without becoming something of a popular secret, and here was no different. But today was the last risk. Two men were coming that evening—men she had never met—who would move her home and belongings entirely, clean out the building as if she hadn't really been there at all. Today was her last job. As she neared the valley, the sound of the forum broke up the hill to her. She felt of course nervous, because she had only last year survived the Hunter's blade in a forum. But for all other assassins, at least, the forum was as good as a wall.
She slipped past a man selling dates and figs, past a woman who pushed a dove at her, past a man who spits as he yells, and past every other kook salesman trying to peddle their wares. There: the carpet salesman. They recited for a few minutes about the quality of the rug, the feel on the foot, the strength of the fibers, and the garbage that people talk about when they have time to spend on life. She had no time. She itched. The sweat that broke out under her veil had begun to stick and peel the fabric to her skin. Finally, he offered her a price and she played her part. She, outraged, recoiled at the absurd price and he, desperate, begged for the sale. They both knew what the other would say, but they spoke with conviction born from somewhere far from the carpet. She paid him the generous sum she had never earned and took the carpet that had been rolled around letters from those chosen of the Lord whose words were swords held to the throat of those who would not believe. She carried her fake purchase away to the underground church where men were waiting to make a copy of the Apostles words.
The Woman of Babylon walked through Rome, secret. Known. Searched for. Safe.