Chapter Three
A Plan Conceived
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The first thing Cass felt as she stood in Tortall was not awe of the sheer size, or longing for her home, or even a sense of being transplanted and lost. Her first feeling was hunger, a sudden empty gnawing in the pit of her stomach that made her realize just how little she had eaten on the ship.
Her first job would be to find food. And for food, she would need money.
Eyeing a gaggle of well-dressed men standing on the pier next to a luxury boat, she moved towards them nonchalantly. Once she was close enough, she executed a perfect trip-and-nick pickpocket job, as easy as breathing to a seasoned thief like she was. Apologizing profusely to the gentlemen, Cass strolled away, fingering the coins now safe in her pocket.
Cass wandered around for the better part of an hour, refusing to let herself ask for directions to the nearest inn. Finally, she found one — the Rising Phoenix. She sauntered inside, eyes flicking from side to side, and made her way to the front desk, producing one coin.
The innkeeper looked at her sharply, and with distaste. "A gold noble?" he muttered suspiciously, taking in her ragged clothes and disheveled appearance.
Quelling her anxiety, Cass gave the innkeeper a lusty wink. "A tip from my last customer," she whispered conspiratorially.
Her masquerade worked. The innkeeper visibly relaxed. "What was it ye wanted?" he asked.
"The house special," she answered promptly.
"Don't ye have . . . smaller change? That could buy fifty dinners," he said, motioning at the coin.
"Oh," she said. "Throw in a few shirts." Seeing his expression, she quickly added more. "And some skirts." Pause. "And a pair of boots, and underclothes! As many clothes as can be bought! All of them as nice as you can find." The man nodded and scurried off.
Cass moved to a seat with her back to the wall, facing windows — she still couldn't shake off old habits.
Within minutes, a servant approached her table, laden with two steaming plates of food and a pitcher of strong ale. Forgetting the little manners she knew, Cass commenced to stuff herself, practically shoving food and drink down her parched throat.
Just a short time later, the plates were empty, nary a crumb of food left. Cass leaned back with a satisfied smile, feeling the fullness of her stomach appreciatively. Uneasy to stay now that she had finished eating, she got up and moved towards the door. The innkeeper intercepted her, bearing an armload of wrapped packages.
"Here ye are," he announced, dumping them into her arms. "Best I could find."
"Thankee," said Cass, and immediately slammed her lips shut.
" 'Thankee,' is it?" the man said, smiling. "I thought the lass had an accent. Where is it ye're from?"
She answered honestly; there was no reason for her to lie. "Syene."
"For true? A real Syenese youngling, here in my inn! We don't get many of those. That's one long journey, and I don't envy you the seasickness. Ye're here for the Prince's weddin', then?"
Cass hid her confusion. "What makes you speak so?" she inquired, narrowing her eyes.
The man smiled at her accent, and answered. "Everyone's here for it, lass — rich and poor alike love our Prince Roald. But if the weddin' is yer destination, ye'd best be off. The weddin' is four days hence, and Corus a three day's ride."
She nodded slowly. A plan slowly surfaced in her brain. "And you say everyone will be there?"
"Surely. This day has been a long time in coming, what with the war and all," he told her, nodding.
A few minutes bartering later and she had a horse for the journey to Corus, and solid directions and traveling bread from the innkeeper. It was arranged for her to drop the horse at the house of a friend of the innkeeper when she finally reached Corus, since she had no need of a horse after that.
Cass began to ride that night, in a hurry to get to this city where rich people roamed the streets. She needed to get there in enough time to scope out the wealthiest man to relieve of his fortune.
She smiled grimly as she rode. A perfect plan, she thought. I'll pinch some half-wit's fat purse and set myself for life.
Because of the rate she was riding, she reached Corus on the morning of her third day of riding. She had stopped for only four hours each night, and only then because the horse was too exhausted to continue.
Instead of returning the horse, she let it free in the forest. Mayhap he would find his way back, mayhap no — people should know better than to trust her.
After stowing her excess clothes under a bush on the outskirts of the city, she strode in through the gates. Perfect, she thought as she walked. I've got near on two days to find the perfect victim, before they all take off the night after this Prince Roald's wedding. Plenty of time.
But either the innkeeper had gotten his dates wrong, or the date had been changed. As she reached the main square, she caught sight of the Palace for the first time. It was positively gargantuan, dominating the skyline. The precious materials and costly architecture caught her eyes immediately, but she knew there was no way to nick a building.
Just after she spotted the Palace, she caught sight of the veranda that had been erected on the Palace's front lawn, just outside the walls. It was covered in white flowers – magically kept from wilting, she suspected – and had seats for hundreds of people. Commoners flooded the lawns, shoving forward to get closer to their monarch.
Cass pressed her lips together until the skin around them turned white. She would have to work hard if she wanted to turn a profit – a real profit, not some merchant's purse. Picking up her stride to a light jog, she headed towards the veranda.
She was so skinny after her sea voyage that she had no problem sliding through the crowd. Noting that most of the commoners weren't emaciated, she came to the conclusion that Tortall wasn't such a bad place at all – especially compared to the streets of Syene.
A man, clearly drunk by his breath, grabbed her arm. "A pretty lass, this one!" he shouted in her face, as only obnoxious intoxicated people can. Without turning a hair, Cass slammed her fist into his ample stomach. The man doubled over, his friends crowding him, and Cass disappeared into the multitudes of people.
She reached the front of the veranda as the ceremony started. They had set it up so commoners could see both the prince and his wife-to-be as well as the two priests. Cass blinked, surprised to see two priests – did that mean they had more than one god? She would have to find out in order to blend.
Leaning forward, she studied the prince. He was handsome enough, she decided. She was close enough to see his eyes sparkle as he looked at his bride, and she realized that he truly loved her. In spite of her cynical and jaded paradigm, she was happy when she saw that love in his eyes — maybe there was decency left in the world after all.
Someone shoved her from behind, jamming her body, just below her ribcage, into the edge of the veranda. Cass gasped, the wind knocked from her body. Hot rage boiling through her veins, she gained back her breath, then whirled around, ready to make the shover pay.
Elaborately carved wood, inset with semi-precious gems, squatted in the grass. It was a litter, the traveling bed of some nobleman, perhaps. Carried by four strong men, she realized that the shove she felt was the commoners making way.
A whiny voice emanated from inside the litter curtains. "I can't believe they wouldn't let us in through the gate!" complained a man's voice, full of nasal vowels and a strong Tortallan accent. "We have to watch down here with the commoners" — he spat the word out — "while the Royal Family roosts with impudent wenches who don't know their places! It's unheard of! I can't believe —"
Confused, Cass drowned him out and turned back to the veranda, trying to figure out just who the "impudent wenches" were. Her sharp eyes picked out two women, both muscled and wearing swords strapped around their waists, standing with the honored guests.
Cass's eyes widened. Was it not a story? Back in the street of Syene she had heard one of the travelling merchants tell of strong warrior women in the far East. She had scoffed with the rest of the crowd. "Women, be warriors? Impossible!" she had muttered.
Even though she personally loved the idea of women warriors, she had had to hide her true feelings while still in her country. Women were little more than possessions, and just suggesting they could be more was placing yourself at risk for treason — standing up against the rules of the czar.
Cass stared openly at the two women, the power of her gaze attracting one's attention. The taller woman flicked her eyes towards her, an expression of nothing on her face but slight amusement in her eyes. Quickly averting her own eyes, Cass looked back to the bride and groom, but the whiny man's voice behind her broke into her thoughts once more. She disliked him more with each second that passed.
"I still can't believe they let the harlots stay at Court, much less keep their so-called titles," he complained to no one. "I think the king and the prince must be bewitched to let them stay. And the fact that I have to stay down here with the commoners for the wedding is inconceivable! Who knows what kind of diseases I may be contracting! In fact –" his voice was muffled, as if he was filtering air through his shirt "– I don't even know why I came. They obviously overlooked my presence, to forget that I was invited and not let me in!"
One of the litter bearers spoke softly, and the man exploded. "Of course I was invited in the first place! How dare you suggest otherwise!" He sighed. "I am sick of this wedding, and this day. Take me home."
The litter bearers gently picked up the heavy bed and backed out of the crowd, doing their best not to bump anyone but not always succeeding.
Unnoticed, Cass slipped through the crowd, following the litter and the whiny man.
She had picked her target.
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Revive the peanut gallery! Kate has returned from the valley-of-the-authours-who-have-finished-their-major-work-and-feel-disinclined-to-write-anything-else-ever!! Yay!
Don't forget to review and this does have a plot I promise!
