Busy night. Weren't they all? Zhavi's first stop had been to see Keto'to -- ostensibly for something to carry the book in, something nondescript that could be kept tight to her body and under her hands (wouldn't that be a cruel twist if someone stole the stolen book from her?), but secondary was to see what the old man knew. Guttersnipe he might consider himself, but she'd seen the intelligence that lurked behind his rheumy eyes and shabby exterior. Keto'to had gotten old in a city that didn't like unattached old men whose position kept them in touch with all sorts of unwanted rogues.
He touched the book carefully, flipped through it with gentle fingertips. "Ye'll not be wantin' this fer long, no," he said after a quiet eternity.
Zhi fidgeted. "I ain't plannin' on keepin' it," she snapped.
He gave her a steady look.
She flushed: more out of temper than any sort of grace. "D'ye know what it is?"
He looked back down at the book. "Nay."
She sighed, and reached out to take it. He intercepted her, took hold of her wrist. She tried to yank it back, but his grip was strong. Her ears flattened, and she bared her teeth at him.
"This," he tapped the book with his free hand, "is somethin' right strange. Strange attracts greed, 'specially in this sort o' pit o' vipers. I don't know how ye've gotten yer hands wrapped 'round it, an' I ain't carin' t'know. But this goes higher than ye've th'stones t'handle, lass."
She hissed at him. He let her go. She snatched up the book and stuffed it down the sack she'd paid him for. He watched her, morose, probably one of the last few scrags in the city who'd treat her like an equal, and she sneered at him in return.
"I can handle meself, old man."
He watched her carefully. "Ye've a buyer?"
The change in topic made her shift. She turned to leave.
"Thing like that, no man'd want a trail left behind," Keto'to called out behind her.
That was all she'd needed to hear.
______________
Morning saw her drinking long and steady, crouched low in an alley with the bag laid out before her and her head all buzzing with an unnatural energy. Her fingers shook as she capped the skin that held her alcohol, and stuffed it down her shirt to rest against the belt at her hips. She'd sent out three tentative signals: one to Brindle, one to Jager, and one to net the attention of one of Galleon's flunkies. She knew she had to move fast, and had made her decision, for good or ill: she couldn't just hang on to the thing while Lalataru remained out and about. He wouldn't exactly be happy that his book'd been kipped.
She wanted to smoke, but resisted: probably the first smart decision she'd made in a full moon. The craving zinged through her, buzzing under her skin, and she ignored it as best as she could as she waited for Brindle to come find her.
He made it to her side by noon, and she sent him back out near as fast as he'd arrived, to go listen and come back with news of Galleon's people.
She hid all day, hungry and buzzing. She expected him to take time; the city was large and even with his skills it would take time to track down Galleon's movements.
By sunset, she knew he wasn't likely coming back.
She made the decision to stash the book, praying for all she was worth that it stayed hidden, and tucked tail under her overlong shirt and a hat down over her ears. She'd hit up Her Highness first, and make her way through the sprawl of shady and seedy bars and taverns in her search, conscious that by now Galleon's people had likely scented her blood. They'd be looking for her, and gods only knew what Galleon himself was willing to do for the book.
She didn't know why Brindle hadn't come back, and she didn't want to guess.
All she could do was avoid Styrm as best she could, and hope not to get caught by Galleon's net.
He touched the book carefully, flipped through it with gentle fingertips. "Ye'll not be wantin' this fer long, no," he said after a quiet eternity.
Zhi fidgeted. "I ain't plannin' on keepin' it," she snapped.
He gave her a steady look.
She flushed: more out of temper than any sort of grace. "D'ye know what it is?"
He looked back down at the book. "Nay."
She sighed, and reached out to take it. He intercepted her, took hold of her wrist. She tried to yank it back, but his grip was strong. Her ears flattened, and she bared her teeth at him.
"This," he tapped the book with his free hand, "is somethin' right strange. Strange attracts greed, 'specially in this sort o' pit o' vipers. I don't know how ye've gotten yer hands wrapped 'round it, an' I ain't carin' t'know. But this goes higher than ye've th'stones t'handle, lass."
She hissed at him. He let her go. She snatched up the book and stuffed it down the sack she'd paid him for. He watched her, morose, probably one of the last few scrags in the city who'd treat her like an equal, and she sneered at him in return.
"I can handle meself, old man."
He watched her carefully. "Ye've a buyer?"
The change in topic made her shift. She turned to leave.
"Thing like that, no man'd want a trail left behind," Keto'to called out behind her.
That was all she'd needed to hear.
______________
Morning saw her drinking long and steady, crouched low in an alley with the bag laid out before her and her head all buzzing with an unnatural energy. Her fingers shook as she capped the skin that held her alcohol, and stuffed it down her shirt to rest against the belt at her hips. She'd sent out three tentative signals: one to Brindle, one to Jager, and one to net the attention of one of Galleon's flunkies. She knew she had to move fast, and had made her decision, for good or ill: she couldn't just hang on to the thing while Lalataru remained out and about. He wouldn't exactly be happy that his book'd been kipped.
She wanted to smoke, but resisted: probably the first smart decision she'd made in a full moon. The craving zinged through her, buzzing under her skin, and she ignored it as best as she could as she waited for Brindle to come find her.
He made it to her side by noon, and she sent him back out near as fast as he'd arrived, to go listen and come back with news of Galleon's people.
She hid all day, hungry and buzzing. She expected him to take time; the city was large and even with his skills it would take time to track down Galleon's movements.
By sunset, she knew he wasn't likely coming back.
She made the decision to stash the book, praying for all she was worth that it stayed hidden, and tucked tail under her overlong shirt and a hat down over her ears. She'd hit up Her Highness first, and make her way through the sprawl of shady and seedy bars and taverns in her search, conscious that by now Galleon's people had likely scented her blood. They'd be looking for her, and gods only knew what Galleon himself was willing to do for the book.
She didn't know why Brindle hadn't come back, and she didn't want to guess.
All she could do was avoid Styrm as best she could, and hope not to get caught by Galleon's net.
