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[The Trail - Part 1 - The Scales part Four]
Huzan had staked out his usual alley off of Pearl Lane. This time of evening the Blades rarely made their presence known, even this close to the city center. Regardless, he was a facilitator, a fixer: he rarely dealt with the immediate exchange of goods. Instead he served as the front man of a fencing and smuggling machine that ran considerably deeper than a nondescript, lantern-lit alley in which the Blades would find nothing incriminating on the rare chance they might stop by. He was one among the contacts that Aya had quietly enlisted over the past year. The rumor-mill that was the Quick Sand provided ample opportunity to acquire names, descriptions, and methods of contact: a veritable who's who of Ul'dah from the highest towers, to the thugs just above the level of street scum.Â
Despite appearances Aya often felt herself quite at home in the presence of such felonry. Though she would gladly exchange the risks of street life for sweet comfort, she had been raised in the gutters of Ishgard, and a half dozen other stops on the route of a refugee. She knew her way around dark streets and back alleys better than she dared admit.
"Its a lady, boss." announced the Roegadyn bruiser from his spot at the entrance of the alley. "I think she wants to see you." The Highlander opposite the entrance from him remained silent, eyes firmly affixed upon the partially cloaked figure with an undisguised oogle. The sound of heels on cobblestone had announced her arrival, draped in a cloak with hood pulled over her head. Red lips glistened in the street light, long, slightly curled blonde locks falling from her hood over the front of her shoulders. She had opened the cloak enough to reveal bountiful décolletage, and as she had come to a stop she had pressed her weight back forcefully into her heels to generate the sort of captivating motion that seemed to hypnotize unfocused men. The disarming nature of such distraction was difficult to overstate: what portion of her face was visible beneath her hood, was unlikely to be what stuck in either of the brutes' memories.
From further back in the alley the Hyur master of the operation looked up, unimpressed, before offering a wave for his sentries to allow her through. The Roegadyn first turned to him, and then back to the feminine visitor, "Should we disarm her first?" he asked, with a hint of anticipation. "I don't think she can take those off." came the leering reply of the happily gawking highlander.
"Will you.. Thal's balls!" came the irritated voice of Huzan. "What the hells do I pay you two for? Let her in, and let us be."
Red lips smiled. Two grumbling guards parted and turned from the alley entrance. She stepped slowly, and confidently within.
"Evening, my lady" pronounced Huzan, with an impish tone and a bow of feigned respect. "The boss want something?"
Moons ago she had first approached Huzan as if acting as an agent for a wealthy, and anonymous, employer. It had proven a useful fiction. The smile upon red lips became coy as she approached with care and purpose. One foot stepping just before the other with proper, practiced, swaying gait—her mother's lessons had not gone entirely to waste. Having drawn near enough she extended her left hand, gloved in black silk and leather. "Not even a 'good evening'?" she asked with a wryness of her own. Despite her light voice her tone was rich, cloaked with the velvet of her heavy Ishgardian accent. Inflection that provided a lilting tone to her more playful mood, lent an air of intrigue when more serene.
Its what Huzan liked about her - she gave as good as she got. Rarely did he find an attractive woman who enjoyed a little wit and repartee. That they were in similar positions: both handling transactions for employers behind the scenes, added to a sense of rapport. That her employer was wealthy and discerning didn't hurt. Â
"Of course, my lady", the word again escaping with a satirical, but friendly intonation, "It is always a pleasant evening when you come to visit."
She pursed her lips as he gently grasped her hand and bowed his head to apply a kiss. When he lifted his head once more she shifted her shoulders, subtly tugging at her cloak to ensure it displayed just the picture of provocation she desired. Huzan seemed an honest broker, but any distraction played to her advantage.
"He is shopping for something in particular. Something of which rumors have been flitting about so freely as of late." she gave an unimpressed shrug.
"And what would that be?" came the inquisitive reply, as if he did not already anticipate what was desired.
"The latest fad amongst collectors," came the dry answer, "Dravanian artifacts."
"Ah!", he replied with a mischievous grin, "And you would know all about those, I am sure. A little taste of home, hmm?" he added suggestively. She grinned with those slightly pursed lips, a look of composed amusement, "As sand and coin, for you my friend."
He gave a little laugh, "I'm afraid you're too late. I'm surprised you've moved so slowly this time. They were on the market for moons, and collectors swarmed around them as flies to fruit. They're gone. All, most probably. I may be able to scrounge something for you, but it wouldn't be easy."
Her composure seemed threatened for a moment as a pout of disappointment crossed her lips. "That is most unfortunate. He will be... disappointed."
"What's he going to do if you come back empty handed?" asked Huzan, leaning toward her with his leading eye narrowed, prying and suspicious. "Don't tell me..."
She huffed, arms pulling at her cloak outward and then back in, causing it to billow momentarily while she offered a slight and sudden shake of her head. It fell upon Huzan as a rebuff, the first hint of vulnerability he had seen the woman express.
He stepped back up, drawing his hand behind his head as if stumped over a difficult question. Aya's hidden eyes glanced around nervously, though her lips relaxed as she forced a calm back upon her expression.
"I'll tell you what: if anyone can find them now it would be Talamarito. You can find him at the Pale Sands, on Black Smoke alley. You know where its at?"
She nodded, masking the dread that particular address filled her with. "Thank you. So much." came her reply, smooth and gracious. She bowed, his eyes followed. Her right hand slipped within her cloak, drawing coins from a hidden belt purse. As she proffered them Huzan drew up his left hand to refuse. "Not this time," he insisted, "Its on me."
Three sets of eyes followed her closely as she left the alley and turned toward the Sapphire exchange. The markets were not but the silent dead of night at this hour, and beyond lay the long lonely walk through the ever worsening neighborhoods of the city. Black Smoke alley was one of the last places she wanted to be going, especially beneath the suddenly perilous moonlight.
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