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[Noven]

Fall, Day 40, 514AV

Nov plunked himself into an old, wooden chair, sending it creaking and groaning under his weight. Out in the mess hall, he could hear the familiar din of forks and spoons scraping against metal plates. Yet, the noises were dimmer than usual, less ravenous and more...defeated.

The cook exhaled a slow, weary breath as he raised a hand to his tired eyes. It had been yet another bleak affair serving dinner that night.

For a while, their stores had been plenty full. The orphanage's pantry was humble but well stocked and Jillene lacked nothing in terms of influence. Times hadn't been nearly bad enough for any of the children to go hungry, at least no since last Winter when food was mysteriously rotting twice as fast as normal. But then the shipments stopped coming into the city. A caravan was found abandoned and destroyed. And it was only yesterday when a family of farmers fled to the Tent city raving of bandits.

So, while it was true that the pantry had been stuffed from floor to ceiling with everything that could be squeezed in before spoiling, such was no longer the case within a couple days of the shortage.

Feeding over a hundred orphans, two times a day, tended to do that to well stocked larders.

Sunset would survive...for now. But what would happen in three more days? In thirty? All the influence and leverage in the world wouldn't buy them enough food when there was no food to be had in the first place. Noven wasn't even sure he could beat it out of people at that point.

"No use in thinkin' about it now..." he mumbled to himself.

Tilting forward so that the front too legs of his chair tipped back onto the ground, Nov stared at his pack for a couple of ticks before propelling himself back into motion. He had purchased a bag of honeyed candies after his first training session with Blondie, hoarding them for this very night. If past experience was anything to go by, Amira would not be agreeing to these new lessons of hers with Caela readily. Which meant he would have to trick, bribe, and outsmart her every step of the way.

Basic arrangements had already been made. A small group of orphans would take care of the dishes, Jillene would keep watch until the cook's return, and Mira herself had been kept thoroughly in the dark. No one--not even Thomas--knew what Nov was up to.

He gave her about five chimes to wolf down her rations. Then Noven stood by the doorway, caught her attention, and jerked his chin toward the door. Dark little face drawn up in perpetual seriousness, Mira nodded before scooting off of the bench to bring her dirty dishes into the kitchens. Once her plate and utensils had been dumped in a wash basin, she shouldered her own little pack, gazed up at the cook, and said in a deadpan tone, "We leavin' or what."

Nov worked hard to keep his features neutral. He'd told the child nothing, except that they were going to check up on Caela and make sure no more dead bodies had hurled themselves at her door. Finding this rather exciting, Mira had agreed heartily to accompany him on this brief trip. This made the man feel a bit bad about not being upfront. But hey, it was for the kid's own good.

"Yeah," Noven responded in equal jadedness, "we are."

And so the two exited Sunset Orphanage right as Syna dipped below the horizon, taking with her the last hints of day. Though dusk wasn't nearly as dangerous as true nightfall, the cook hadn't wanted his new student to risk a second trip on her own. She didn't exactly look inconspicuous, even in relative darkness, and was only just beginning to make progress in their training.

So, a compromise had been made. Nov and Mira would come to the blonde instead. Made things simpler and safer that way, and afforded the child herself some private space away from her peers.

It wasn't long before they arrived in front of Caela's door. Mira was allowed to do the honors and rapped against the rough wood to announce their arrival.

expenses-2 SM

[Caela Dorin]

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The dancer didn't like waiting. There was absolutely nothing for her to do to occupy herself as the light gradually waned. She'd finished her shift in the Pig's Foot a few bells ago, negotiating an earlier shift so that her evening was left free. She was expecting a guest and she was nervous about it.

Noven was coming to her room but he was bringing the orphan girl with him, Amira. Caela had never been good with children, except when she was one herself but that had been quite some time ago. She had nothing to offer the girl, nothing to soften her for the task that the cook had set out for her. There was no way for her to pick up anything that might interest the child although she had visited the market in search of something to give her. She'd decided against any pretty trinkets as she didn't know how the girl would react to them and she'd been unable to get any sort of food treats for her. Food was hard enough to come by as it was and so trying to find a small tidbit for a peace offering had been pointless. The blonde had looked through different kits that one could get and had found nothing that might appeal to the young tomboy.

The impending meeting was one that filled her with some small amount of terror. She had no idea how to transform the beast child that Noven had described into the lady that he wanted. Connecting to Amira would be difficult and they needed to connect if they were to act as teacher and pupil. At least Kechaiya had been a willing student but she doubted that the child that was being brought to her would want to learn anything that Caela might be able to teach her. Even if they overcame that obstacle there was a far bigger one. The young woman had no idea how to teach or even how to be a lady.

Apparently Noven seemed to think of her as a lady but Caela didn't think of herself the same way at all. She'd picked up a number of mannerisms from whores, mainly her mother and that was far from what you'd want to teach a child. Somehow she'd turned out somewhat all right herself but she was clueless as to how to pass that on without damaging the child in some way. She might not be altogether innocent - she was a child in Sunberth after all - but there were still possibly some things that she might be in the dark about. She didn't want to be too frank with her and ruin whatever semblance of childhood still remained to the girl.

A knock came at the door, making her jump and sending her into a flurry of activity. She was halfway to the door before she returned to her bed, making sure that the practise dummy that she had was well hidden under it. Noven had helped teach her to fight a bit better but that didn't mean that she wanted a piece of equipment like that in plain view. It was a little embarrassing. She wanted to appear to improve miraculously and so she didn't want to actually show that she'd gone to such pains. Let him figure it out for himself.

As soon as she was sure that the interior was presentable she moved to the door, smoothing her skirt down before she opened it.

Children can smell fear, her mind offered unhelpfully as she took in the sight of the child and Noven. The cook was right, it was hard to tell what sex the child was. She could quite easily pass as a boy with the way she currently seemed. She smiled and tried not to seem nervous. "Noven! Amira! What a pleasant surprise! Come in!" She stepped aside, inwardly smacking herself in the face. Everything she'd said sounded overly enthusiastic. She could actually hear exclamation marks at the end of each word.
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[Noven]

Neither cook nor orphan was prepared for the enthusiasm that practically gushed forth from their blonde hostess's very pores.

Mira looked up with instant suspicion. Noven, on the other hand, was still coping with the unexpected smile and cordiality. He'd grown rather used to Caela's cheek. And to getting punched. And to taunting her with things that made him kind of deserve said punches. But Blondie was all nervous cheer and hospitality tonight, which the cook supposed he could understand. Her little protege in femininity wasn't exactly princess material to begin with.

For Nov, he'd discovered an interesting observation when it came to people and how they behaved around children. Jillene was hard and stern, but fair to a fault. An efficient, uncompromised matriarch. Conversely, Florence was all rosy cheeks and kindness, with an extra drop or two of milk for a hungry babe regardless of her personal circumstances. A selfless mother of many, to many, likely for the rest of her life. And willingly so. Eleaz, unable to last more than two chimes before a handful of orphans cornered and used him for their own, diabolical purposes, which usually involved ribbons and rouge. And Jade, the newcomer, wary but curious, as if children were a foreign but not wholly unpleasant territory for her Sunberthian sensibilities to traverse.

And now, what of Caela?

Nov nodded his thanks as they entered the blonde's apartment. It hadn't changed much since the last time he'd been here, and thankfully there were no more corpses to shove out of windows.

"Been doing alright, I trust?" he asked once the three of them had gathered in the small living space. It was more or less code for, 'Hopefully you haven't been jumped by more mobsters and the like,' but the man didn't think it'd be a good idea to bring that up first thing.

Hey, even a thug like him had his moments.

Amira, however, was an entirely different story. She knew Noven had made a deal with the pretty blonde, having been present on the day Caela brought her concerns to Jillene direct. She also was there when they'd first heard signs of a chase. And when Nov had stormed out armed with nothing more than his daggers, a sizzling hot skillet, and a dirty apron. And, last but not least, she was too far from stupid for her own good.

"Were you hurt that day, Miss?" The child didn't so much blurt as she asked, with unsettling care and intention, a question so direct, so guileless that one could argue it was done in a perfectly childlike manner.

Nov resisted clamping a hand over the girl's mouth. Though he may have possessed skin and a skull thick enough to build two, brand new orphanages, as Old Calyn had often accused, even the cook found himself mentally cringing from the bluntness of Mira's words. One did not ask a victim of an assault how their near-rape experience had gone immediately upon entering their home. That was just plain, petching common sense.

Apparently, not for Mira.

But, as eerie as it was to witness the child's natural ability to coax information out of people, her motivations were clean, Noven had to give her that much. Whatever faults Mira might have had, she was a good kid. Smart, fearless, and still able to trust. Even as he watched her now, unable to predict what kind of aftermath her blatant question would cause, he could see the glimmer of naked concern in her fierce, tawny gaze.

It never failed to send a pinprick of pain through his heart whenever he stared too long at the child. Skin like coffee, black hair more stubborn than Mira herself, and golden-brown eyes as sharp as a cat's. She looked so much like Nona...sometimes, Nov wondered if that wasn't the sole reason he'd saved her that fateful, hail-stormed day. Funny, how the past always managed to catch him unawares.

But Noven stopped himself in mid-act of reprimanding the lass. To be honest, he didn't really know the answer himself. Had Caela been harmed? Not physically, he reasoned, since they'd trained immediately after. But he'd never asked if she suffered in...other ways, and felt a twinge of shame.

So it was that both cook and orphan stood there in silence, waiting to see what the blonde's reaction would be.

[Caela Dorin]

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Her gaze flicked down to the child's noting the suspicion with dread. Oh no, she really had overdone it. Her eyes rose to Noven's height, trying to catch his eye and send a help signal over the girl's head. A first impression was going to be very important and she could quite possibly have messed up already. She didn't know how to just talk to the child, had no idea what to say. That greeting had encompassed Noven as well because the cook was a person that she had some idea how to deal with. He was an adult so he was known territory but the girl... She really had no idea what to say to her but she couldn't ignore her either. That would give a very bad impression.

The man's question threw her off her panicked wavelength although she was left flailing for an answer to the simple question.

"Oh! Yes, I haven't gotten into any real trouble." Like almost getting eaten by a member of the undead. That wasn't real trouble. "Nothing that I couldn't handle," she added after a tick, trying to smile knowingly. She probably looked manic and she knew it.

If the man's query had thrown her into confusion, the child's one almost drew an immediate reaction from her. The meaning of the question didn't fully sink in at first, the only think that she latched onto in her panic - the girl was talking to her! - was the use of "Miss". It was an automatic reaction to correct her, to tell her that she had a name rather than a title but she ended up making a choking noise instead as what had been asked sank in. Her expression changed from mild exasperation to quite obvious shock. A glance at the cook was done more out of bewilderment than a search for assistance but she saw the horror in his eyes.

A swallow and the dancer perched herself carefully on the edge of her bed, hoping to better talk to the girl from that level. She wasn't going to be one of those patronising adults that bent down to talk to children. She had always hated those ones when she was growing up. Amira seemed quite a mature child too so she'd probably appreciate being treated as older than she was. The blonde met her gaze steadily as she spoke.

"No, I wasn't hurt that day, Amira. I hurt someone else though. It was kind of you to care," she replied softly. A hand patted the space on the bed beside her, offering the girl a place to sit if she chose to accept it. "I haven't got many places to sit I'm afraid but you can sit here beside me if you want. I won't eat you. I don't like the taste of children." She managed to dredge up a smile from somewhere. This talking thing wasn't going too badly after all now that the ice between them had been broken if under less than pleasant circumstances.

"And it's Caela, not 'miss'. You probably do it to be polite but I find it annoying as someone knows." A meaningful look was shot in Noven's direction, which became suspicious. She wouldn't be half surprised if he'd told her to say it on purpose. Admittedly she'd told him not to call her 'Miss Dorin' but surely he could work out that she hated the first part as much as the whole. It was the formality of it that she didn't like, it just rubbed her up the wrong way. It didn't matter though as long as the child accepted it and didn't throw anything else unpleasant at her.
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[Noven]

She had answered a beat late, with that same over-compensation of enthusiasm as before. Didn't take an expert to sense she was hiding something. But, Nov figured, if Caela was still in one piece, then it meant she had handled herself. Better let her be for now instead of prying into unsavory business.

When Mira blurted out her question, however, the blonde had looked up at him with bewilderment. It made Noven feel all the more at a loss, not knowing how to smooth over the situation with his severely limited skills.

Thankfully, Caela was able to handle the situation on her own. And rather well at that, the cook had to admit. She didn't make the mistake of making Amira feel inferior and offered her a seat as something of an equal. Because, even if Blondie didn't bite, the dark little orphan certainly did; Mira wouldn't even think twice about gnawing someone's nose off for talking down to her. Or would try, at the very least. Nov knew this well enough from personal experience.

Then the whole formality issue came up and Caela's glance of suspicion was not lost on the man. He'd called her Miss Dorin a couple of times in the past. It didn't go well. Granted, Nov had nothing to do with Mira's own use of the term, but whether Blondie would believe him or not was a moot point now. It was just a basic habit most urchins picked up to prolong their survival. Addressing someone more formally than they were used to wasn't exactly a trump trick, but if it appealed to or lowered the guard of a person, even for just a moment, it could very well be a street rat's saving grace.

Not, of course, that either female had anything to fear. Their present circumstances were about as hospitable and secure as things could get in the Berth. But for a child of the slums, old habits were there for good reason. It was going to take Mira some time to adjust if she was willing at all.

To Noven's relief, the girl seemed at least less tense than before, albeit still harboring a healthy amount of skepticism. She was rarely if ever treated this gently. Which was probably why Mira gravitated toward Caela like a moth to candle light, drawn by the invitation of camaraderie and kindness as children were won't to do. That was something the cook always marveled at, in all his years of living and working at the orphanage. It was almost damned impossible to teach an old dog new tricks. But the young ones...filled to the brim with possibility, black and bruised as they might be on the first day they show up.

Nov mentally hardened his resolve. He'd been unsure before of his decision, but was certain now beyond a doubt this was what Amira needed. Wholesome companionship and someone to look up to. Someone who didn't have his hands covered in more blood than a child should ever know about. Someone who could show her there was more than one way to living life.

He wanted her to be able to envision a future of her own. One that included neither an early demise or immeasurable suffering. He wanted her to have everything he couldn't because he had lost the one good thing in his brief existence that lent him any hope, any semblance of normality.

Seated with dark, scrawny legs covered in gods knew how many scrapes and bruises, Amira swung her feet a little as she considered Caela's words.

"Caela," the child repeated with sober conviction. "You can call me Mira."

Noven cleared his throat then, looking about the room as if he had suddenly remembered something extremely important. "Ahem, well then. You two keep yourselves comfy. I've got some business to tend to, won't be long."

He was halfway to the door when the orphan jumped to her feet and pelted after him. "You're leaving me here?? I thought I was supposed to help!"

Not missing a beat, the cook looked down at Amira as if she had just said something incredibly foolish. "You are helping. By keeping Mi--Caela here safe. What did you think I brought you here for, to take an evening stroll? No, you stay here, on guard. Where I'm going as no place for a little girl, nasty as she might be with a blade."

Mira scrunched up her face in consideration, not completely mollified. With a sigh, Nov placed a hand on her head. "I'm not leaving you for long, alright? Just gotta take care of some stuff. I'll be back before you know it."

"And there's a reward if I come back and find our friend is alive and well, " he added, patting his right pocket so she could hear the clink of candies.

This seemed to satisfy the girl, reluctant as she still may have felt. To Amira's credit, she didn't so much as shed a tear, her eyes paper dry and fierce with determination as she looked up and nodded to the cook.

"I expect to get paid. Not a hair on Caela's will be harmed."

That was as good as the lass saying, 'you better come back or I'll flay you in your sleep, also I'm going to do a damned good job just you wait'. Nov smirked and gave her unruly curls another awkward pat, then a brief nod to Caela, before exiting the apartment. As he close the door behind him with a soft click, the man let loose a breath he hadn't even know he'd been holding in. He closed his eyes for a tick to clear his mind of useless worries.

When he opened them again, his gaze held a flare of grit and resolve identical to that of Mira's. Noven had agreed not to stay in the room the whole time prior, knowing his presence could significantly alter however the child chose to react. But he hadn't told Caela what he'd be doing in the meantime.

He was going to figure out who had sold that corpse he'd dumped the first day of meeting Blondie the loaded dice.

[Caela Dorin]

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Caela was glad that things seemed to be going so smoothly. She'd been expecting some sort of resistance from the child but instead she was more than willing to cooperate with what the dancer suggested. She'd sat down beside her, still appearing a little wary but Amira didn't seem to mind being so close to the stranger. The young woman looked to Noven, searching for some indication of what he thought about this situation. He knew the girl better than she did so if there were any trouble brewing below the seemingly innocent countenance of the girl then he was more likely to see it. He didn't appear worried and she allowed herself to relax a little more. The child wasn't going to turn on her.

Amira's legs swung back and forth as she considered what Caela had said before giving in to it. It was to be a first name basis that they were to be on albeit with a slightly shorter version for the child. The dancer smiled. "Well, I'm glad that we have that much settled, Mira." She lapsed into silence as she searched for a subject to broach with her junior and it was then that Noven chose to speak. He was leaving Mira here with her? Alone? The child echoed the dancer's shock, screaming her outrage at the cook. The blonde found herself wincing a little at the angry pitch. Somehow the man remained perfectly cool, instantly offering an explanation of Mira having a duty to "protect" Caela. The dancer didn't believe that one and if the orphan did then she'd be surprised.

Her gaze flickered between the cook and the child as she watched the exchange. The expression of Mira's face that showed that she hadn't been fully taken in with his excuses and he must have known that because he offered her some sort of bribe. A pat at his pocket producing the sound of something knocking together but it didn't sound like gold. Whatever it was it seemed to have the desired effect on Noven's target. The child's seriousness left the blonde torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. This girl wasn't supposed to be so old, so young. She shouldn't be thinking about guarding people and getting payments but she ad to admire her for her ability to adapt to the environment that was Sunberth. She did not appreciate the cook leaving her alone with the orphan so soon though.

The man was leaving her in an awkward position and yet there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't call him out on it, not in front of the girl and so all that could be done was to curse silently at his back as he retreated. He'd better be telling the truth about not being long because she had no idea how long she could manage to look after her charge.

There was a silence between the pair after the door clicked close, the two of them listening to Noven's steps until they faded and left their earshot entirely. Only after the cook definitely appeared to be gone that Amira spoke.

"I'm going to look after you good, you know. If anyone tries to come in here who isn't Noven then I'll make sure they don't get a chance to get to you," the girl told her, her expression once again fiercely determined. The young woman was worried rather than reassured by this statement but she managed a nervous smile and a nod.

"I'm... glad to hear that," she responded slowly, looking away from her so that she wouldn't see the worry and fear in her green orbs. The dancer knew that she was being watched closely and so she faked relief, using the thought of Noven's return to inspire the emotion, before turning back to the orphan. A twitch of a smile from the girl before the swinging motion of her legs resumed and her expression became thoughtful. "You said that... you didn't get hurt that day but that you hurt someone. Who'd you hurt?" Her question was another innocent one. She had no idea what effect a question like that could have on the dancer, she just asked out of curiosity. Maybe she wanted to reconcile the idea of a woman who needed to be guarded by her and one who had been able to hurt another.

The blonde chewed her lip, wondering if she should be truthful. If she lied then the girl would probably pick up on it and dislike her for it but if she told the truth she didn't think that Noven would be pleased. Then again what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow in question. The child nodded eagerly, clearly pleased at being trusted enough to be included in her confidence but also a little uncertain. "Even from Noven?" The child looked even more doubtful. "It won't hurt him, he just might not like you knowing it," the dancer added, hoping that that would soften her resolve.

A slow, reluctant nod from the girl was the only form of agreement that she needed. She drew the dagger out from under her pillow and drew it a bit from its sheath. "I had this on me the day that... I met Noven and some men came after me. Noven rescued me but not before I was able to use this on one of them," she explained before she returned the blade to its place. The child looked at her with respect in her eyes, which quickly changed to puzzlement.

"Why might Noven not like me knowing that? He knows that I use knives. Does it still have to be a secret? Why does it have to be a secret?" The quick fire of questions left the dancer feeling extremely uncomfortable. Why did she have to pick up on the things that Caela didn't want her to? This was going to take a fair amount of explaining and she had to avoid revealing the cook's plan for the child in the process as well. The sooner he came back, the better.
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[Noven]

Crouched by the door, Nov studied the dark stains where their mystery man had been abandoned. It was strange that whoever had done him in was professional enough to draw out his suffering in one of the most grisly and time consuming ways possible, but careless enough to leave their handiwork in front of a random tenant's doorstep.

Or had it been careless? What if it was intentional?

The cook furrowed his brow as he scanned the worn, darkened planks of wood. It would be easy to assume Caela had enemies who thought leaving a bloodied body in front of her door a suitable scare tactic. But if she had such malicious foes in her life, the blond would surely have mentioned it. As things stood, it didn't seem Caela was deep enough in shady business to warrant her involvement as a target.

Sighing, Nov rose to his feet once more and rubbed along the back of his neck. There were no clues to be found here. Not with his meager patience for minutia, anyway.

Instead, the merc reached deep inside one of his trouser pockets and fished out the two loaded dice. He studied them for a tick, thinking. It wasn't uncommon for gamblers to get their throats slit. Especially not when they were carrying around loaded dice. You didn't even have to use them to get yourself in trouble; just being caught with them on your person was condemning enough.

He rolled them around a few times in the palm of his glove before closing his hand into a fist and stuffing the dice back into his pocket. Noven knew a fence or two who might be able to tell him where these damning little cubes were made. Hell, the particular fences he had in mind might have even sold the dice themselves.

The cook turned to leave, treading as softly as he could across the uneven floorboards. He'd caught bits of the conversation from within and didn't want the womenfolk to know. Something about secrets and knives and, of all people, himself. Setting one boot carefully in front of the other as he slinked away, Nov could only hope Caela wasn't instructing Mira on how to stab him in his sleep. The little menace did enough damage as it was with her trusty weapon.

It wasn't long before he was out in the cool, Autumn air again, wondering which direction he should pick. Noven had two obvious candidates to choose from; he just needed to figure out which would be less inclined to kick him out of their store as soon as they heard his request.

Zeke was a lot like Old Mack the cloth mongerer. Hard bitten, vigorous in old age, and built like several barrels strung up together. Except he was a lot less civil and showed no favoritism for anything other than coin. Knife, on the other hand, while difficult to track down and infinitely more eerie, might be easier to negotiate with. If Nov weren't so short on time, he would have gone with Knife. But finding Knife and the Dark usually took at least one or two nights, if not the full three before Knife moved shop again. It would have to be Zeke, then. Gruff as the fence was, Nov still had enough coin to hold some sway. And if the old bastard didn't want his mizas, he could always trade in skill and items acquired through violence instead, which sufficed in most situations.

Mind made, Nov headed over to The Fence. He threw up the hood of his coat and retreated deeper into the fabric as he walked, rendering himself as nondescript as the rest of Sunberth's bustling locals.

Had it been just him involved, the merc might not have gone through all this trouble for one woman. But there was also Mira to consider, as well as Jillene's subtle but indisputable orders. If these were to become regular kinds of visits he needed to be sure Caela's apartments remained safe, and the incident with the tortured corpse made him nothing if not uneasy. And let it not be forgotten that the Isur left him and Blondie to handle security issues on their own. Nov had overseen a bit of Caela's training thus far, but 'security' entailed more than just teaching her. He knew his landlady well enough to assume he was expected to handle little hiccups likes this as well, no questions asked, no compensation guaranteed.

As he reached the far end of the conspicuous building in which Zeke conducted business, Noven took a moment to clear his thoughts until only his objectives and a healthy dose of wariness were left. It would do him no good entering The Fence with tangled nerves.

Then he placed a set of gloved fingers against the door and pushed gently, molding wood giving way as easily as paper to a breeze.

"Eh...whaddaya lookin' fer, boy?" a rough voice called out.

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Mira sat beside the lovely lady again after Nov left, unable to hold back a torrent of questions that Caela had inspired with her secret. Had the circumstances been different, the orphan might have chosen to sneak out after the cook, or at the very least maintain a good amount of distance. She was no more trusting than she was guileless; an urchin couldn't expect to live long holding on to luxuries like trust.

But she trusted Nov, and Nov trusted Caela. That alone set the child at much greater ease. And goddesses above, was the woman beautiful. Mira was certain she'd never seen anything or anyone as gorgeous as the blond. Caela seemed so enchanting and graceful and....and clean. Being near her made Mira feel a whole lot more grubby than she was accustomed to, and suddenly the lass wanted very much to wash her hands and face. Normally, she loathed washing any part of herself, still firmly holding onto the belief that grime offered her significant protection. Yet now, she felt compelled to rid herself of it like it was some kind of offensive fungus.

Something about the woman made Mira feel...lacking. Made her begin to yearn for things she had not known could exist for girls who weren't whores. She'd seen her fair share of painted ladies advertising their wares on the streets. They seemed pretty enough, but also sad and broken. Mira did not want to end up like them. Not in a thousand years. Before coming here, she had believed pretty things were made only to be stolen or abused. But now, sitting beside someone who appeared neither been stolen nor broken--not even after being attacked by all those men--Mira wondered if she had been wrong.

A tiny spark of hope-fueled curiosity came to life, glowing within the otherwise dark and barren confines of the young girl's imagination.

The other emotion that Caela's beauty instilled was confusion. Mira simply could not fathom how one such as her survived in a place like the Berth. Maybe she had secret abilities, powers hidden until they had to be used. Or perhaps she knew magic? Dangerous sorts of magic?

Mira had barely finished with her first flood of questions before she blurted, "You're...you're very pretty." She was aware on some level that they were rather like opposites. One fair and womanly, the other dark and boyish. If she were older, Mira might have felt spikes of jealousy. But being so young she only saw their differences as more reason to stare. Looking up at Caela with typical, childish interest and openly admiring her gleaming waves of blonde hair, the girl added in a hushed tone, "Do you know magic?"

[Caela Dorin]

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Caela was still reeling from all the questions, trying to come up with good answers, when the compliment came. It threw her into an even greater confusion of thought. It was bad enough that she was trying to construct answers that were somewhat honest but wouldn't get her into further trouble. To have a child comment on her appearance so bluntly and in combination with the looks she'd been shooting her way it made her feel almost like her beauty was being worshipped. It was highly disconcerting.

"Oh! Well... Thank you," the blonde muttered, avoiding the child's gaze. It really was making her uncomfortable, which was quite silly. She fidgeted a little, searching for answers that she could give the girl that could also fill the silence that the dancer was sure would stretch between them. There was no point being evasive because Mira would know what she was doing and dislike her for it. She didn't want to be one of the adults that treated her like an ignorant child. If she made her feel that way even once then she was sure to destroy the tentative beginnings of friendship between them. Noven wouldn't be too pleased if that should happen. She had to be careful not to give a hint of what the cook wanted her to do for the child.

The magic question had her mouth dropping over. The surprise was too great for a few moments to manage to say anything at all. Where had that come from? Why had she connected magic with the blonde? Sure, Caela didn't share the usual Sunberthian prejudice against it but Mira wasn't to know that. Chances were good that the girl held such standard views though so for her to make such a connection seemed a bad thing indeed. "No, I don't. Why did you think that I would? People don't normally... Magic isn't a common thing here. You should know that. Outsiders have it mostly I think and I'm not an outsider. My mother was but I was born in the Berth and I've never been anywhere else," she explained quickly, eager to distance herself from any negative associations that the girl might hold. She hadn't shown any open dislike or distrust when she'd asked but Caela wasn't going to take the risk. The subject was changed, steered back to the girl's earlier rush of questions in an effort to distract.

"Well... I know that you use knives too, Noven told me but... I don't think he likes it when girls use knives and I don't think it matters to him if they're a grown woman or not. He'd sooner think of me as weak and defenceless but I'm not, at least not completely. He's welcome to think what he likes but he probably wants you to think the same way. That's why he left you to look after me because he thinks I need someone to keep me safe in my own room. You know better though but he might not be happy about that. Do you get where I'm coming from?" she asked. It wasn't total lies. She was fairly sure that the cook underestimated her but she knew that Mira hadn't been left here to keep the blonde safe but rather to make sure she remained safe out of whatever business the man had gone on. It was very true though that Noven didn't want the girl viewing her as someone who looked after herself by wielding a knife.

"It doesn't have to be a secret but it might be better if it stays one. He's a man. He'd be much happier believing that he's right and thinking that you don't know any different. Besides if you tell him you might get me into trouble. You don't want me to get into trouble do you?" It was the best that she could do. She could only hope that the girl would say no because if she answered in the affirmative, Caela was well and truly petched. The orphan made her nervous as it was. If she appeared to hate her then the dancer was going to be easily ripped to shreds by the child and her chances of making her a lady would be zilch.

I'm going to kill you when you get back, Noven, she thought. You're going to pay for putting me in this position.

"I don't think Noven will be back for a little while so why don't we... get to know each other a little better? You've been asking lots of questions so maybe I can get one or two in as well. Like why you seem to be Noven's right hand woman. Why is it that he trusts you to act as bodyguard?"
.

[Noven]

"I'm lookin' to buy," Nov answered in kind. Then he withdrew two, shining gold mizas from his trousers and held them up before the fat old fence. "Need to know who bought a certain pair of loaded bones. You sellin'?"

This was the tricky part of dealing with Zeke. You had to hook his interest right from the getgo without seeming desperate, on top of using the appropriate amount of directness, brevity, and brass for balls. Zeke ate the weak and stupid for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Those who didn't know how to barter or at least put up a tough front were better of peddling their desperation elsewhere.

The fence glowered up at Noven under bushy eyebrows.

"Folk come 'ere all the time lookin' to buy them rigged cubes. What makes ya think I can remember one lowlife, cheatin' whoreson out of hundreds?"

Funny, he was probably the last person who ought to judge others for their shady business. "Here. These help jog your memory?" Nov slapped the pair of dice down on the counter for Zeke to inspect. The old fence hesitated for a tick before scooping them up in his meaty paw. He looked at them from various angles, weighed them in his hand, inspecting the cubes with reassuring thoroughness.

Bollocks. The fat geezer knew exactly whom he sold those dice to the moment he laid eyes on them. Nov had seen the glint of recognition in his shrewd eyes, but played along anyway with the charade. Let the man think he was driving this deal.

"Eh, I might know a few who could have bought these," Zeke muttered, squinting at the dice in his palm for a couple more ticks before dropping them back on the counter. They rolled and wobbled and clacked against one another until both promptly fell still so that double six's remained face up. The cook cringed a little at the sight. Talk about lack of finesse. It was no small wonder their former owner had been tortured and left in front of some random doorstep to die; showing up to gamble with dice that loaded was just insulting.

Zeke huffed impatiently, making no move to pick the dice back up. He was smarter than that. Anyone knew carrying around bones like these was a death sentence in waiting. He'd probably danced a little jig of joy when someone foolish enough actually showed up to pay for their own, early grave.

"But it's gonna cost ya. More than those sad scraps ya got in yer fingers. I ain't runnin' no charity here."

Glaring back at the old fence, Noven breathed slowly through his nostrils before reluctantly fishing three more gold from his pocket. "I want more than a name. I want reasons, associations. Tell me just that much and this is all yours."

Zeke made no reaction. The cook clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times before adding two more. Then three.

"Welp," Zeke practically chirped before he slammed his grizzled hand down on the ten gold coins and swept them into his keeping, "seems we have a deal, boy. Now let's see...if I remember correctly, some bloke came creepin' in all shifty eyed and the like. Looked real nervous. Practically twitched when I asked him what I wanted. Shouldn't have come here at all, if ya ask me."

Nov listened patiently, knowing better than to interrupt the old geezer and risk losing valuable information.

"Anyway, said he wanted some loaded dice. Told the me same sob story everyone's got. Wife and kids, got himself in serious debt, had to pack back some Boss or other, the usual. Never got his name, but he was of middling age and height, brown hair, clothes that looked like they'd seen better days."

The cook had suddenly gone very, very still. "And this Boss...one of the gangs, I take it. Did the fellow say which one?"

Zeke looked a little uncomfortable for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he feigned the struggle to remember once more. "Ehh....ya got me there, boy. Old age. Gettin' forgetful."

With a derisive tch, Nov threw down give more gold on to the counter. "Think harder, Zeke. I don't have time for this shyke."

The fence grumbled something rude. Then he cleared his throat, swiped the coins off the table, and said, "Ya know, I think I'm startin' to remember now. The bloke said somethin' about a Mister...Silver? Or was it Mister Steel? Bah, somethin' along those lines. Now that's all I've got boy. Deal's done. Get gone."

But Nov was already out the door by the time Zeke looked up, blood pounding away in his heart and temples as he repeated the name over and over in his head. He knew that name. He and Nate had beat it out of some vagik slaver a couple of seasons ago. Never in all these years of searching had the merc felt so close to tasting true vengeance. True, it was just a name. Reiterated twice now from two different mouths. But if he could find those goons who had done in their hapless cheat, he may very well discover this Mister Silver's whereabouts come spring of the new year.

Picking up his pace and fingering the dice he'd placed back in his pockets, Noven headed straight back for Sunset Quarters.

************************

Mira looked up at Caela quizically. If she was understanding correctly, the blond before her was claiming Noven saw Caela as a weak person, and that was why Mira had been tasked with guarding her. But what was more perplexing was that Caela claimed she was not as weak as the cook believed. Mira could kind of understand that. It was like when a rat pretended to be too tired or wounded when it was cornered, and then just when you got close enough to kill it, it jumped up to bite you and scamper away, never to be found again. Granted, Caela was much prettier than a rat. But the idea seemed similar enough to the orphan.

"Yeah, sort of," Mira replied, little face scrunched in uncertainty. "I can keep a secret. And I won't get you in trouble, as long as it don't hurt Nov or no one else at ho--"

She almost said 'home,' but stopped herself. "--at the orphanage."

Upon being offered to get to know one another, something in the child's heart stirred. She'd never been asked this before. And having already established that Caela was a friend and someone who would not hurt her, Mira found herself yearning to be closer, to be counted amongst this woman's inner circle. She had sought a similar closeness with Noven, but when he wasn't busy doing rats knew what in the city, he was always in the blackest of moods. The orphan couldn't remember much of her family before they'd all been killed, but what little she did hold onto left her constantly seeking something she had only briefly known.

Mira stilled her swinging legs and thought very seriously about Caela's next question. "He trusts me because I saved his life once," she answered solemnly. "I stabbed a man who was trying to kill him in the back. That's why I decided to practice my knives more. Nov told me it was a good choice because I'm small and fast, and knives are easy to hide. Plus he says I'm a fierce little bugger and I'm hard as hell to kill."

There was much pride in Mira's voice as she explained this. But there was also a kind of disconnect...the kind that usually came when children parroted things they didn't completely understand.

She sat there for a moment longer, considering. These were the same boasts she told many of the other orphans and she had yet to really question them. Now that Caela had brought up the issue of Noven viewing her as weak, however, and not liking girls who used daggers, she grew pensive. "He never told me he didn't like me using knives...but sometimes I feel like it makes him unhappy when I fight the other boys. He says I should only fight people who are bad."

Mira slid Caela an all too adult-like look. "But most boys are bad. The worst, most rotten eggs that there are."

The child shrugged her shoulders, clearly not understanding what the fuss was about. "That was one question for me, now it's your turn. 'S only fair." She grinned up at the blond. "Since I'm good with knives, what kinds of things are you good at?"