Fall 55, 513 AV
Estrellir could feel Mell staring at her back from the kitchen door and heard her unspoken questions as if the girl had been shouting. She wanted to sigh, but pushed aside the urge in favor of her disguise. After she’d finished rubbing a mixture of mud and soot from oil lamps on her face, especially the shimmering scales, she turned away from the mirror.
“You’re curious about what kind of mission it is this time, right? You’ll be helping with research, so you need to know in any case. That blond with the colorful face paint was an actress employed at the Illumination Theatre. I want you to ask at the theatre and anywhere else about her personality and history. She wants me to tail a former lover.”
Turning back to the mirror, she brushed her hair so that the last curls straightened. Then she ran her hands through the strands until it looked ruffled. In fact instinct told Estrellir there was more to the pretty girl’s story. Actresses had a flair for the dramatic, but that one had given a surprisingly short and clipped description of her lover.
Eventually the Konti stood and slipped into her dark coat. The hem was as dusty as ever from roadside dirt and mud. Living in a swamp meant precisely that: permanently dirty clothing. The figure exiting Konrath’s Detective Bureau seemed to be a human girl at first sight, brown hair spilling out from under the hood of her coat and face suntanned and quite dirty. She certainly didn’t have a high position in Kenashern hierarchy. That was exactly the disguise Estrellir was aiming for, although given her mediocre skills it wouldn’t withstand close inspection.
According to the client, her ex-lover was living on Blade Island and working for a particular business situated on the West Bank. Syna’s rays had barely climbed over the treetops as she crossed a bridge and made her way over to where his house was supposed to be. She found it with some difficulty, a modest residence blending in with its surroundings. Only darkness could be seen through the windows, so Estrellir shrunk into the shadow of the opposite house and waited. The shadows were her friends, she thought, they enveloped her and her black coat so any cursory glances slipped off her like water.
And she waited, but not long. After a few chimes the front door flew open and a slender young man with handsome features and messy black hair hurried down to the path and up towards the next bridge connecting Blade Island with the West Bank. He was clearly late for work and still chewing on the last bits of his breakfast so that he didn’t notice the hooded figure.
After he’d disappeared, Estrellir waited another few chimes before approaching his little shack, imitating the purposeful step of a messenger or slave on an errand. She hoped passers-by wouldn’t ask her questions that way. First she walked around the house twice, then she tried to peer in through the windows. The furniture proved simple and sparse, exactly what one would expect of a simple freeborn worker.
As she walked back and over the bridge to the West Bank, Estrellir recalled his appearance in as much detail as possible. As far as she’d seen, his clothing had been simple, but clean and of good quality. His body language had spoken of a honest and modest personality, certainly not a hot temper. What did he have that had enchanted a theatre actress, roused her sense for tragedy and drama?
The Konti didn’t know, but she’d do her best to find out. Those stories were what kept her going, what kept her interested in her work.
Estrellir could feel Mell staring at her back from the kitchen door and heard her unspoken questions as if the girl had been shouting. She wanted to sigh, but pushed aside the urge in favor of her disguise. After she’d finished rubbing a mixture of mud and soot from oil lamps on her face, especially the shimmering scales, she turned away from the mirror.
“You’re curious about what kind of mission it is this time, right? You’ll be helping with research, so you need to know in any case. That blond with the colorful face paint was an actress employed at the Illumination Theatre. I want you to ask at the theatre and anywhere else about her personality and history. She wants me to tail a former lover.”
Turning back to the mirror, she brushed her hair so that the last curls straightened. Then she ran her hands through the strands until it looked ruffled. In fact instinct told Estrellir there was more to the pretty girl’s story. Actresses had a flair for the dramatic, but that one had given a surprisingly short and clipped description of her lover.
Eventually the Konti stood and slipped into her dark coat. The hem was as dusty as ever from roadside dirt and mud. Living in a swamp meant precisely that: permanently dirty clothing. The figure exiting Konrath’s Detective Bureau seemed to be a human girl at first sight, brown hair spilling out from under the hood of her coat and face suntanned and quite dirty. She certainly didn’t have a high position in Kenashern hierarchy. That was exactly the disguise Estrellir was aiming for, although given her mediocre skills it wouldn’t withstand close inspection.
According to the client, her ex-lover was living on Blade Island and working for a particular business situated on the West Bank. Syna’s rays had barely climbed over the treetops as she crossed a bridge and made her way over to where his house was supposed to be. She found it with some difficulty, a modest residence blending in with its surroundings. Only darkness could be seen through the windows, so Estrellir shrunk into the shadow of the opposite house and waited. The shadows were her friends, she thought, they enveloped her and her black coat so any cursory glances slipped off her like water.
And she waited, but not long. After a few chimes the front door flew open and a slender young man with handsome features and messy black hair hurried down to the path and up towards the next bridge connecting Blade Island with the West Bank. He was clearly late for work and still chewing on the last bits of his breakfast so that he didn’t notice the hooded figure.
As she walked back and over the bridge to the West Bank, Estrellir recalled his appearance in as much detail as possible. As far as she’d seen, his clothing had been simple, but clean and of good quality. His body language had spoken of a honest and modest personality, certainly not a hot temper. What did he have that had enchanted a theatre actress, roused her sense for tragedy and drama?
The Konti didn’t know, but she’d do her best to find out. Those stories were what kept her going, what kept her interested in her work.
