Ava scurried through the bustling streets until she spied a vendor. Slowly she crept up attempting to remain nonchalant. As the owner turned away to a customer she swiped a meat pie and fled the scene. She had barely turned the corner when a strong arm gripped hers. The owner was a buxom red-head with a grip of iron. Gazing up at her Ava put and innocent expression on her face.
"I saw you steal that pie back there" Rispah drawled turning the youngster to face her. The girl's green eyes wavered and held as a sheepish grin crossed her face.
"I'm sorry" Ava said "I was just awful hungry"
Rispah nodded she'd seen children of the like. With the famine goin on more decent folk had their children runnin' amuck searchin' for vittles.
"I know youngun, I ain't mad at yer stealin, in fact I wanted you for a job if you're interested. You've got some skill stealin' that pie and we could use a little one like you."
"I don't know," Ava warbled, ever the innocent child, "You see, me mum is awful sick and she's a needin me to care for the babes"
Rispah nodded, "Well if you want the job just ask for Rispah at the Dancing Dove. They'll know where to find me" Tossing copper pence at the child, Rispah took her leave.
Ava grinned at the retreating redhead and ran off. If she'd had the leisure she may have taken the red-head up on the offer but she needed to find her contact that was waiting to introduce her into the palace service. Ava trotted around the city darting into a few buildings before spying her contact. The man's white-blonde hair blazed in the crow. His square cheek-bones and fighters grace revealed him at once to her. This must be Jance, her father's primary Tortallian spy. Scuffing her feet she made her way behind him. Catching his eye she darted forward and cut his purse from his belt. She made it just a few steps before a shout went up behind her and Jance was yanking her back.
"Stupid gutter scut!" he exclaimed eyes flashing. He yanked the purse from her grip. "I should take you before the magistrate!" He shook her violently then chucked her in the dirt. Ava scrabbled to her feet with an air of surprise and fear and took off. Only once she made it four blocks down did she dare glance at the paper Jance slid into her hand as they fought.
You are to be introduced as a cook's servant girl on
the morrow. Meet at Weaver Lane at dawn where I
will escort you to the palace to introduce you into the
Palace service. The rest is up to you.
Ava found hospitality in a nearby stable that night, curling up in scratchy hay with only a few dingy mares as witness. The next morning she trotted off to Weaver's Lane wearing a cotton frock stolen from an unexpecting laundress and munching on an equally stolen pastry. Jance was waiting for her and together they trekked to the palace, chattering like mentor to child all the way. At the palace Ava was quickly shuffled from room to room. A uniform was shoved in her arms and she found herself in the kitchen in no time solemnly cutting up the vegetables at hand. Her mind, however, was else where. Inside she plotted constantly, memorizing the layout of the rooms at hand. If she was going to kill the king she needed to it soon. After all, the longer she stayed there, the more likely her identity would be compromised.