The teenaged girl cast a furtive glance behind her, her eyes narrowed and glaring as she searched the courtyard before turning again to the wicker gate that seemed to cast off her frustrations. Her dark hair, long and falling loose from their bindings, fell into her eyes as she worked at the lock with a small pick she had stolen from her tresses. Her blue eyes widened and she quickly turned away and let go of the hairpiece as a green light began to emanate from the keyhole. Shielding her face, she barely saw the bright green flash that indicated the activated magics that protected from intruders.
Damn! She thought, glaring at the thoroughly destroyed pick. She had assumed that the magic would only work if it was someone outside getting in. Glancing around again (Uncle Urza would kill her if he saw this little trick) She put her hand on the warmed metal and frowned, concentrating hard.
Metal magic. What a fitting Gift for a noblewoman. The lock turned easily under her hand and the girl wondered briefly why she hadn't thought of that sooner, throwing a distasteful look at the melted hair decoration on the ground. Not bothering to pick it up, she hoisted up the spare maids outfit she had taken from the supply closet four months ago (It hadn't been missed, and had been put to much use) and slipped out of the side door and into the empty street.
Glancing around, she kept her head down as her cheap leather slippers padded the ground. She kept her pace up and her eyes open as she moved, gripping the darned petticoats tightly as she passed into a poorer district of Corus. Shops and stalls were abundant and despite the markets closing at sundown, there was still a decent amount of people in the streets. Chatting amiably or eating on their front porches.
The girl relaxed visibly and blended into the crowd easily. Quickly being absorbed into the small crowd that passed gently through the streets. This neighborhood wasn't dirty enough to have fights or Rouges lounging around. Even the Kings Watch (an internal police force, central to Corus and the surrounding countryside) normally eased the recruits into Watchlife in the marketplace. It was generally peaceful area, but that didn't stop the girl looking around furtively for any sign of a Watchman as she slipped into the innocent looking bar.
The Redbird was as nice a place you could ask for. Good food, good prices, good service. Nothing about it was dirty in anyway. The girl looked around, noting the large crowd. She frowned as she searched for Val. How on earth did he expect her to find him in this rabble? the noblewoman wondered, pushing through the slightly drunken crowds, ignoring whistles and smiles.
She wasn't beautiful at first glance, or even the second, but if you took the time to look, to note how her cheekbones angled her face, how her lips curved into a perfect cupids- bow, how her brows arched perfectly over outlined blue eyes, one would notice a certain sharp beauty about her. She was stately, as her mother put it, proud, her father would grunt and move on. Urza said she was beautiful.
Suddenly she was turned around by a strong hand on her shoulder. Her eyes widened and she twisted on her heels, barely able to keep her balance as an arm was swung behind her, clutching her waist and leading her purposefully towards a table on the side of the room, out of the large crowd.
Val was large enough to intimidate, but he wouldn't tower over every man in the street. The girl could only glare at him, pursing her lips tightly as she was unceremoniously sat in an empty chair.
"Could you be a bit more gentle?" She hissed, her eyes narrowed as Val called a barmaid over and ordered two ales. "Bruises are going to raise questions."
Val shrugged, not his problem, and smiled at the waitress as she moved away from their table, watching her behind as she moved through the people in the bar. He licked his bottom lip lightly and turned to the girl in front of him, who turned away, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms in a rather prudish manner.
"Done?" She asked, crossing her legs under the table.
"I've only just begun, Shariah." Val smirked, noting with no small amusement how angry the noblewoman got when he began to flirt with the service. The girl nodded at the woman, who deliver their drinks much quicker than she would have thought possible with the crowd.
"Shariah?" the dark haired girl growled, taking her ale, and (without much pretense for a noble) took a large gulp. "Family names, Desmas?"
"Isra." Val said hurriedly, glaring right back at the girl, who had sat back with a satisfied look on her face.
Isra van Izidihar Shariah. Isra, her name, Izdihar, her mothers maiden name, Shariah, her fathers noble name. They were an old blood family, though not of Tortallan descent. One of the Carthaki noble familes, they were very highly regarded, a younger brother even an ambassador to the Court at Corus. Urza zan Shariah, a fourty-two year old man of incredible intellect, containing an astounding amount of patience, diplomacy and logic, despite everything thrown at him, including his elder brothers daughter.
Val smirked, and Isra frowned.
"What?" She asked, putting down her tankard.
"You've forgotten something," He said, smiling and pointing a long, scarred finger at her left hand. Isra, slightly confused, looked down and scowled darkly. That. She quickly took of the jewel and shoved it in her belt purse. Val stared at her hand a moment longer and then looked at Isra.
"Buisness." He said, leaning in and ignoring the glances the barkeep was shooting him, focusing on Isra. The noblewoman smiled and pushed a few more stray bangs out of her hair and crossed her legs. "Anything new being stirred up by the social elite?"
"Nothing." Isra said, sighing dramatically. "They are all a bunch of idiotic, empty-headed, shallow, worthless-"
"I mean the elite that matter." Val said, cutting off the flood of insults that would be sure to follow any mention of her friends at the Royal Academy.
"Their parents are just as dull as they are!" Isra snapped. "Marriages! Money! All that goes on between them is business as well, and none of it interesting." She spat, taking another long drink of her beer.
Val rolled his eyes. Isra was a bit critical at times, but she was really helpful, if she decided to be. To a lower-class Rouge like Val, any help was good help. He and Isra had met when she had first stumbled into Corus, almost a year ago now. Val had tried to steal her purse, but she had caught him, quite easily. She had ordered small metal wires to be woven into all her purses and most of her clothing, and when Val had tried to cut her purse strings, found that instead a few unraveled and cut him first. Isra sighed again and Val looked up from his drink.
"Alright." Isra muttered. "I give. The Faircoves are building a new fort in their fife-"
"Why would I give a damn about their real estate?"
"Shut up!" Isra hissed. "They're building it along the coast, right by that small cove that the Rogues' ships use for a reshipping dock. I'd give it three weeks before someone notices the craft going in and out of the bay. Knowing the Faircoves, I'd give it three days afterwards before they demand a tax on anyone entering the place."
"Mithros curse." Val said, loud enough to attract several stares. That was an essential docking point, and the Baron Faircove wouldn't be bought cheaply, if at all.
"Did the Rouge have someone else at the court?" Isra asked, her eyes searching Val's brown ones before turning to glare at a man who had bumped into her. "A lady-in-waiting to the Princess?"
Val thought and nodded, his brow furrowing.
"That Tharren Peak girl? She was caught steal correspondences from the Princess' drawers and was promptly shown the door, to put it nicely. Although that little priss through quite the tantrum as Leisle managed to sneak a letter to her from a kitchen boy out to the general public. Apparently they've been kissing behind the kitchen for weeks."
The Rouge sighed exasperatedly. "I don't give a damn about the Princess' new toy."
Isra shrugged. "It is a juicy piece of gossip." She said, finishing off her ale and looking around the Redbird. It had only gotten more crowded and more inebriated. Val sat back in his chair, running his hands through his wiry brown-blonde hair.
"That's it?"
The noblewoman glared at Valen. "Yes that's it. It's only been a week, you ninny. And that Faircove bite should get you a decent prize."
Val stood up, not even bothering to acknowledge Isra as she sat there. He began to make his way through the crowd, easily parting the way with his broad shoulders and his dark glare, before Isra jumped up, nearly tripping over her skirts as she slipped in behind him.
"No goodbye?" Isra asked, slipping in front of him, looking up at him and smiling. "And I'll leave first, I don't want to be stuck here a moment more than necessary."
"Bye." Val said gruffly, looking down at Isra, who huffed and skipped out the door. Val looked around and sat by the bar, paying for their drinks. How did she always manage to get out of paying? It wasn't like she didn't come from money.
Out in the street, it had gotten a lot darker and a lot less crowded. Isra kept her head down again, ignoring the few rustles in the shadows outside of the lamplights. The bright, polished, metal bangles on her arms began to warm as she got nervous, her steps hurried as she crossed the bridge to the nobles district.
Here she moved even quicker, keeping to the shadows that only housed little-kid fears. Isra was red in the face by the time she had reached her house, and barely even thought to listen for movement as she opened the unlocked door, slipped inside and locked it (you could lock it easily from the inside, and Isra was annoyed at how much harder it was to get open from the inside). She made it up to her room without incident, the floors too well made to creak and her footsteps to light to cause enough noise on the stone to wake someone.
Groping for the handle of her door in the dim light, Isra quickly entered her room, expecting a few hours rest before she had to silently endure the trials of another day at the Royal Academy. The lights were on, and Isra first saw a pair of boots, a smart pair of carthaki pantaloons and then a long yellow kurta with the Shariah family pattern as a border.
Hag! Isra cursed, looking up into the angry face of her Uncle Urza.
"Dancing practice with the maids?" Isra offered up feebly.
"We will discuss this upon dayrise." Urza said simply, staring unsmilingly down at Isra. "No matter how nocturnal you are, Moonflower, I need sleep."
Moon flower. Isra let out a breath of air as Urza left the room. Moon flower. That meant that he wasn't too mad. She flopped onto the bed. Mad yet.
Oh Hag.
All that meant was that he hadn't found out about Val. Four months of sedition was a long time in jail.
