In the markets of Sunberth, it was proper caution to keep one hand on your money at all times. The streets ran thick with pick pockets and cutthroats, all the lower levels of higher gangs playing their little rivalries and trying to earn a position above the running and dodging of lither bodies. In a certain sense, the whole scene was an ecosystem, reminiscent of the sea. The bigger fish moved with ponderous confidence, like sharks drifting swiftly through the open water. The smaller fish all played about on each other, devouring or attacking when necessary, snapping at every foot or hand that fell within their realm of control. Shroud kept to the center of the market, avoiding the sheltered sides of wagons and stands where cruel tipped claws waited to push and prod at valuables.
Instead he marked his territory, a system of shopkeeps and individuals he'd spent the better part of last season subtly conditioning with Hypnotism. The trick was to begin, not so hard to build on what was. Gairish, a cloth merchant, owed him a perceived favor, especially after he helped fend those imaginary brigands from his goods some days ago. The memory was completely fabricated, of course, built on the mans own paranoia of Sunberth (Zeltiva raised, apparently) and his subconscious cry for help. Shroud slunk along the myriad of people, in and out, a dance of practiced steps and darting eyes.
After a season, it's how everyone was.
"Gairish!" Shroud greeted, raising a hand and patting the thin shopkeep on the shoulder, "It's been too long." With the pat and the words, he spun Djed over his tongue and through his speaking, eliciting a feeling of calm from the man, an innate desire to help, and the brief memory of seeing Wrenmae the day before, but being out of reach to call to him.
"Oh! Wrenmae, fantastic!" Gairish greeted with a relieved smile, "I saw you yesterday in the market, but you were too far to beckon over. Why didn't you stop by?"
Shroud forced concern upon his face, rubbing his forehead and sighing heavily. "Gods, I'm sorry...my mind was too pre-occupied with..." He paused glanced around, "Well, it was nothing. In any case, I'm glad to see you again."
"What?" Gairish asked, concerned, putting a hand on Wrenmae's hand. He leaned in his eyes darting around them, his paranoia preying about the edges of his mind. Shroud glanced around as well, leaning in and whispering the next part.
"I heard someone is selling a Kelvic, a girl, a deer...I can't stand the idea of that poor creature being cast to such....vermin. I've been trying to uncover a trail for a week now. I don't want you involved, it's dangerous."
"No!" Gairish stifled a gasp, looking sickly. It was easy to overlook the worst of Sunberth so long as one did not actively participate. Gairish's inherent morals forced him to helping when such situations arose, his own stand a nexus of secrets sown into inseams, but mostly he tried to remain ignorant.
Ignorance, to him, was innocence.
He sighed, his shoulders falling.
"I...I shouldn't be telling you this, but someone wanted me to smuggle a message to a few members from the Gated Community today. I didn't look at it, but the men who delivered it were part of the Gallow-way gang."
Shroud nodded, smiling at his contact and imparting a surge of relief, a little bit of positive reinforcement. "Thank you so much, only kinda slave that might interest them would be my friend. You've done me a great service."
His contact nodded, wringing his hands nervously. But when he rose to address Shroud again, he was gone among the crowd.
The Gallow-Way always ran with eight or more, especially when they were making a high profile sell. Not too many, not too few. Shroud made his way toward the bar he was to meet with Zandelia. Hopefully she would have found a location...and with his side of things, they might be ready to mount a rescue. |
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