Chapter 2 - Brown Eyes
"Thief."
He spun around to see the same face for the ninth time that day. He quickly drew his dagger. "So you have been following me. Why?" He smiled, continuing jovially, "Not trying to play vigilante, are you?"
She stood there a moment, merely returning his gaze. Brown eyes. He preferred blue, but they were rather nice as brown went. Expressive. She was young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, slim and fairly well-shaped by the slightly close-fitting dress she wore. Wavy red hair fell just past her shoulders, framing a face that was prettier than most.
"I want you to train me as a thief," she finally said.
His eyebrows rose theatrically. Her hair was clean. Her face was clean. Her dress was plain, as was her cloak, but they were clean. He always liked a woman who could keep herself clean, and he knew quite well that such women rarely have any need to learn thievery. Cleanliness and wealth went hand-in-hand – himself being the exception, he noted ruefully.
A spoiled rich kid seeking excitement like so many he'd seen before? If it was such a whim it was a well-planned one. An inconspicuous set of clothes, waiting to meet in a shaded alley, and somehow he suspected he was not the only thief she'd followed around for a day before making her choice. She did rather well for an untrained thief-to-be, he realized.
Brown eyes. Expressive. She looked like more than a spoiled rich kid.
"I'll pay you anything you ask," she said as his silence dragged on.
Fith's eyebrows stayed forcibly still. Did she really mean to say it like that? "Anything?" he asked.
"Anything," she repeated. At the very least it was clear she wasn't trying to pass off as copperless.
Expressive. Determined. She was definitely more than a spoiled rich kid.
"What's your name, kid?" he asked her, finally sheathing his dagger.
"Nimi," she answered. "Yours?"
"Fith. Is that your real name?" he continued.
"Is that yours?" she returned, an eyebrow slightly raised.
He grinned slowly. "When would you like your training to start, Nimi?"
"I'm free next second-day," she answered.
"Very well," he responded, wondering why he was being such an idiot. "We'll meet at the Five Flagons second-day morning." This was exactly how old thieves got themselves killed, trusting young big-eyed assassins sent by old enemies. "Is that alright with you, my lady?" Well, perhaps it wasn't exactly like the stories, but it was damned close enough.
"That will be fine, my lord," she returned his formality, and he couldn't be certain if there was cheek in it or not. "It's been a pleasure to meet you," she continued, extending her hand. He shook it, and she bid him farewell.
Nimi. Brown eyes. Who was she? He hoped to know by their next meeting.
Her hand had a ring on it.