19th Bell, Day 14, Season of Summer, 513 AV
It seemed to Kit as though opportunities had begun to line up in her favor. She had been right to seek out the Spot; a day longer and the job might have been taken, and her meager supply of mizas might have lasted her but a few days longer until . . . Well, there was no longer a need to worry about the 'until.' She was, assuming she didn't bungle the job up terrible, safe. For a little while.
She made her way back to Tarsin's Boarding House with utmost haste, all too wary of darkness and the things that might haunt Ravok's streets in the bells when no one was watching them too closely.
Kit rushed up to the doors and through, never even bothering to look at the lobby as she marched expediently toward the doors that led to the small quarters. "Stop." Someone said, and Kit walked on, assumed they were talking to somebody else. "STOP!" And then she stopped. Kit turned her head toward the lobby and saw two things that made her feel like vomiting up her heart.
They were dressed in black armor. One of them was sitting at a table in the lobby, clearly relaxed, across from one of the Tarsin daughters. He had dark hair, didn't even turn his eyes up at her. The other was standing straight up and staring at her. His face was twisted in . . . Anger? Annoyance? Kit couldn't tell. "You deaf, girl?" He said, and now that he had her attention his voice was soft, so soft that she could barely hear him.
Kit wandered closer, afraid of him but more afraid of asking him to repeat himself. "I-" She closed her mouth and moved her bird's tongue to the proper position. She wasn't Kit right now; she was Shy, and had to sound the part.
"That's her!" Tarsin's daughter pointed, excited. "That's the new girl!"
The dark haired one laid a hand on the daughter's hand and smiled. "That's good," Dark said. "It's because of citizens like you that our good city stays afloat. Rhysol would be proud." Dark turned to look at Kit, and he was still smiling. His eyes ran over her, and Kit had the impression of them tick, tick, ticking away bits and pieces of her into little drawers as he did.
"She's the right size," Wrath said to his partner . . ." No. That wasn't the way partners treated each other. Dark sat at ease while Wrath stood at ready; it was easy to see who was in control here.
"She is," Dark said, and never stopped smiling. "What's your name?"
Kit licked her lips. "Shy." Her altered voice sounded so like a child's in her own ears. Feeble and weak.
"Come and have a seat, if you please." He gestured to another seat across from him, and though his intonation made it a question Kit knew that it was not a request.
She felt a nervous sweat building on her brow. "Of course."
Kit walked over to the table and pulled out the chair, making an angry sound against the floor as the legs dragged across it. She planted herself down across from Dark, and he just kept smiling across at her. Did he know? Did he know? Did he know? Should she run now, and see how far she could get? Wear another face? Try to hide out in some hidden rooftop place and come back with a new one? Her instincts screamed yes! She began to fidget in her chair.
Dark sighed, leaned back, relaxed. "You should know," he said, very grave. "A slave ran away from her master yesterday."
Her breathing was fast and nervous; she forced it slow. Slow. "Oh?"
"Yes."
Shift. Fidget. Swallow. "I don't see what that has to do with me . . ." Gods, they'd found her. Trickster grant her the keenness to find a way out!
"Girl." Wrath said. Dropped the word like a stone. "Slim. Short."
Dark steepled his hands shrugged. "About your size, really. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it . . ." He leaned in closer, and his smile became a smirk. ". . . Would you?"
How could they have possibly found her? She looked so different already! Kit began to plot new escape routes, new ways out . . . "I-I'm not a slave," Kit said, and her voice squeaked even higher than her bird's tongue would have normally sent it. "I'm not a slave!"
"Hold out your arm, please." Dark said, and held out an expectant hand. Kit's stomach clenched like a fist.
Why weren't they just taking her in? Why? Were they just . . . playing with her? Maybe . . . But maybe they still weren't sure. Kit held out her arm, and Dark took a hold of it. he pressed a thumb against his tongue and pressed the wet digit into Kit's arm, pressed hard and drew the thumb across it. He stared at her arm, tapped his other finger against the table. "Hm."
"Thank you for your cooperation Miss Shy," Dark said, as though this were the most normal thing in the world. Something grabbed at the back of Kit's shirt. "I need one more thing before you go." Dark gave a nod to something behind Kit.
While she was distracted with Dark, Wrath had gotten behind her. Something sharp cut through Kit's shirt from the back, began cutting down through the cloth along the spine. Kit tried pull away when suddenly Dark had drawn a long knife and pointed it toward her throat. Still smiling. "Stay still." He said, and she did, leaving Wrath to his work behind her until what was left of her shirt tumbled uselessly into her lap, leaving her bare from the waist up.
The other patrons of the boarding house were watching now. Some with very keen interest. "No brand," Wrath said. That too was hidden by her glamour. "Waste of time."
But Dark laughed and eyed Kit the way a wolf might eye a doe. "Our mistake, Miss Shy. You're not a slave. But you're not a Ravokian, right?" He chuckled, made a little mocking bow where he sat.
"Where IS she?" Wrath hissed, and for a terrible moment Kit thought that he was talking to her.
"She's a foreign slave," Dark shrugged, never taking his eyes off her. "No training. Five silver says Song used her and she drowned herself in the canals." He talked as though Kit were not even there! Not even worth acknowledgment.
"That a fact?"
"It's a fact I ain't scouring the city on account of an old cripple." Dark slid his dagger back into its sheathe. Kit pushed out of her seat, nearly sending it toppling back to the floor. "We're sorry if we gave you any trouble. You're free to go, Miss Shy. Don't let me catch you doing anything naughty." He winked.
Kit just ran blindly for her room, nevermind how suspicious running might look, ran from watching eyes as she heard Dark laughing. She dodged down the hall, past a very confused looking man in a suit walking through the hall and dove through her door, slamming it shut behind her. She breathed in deep, ran a hand over her face and fell to her knees. Kit slammed her fists impotently into the ground and remembered the Cripple. Remembered how he had treated her. How he had tried to rip her right to be anything but his away. She had thought it was over. She'd thought freedom had been the cure.
But this city didn't want her to feel pride. This city didn't want her to feel safe. Gods, how did it manage to steal the meaning from real freedom in one day? Oh Akajia hide her trembling, hide her weakness, keep her fear a hidden thing . . .
