Mists of the Mind

Meanwhile...

A crowded room filled with some of the trickiest people, who most strangers often referred to as 'thieves,' echoed with roaring laughter, the men and women enjoying the latest looting they had gotten away with, and the pleasure they were now going to face- having a few drinks before going to bed. And while a few of the thieves crowding the room were sent on business either to hear or to carry out their next assignment, there were others, even nobles, that knew the kindness of some of even the highest ranking thieves' hearts, knowing that their crude reputation sometimes exceeded their character.

I wouldn't want to have it any other way, George thought, leaning back into his huge armchair, situated to the side of the huge hearth. In the Dancing Dove, his home that he felt he had been away from too long, the thieves roared as fiercely as the flames, and George loved every part of it. Upon seeing George's empty hand, Scholar shoved George another drink. George couldn't help but oblige Scholar's request, and slugged his ale down, thoroughly enjoying the drink as it fizzled, sliding down his throat. Slamming his drink down upon the table, George felt his insides turn. Oh no, what have I done?

Stepping outside to capture a breath of fresh air, George quickly realized that his stomach was not the source of his pain: His head, feeling as if he was being probed by needles in his temples, which where then being ground into his head, set George off walking down the fairly packed street. Fully aware of his atmosphere, yet unconscious as to where he was wandering, George stopped abruptly, fighting to keep his balance as a wave of blue light came rippling out from a side street, just a couple of streets away from where he was. Upon hearing a scream, George sped in the direction of the source as quickly as he could.

Halting before turning the corner, George peered around the shop situated on the corner, to make sure he was not being led into a trap. However the moment his head cleared the store, a man sped right past George, nearly knocking him over. A moment later, George discovered a woman emerging out of a small alley between two stores on the right side, most likely where the man had come from. The woman was not nearly more than five feet away from him, and changed her expression upon seeing George.

Unsure of what to do, George said "Wait one minute…I'll be right back" and rushed back around the corner to where that man had fled. After reaching the street, George slowed, unsure of where the man had gone. George was half-disappointed by the disappearance of the man. Did I honestly think he was going to try to blend in with the crowd and wait for me to come get him? Of course not! Ugh, why can't this ever be easy? But at that moment, a light melody of music could be heard throughout the street, the melody becoming louder as the crowd of people in the street were being driven back to the sides, as gypsies and dancers, followed by magicians, jugglers and fire breathers, emerged from within the crowd of people, making their way to the middle of the usually wide, yet now narrow street.

George sighed, knowing what he had to do. Making his way back around the corner, he was surprised to find the woman standing in the front of a storeacross from the alley, clearly not paying attention to what was infront of her. Had I thought she would have left…I am not sure.

The woman's face turned when she heard footsteps coming her way. Her face showed her disappointment of him returning alone, her enticing green eyes turned downward beneath her cascading light-brown ringlets, as she asked in a gentle, yet pressing voice, "You…" she said, looking around, "You didn't find him, did you sir?"

George, noticing her light accent knew she must be from the northern isles, an old kingdom of folktale and war. "No," George said, inching his way closer to this stranger. "What was that man running away from?" George pressed, more confused than ever.

Noticing the woman's silence he pleaded, "Pleas'…pleas' jus' tell me wha' happened."

In a low voice the woman spoke, "There's a mess to be cleaned up over there," her head signaling to the direction from which she had come. "He…he attacked that man. And when he had realized that I had seen him, he fled, knowing that I would give him away."

"And what wer' you doin' in the area when you saw him?" George asked. When he saw the woman was offended by his words, he reassured her, "I mean, miss, you're lucky he didn't come after you," if he did at all, another voice in his head added. So I did sense magic then. But from where, he thought, settling his eyes on the woman once more.

"Well," she said glancing behind her, "I came to acquire if I could stay at the inn just there, next to that store across the street. However,uponhearing noises I abandoned that idea, and was drawn to the scene."

"And why ar' you staying there?" George asked, wondering why this woman would choose to stay at one of the rattiest looking inns, given that she did not look like a peasant. She did not look like a noble either, judging from the garb she was wearing and the state she was in, but she was definitely far from a poor hag.

The woman just shrugged.

George's mind went back and forth. He did not simply want to let this woman go. Knowing that it would be impossible to track down the runaway man, at least for the meantime, he thought it best to keep her in his sight.

"You want to see him don't you?" she asked, with distaste on her face. "I'll lead you to the dead man."

While George was looking over the man who had taken a knife to his stomach, the woman paced patiently to the side of him, not wanting to look at the lifeless body any longer.

Inspecting the tear the knife had made, George saw a familiar piece of garment hanging out, and lifted up a corner of the man's shirt to reveal a coat the Tortallan messengers uniformly wore. George not knowing what to make of the whole thing, decided to hire a man to load the dead body, which he covered with a blanket, onto a wooden flat, of which he took along with this woman, up through the winding streets filled with laughter and music, up to the Palace, to ask the only person he knew who might have an idea: Jon.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you name before miss, but…"

"It's Kathyrn" the woman said, looking straight at him.

"And I'll be, George..."

"Yes, I know" Kathyrn replied matter of factly, a small smile on her lips.

thanks to everyone who left reviews! of course the good reviews are appreciated & i thank u for that!... i really want u guyz to enjoy the story! ...i really do...

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, they belong to Tamora Pierce (except for Garrett & Kathyrn)... oh yah... and the plot belongs to me!