"Well you can just fuck right off, Raen" old Jessa smirked. "I expected you at half-ten yesterday and this mornin' I hear you've been off with that Fereldan bloke, the nutty one with the earring and the cat who's writing the book on Hedge-mages. I hope you didn't tell him you were a bloody mage yourself, he'll never leave you alone!"
The Hedge-witch meant well, took Raen in straight away when she said she was half-Rivaini. As soon as she'd arrived, it had seemed only right to forget about being a Lord's daughter, that sort of thing didn't fit here. Her mother had fit here. Raen had always had the suspicion Jessa had known her mother maybe, or perhaps that was just some silly fantasy, either way she never mentioned it. "And you had better get going if you want to catch that bloody boat. You make sure the Shaman gets these supplies with a damn-good apology from you, not me, you. And you didn't tell the batty book bloke that I'm a hedge-witch did you? I know he damn well thinks you're one now."
Raen laughed, "Come now Jessa, I've been telling him all the tricks of the trade and he's paying! Don't worry, you don't have to fret over him coming after you."
Jessa laughed at that, "I'll bet he only bloody likes you because you've got the same colour eyes as his cat. Never trust a man who likes cats, is what I've always said. Now, get out of here, girly, you're too young to be prancing about with older gentlemen. You've been spending too much time with those whores down by the docks."
"Girl's gotta make a living, Jess" Raen scooted out of the way just in time to avoid a fizzling spark of energy flung at her head, closing the door behind her.
At twenty years of age, the docks were by far her favourite place to spend her time, the girls were fairly far from classy but the brothels provided a wealth of opportunities for someone like Raen, the type ignominious enough to get away with most anything. If one knew who to ask, there was always work; spying most often, but pilfering and general manual labour were always an option. Plus, one could always be sure of supper in the Black Cat.
"I don't know why I always find you up here when it's raining." Katia smiled. "It's a wonder I can clamber up the wall at all after a night with Isabela… she's like you y'know, she knows everything, everyone. Always got her eyes on that horizon, or on herself." She was by far the nosiest, and friendliest person Raen had bothered to get to know.
"I think that's the problem, Kat, I want it all, I want to crawl my way from one corner of Thedas to the next, I want to drink Antivan wine, I want to see a dragon, I want to fuck the damn Prince of Starkhaven, I want to see Tevinter and Par Vollen." Raen kicked her legs out over the balcony swinging dangerously on the railing. "It's been four years since I came to Rivain, Kat. There's only so much you can do in the one place. I'm going Kat, next vessel pulls into port, I'm on it. I've got the money." That was it, the sort of person she was, the sort she'd allowed herself to be, the sort she always had been.
The other girl had strangely begun to smile, eyes glistening. "You're like Bela, all right. You'll do all those things Rae, I've no doubt." She chuckled heartily, "And there Madam was thinking she could recruit you."
She could play the game better than most others, she'd learned from Kat, who'd learned from Isabela. Nobody in Rivain had beaten her at Wicked Grace, thank the Sun, she couldn't stand to lose any money. Nobody except Cahil.
The girls liked him, though he rarely bought, only drank. His Captain was a rich bastard, pliable only when inebriated, and the rest of the crew were some of the best customers the Black Cat had, never caused any trouble and were likely to help out if there was trouble being caused. Raen was running Wicked Grace games in a corner of the Cat that wasn't occupied by a canoodling couple when they swept into town, like a late summer thrall. She didn't pay him any mind until he sat opposite her and eyed her over the rim of his tankard. "Have I seen you before?" he enquired softly. He has pale, with aquiline features accentuated by the kind of dark stubble and the long roguish hair, tied back with tentative tendrils stroking at his cheekbones. She imagined he drove the girls in town wild with that vacant and vague expression of disinterest.
"No, I'm usually working behind the scenes, so to speak. Are we playing or not?" she avoided his dark eyes and moved to deal the cards. It showed on his face, Cahil was used to people paying attention when he spoke, maybe even standing to attention, a far cry from the treatment he was receiving.
"Ah, I see, that's a shame, I was going to ask if you were working tonight. Wicked Grace… sure, perhaps a game would do me good." he spoke with a Ferelden accent, softly though, so it was not apparent at first and he placed bag of coin on the wooden table. "I'll give you all I've got, lass."
She raised an eyebrow, "That's rather ambitious. Are you expecting me to match that?", meeting his eyes for the first time. He seemed surprised, as most people were, yellow eyes are odd, even in Rivain.
He shrugged nonchalantly, and continued louder this time, he had a sort of booming voice, deep and rich. "If you want, we could make this more interesting… if you cannot match my bet sufficiently, then if I win, I get to ask a favour of you. Rumour has it you're the woman to ask if one wants something done."
"My, my, you are arrogant, not to mention vain." Raen almost smiled. "Do you imagine that favour will entail sex, because I can assure you it will not."
"I thought nothing of the sort, m'lady." he quipped.
"Excellent." Raen dealt the cards, careful to employ her usual method of hiding a card slyly between her legs.
The game did not last long, one cheater can often spot another, it seems, and he reached under the table and silently snatched the spare card, clicking his tongue. Enraged, she grabbed the pack of cards from beneath his seat, slammed them atop the table and sat back with a triumphant 'HA!'.
"It takes a cheat to know a cheat", a funny little half-smile had alighted his features, softening them substantially. "But the offer still stands, if you wish to take the money, lass, it's yours." He pushed the bag towards her, disinterestedly.
Annoyed beyond reason she stuck a dagger between his middle and forefinger.
"You're offering me a handout? Look, I don't know how things work in tra-la-la-di-day or wherever you're from but here we earn our money. If you want to pay me, give me a job and I'll do it. If that's what you wanted, then find me, unless your head is too big to fit through that door. And don't call me 'lass', what am I, twelve?"
Needless to say, he was taken aback.
It was raining again, the sea rolled and thundered beneath the clouds in the distance. She was not alone on the balcony, Kat scaled the wall beneath her. "Are you right there Kat?", she poked her head over the railing to see why her closest acquaintance was scrambling like an idiot. It was not Kat. It was Cahil. "What in the Black city are you doing here?", she snapped, adjusting her headscarf now skewed from her hasty retreat.
"Well, I did venture out in the rain especially to hire you, you tempestuous bitch, you said to find you." he squinted at her through the rain. He was so… composed. So, cold when he spoke, even calling her a bitch there was hardly any emotion bar a seemingly perpetual sense of disconnected annoyance.
"What kind of job?" Despite her objecitions, Raen's interest was piqued.
"Simple one. I need you to board our ship, leave with us, stage a mutiny, help me secure the Captaincy and then you can waltz back to Rivain with all your hard-earned coin if you like. Can you handle a task such as that?" he seemed at least slightly interested at that point.
"Are you insane? Why do you need me to help you do that? I don't even know you…" She leaned over the railing, turning her back on him. "What makes you think you'd be such a great Captain anyhow?"
"No, you don't know me, but I know of you. Listen. You've been shaking up the Rivaini underworld for two years, whoever hires you is all but guaranteed to come out on top whether it's political or private. You're so good at the game, I'd assumed you were Orlesian. You're street-smart, which means you can work land and sea, you're selfish, so I can predict your motives easily, and you're good with a knife, otherwise I'd be missing a finger. Add in the fact that you're not unattractive which makes manipulating men much easier than if I were to do it myself, in addition to the fact you're not a whore and it seems you're a fairly safe bet. Plus, I get the feeling you'd do almost anything so long as the coin is good. Including using those Mage-powers of yours, correct?"
His mouth was moving and she caught every few words, but her mind had already boarded the ship and was chasing down that horizon. Wait. Did he say 'mage'? "Well you've obviously done your research, Mister, but your source is off on the whole Mage thing, otherwise I'd be catting up a spirit right now or I'd be in the Mage Cage."
"I think I'm quite correct, whether you'd like to admit it or not. Do not mistake my intentions, I want you to help me, I don't mean to intimidate you into doing it with threats of Templars. And, like I said, I wouldn't ask you to do anything you're uncomfortable with. Believe me, if you prefer them, blades are more than fine."
He was a bully and it was quite plain, a selfish one at that. But she wasn't about to kick up a fuss or dig her heels in when the opportunity for yet another life presented itself. It'll make sense when you're older. Maybe it was starting to.
"When do we start?"