Zhi slid out from her position in the niche and half climbed down before dropping to the alley below. Mujuuk was gone, and the overpowering stench of spilt wine covered most of the lingering scents of the men who'd just been in there. Was it too much to ask that quality wine came in quality bottles, able to survive a teeny little fall? Zhi scowled down at the cracked bottle in disgust, unwilling to attempt to salvage anything for herself with her job on the line. Time was taken to get another proper sniff of the alley, and this time she got hits on all three of the men. Faint, already mixing into the other overpowering smells of the city, but good enough to know the moods of them. Sighard had been nervous, aye, but he wasn't afraid. And what'd that say about Ferigen, that Mujuuk's own considerable pull on the weight of his inherited company rattled the man in the middle so little? It certainly didn't put Zhi at ease. Sure, she knew the value of Ferigen on the street. Everyone knew that when it came to Lover's Embrace, Ferigen was the supplier. While there were certainly others who could, on a theoretical level, wrest it from him, there was a cost to that none of them were willing to pay. Sometimes profits were better left as they were than to risk stirring up the mud and having something unexpected bite your hand off. Asides, the Yellowjackets weren't like to sit on their duffs and let some misplaced turf war spill out of the careful balance that had been achieved over the years. Tampered with profits, such things did.
Couldn't have that.
Zhi kicked the bottle, tail lashing in a concerted agony of itchiness. The bottle spun, wine splashing the street, and hit the wall with a satisfactory crack. Zhi left off thinking about the possibilities and drifted after Mujuuk, more conscious than ever of the stipulations of her job. She needed to know about Sighard, about all the men and women who'd pulled support from Mujuuk, and what exact bait Ferigen held that made them so confident of their choice. What's more, she wondered why she had been approached for such a job; was she being used as a prod? Was it because she was unknown, or just expendable?
Tonight's gig was the first time she'd seen Mujuuk meet with one of his ex-business partners in the few days she'd followed him. It changed her perception of the job. It changed how she regarded the amount she'd been offered, the silky promise of bonuses and extra gil. Whoever had ordered the job done had expected it to turn sour, and had left the promise of gil as a means to keep the churl interested. And she'd just walked right into it, stupid as could be, and now that she was in it. . .she choked down the giggle as she tailed Mujuuk, keeping her humor and her jeers at herself inside her own head.
As Mujuuk approached the makeshift market at the docks, Zhi split off from him to approach the lookout -- a scrag she'd plenty of interaction with -- to keep herself off Mujuuk's peripheral. Once he'd stopped moving down the walkway she broke off the conversation to go browse what was leftover, stopping a woman from packing up her goods to give them a good looksee. She wasn't able to catch all of what Mujuuk said to Yayabuko, but she got the gist of it. She knew the sound of gil when she heard it, and could all but smell the opportunity knocking. Her employer could get wrecked; if they were reeling her sideways then that gave her leeway to go the other way; she'd rather zig and be kicked around for disobedience on someone else's coin then zag and be killed.
As Mujuuk walked off, Zhi leaned in close to the woman and slipped the gil and a little extra over, taking one of the pieces and slipping it down her shirt to fall into the pocket formed by the rope belt tied at her hips. The woman nodded, bit her lower lip, and watched someone moving behind Zhi as she whispered instructions. The woman's fingers drummed twice next to the offered gil, and Zhi reluctantly piled a few more. It swiftly disappeared, and the woman's head turned, still watching something, then she nodded and sat back.
"Yer th'best, Chirp."
"Sod off," Chirp said, "an' lay off the booze. You smell a right drunkard, you do."
Zhi reached out and ruffled Chirp's hair before dancing back and away before retaliation could be meted out.
"Scrag!" Chirp yelled half-heartedly as Zhi turned and walked to Yayabuko.
"I needs a favor," she said as she sidled up to the man, settling into a crouch in front of him.
"Gods above," he muttered.
Zhi adopted a hurt expression.
He glared back.
She made a face. "Yer right cruel, Yayi."
"Don't call me that."
"Then lemme at least give ye a name."
"For what?"
"Th'coin that jes' passed over."
Yayabuko went silent, his stare appraising as he looked at her properly. She returned his scrutiny with earnestness, which he dismissed with a shake of his head. They'd a turn or two in the past, they had. Enough that he took her seriously, and enough to consider if dealing with her would be beneficial to him. She let him think, knowing better herself than to ply him with patter while he considered. That was one of the best ways to put him off.
"I'm listening," he said. Finally.
"Yer t'look fer someone, aye?"
"Yeah. Look, Kink, make it quick. I don't have patience for your buzzing today. You were eavesdropping for some reason, I'm sure, so don't play like I'm stupid."
Zhi held up her hands in placation, a cheeky grin baring her teeth. "Fair. I've a name in mind. Y'keep yer money, and time spent searchin', an' I take a swift stab at some enterprisin' new ideas fer th'man in th'spotlight."
"Big word for you." Yayabuko's snort was derisive.
"Learned it last week, I did. So, that's me favor, an' I'll be pickled if ye grease me ears with some stories 'bout th'tom's dancin' partner."
Gil was hinted at, but not produced.
"Isn't like you," he said.
"There's shine t'be had, spuggie."
"Piss on you," Yayabuko snapped, but considered her words all the same. He sighed. "I've need of introduction to Skarp. She keeps slipping me. I need to talk to her boss." Yayabuko leaned forward, his eyes intent on hers. "Double rates for you, besides, after your last venture."
Zhi considered bartering the price down, but knew by Yayabuko's stare that this was his final offer. So she'd left him in a tight pinch a moon ago, it was water under the bridge -- or should have been. Apparently it wasn't. Not, mind you, that she was surprised. She groaned and rocked back onto her heels. "Stubborn git," she muttered. Gil was passed over to the lalafel, and then Zhi leaned in and whispered a name and a place.
Yayabuko's disgusted expression had her giggling to herself for hours after.
_________________________
Clove owed Zhavi, which was precisely why it'd been him she'd picked. He was . . . known well enough, by the darker set, for his pretty face and mannerisms. He was too pretty for a hyur man, the exact sort that could get a doxy into trouble. It had, and that was how Zhi had first met him. They'd a cautious sort of understanding ever since, though she'd never asked him for anything until now.
He was clever, the sort who heard many things and kept his mouth shut when he needed to. The sort that, for the right price, could arrive at beneficial arrangement that could be trusted in the short term. She'd considered asking him to keep watch for her, anyhow; it was sheer chance that Mujuuk's movements had set things up so nicely for her. Now all that remained was to earn Mujuuk's approval.
The usual meeting place was a dive on the south end of the lower deck, a semi-permanent fixture that floated slightly to the east of Fisherman's Bottom. It was wedged further back in, out of sight of the tourists and legitimate businessmen, and allowed to persist for some arcane reason that probably had to deal with the exchange of gil and a need to keep the worst of the rifraff out of more popular and acceptable establishments. It was built of wood and steel, chained to the stone it resided next to, and half kept itself afloat while the other half relied upon the chains to keep it from capsizing when business was booming.
It was beloved of gamblers, cutthroats, and all manner of shady individuals. It was understood that you didn't bring marks or grudges there, and as a result had become something of neutral ground for a bevy of the legally disinclined. Hailed as The Highness, Her Highness, or Your Highness depending on who you were talking to, it was a study of faded grandeur. Stained purple drapery shielded customers from the windows, and tacky once-plush rugs kept the floors from being noticeably sticky. The wood used for tables and bar was high quality, but so scarred that it was hard to tell. While Her Highness was kept cleaner than most of its ilk could claim to, the sheer amount of traffic and limited space ensured that by the end of each night it was close to disaster.
Zhi was squished in at the end of the bar, tail wrapped tightly around her hips to avoid any number of unfortunate accidents, and ears flat to discourage any of those she was familiar with from approaching. Clove sat at her back, a yellow armband tied about his upper arm, at the table Yayabuko had reserved. Her Highness was so noisy it was all but impossible to eavesdrop unless you were up the arse of those with business in mind who weren't overly loud.
Now all they needed was Mujuuk to make his appearance.
Couldn't have that.
Zhi kicked the bottle, tail lashing in a concerted agony of itchiness. The bottle spun, wine splashing the street, and hit the wall with a satisfactory crack. Zhi left off thinking about the possibilities and drifted after Mujuuk, more conscious than ever of the stipulations of her job. She needed to know about Sighard, about all the men and women who'd pulled support from Mujuuk, and what exact bait Ferigen held that made them so confident of their choice. What's more, she wondered why she had been approached for such a job; was she being used as a prod? Was it because she was unknown, or just expendable?
Tonight's gig was the first time she'd seen Mujuuk meet with one of his ex-business partners in the few days she'd followed him. It changed her perception of the job. It changed how she regarded the amount she'd been offered, the silky promise of bonuses and extra gil. Whoever had ordered the job done had expected it to turn sour, and had left the promise of gil as a means to keep the churl interested. And she'd just walked right into it, stupid as could be, and now that she was in it. . .she choked down the giggle as she tailed Mujuuk, keeping her humor and her jeers at herself inside her own head.
As Mujuuk approached the makeshift market at the docks, Zhi split off from him to approach the lookout -- a scrag she'd plenty of interaction with -- to keep herself off Mujuuk's peripheral. Once he'd stopped moving down the walkway she broke off the conversation to go browse what was leftover, stopping a woman from packing up her goods to give them a good looksee. She wasn't able to catch all of what Mujuuk said to Yayabuko, but she got the gist of it. She knew the sound of gil when she heard it, and could all but smell the opportunity knocking. Her employer could get wrecked; if they were reeling her sideways then that gave her leeway to go the other way; she'd rather zig and be kicked around for disobedience on someone else's coin then zag and be killed.
As Mujuuk walked off, Zhi leaned in close to the woman and slipped the gil and a little extra over, taking one of the pieces and slipping it down her shirt to fall into the pocket formed by the rope belt tied at her hips. The woman nodded, bit her lower lip, and watched someone moving behind Zhi as she whispered instructions. The woman's fingers drummed twice next to the offered gil, and Zhi reluctantly piled a few more. It swiftly disappeared, and the woman's head turned, still watching something, then she nodded and sat back.
"Yer th'best, Chirp."
"Sod off," Chirp said, "an' lay off the booze. You smell a right drunkard, you do."
Zhi reached out and ruffled Chirp's hair before dancing back and away before retaliation could be meted out.
"Scrag!" Chirp yelled half-heartedly as Zhi turned and walked to Yayabuko.
"I needs a favor," she said as she sidled up to the man, settling into a crouch in front of him.
"Gods above," he muttered.
Zhi adopted a hurt expression.
He glared back.
She made a face. "Yer right cruel, Yayi."
"Don't call me that."
"Then lemme at least give ye a name."
"For what?"
"Th'coin that jes' passed over."
Yayabuko went silent, his stare appraising as he looked at her properly. She returned his scrutiny with earnestness, which he dismissed with a shake of his head. They'd a turn or two in the past, they had. Enough that he took her seriously, and enough to consider if dealing with her would be beneficial to him. She let him think, knowing better herself than to ply him with patter while he considered. That was one of the best ways to put him off.
"I'm listening," he said. Finally.
"Yer t'look fer someone, aye?"
"Yeah. Look, Kink, make it quick. I don't have patience for your buzzing today. You were eavesdropping for some reason, I'm sure, so don't play like I'm stupid."
Zhi held up her hands in placation, a cheeky grin baring her teeth. "Fair. I've a name in mind. Y'keep yer money, and time spent searchin', an' I take a swift stab at some enterprisin' new ideas fer th'man in th'spotlight."
"Big word for you." Yayabuko's snort was derisive.
"Learned it last week, I did. So, that's me favor, an' I'll be pickled if ye grease me ears with some stories 'bout th'tom's dancin' partner."
Gil was hinted at, but not produced.
"Isn't like you," he said.
"There's shine t'be had, spuggie."
"Piss on you," Yayabuko snapped, but considered her words all the same. He sighed. "I've need of introduction to Skarp. She keeps slipping me. I need to talk to her boss." Yayabuko leaned forward, his eyes intent on hers. "Double rates for you, besides, after your last venture."
Zhi considered bartering the price down, but knew by Yayabuko's stare that this was his final offer. So she'd left him in a tight pinch a moon ago, it was water under the bridge -- or should have been. Apparently it wasn't. Not, mind you, that she was surprised. She groaned and rocked back onto her heels. "Stubborn git," she muttered. Gil was passed over to the lalafel, and then Zhi leaned in and whispered a name and a place.
Yayabuko's disgusted expression had her giggling to herself for hours after.
_________________________
Clove owed Zhavi, which was precisely why it'd been him she'd picked. He was . . . known well enough, by the darker set, for his pretty face and mannerisms. He was too pretty for a hyur man, the exact sort that could get a doxy into trouble. It had, and that was how Zhi had first met him. They'd a cautious sort of understanding ever since, though she'd never asked him for anything until now.
He was clever, the sort who heard many things and kept his mouth shut when he needed to. The sort that, for the right price, could arrive at beneficial arrangement that could be trusted in the short term. She'd considered asking him to keep watch for her, anyhow; it was sheer chance that Mujuuk's movements had set things up so nicely for her. Now all that remained was to earn Mujuuk's approval.
The usual meeting place was a dive on the south end of the lower deck, a semi-permanent fixture that floated slightly to the east of Fisherman's Bottom. It was wedged further back in, out of sight of the tourists and legitimate businessmen, and allowed to persist for some arcane reason that probably had to deal with the exchange of gil and a need to keep the worst of the rifraff out of more popular and acceptable establishments. It was built of wood and steel, chained to the stone it resided next to, and half kept itself afloat while the other half relied upon the chains to keep it from capsizing when business was booming.
It was beloved of gamblers, cutthroats, and all manner of shady individuals. It was understood that you didn't bring marks or grudges there, and as a result had become something of neutral ground for a bevy of the legally disinclined. Hailed as The Highness, Her Highness, or Your Highness depending on who you were talking to, it was a study of faded grandeur. Stained purple drapery shielded customers from the windows, and tacky once-plush rugs kept the floors from being noticeably sticky. The wood used for tables and bar was high quality, but so scarred that it was hard to tell. While Her Highness was kept cleaner than most of its ilk could claim to, the sheer amount of traffic and limited space ensured that by the end of each night it was close to disaster.
Zhi was squished in at the end of the bar, tail wrapped tightly around her hips to avoid any number of unfortunate accidents, and ears flat to discourage any of those she was familiar with from approaching. Clove sat at her back, a yellow armband tied about his upper arm, at the table Yayabuko had reserved. Her Highness was so noisy it was all but impossible to eavesdrop unless you were up the arse of those with business in mind who weren't overly loud.
Now all they needed was Mujuuk to make his appearance.
