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[Laying a Trap - The Scales Part Six]
Thematic Music:
It started with a note. It was written in Aya's usual style: upon the same pink, heart-decorated stationary she had purchased in Limsa nearly a year prior, in her flowing and flowery script.
"There's something I want - and I know you can help.
I'll be by tonight.
~Foxy"
Aya did not bother with any form of disguise or distraction. Dressed in the simple, rugged sweater-like knit top she so often slipped on for errand-running around the city. Her bright blonde hair, highlighted with even lighter sections bleached by sun and chamomile, was tied back into a loose ponytail; her bangs were left partially hiding her right eye.Â
She cast a carefree wave and smile toward Momodi, not only her employer but also the proprietress of her lodging. Then following one after another she followed with ever more cheerful waves accompanied with grins to regular patrons she passed on her way toward the door.
Her stride was quick and insouciant. For a moment she had worried that the note wouldn't be received, or that he wouldn't be able to free his evening on such short notice. But, these things seemed to have a tendency to work out—nothing seemed to bother her.
The sun hung low in the sky, lending a red cast to the clustered stone buildings of Ul'dah. These were clumped and humped together, supporting each other and lending a little airiness to the otherwise oppressive cityscape in the form of courtyards, scattered like holes in the hard cheese the city was known for. In one of these, following clasp way from the Gold Court, a Miqo'te sat at a little metal table and waited patiently. A bottle of wine and two glasses rested on the painted mesh top of the table, along with a plate of sliced tomatoes and a bowl of fresh yogurt. He was slim and dark, with a lean, athletic build and a pleasant face; clad in coarse white silk and soft soled boots, he read from a little book that he balanced on his knee.
Walking the avenue outside Aya nodded to herself, "This is it-" she thought, reminding herself that it was what he called his "casino", an office he had once offered to lease her provided she kept an eye upon it. She stepped into the courtyard and offered a warm, friendly smile that betrayed her excitement the moment she spied the wine and hors d'oeuvres. She raised her right hand part way up to offer a casual wave, accompanied with an energetic but even more casual greeting, "Hi!"
He looked up from his book and grinned at her, delight plain in his face. He rose, ushering her to one of the metal chairs around the table, fussing over her as he settled her in with wine and a little plate. "It's wonderful to see you, Aya! It's always too long between our visits. How are you?"
She gladly took the offered seat, exhaling a deep and pleasant sigh. She leaned toward him with a coy smile, one blonde eyebrow raised playfully, "Even better now!" She raised her wineglass, "Cheers!"
He poured for himself, then sat back into his own chair, raising his wine glass to match hers. "Cheers", he purred,sipping. It was a fresh young wine, one picked to match the tomatoes as well as her own carefree manner, and she gladly joined him in the libation. He selected a slice of tomato, then smiled at the woman. "I'm glad you wrote me", he said in his usual manner of purring delight. "Shall we have business before pleasure? You said something about needing something found?"
His question caused an interruption of her sipping: she pursed her lips, blue eyes expressing a mischievous displeasure. "Always trying to deny my fun, C'kayah? I think I'll enjoy myself for a few minutes first!" she added an authoritative nod: her moments of pleasure were nothing to be trifled with. "I'd never suggest any such thing", came his purring objection. He happened to agree: few took their pleasure as seriously as he did. Especially when the evening sun casts such a fetching red wash over her skin. As she took another sip of wine, and savored the tomato and cheese as a delicacy, he crossed his legs and draped an arm over the chair to, like her, simply relax and enjoy the moment.
She lifted her chin as she enjoyed a second serving of the tomato, and grinning, sipped wine quickly as a memory came to her. C'kayah knew the look of a story. The emphatic expression of her eyes, accompanied with the gesturing of hands. She always seemed to love to share stories, especially about work. His expectation of the timing was perfect: "Have I told you about the bard who wanted me to mix his drink by strapping it to my hip?" she exclaimed with a grin, as if on queue.
That grin, how he loved it. He could paint a mental picture of it, but every time the real thing struck it was as if a masterpiece all its own. He couldn't help but laugh, "You have not! But you should!" he grinned with a mischievousness all his own. "I imagine people would pay quite a bit extra just to watch you do that." She grinned, eyes narrowing as she let out a light giggle to accompany her nod. He popped the slice of tomato into his mouth, enjoying the rough bite of salt and sharp flavor of the fruit before chasing it with wine.
"It made for quite the tip!" came her excited reply. She swirled her wine, the playful grin upon her lips lingered, hinting that she had more to add. "I wonder how he'd have tipped if I'd shook it up with a dance." She raised her arms over her head, hands meeting at her wine glass, lips pursed, eyes closed in feign concentration as she lifted up just enough to for her hips to provide a vigorous swaying exhibition to the delight of the singular audience.
He grinned wickedly at her as she moved, admiring the grace of her athletic body. "Aiming to join the wealthiest Ul'dahns on the Syndicate, are we? Either that or give the bards of the city both something to sing about as well as a cautionary tale about the dangers of Hyur women..."
She lowered her arms as she adopted an air of bashfulness; a demurring smile filled with a soft sweetness and warmth. Her eyes glanced away, carmined red lips glistening in the final rays of the setting sun. "Besides, how dangerous could I really be?" She turned her eyes back upon him, nothing now but the cheerful blonde in her expression, save one barely raised eyebrow.
"Now that is a conversation we've had before", he purred over the rim of his glass, holding her in his gaze."I still maintain that the answer is, of course, 'very'..." he lent and silky fullness of tone to the answer, as if daring anyone to disagree.Â
He watched as she held him transfixed with the unchanged sweetness of her smile. The spell only broke when she slowly glanced back to her right, as if her eyes were hunting for one last glimmer of sunshine. "Maybe so..." she answered at last, with a near laugh, still gazing into the distance. "'A nightmare dressed as a daydream?'" she turned back to him with a beaming grin of self-assured amusement. "Is that the lyric I once heard?" His grin widened.
This is what he always missed in the days or weeks between seeing her. Not her beauty, though she was exceptionally beautiful. Not her grace, though she was perhaps the most graceful woman he knew. It was her wit: not competitive, not sharp. Playful. Conversation with her was like a dance, and he always relished it.Â
"I don't know if I'd go so far as to say the word 'nightmare' in any sort of connection with you," he murmured with another sip of wine. "A jungle Coeurl isn't a nightmare, even though its dangerous. It's..." he paused trying to gather the right phrase to refer to both his hypothetical jungle predator, and the very real urban one sitting before him. "Worthy of respect. Not something to be taken lightly." He rarely liked to gesture at his own flourish, and in this case the words themselves were more than sufficient on their own.
His way was that of gentle rebuff as compliment—she could not help herself but grin. She leaned forward, resting her right elbow on the mesh tabletop, swirling the last remnant of her first glass of wine before taking the final sip. "You just have a way of always finding the right thing to say..." she sung in her most vixenish tone, her rich accent indulging each syllable with the exotic air of Ishgardian intrigue. "Which is why I am here~ beyond the simple pleasure of your company, of course." Her lips smiled; her eyes offered a hint of mystery.
"If I have to take on the burden of utility in order to earn your company", he purred, refilling her glass and topping up his own, "then that is a burden I carry willingly." He paused, this was not simply flourish, but a statement of fact. One he knew they both well understood. His voice became serious, "What's on your mind,dear Aya?"
She barely slit her lips, drawing her tongue along to wet them despite the gloss of cosmetic. It was a sign of trepidation, if not of nervousness, that her expression otherwise refused to yield. "Sadly, its not a matter of personal interest," she began, knowing a quest for the perfect jeweled choker, or an immaculate mythril bracelet would have suited both their desires more perfectly, "but one of public." She raised her eyebrows slightly, as if apologetic. It was something of a misdirection, she knew it was a purely personal interest in her friends that had pushed her over the precipice of action. "This is probably old news to you, but several moons ago shipments of..." she paused suddenly, as if the word stuck in her throat, "of artifacts, contraband, from Coerthas were found unexpectedly in a warehouse. They, and perhaps other shipments, vanished into the black market where, although they could be of interest to curious collectors, they have mostly been purchased by one of two parties. These artifacts..." she paused again before lowering her voice to an air of quiet seriousness he had only heard on the rarest of occasion in the past, "are dangerous. Perhaps incredibly dangerous. Both to those collectors who have stumbled upon them, and more worryingly in the collective hands of those intended harm."
"Artifacts from Coerthas?" he mused knowingly, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "You mean Dravanian artifacts, don't you?" She cringed. He thought she might, watching her as she spoke he had sensed her concern. Perhaps she was afraid. Even if she hadn't been borne into the snowy highlands of Coerthas, she'd lived there long enough. How long would it take, he wondered, before the watchful paranoia that every Ishgardian seemed to carry would infect her? Their caution was justified after all: the dragons did threaten them, and had done so since the dawn of living memory. Yet, their caution extended far past the living things, extending to even the most innocuous of Dravanian items which they treated with the horror: as if the mere work of the dragon's hand carried the same power as the dragons themselves.
She offered a slow, resigned nod. "Yes." She leaned forward, looking at him through the tops of narrowed eyes, "They need to be found." It was stated so matter-of-factually it almost didn't sound like her.
"Why?" he found himself asking. His thin eyebrows drew together. He'd seen her worried before, but only rarely. Yet it was clear that these things were causing her severe concern: "What are these artifacts? Why are they so important?"
She let out a sharp, petulant breath. She knew his mind was sharp and quick, and the line of thought was not difficult to discern. She could sense his disappointment at her superstition, and for a moment she wondered herself just how much of it she had unquestioningly swallowed.  But, that was something she wanted to ask and answer herself, not something for others to ask. He made a sour face, draining his glass and refilling it as she spoke. "These artifacts can be anything from trinkets to true relics containing the flesh or blood of dragons living or dead. Only a knowledgeable Inquisitor or Heretic could discern for you which are the most dangerous." She turned her head away. Her voice was cold, and her eyes colder still. "We cannot have them loose in a place like Ul'dah. There is no telling what end of harm they could cause."
"And there was an Inquisitor here making a nuisance of himself not a month ago," he replied, referring to Estrelaint. "Do you think its a coincidence?" She did not move her gaze, her voice becoming even more quiet. "When it comes to Ishgardians, its often difficult to believe in coincidence..." she said, echoing what had become maxim.
He shook his head with a wry smile. "Never mind that. Tell me more about these things. Why do you fear the people buying them?"
She took a deep breath, and offered a resigned shrug of her shoulders as she turned her eyes back toward him. She lifted her wineglass with loosely gripping fingers. "The way of Dravanian magic is crafty. They specialize in mental influence, if not outright control, but are capable of much more." She gave her head the slightest shake, her eyes looking distracted, and expressing no interest in the wine glass she holds. "To bring oneself into contact with the body of one is to touch a lodestone. To invite disaster. Perhaps it is harmless, or perhaps it becomes the source of one's own destruction, or the destruction of the people one holds close."
She clicked her tongue between pursed lips, en lieu of a sigh. "Someone is gathering them. A particular variety, especially. The sums he is spending must be immense—wouldn't that worry you?" She cast an inquisitive glance his way, bearing a hint of accusation.
He had taken a bite of tomato, turning the things she'd told him over in his mind. He gestured with his hand as she answered, feeling the boring nature of her gaze, "I'll freely admit I'd be the first to say you were overreacting..." he wagged his pointer finger at nothing in particular, "if it weren't for some of the things I've witnessed myself over the past few months." She was Ishgardian, certainly; yet, of the many things she might be called 'needlessly fearful' was not among them.   There was relief in her expression. A sense of having escaped inquisition, though she wondered at what cost. Relying upon nothing but the trust and good intentions of a friend, even a dear one, rarely came without reservation.
"Alright." he said, adding a nod as he took another bite of tomato. "There are a lot of these things here: some greater, and some lesser—I actually bought one myself, though I'm sure its one of the least of the collections—and some few individuals are busily gathering the most potent of them for purposes unknown. Do you think they're acting under their own will, their own plans? Or do you think they've already fallen under the influence of the dragons?"
He had carefully slipped the aside in amidst his questions, but the words struck that chord of ingrained suspicion that lie beneath the surface of any Ishgardian. She drew a gasp between clinched teeth. Her thoughts raced for a moment, unbidden and unconscious fears rushed as a torrent as she found herself unable to listen to the rest of his question. She struggled with herself, the result an expression of controlled surprise. She breathed more quickly, her eyes focused, sharpened and alert upon him. "You had best hope so, dearest C'kayah." came a reply of obviously forced understatement.
The intensity of her reply unnerved him. For a moment he even doubted the wisdom of his purchase. The artifact he had bought was small-a little carved dragon, harmless looking but interesting, sitting on his shelf next to a pin used by devotees of a Dry Bone based cult of Nald. His glance was furtive, and he decided it best to return to the core topic of their discussion, "But what of these purposes? Or whose they could be?"
She turned her gaze away. "It is Ul'dah. Its hard to say. I think we can assume Heretics are involved, but their involvement may have ended at the point of sale in Coerthas. I would say its difficult to imagine a Heretic selling a relic, but having never known one personally all I have to rely upon are the stories."
"But what would Dravanians want with Ul'dah? Their concern has always been Ishgard. Do you think they're trying to turn Ul'dah against Ishgard?"
She nodded, looking back toward him, appearing less angry, though there was something new in her eyes: worry and vulnerability. "The Dravanians themselves? I don't know. They seem to prefer more direct methods. But what of Heretics? are they not Men like you and I? Could they not be more clever? Seeking other routes to expand their power? If this magic were unleashed upon Ul'dah, unsuspecting and unprepared, how many could it snare? How much wealth and influence could it acquire? How many armies could it purchase and equip? With even a fraction of the wealth of Ul'dah at their disposal, could Ishgard continue to resist? Or Ul'dah itself should the Dragons choose?" She shrugged, her head shaking as her mind spun with the myriad of endless-seeming threats that could be posed. Never had childhood preaching seemed so close to reality.
"Or," she interjected amidst her own answer, "What if someone simply wished to profit from mass confusion in Ul'dah itself? Without regard for the potential consequences?"
"I don't know if I know what a Heretic really is," he replied while leaning forward. His interest, though, was piqued. "It sounds like, at the very least, a new player is operating in Ul'dah. And that could have all sorts of consequences. With the Monetarists and Sultansworn caught up in ineffectual pursuit of some Limsan pirate, and the Blades busy making sure the refugees stay miserable, I can't think of a more fertile ground for someone to cause havoc."
She nodded along, her lips opening to show the white teeth behind them. "You've heard the stories of Ifrit I am sure? Of the 'Tempered' who mindlessly serve him?"
"I know about tempering," he replied bitterly.
"Imagine the Heretics, whether by their own will or by enchantment, as the Tempered of the Dravanians." She offered a slow, diagonal nod.
He was lifting his glass as she spoke. He paused with it halfway to his lips, his eyes locked with hers. "And you suggest we deal with those who've bought these things the way we deal with the Tempered?"
She shook her head quickly, "No... I...There may be numerous artifacts out there, but its these ones in particular that are being so energetically sought by our unknown purchaser that I am worried about. I think we need to find out who he is, and who he is working for." There's a look of anticipation in her eyes as they meet his.
He sipped his wine, mulling her story in his mind while a new suspicion took hold. [i]"You didn't come here just to warn me of this, did you? You have a plan, don't you? One that needs me help? So... how do we go about it?" [/i] His voice had grown quiet, and the tension in his body became obvious as he leaned on his elbows.
She shifted back in her seat, but leaned closer to him as he did to her. "They call him 'the man in black'. He behaves as an adventurer of sorts." She wet her lips again, "I've heard people say that he just acts like an adventurer. That he may not really be one, yet, he seems to be incredibly dangerous. Everyone who's met him seems to be viscerally afraid of him. He's specifically after relics containing a particular, yellow gem. I've heard it described like a cloudy, ugly amber. He's been offering top prices across the Black Market, finding as many suppliers as he can. But the only thing I've found out from these people is that he seems to be on some crusade against the Dravanians. A useful story, perhaps?"
She let out a breath. She lifted her head, resting her chin upon her hand. Slowly the look of concern and worry, which had grown so tired upon her usually cheerful face began to fade. It was replaced with a broad smile that hinted at excitement. The mischief in her eyes returned. It was time to get to the crux of the matter. C'kayah waited anxiously, hooked upon her story.
"I thought you might know where we might find a network that deals with contraband." His lips began to match her grin. "One which might be prepared to have act as if it has stumbled upon an undiscovered shipment of artifacts of a certain origin." She raised an eyebrow inquisitively as she shared the plot.
"Do you know?" he said with a grin, "that there have been moments where I thought you really believed I dealt in only legitimate wares?"
She lowered the eyebrow as she gave an amused smirking shake of the head. "Maybe I still do~" she crooned playfully, "But I know you will know where to find one."Â
She winked.Â
He grinned wickedly. Â
"I can't imagine a better way to lure our mark, can you?"
He delicately picked up a tomato slice between his fingers. "It sounds like a good idea," he said. "Besides, its been weeks since I've used myself as bait. I'll do it!"
She gave off that sweet, pleased smile that rose irresistibly within her in such moments. The little slide of her head back and forth, the playful lift of her eyebrows, C'kayah knew it well. There could be no doubt about Aya's elation. [i]"I can't tell you how good that is to hear!" She replied in a tone that would tell him she were smiling even if he couldn't have seen it.
He looked away, the color rising in his face as she smiled at him. There was little he wouldn't do for her, and placing himself in danger from mysterious Heretics scarcely registered. "We'll need something that at least looks the part," he said , his emerald eyes returning to meet her sky blue gaze. "I know a counterfeiter who's got a subtle hand an an extensive knowledge of Dravanian style..."
For her sake, there were few things that Aya loved more than hearing a suggestion that waited upon the tip of her tongue, provided instead by its intended subject. Her open-lipped smile grew broader, lips pressing together as she tilted her head slightly toward him with a conspiratorial expression of two minds working on the same level. "I would make a number of them, its possible that our mark shall not be the first suitor. Remember the gems. There must be something like them available on the seconds market."
She nodded as much to herself as to him, "We won't have any trouble getting word out, at least. Rumors take to this city like fish to the sea."
"Especially rumors from the carmined lips of Ul'dah's favorite barmaid?" he smirked at her, though his eyes sang of truth.
"We should try to enlist her,whoever she is." Aya flashed a bright, amused grin.
A moment later her expression became more subdued. She lowered her tone, giving earnest voice to the plot: "Remember that we could have as many as four possible customers: undesired interest from a collector or supplier, the authorities themselves, the Ishgardians, or our mark. We must be prepared for all to come knocking."
"How do you propose we tell our mark from the rest of the collectors?" He popped the tomato slice into his mouth and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers. He was interested. He always enjoyed the thrill that came with trying to piece together a complex sting. It was like a new puzzle, or a new piece of yarn, he just couldn't keep his hands off it.
In the moment, her excitement was too piqued to bother with hors d'oeuvres, though she only allowed glimmers and hints of that energy to shine through her more focused expression. "We have a good description: a midlander adventurer-looking sort, wearing mostly black. They call him the 'No-Eyed-Man' on account of an eyepatch, and heavy scarring around his good eye. He won't be pawned off by the cheap trinkets you offer, instead he'll express a particular interest in a specific sort of relic, one bearing a peculiar style of gem that few would normally find desirable. He may preach about the dangers of Dravanians."
"Are you saying my counterfeit relics would be cut rate?" he grinned at her again, a mischievous flash in his eyes. "That is a good idea though. If we make a number of them, we could say we've purchased a sizable stash. Your average collector would look for one or two. Your Heretic would see it as it should be seen: the least of a much larger lot."
She slid her head just to the side, offering a nod with a knowing smile. "I did say stumbled upon a shipment didn't I? Enough to raise interest, and enough counterfeit baubles to keep the rumors swirling should the wrong prey find the trap first. IF the Ishgardians bite, a faux relic or two will be enough to satisfy them, all the moreso when they realize they're not authentic. Whatever means they use to detect the real ones won't work on our stash."
"You're wasted as a barmaid," he purred silkily. "You clearly missed your calling as a crime lord..."[/i] She smiled coyly as he took a sip of wine, then winked conspiratorially at her. "Of course, being a barmaid would be an excellent cover for a crime lord. You'd tell me if you were, wouldn't you?"
She pursed her lips, eyes demurring playfully. "Of course, dearest C'kayah. But why go to all that effort when I can find one to do the hard work for me?" Her eyes moved back to his with a sparkle, her lips opening to a delighted grin. A delight he shared with a laugh, "I think the next present I buy you is going to be a cat's collar and a leash," he purred, "We could at least make things official."
She lifted her blonde eyebrows, flashing the full brilliance of her cheerfulness with a happy giggle. As it settled she let out a happy sigh, casting an admiring look his way. Sadly, there was still one more lingering doubt on her mind, and he could see it casting a slight cloud upon her sunniness.
His grin slowly faded as he watched her. "There's more, isn't there, Aya?"
She replied with a subtle nod, before reaching across the table to grasp his wrist. "Whatever he is up to, he does not mean well. His pockets are deep, and his reach in the underworld is far. People are afraid of him. We cannot take this lightly, and I fear we cannot trust anyone." She looked at him straight faced and earnest. "I don't think we can afford to reveal our plan, even to your organization. I think as few people as possible should know they're counterfeits. Your runners and fixers should think they're as real as the sun in the sky. I am not going to tell anyone else, either. I don't think we can trust that the Blades or Flames don't have anyone on the take. You know where we are."
His eyes locked with hers as her hand gripped his wrist. He could read the concern in the wide blue of her eyes, the set of her mouth. He nodded, "What about Kenthy? I never keep secrets from her, and she'd be a valuable ally for you in this," For a moment she looked like a startled animal, frozen in the moment before it bolted, "But that's your call, Aya. If you're that concerned..."
We know we can trust Kenthy." She nodded, knowing there was nothing more to say about that. "Remember when we find him what we need is information. Who he is, what he does, who he talks to. How he corresponds. I'll leave the details to you." She smiled softly, adding another little nod before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
He nodded, considering her words. "I wonder if he has allies who would miss him if we captured him. I'm sure he does. This will take a featherlight touch." He smiled at her, the pleased and proud smile of a skilled craftsman faced with a problem requiring the full measure of his skill. She nodded along with his concern, her expression softening. "If he's a Heretic he would likely die before being captured, then we would lose everything we stand to gain."
"How involved do you want to be in this, Aya? Do you want to be present when we meet buyers?" This time she shook her head, "I stand out in a crowd, don't I? I'm not sure that would be a good idea."
"Just a little," he agreed with a grin. "I think we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way," he said. "Use the counterfeits as bait to set the hook, and trail him without arousing his suspicion. Do you know anything about him? Tastes? Weaknesses?"
Her softening smile remained, growing in the admiration of watching a master at his work. "I think so. Lets not rush. As for the mark... I'm afraid I don't know much. I could try to find out more, but I do not wish to arouse suspicion. I don't really know any more than what I have told you, though I 'll do the best to find what I can. In terms of personal tastes, I don't have the faintest idea." She glanced away, giving her head a shake as though distracted by thoughts about who, or what, the stranger may be.
"And you don't have a name," he guessed. "So we'll just have to watch for him..."
She nodded, "No name. But you'll know him when you meet him. Of that I'm sure."
C'kayah gave another nod, glancing off across the little square. It was growing dark, and the air was growing cool, offering the first bite of night. "Are you hungry, Aya? I've been marinating an aldgoat steak, and its easily big enough for two."
[Thank you C'kayah for the wonderful RP and for allowing me to post it! It has been slightly modified to better for a story format
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