Nuit Hunting I - Bagging Ballack With A Beggar

by **Zandelia** on March 9th, 2014, 2:44 am

21st Spring, 514 AV – The Seaside Market

The Seaside Markets were just as she remembered, or at least the general atmosphere held the same aromas, energies and constant shouting and haggling as before she had left. As always the stalls were mostly ramshackle affairs and changed often, position and in entirety. At times she wondered where the merchants went, whether they were subject to a robbery of the sharp edge of Sunberthian buy outs. Some would turn up sporadically, head to the Castle Commons if they became successful and increased their station – they often returns broken and poorer but no less enthusiastic. It was where small minds lived with small hopes and clung to the cliff of earnings b fingernails made from the idiocy of those they had scammed.

Limpets, each of them limpets. Or crabs…dragging each other back into the bucket so that none of them ever escaped to freedom and the high seas she mused as she pushed her way gently through the bustle of the crowds.

She was looking for someone.

She didn’t know what they looked like, had little idea of what they sold or even if they were still alive. A name and the description of merchant were all she had to follow as a scented trail. It didn’t overly concern her, she was a patient woman and was used to such pickings. Slim they were but enough. It was easy enough to garner the names of those who worked their wares as she passed each stall, stepping into the crowd perusing the wares and making a show of mild interest – picking up a few trinkets here and there and twisting them in the light as if deep in study. She was listening more than she was seeing but it was a decent enough ruse for those too busy watching for thieves and desperately trying to sell the smallest of items.

She was ignored for the most part.

“Darral! Get the petch outta my spot!” came a roar of wrath from her right, the ensuing scuffle and subsequent ring of spectators enjoying the entertainment distracting others for a while and allowing her to pusher way to another stall.

It appeared to be nothing much more than a seashell seller, painted and colourful though the patterns graced upon the rough surfaces they were of no interest. Their vibrant characters merely seemed to emphasise her darker melancholy and she almost felt as if they were stealing what happiness eh had left rather than brightening it for her. She sighed and made to turn away and give up for the day, the previous one weighed upon her – the bond with Bitzer had been broken due to their inherent stubborn natures. She had little reason to do much than drink the rest of her evening away in silent, sad contemplation.

“Hey Ballack, got any’tin intrestin today ah?” the question slithered through the crowd, her ears latching onto it and ripping into the name as if it were prey – it was in a sense.

Her head turned, searching as her ears pricked further, seeking for the same tones of voice and blocking out all others one by one until the foreground of her audible world was a seemingly minor conversation between two men – one of them wearing aught but rags.

“Clear off Jarral, got no time fer your scrounging little ‘ands today you hear?! Get outta it I said” the man dubbed Ballack responded with anger and she noted how he stepped forwards, arm raised and the old man winced and crawled away.

She tilted her head and wondered if it were better to tackle the man head on, to accuse and threaten him into submission if her were the right contact – or act out mistaken identity if he turned out to be nothing but a morsel for the lean thugs on this side of the city. Weighing it in her mind, knowing she wished not to be noticed as returned to Sunberth before she was ready, she tailed the one dubbed as a beggar out towards the thinning edge of the markets. She used the crowd for cover, ducking behind a stall every so often and keeping her pace slow, nonchalant. Her hood was down, she had little fear for her face being revealed for now and to have it up would merely add to her oddities – she was already armed and robed as it was.

“Spare a coin fer an ole man missy?” the wizened and bedraggled beggar bowed before a young woman dressed far richly than he. Zandelia was surprised when she handed over a few coppers and moved on with a sense of achievement that almost made her glow with an inner light.

Takes all sorts she shrugged to herself as the old beggar cackled to himself, thanked the retreating back of the girl and waddled onwards towards a convenient wall.

It was then that she stepped from behind the last group of people and made her way more directly towards him, squatting almost into the ground as he was now. His tiny wooden bowl rattled as he spilled a few more coins that had been hidden in the folds of his, for want of a better word…clothing a few moments previously. He had coin it seemed but he merely pretended as if he did not, perhaps to add to the guilt in those he accosted she reasoned.

“Very clever” she spoke softly, her voice pitched to be deeper than usual and with an edge of menace to it that should put the man at unease.

She had slipped up from his left side and was leaning against the moss covered wall a mere three paces away from him and singular orb pinning him in his crouch. His head snapped up at her voice and his hand darted into the fold of his rags so as to hide the bowl – now half-full she thought by the sound of the clinking echoing out of its rim.

“Dunna whatcher talkin about!” his gaze narrowed to take her in, she fancied he was about to harangue her for discovering the tricks of his trade.

No more than I would do I have to admit she chuckled to herself inwardly.

by **Zandelia** on March 9th, 2014, 2:46 am

“Of course not, of course not” she murmured by way of reply, a small smile crossing her lips in roder to ease his hostility a little, “nothing to see here of course. Just an honest man earning a living?” she asked sweetly, the viper hidden in the grass for now.

“That’s damn right, ey! Damn right! Man’s gotta eat ya know” the dishevelled beggar’s eyes were wider now, he clearly did not like the turn of the conversation or his discovery.

“Oh I agree…of course…hypothetically speaking if one were to let it be known that you are a rich beggar. Well…it could be interesting” she brought her hands together efore her, locking the fingers together and pinning him with her gaze.

“You are rattle are yeh? Wel don’t ye even thi-“

“Think about it? Oh I wouldn’t dream of doing it at all. I was merely speculating. With my eye none would believe me anyway no?” she enjoyed the flicker of doubt that played across his gawping face then.

“Well…nah yer waffle on it…spose so. So what can an old man do fer-“ he began to offer and she knew she had him, he would do anything for money and safety.

“I’d get someone else to do it for me,” the words lashed out and when he winced she knew her mark had been hit, “someone far more innocent and trustworthy. I have many…friends”

“Look, I don’t wan trubble now. Only trying te make a livin here” the beggar licked his lips then, eyes shifting from side to side he still had not moved from his crouching position.

“Of course,” she continued smoothly, ignoring his comments, “I could always use more friends” she let the suggestion hang there for a few chimes.

Silence reigned between them as she amused herself with the varying ways she could ruin his life if and when required. Death was always so final but far less interesting. With her skills she could be rather more inventive. Spreading rumours upon his great wealth and turning him into a pariah for being a forger in his trade was a small thing. She could steal from his enemies, plant the evidence and get merchants to turn on him further than they already did. Casual aggression was a far cry from being hunted down and beat bloody. Perhaps she could even have someone pose as him and get caught doing something worse before fleeing and the finger would then be pointed.

It was an informative silence that dragged on, the beggar clearly unsure of how to proceed. He kewn he didn’t want to help her but also knew that he might have little choice.

Sometimes it’s better to sleep with the known enemy than the unknown…three…two… she counted to herself as she watched the contorted face of the man as he warred with himself and lost.

“What kindsa friends eh”

There we go… she thought, triumphant.

“Well, friends come in all sizes these days. Street urchins, beggars, mercenaries. All have their uses. You erhe often?” she changed her tone and direction of conversation so as to keep him unbalanced.

“Yea, good gig I gots here. Merchants don’t mind much…well most of em. Long as I keep outta the way and the sailors here be superstitious. Charity is all scales to em, good deed and sea does good deed te them. See?”

“I think I do,” she nodded simply, “and some merchants aren’t as kind then?”

“Bloody Ballack,” the beggar spat harshly but ti was more of a dribble that caught in his beard and horrifyingly stuck there, “bastard of a bastard of a petcher. Sneaky dodger he is and no mistake!”

She tilted her head as if entranced by his words, trying to ignore the rivulet of saliva dripping oh so slowly through his facial hair. She needed to be careful. Not because the beggar was dangerous but because her future lay in forming bonds worth more than coin. She needed eyes and ears of all shapes and sizes and a beggar was a good start. He was unnoticed really, they all were – a mere detail of scenery upon a backdrop of a harsh city. People had larger concerns than his ilk and thus he could be thoroughly useful to her. She considered just paying him and found it would be lacking. No, she needed to actually help him. He held no loyalty beyond himself she thought.

Some will need to be created she affirmed.

“Ballack..Ballack. I know the name. The one that roughed you up back there?” she shifted her tone to a thoughtful recollection, as if he were helping her. The first plank of the bridge.

“That’s right! Filthy rat he be! Always gots blaggers shiftin round him. Hes worse’n dirt!”

“I see…and these thieves…any of them just run things for him? Messages perhaps? Or does he get any more…strange…visitors” she tested the waters a little now, teasing out how much he would be willing to pass on data to her.

“Maybe…who’s wantin to know? Why?”

“Ooh…people. You know, interested parties. He’s rubbed up a few people the wrong way. Perhaps they could hep you…be rid of him” she led the conversation to self-interest now, it was a common lever of motivation for most.

“Hah! Bout time! Well….he did gets a coupla sorts few days ago. One got offa boat. Cloaked he was, almost covered. But here weren’t human nah. Damned shuffler I reckon. No place amongst”

“Honest folk, I know. A Nuit?”

“Maybe. Hey, if yer wants ta get Ballack no skin offa my nose. Make my life easy. Easier”

So Garret was here then, visiting Ballack as the notes suggested. A place to start. Not much but exploitable. Got results with better data before after all she told herself as she thought through the possible scenarios.

“And if I were so inclined to do it…what could I expect in return?”

“No more than I’d ask from yer as price and my word on whats I see. Aint got nuffin over than that”

“Agreed. You know his messengers?”

“Yup, know em like a knows what alleys be best ter sleep in at night”

“Good…go and watch for them then. When you see them move forwards with your begging bowl and bump into them,” she told him, there was no suggestion of a compromise available, “I’ll watch, wait and see. Then you will get what you want…”

“Jarral” he provided his name easily enough.

“Web. Now go. Quicker done, quicker rewarded”

She watched the toothy grin that broke across the old man’s face with horrified fascination and then he was gone, shifting along and back bowed lower than she had ever seen it. His begging bowl was proffered but now, she noted, she skirted the crowd and did not approach anyone. She didn’t know if she could trust him but she had little choice.

Building connections was a tricky business at the best of times. She lurked in the shadows so as to be non-descript and kept her gaze upon the beggar, tracking him slowly in his passing.

by **Zandelia** on March 9th, 2014, 3:15 pm

As she watched from her secluded vantage point, ignored by the crowd for the most part, she wondered what her next step would be. She was not even sure that Ballack was the right man for the moment, though the evidence seemed to be suggestive in the least. She had found his name in the stolen missives, now copied down into her journal for perusal at her leisure. The beggar seemed to be convinced that he had been visited by a Nuit also and that posed a problem. She was not even sure if Garret was even using the same body anymore. Surely he would have had to have swapped, or whatever it was they did to get a replacement. She had never inquired too deeply into the disturbing topic, a fact that she now cursed herself for.

But a Nuit…they are hardly common in Sunberth. They come and go at times but never really engage the populace. Too distrusted usually and others avoid them. Ballack must know this person well to risk being cast in a bad and fundamentally magical light. Or foolish… she thought to herself as she rolled the facts around in her mind for assessment.

So a merchant mentioned in a letter, a Nuit, possibly Garret and some message runners perhaps. These were her tools for use and they were scant ones at best. She would need more evidence to be sure, something linking Garret and this merchant for her own eye to see. She watched the beggar with interest as she decided upon whether to follow or intercept the messenger if and when they arrived. Interception would certainly give her access to his missives but there was no guarantee that they would e revealing for her. Then again if they had an accident then if Garret were involved in the scenario he would see her coming and just…disappear.

He was good at that.

“Better to follow then,” she muttered to herself as the beggar turned, smiled in her general direction and cocked his head towards Ballack’s stall, “quietly, secretly…Akajia guide my steps” she finished as she slipped along the wall in order to get a better view of Ballack.

A young woman had taken up residence beside the giant of a man and is head was tilted downwards, back stooped slightly in order for his ear to be level with her lips. As had no idea what they were discussing but she could see the frown upon Ballack’s brow from her position and as she drew to the very corner of the wall, a scant twenty paces from the stall in question now, the beggar began his hobbling approach but did not engage. It was almost as if her were waiting for something. She frowned herself and her gaze switched back to the disparate duo and caught a glimpse of what was the probable cause of the delay – the corner of a slip of paper disappeared into the merchant’s jerkin and quickly all was normal again. The beggar finally approached and signalled the woman by shoving his cup under her nose – he merely got the back of her hand as a response as she turned away and stepped into an alleyway.

“Petch” she cursed as she sauntered forwards as quickly as she dared and hoped she would not lose the lass, the beggar slipped in beside her and she didn’t not even look at him, “watch Ballack. I will be back and you will get your reward Jarral” she spoke softly before pushing through the crowd ahead of them.

She slipped past the stall and waited, watching until Ballack was distracted by a series of customers before darting into the alleyway the woman had entered and speeding down it as quickly as she dared. It was dark and cramped, shadowy the way she liked it but dangerous. She approached a junction and found no sign of her quarry. She shook her head and looked at the dirt upon the ground – no help there either as print crossed over each other into their scores. She picked a random direction, the right, and slipped down it until she came to another corner and tilted her head around it.

There we go she told herself with a smile as the cloaked and burly back of the missive runner came into view. It reminded her of her own days shifting paper for Tua. It was a job to teach a girl just how to survive in the dirty underworld and give her the body to match it.

She rounded the corner and affected a nonchalant walk, as if she were just passing through. There were a few already using the network of alleys and it was not unusual to see the rougher types using them as shortcuts as and when required. It was no easy feat to follow the lass, she was cautious and more than once Zandelia had to duck into a group of people enjoying a smoke against a wall when she thought her prey would turn to survey her passing. It was a slow and arduous process and she was sure that she was spotted at least once, she had her hood up now to conceal her hair and features – distinctive clues she didn’t want Garret to hear of. The lass turned again and she was too slow this time, she was spotted and her quarry ran for it.

“Shyke!”

She ran after the other woman now, there was no other option and she had to know where they were going at least. The network was a warren and she had no idea where they were heading no matter how much she tried to summon up her mental map of the city. As they burst out of the warren she saw the more dilapidated part of Sunberth – the Wolf’s Den.

Just petching great she slowed her pace until she finally skidded to a halt.

She had lost her quarry but she knew the area now and that was enough for a small venture. The Den had ways of finding people, dark and brutal ways but ways all the same. She would start in the Blood Pits perhaps. Johnny’s if she had no luck.

She made her way back towards the Seaside Markets – Ballack was her only source of more detailed information now.

by **Zandelia** on March 9th, 2014, 4:02 pm

It was a slow walk that she took, taking the time to recover her breathing and settle her features. Her cheeks were red with anger, anger at herself for being so careless. She had lost her quarry and as such any immediate ability to locate their employer. She resolved to improve herself, to be more cautious and clever in the future. She was getting to old for her usual form of plans, her speed was fading and the strength of her arms – whilst still considerable – would not last forever. It was her mind that had improved without losing much edge, her cunning and experience that she would have to harness from now on. She would need helpers, this she fully realized now and she knew where to find one of them.

The first nodal point in the web to match my new assumed identity she told herself as she came back out into daylight and blinked a few times as her gaze became used to its glow once more. She scanned the crown and spied Jarral sitting upon the floor, ack against the wall and head shifting from side to side.

“Gotcher gal?” he snickered as she approached, failure evident upon her countenance and she growled at him for his words.

“Too fast”

“Yup! Bout right. She wins foot races round these parts ya see. Good runner, very fast”

“Used to work for Tua?”

“Know of ‘im ah? Yer right there! Makes ya wonder who pays her more now eh?”

“Yes…it does,” she slipped three gold coins into Jarral’s wooden bowl to keep us the act of beggar and walker, studied them with a toothy grin, “know who?”

“Nah! But I bets me last teefs that bastard over there does” there was no need to ask which bastard he was referring to.

“And whats he been up to?”

“Nuffing much, hawking his blagged gear for the most part. Slipped aside to read that paper thingy he was given but didn’t take long. Smiled though. Musta been good news eh!”

She leant against the wall again, relaxing into a stance familiar to others as being at ease and in conversation. Jarral obviously talked a lot to passer’s-by and as such it wouldn’t hopefully be considered out of place. She contemplated upon the best way to retrieve that note from him and found a few ways that were possible but not by herself. Physical violence was foolish and the crowd was liable to turn on her. Intimidation wouldn’t work as she didn’t have any leverage over him. Persuasion was possible but she didn’t know him enough to see any reliable levers to use. She wasn’t about to buy his entire stall just for a small piece of damned information.

Thieving would be best, possibly with a distraction or two thrown in to mask it. But…I am no thief she told herself as she mused upon how many people a beggar got to know over the years.

“Know any pocket dodgers Jarral?” she asked, testing the plan for holes and trying to extrapolate as full a plan as possible on the fly.

“A few lass, a few. Why? Oh! The paper. Well…could be arranged, for a price. Nuthins free Web, you knows dat” eh grinned at her and proffered his bowl once more.

She slipped in a further 2 gold mizas and scowled at him, he would know that he could get no more. 2 certain mizas was no small thing to street sleepers. He nodded after a few moments of consideration, she was sure he was about to ask for more and was relieved when he didn’t – she didn’t want to have to get physical with a dishevelled old miser.

“Alrite! Gimmie a Bell and I’ll get yer as good a group of urchins as you’ll find round the docks Web. One Bell” he heaved himself up with the help of her hand and he made his way around the corner and off to Akajia knew where,

She didn’t like it one bit, she wasn’t even sure she wasn’t going to get a mercenary to come and try and take everything from her with a share for himself. She had little choice though, she was backed into a corner and with nothing to go on settled back against the wall and took to waiting. She watched Ballack as she did so, learning of him and studying his mannerisms. They would be the key to her planned caper.

A spy gains as much information as she can before acting and at this speed I’ll need all the help I can get. Intelligence…damned hard at times she sighed inwardly as she watched the merchant at work and sought out any holes that she could exploit.

by **Zandelia** on March 9th, 2014, 5:09 pm

It was a long wait, the longest she had endured for a while in terms of staying tied in one spot. She was willing to sacrifice comfort for her schemes but she wasn’t willing to be bored whilst she did so. She continued to watch Ballack deal with his customers and what she noted was revealing to say the least. On the surface he was just like any other merchant at the myriad of stalls within the market. The act was not so much and act as a lifestyle but beneath that veneer was something else – something darker she thought. Observation could only tell her so much of his mannerisms and character in such a short time but there were hints, reactions to various stimuli that gave her pause for thought upon occasion.

He deals with people but he doesn’t let them get too close. Always at an arm’s length. This…will be a problem she realized as she noticed the repeated pattern layered into his interactions.

His business transactions were short, sharp and to the point. There was little haggling it seemed, though upon occasion one or two of the more wily customers took up more of his time than clearly he liked them to for those there were always threatening clenches of the fists and a raised tone of voice. She wondered if it were feigned anger of just enhanced frustration. Still, each slipping of item and coin was done with his arm stretched before him and whenever someone tried to step into his personal space he held them back with a firm but usually friendly gesture.

“He clearly knows the ways of thieves and the more shadowy denizens of Sunberth. He is wary and thus will be difficult to distract for my purposes. It’ll take more than talking and bartering with him. Hmmm” she mused to herself as she watched yet another customer dealt with and turned away.

She found no true way beyond the clever little wall of gestures he threw up to protect himself, instead shifting her focus to the way in which he was annoyed by people. If talking wouldn’t work then driving to anger could – anger made a mockery of most people she had found, if used correctly. She found herself particularly interested with the annoyance shown when someone refused to play along with him, refused to suck up to his prices perhaps -she was too far away to truly hear everything but the length of the conversations and the growing anger from both parties was suggestive of a haggling process – it was a curiosity to her that though he was a merchant he had little time for such activities.

Or perhaps he isn’t a merchant? Or…he wasn’t before. Could he just be in his business as a way of being more stable? Does he do more shifty exchanges on the side? Jarral seemed to think so. Useful? she thought it through, wondering if there were a way of getting any information on such activities, if they existed, and using them as part of an entrapment.

She smiled as she lined up a plan-it was a simple one but simple in her experience was most successful. The more complications that were present the more likely things could go wrong. Ballack disliked opposition – verbal or physical. He was quick to frustration when denied what he wanted which suggested to her he was either greedy or arrogant. Sending in pickpockets wouldn’t work, he was too guarded. However, pushing him over the edge and then getting said pickpockets to exploit that – that was possible.

“Web, gotcha what yer wantin, two lad good as anyfing they is” Jarral finally returned and suspicion flooded through her for a moment as her head whipped around, that was until she saw they were barely men and more teenage boys.

No threat she processed easily enough, in point of fact they looked uneasy and sullen as if they had been forced to meet her.

“Nice to see you boys, just a small job for you. Easy as drinking and no dangers involved”

“Yeah? Well why don’t ya tell us so we can decide for ourselves!” one of the youths snapped at her.

“Easy boy, just because I want to employ you doesn’t mean I won’t thrash you so stay your tongue,” she fixed him with a dark glare before continuing, “Ballack seems to have made enemies. You know him?” she asked.

They nodded mutely though she noted their fists clenched at the mention of his name – more enemies perhaps.

“Well he’s got a bit of paper, inside the left side of his jacket. It’s open now but for how long until he buttons it I don’t know”

“So whatcher want us to do? Fight ‘im?” the second boy piped up then and it seemed as if he were almost eager.

“No…I am going to be the one to fight him if it turns that way. Hopefully it will. I want him to try and dive on me in anger and that’s where you lot come in,” she responded smoothly, ignoring his wrathful outburst, “I want you to drag him off of me. Whilst you do it should e easy enough to get at the paper. Then we leave and you get paid”

“How much?”

“Two gold each and no more. It’s a simple job. But do it well and I’ll have more tasks for you in the future. Paying tasks”

They nodded their assent after a hushed exchange between them, the price was more than fair and she had pitched it precisely to give them the impression she was more than good for coin that they wanted. No doubt the promise of future tasks helped their decision making process also but she didn’t listen that intently, she wanted their aid and not their suspicion.

“Good. Let us begin then” she stated simply and turned towards Ballack’s stall.

by **Zandelia** on March 9th, 2014, 7:37 pm

She approached the crowd surrounding Ballack’s stall at a slow walk, there was no hurry to be made now that a plan was in the process of being played out. Haste would merely cause suspicion and so she joined the back of the crowd and listened as she waited for her turn. The goods on display were wide and varies she gathered from the tumult, daggers there were and parchments. Salves, of questionable quality probably, were mentioned and a myriad of other items of a small nature. The goods were always small enough to be carried away in one hand she observed and in her mind she wondered whether that was because it also made them easier to steal.

I wonder how many of these items are being purchased by the very one’s they might have been stolen from? she mused as she stepped forwards one person at a time.

It was an arduous process but it gave her time to peruse his wares and make a further and closer study of the man. His jacket was still open she saw and that put to rest one of her initial fears – the note would still be possible to get during a staged encounter. Now she merely needed a premise and a bit of luck goading him into trying to deal with her. She turned her gaze to the wares and saw a small item that she had always wanted –cheap and battered it was a wooden symbol for Akajia upon a long leather thong, an inverted triangle that she had seen all those years ago. She knew she would have to buy the item she haggled over at any rate so at least something of worth to her was desirable.

Reminds me of my father’s one… the memory came unbidden and distracted her for a moment so that she missed Ballack’s initial question. She shook her head and brought herself back to the present.

“Said anything you like lass?” he asked her, voice slow and precise in pronouncing the words as if he thought she were dim in the skull.

“Yes,” she smiled at him sweetly, “that necklace there. Wooden one, leather thongs”

“What about it? Cheap stuff lass, cheap stuff. Gotta a lot more than that for a pretty lady like yourself. Silver rings, proper jewellery see?” he swept his hand across the collection of trinkets upon the stall.

“Thoas are nice but I like the symbol of that one. Rest seems like junk to my eye” she began the baiting.

“Junk! You wound me lass!” she saw his face darken and brow crush down to almost cover his eyes, “but fair enough. 2 gold missy and not a penny less”

“Two gold You’re joking right? It’s wood! And leather. Could knock one up myself for a tenth of the price you ask”

“Could do, could do, but then that takes time see and this is right here. Say you like it and that there’s quality oak or I’m not an honest merchant”

“Are you?”

“What?” the word was whipped out with startlement that sifted to menace towards the end.

“An honest merchant? 2 gold for wood and leather. Do you rip off all your other customers like this? I wonder what would happen if word got out?”

“Now you listen ehre missy I won’t be hav-“

“Listen? To a swindler like you? Stolen goods like as not. Junk, junk and more junk. Ask for a small trinket and pay the cost of a day’s food. Scandal!”

Ballack had rounded on her now, coming around the stall to jab her finger into her chest as his anger built up with every verbal low to his reputation. It didn’t help his mood that some others were agreeing with her in muttered voices, low enough but still able to be heard. HE jabbed her in the chest twice.

“I’ll have no insults at my own stall you hear!?”

“Sorry…what was that you said?” she grinned broadly up at him and that was when he snapped.

His fist lashed out and slammed down into her jaw, she could have stood her ground but instead allowed herself to stagger backward. She brought her forearm around to block his second swing but allowed the third to smack into her should and feigned a trip so that she sprawled to the floor. Ballack was on her in a second and she blocked his blows as best she could yet still got a solid smack to the abdomen that drove the breath from her chest. Then light returned after his looming was done, dragged away by her helpers and other members of the crowd were remonstrating with him – chaos and confusion saved her as Jarral came to help her up and she staggered away and towards the stall rather than the crowd. She stole the wooden necklace out of spite, leaving nothing in terms of money – it wasn’t hard with the hubbub.

“Got the note?” she managed to wheeze to the boys and they grinned at her and stuffed its crumpled form into her hand.

She gave them their gold and began the long walk back towards the Pig’s Foot – she needed rest and time to breathe before she read the note and thought upon things further.