25 APRIL
"So no. I've never used you for knife work, and I'm not about to start now. You're shadows, and you have a rep for being daring in your burglaries, which is good because that's exactly what I'm looking for."
Casia's lips tighten when her assumption is dismissed as being silly. And when Jonah steps in to ask the questions of 'What?' and 'From Whom?' - questions that she should have been asking - her pout doubles in intensity. Anything to cover up the fact that she's stumbling mentally.
"And how much are we getting paid?" she asks, determined to show that her observational acumen isn't entirely dulled by drink.
25 APRIL
Casia & Jonah
Lyssa takes her time in replying to your questions, refilling her glass and breathing in appreciatively. "Say what you like about the Dagger Isles, but they grow the good stuff."
Her gaze refocuses on you both, indolently but also with a calculating purposefulness. "There's an Inspector looking to make life difficult for us." She gives a relaxed, one-shouldered shrug. "Occupational hazard, some outlander looking to make a name for herself by 'cleaning up' the district. She won't be the first, or the last" Lyssa's voice takes on a note of grudging respect. "She's resourceful though, I'll give her that. When the Grinders went down, a lot of things floated up to the surface - and one of them was the dagger I had you send to Hutton. Inspector Elanda has got hold of that, it seems, and a few other things. She's looking to build a case against several of the gangs in our district, including me, and I can't have that. Crow's Foot belongs to the Crows, and I won't tolerate some Tycherosi devil-spawn upsetting things. Not now."
It's no secret that Lyssa has had a difficult few months growing into the role of leader that she... inherited from her predecessor. But she's still here, at the top, and those within the gang who didn't like it have been shown the error of their ways, or pushed out of the gang altogether - sometimes from a tall building.
She favours you with a razor-thin smile. "My first thought was to kill her, but the murder of an Inspector will bring too much heat. Instead, I'm going to embarrass her enough that she will either leave town or be open to persuasion about finding an easier target. So, I need you to find the evidence, and bring it to me. In return you will get six Coin. I'm willing to go to eight Coin if there's a minimum of fuss." She tilts her head to one side as she looks at you both, staring first at Jonah and then back to Casia. "Do you think you can do that, sweet thing?"
Ranna
Eckerd gives you a quizzical look. "Not much more'n what everyone else knows - he's completely insane." And this from someone whose choice of profession involves defying the Spirit Wardens. "He come off a boat a month or two back, and carved out a section of turf pretty much by hisself." He shakes his head with disgust. "Another damn Skov, that's just what we need. S'okay, I don't think of you as a Skov, you got useful skills."
He gives you a cautionary look. "Gotta warn you though, if you're thinking of cozying up to him like you did the Grinders, think again. Word is the only thing he hates more than us locals is the Skovs that work with us. I seen a few of the bodies he leaves - 'splitters' they get called, cos of how he splits them down the middle with that huge great sword he carries." He shakes his head and gives you an amicable gold-glinted smile. "My advice, partner, stay away."
Luce
Mylera's face darkens briefly as it is your turn to touch on a history she would rather forget; but then turnaround is fair play, so she simply smiles and serves more tea. "The prophets tell us to choose our friends wisely, and I am very glad of your friendship. It is a comfort to me in these trying times."
It is no secret that the war between the Red Sashes and the Lampblacks was not as quick or conclusive as either side was hoping when hostilities re-started back in January with Roric's death. Things have simmered down now from the open hostilities, and there hasn't been a body dropped for several weeks now.
It's also no secret that both Mylera Klev and Baszo Basz have gone to Lyssa in search of an alliance with the Crows, only to be turned down flat. Lyssa's position is strengthened by the weakness of the two other most prominent gangs in the district, even if business overall is down as a result of the collateral damage.
What is a secret (or at least, not widely known) is that Lyssa was a protegee of Klev's in much the same way that you are. She is a few years older than you, so while your paths briefly crossed you didn't socialise together and it's doubtful that the older girl would even have noticed the younger one. (Lyssa's family is even more respectable - read: wealthier - than your own used to be, although unlike you her downfall was self-inflicted. The nobility will tolerate almost anything, provided it can be covered up. Lyssa's blatant disregard for discretion led to her being disinherited.)
Klev's thoughts are obviously trending in the same way as your own, as she gives a slight frown. "Of course, not all my old friends can still be counted on, which is a trial indeed. I mention that because... well, I am merely mentioning it."
25 APRIL
Ranna shakes her head immediately. "Not planning on it. Just like to keep ahead of who's who in the area. Particularly if they're going to be leaving bodies on my doorstep." Unfortunately it sounds like Ulf Ironborn is the type to leave a lot of bodies. "Thanks for the warning." She does mean that. As much as she dislikes Eckerd, she's capable of appreciating good advice when it's given.
Ulf Ironborn's apparent insanity also puts a lot of other things into perspective. After Eckerd finally, finally leaves, Ranna leaves her sign flipped to closed and gets ready for bed. It's late and she's exhausted, but tomorrow she has a few apologies to make.
26 APRIL
Ranna walks up to the Dusk Mites' lair with no small amount of trepidation. None of them had been to her clinic for healing, which could mean any number of things. They were too busy. They didn't think they needed it. They never wanted to see her face again.
She'd brought her kit as a peace offering, just in case. "Hello?"
25 April 847 IE
Jonah didn't always agree with Lyssa or her methods, but in this case he found himself nodding along with her scheme. The last thing we need is an overzealous inspector poking around. The very thought makes his eye twitch and reignites the ache in his head. The Dusk Mites were involved, directly or indirectly, in way too much bloodshed in recent weeks for a smart snooper to not start uncovering things best left buried deep in the Doskvol sewers. And killing the gung ho Bluecoat? Well, he simply refused to entertain the kind of disaster that could create.
He glances at the Crow boss, his eyes and thin smile reflecting a respect for this hard, scheming woman who has somehow managed to keep herself alive and even thriving amongst the cutthroats of the city. But the smile starts to fade as thoughts of bosses like Baszo or Mylera or another Hutton step into the frame. Bosses more likely to stab first and consider consequences later.
Forgetting his usual dislike of alcohol, Jonah takes a sip of the wine and nods again.
"Avoiding the stick to offer a poisoned carrot instead." The whisper says tipping a finger to his hat to salute the Crow boss. "A fine, clever idea and prudent. The last thing anyone wants is the law stirred up and trying to bring order and justice to this town. Getting the dirt on this Elandra and running her out nice and quiet makes bunch of sense." Or keeping her well under the Crows thumb. Jonah considers to himself before turning to Casia. "What do you think? I'm in if the others can cop to the plan."
25 APRIL
Jonah & Casia
Lyssa gives another thin smile at Jonah's praise. "I'm glad you like what I've said so far. Because I'm not sure you'll like the next bit so much." She gives a glance, left and right, to the cronies who are in the room with her; they don't draw weapons, but they are suddenly slouching a little bit less and have that quiet tension which suggests that violence might well be imminent, if it's needed.
The gang leader's gaze doesn't return to you, seemingly very interested in the ring which she continues to twist around her finger. "I'll say this, I've kept Dead Larry in business lately. I feel like one of those street hustlers, with the shells and the bead. Moving, moving, moving, can you see it? Which is to say, I've negotiated a very intricate deal - everyone gets something, but nobody gets everything they want. Except me, of course. Which is why I run this district."
Seemingly losing interest in the ring, she looks up, her gaze blank as she stares past you. "The point is, you're not going to like what I've done. But you don't have to. There's a lot of things in play, and you're just one of them. As for what I've done..." she ponders for a moment how much to tell you. "It's probably just easier if I put my cards on the table so you can see the hand I've had to play. Inspector Elanda's not just after me, she's going after some of the Bluecoats in Crow's Foot as well." It's reasonably common knowledge that most of the sergeants in the district are owned by Lyssa; and most of the rest are owned by the Lampblacks. "So when you get the dagger, there'll be some other files of evidence with it as well. I want you to take them and bring them here for me. But there's also the matter of the copper you killed a few months back. That blood doesn't wash out easily, but I've persuaded Mylera Klev to give someone up who will cop to that. They've got him dead to rights on some other stuff, he was going to get the chop anyway but this will seal his fate and take the glare off your gang a bit. You're welcome, by the way."
She holds up one finger. "But. Between you, there's a fair bit of mayhem on the record and I can't tar anyone else with that. Even without a dead Bluecoat, the Mites have drawn some heat, more than I can cover for. I had to give one of you up, and in return the slate is wiped clean."
Lyssa does, finally, look directly at you, meeting Casia's eyes. "I want you to know that I will make sure your brother is kept safe while he's in prison."
It takes a moment for the words Lyssa speaks to sink in. Another moment passes as her brain processes their meaning. After a few more moments pass as she tries to come up with some other possible interpretation, but fails.
She finally laughs rudely. Rising from her seat, she reaches for the bottle that the woman had offered before.
"You almost had me there," she says, ignoring the two thugs who are watching her for any excuse to intervene. "I didn't think you had a sense of humor for a moment."
She takes a swallow from the bottle directly.
"Now tell me why you're not laughing? This has to be a joke, right? You can't really believe that we're going to give up Fin to you, do you?"
A dagger appears in her hand as if by magic.
"Over my dead body."
25 APRIL
Jonah & Casia
There is a certain amusement in Lyssa's eyes, as she gestures to the thugs accompanying her; hands that were about to draw an unpleasant assortment of weapons move - fractionally - away from imminent danger. Lyssa herself just sighs slightly. "I don't know what books you read, sweet thing, but this isn't one of those stories where the plan gets revealed with enough time for it to be foiled. I picked your brother up around the same time the two of you were brought here."
"So I don't have to believe you're going to do anything. It's already done." Her gaze flicks across to Jonah. "I did say you weren't going to like what I've done. But it's done, and I need you to make sure nobody on your team does anything silly."
She returns her attention to Casia. "As I said, I will make sure nothing happens to him in Ironhook prison, he'll have a cell to himself and everyone will tread nicely around him. But please put the knife away, sweet thing. I don't want anyone here to get hurt, including you."
"Y-you what?" Casia stammers and the sharpened blade dips and wavers. "You ... you took Fin? He's ... he's in Ironhook?"
Her voice wavers for a moment and her eyes flick from Lyssa to Jonah and then to the thugs who are still watching her every move. The wheels are spinning trying to find some avenue around this. Some way to avoid what's already happened. When none is found, the effect is visible in the young woman. Her body stiffens and her chin lifts. The blade vanishes back into whatever pocket it was hidden in before.
"Three months - no more," she says in a rigid voice. "And not a mark on him." She turns and pointedly ignores the hired help as she strides towards the door.
"Let's go, Jonah. We've got some evidence to steal."
--
Once they've reached the street, Casia begins muttering to herself. Turning to Jonah, she snaps, "I swear right now that whatever torments Fin suffers in Ironhook, I'll visit upon her ten-fold. She'll learn that if you push people far enough, they push back."
25TH APRIL
Luce sips on her tea and then lowers the cup enough for Mylera to see her smile. The silence stretches for a minute or two as the elder woman dangles her bait and the younger lets it hang, point and counterpoint. Still Mylera is a friend, something of a mentor and a gang leader not lacking in power and influence even now so Luce, after a suitable pause, puts her cup down carefully on the table and folds her hands together.
"It seems to me that one can never have too many friends." She says slowly. "At least when friendship comes without obligation. Favours given freely and received in the same spirit are a blessing, which bind people together, but when people choose to forget their friends... well then when has to decide if they are a friend or merely an acquaintance."
She picks up her tea once more, nearly empty, and looks to her mentor for permission to pour. "I don't know Lyssa and she doesn't know me." Luce says, finally getting down to business as she refills both cups - a sign that the social portion of the meeting is over. "So, as a friend Mylera, what are you hoping that I can give you?"
Jonah tenses as a dagger suddenly manifests in Casia's hand. It was a helluva trick, but this was definitely not the time or place. But before he can even make a likely futile attempt to reason with Fin's sister, Lyssa takes the wind right out of her sails. Even through the usual haze of booze, Cas could see that with Fin already in prison, Lyssa held all the cards and stacked the deck. One word from the Crow boss and his life is tolerable as she promises or filled with misery and a grim death. The unspoken promise if they don't do as she says.
Sighing, Jonah rubs a hand over his aching head and resets his hat. With no choice, Casia was correct, they'd evidence to gather. His eyes glance between the two women. Another sigh. He'd been around Casia long enough to know that no matter what happens now, Lyssa had made an enemy for life.
"We'll be in touch as soon as we've got something." Is all he says to Lyssa before turning and following the only other Dusk Mite from their original group of Doskvol flotsam.
28 APRIL
"Thank you for seeing me." Luce says, taking her seat opposite the attractively clad woman. "I'm not here for your professional services but I was hoping you would be able to recommend one of your colleagues who might have some time available. It seemed sensible to ask you rather than simply taking a chance."
She pushes a small purse over the table to Cinna without further comment. She had engaged the woman's professional services and that meant paying, only appropriate from one professional to another.
26TH APRIL
Casia looks up as Ranna enters the main room of their 'lair'. Her face is pale and there are dark circles under her eyes. Those eyes are surprisingly clear, though.
"Glad you showed up," she says, gesturing to a number of pieces of scrap parchment spread across the table she's sitting at. "We have a job. It's fairly simple, but that doesn't equate to easy. Get in, snatch the target, and then get out. Best case is that no one will even know we were there. My best guess is that it will take us four days to get ready." She gathers the scribbled notes into a single pile.
"Are you in?" She meets Ranna's gaze, purposefully ignoring the empty couch where her brother normally would be resting.
~~~~~
28TH APRIL
"I'm not sure if I should feel insulted or not," Cinna replies with a teasing grin. Though she doesn't hesitate in secreting the offered purse away in her dress. "Are you looking for something specific or just a little fun in general?"
Her eyes narrow and the grin widens.
"Let me guess ... You like to be in charge, don't you?"
She chuckles.
"That's why you two butt heads so much, you know? You and Cas? You're girls both cast from the same mold. Just different metals 'sall."
28 APRIL
"I'm assuming that you are good at your job, most people don't take that as an insult." Luce replies, although she does smile a little, to show that the comment is a joke rather than a statement of fact. Or maybe it can be both.
The comment about Cas confuses the Spider a little. "And why are you talking about her?" She asks. "I was under the impression that she used your services, rather than offering them herself. Or is that not what you're suggesting?"
In reality Luce is almost certainly that that isn't what Cinna meant. This kind of conversation, with sex as a transaction, is both familiar and very unfamiliar at the same time. She's had plenty of conversations like this about a number of subjects, and overheard many more. But sex amongst her... former social circle, was something taboo, to be discussed in code or by pointedly not discussing it. Unless you were a young nobleman who had drunk to much, in which case you bragged to your friends and exaggerated stories all the time. Cinna hadn't drunk much, if she was any judge, and had no reason to exaggerate, so the conversational leap was... interesting.
28TH APRIL
Cinna reaches out and runs the tip of her finger around the rim of her wineglass causing it to softly ring.
"I wouldn't recommend suggesting that Casia's a whore where she can hear you," she says, her grin remaining steady. "And I don't discuss who is or has been a client."
She draws the glass to her lips and takes a slow sip, savoring the flavor. Her eyes never leave Luce's, though.
"I can give you the name of someone that would probably be right up your alley. She likes being told what to do. Besides, you and Casia would never work out, so I wouldn't recommend trying to approach her in that sense. You would cut each other to ribbons. A match made in the deepest pits as one would say, so I wouldn't give it another thought."
28 APRIL
"And if you meant that then you wouldn't be talking about it so much." Luce counters. As Cinna leans back she shifts forwards, not giving the courtesan any room. "Now I respect your professional privacy but you're making a lot of leaps, a lot of assumptions, and that makes me think... why?"
She pauses for a moment, giving Cinna a chance to speak if she wants to and actually focusing on the woman properly, letting the tiny tics and tells wash over her as she analyses the woman before her.
"You care about Casia, far more than one would expect." She says steadily. "And the fact that you care about her means that you'll do things that benefit her where you can, as long as its not going to cause you greater harm. Now there is no harm here, I've paid you and been very clear about what I want. So why have you brought her up in conversation twice? And made assumptions to gow with them. Perhaps they aren't assumptions, she might have told you." She makes a peremptory gesture to stop Cinna's demur. "I'm speculating, of course. But I know that caisa likes women, that you like Casua and you have, without any reason, brought her up in a conversation she had no part in. Twice. So you have an ulterior motive."
Luce leans back, letting the pressure off. She knows that she can be 'a lot', plenty of people had expressed that thought before.
"As I see it Cinna, you have three options." She continues. "You can tell me the truth, without the subterfuge. You can keep trying to hint at what you want, or you can lie. Either way I expect the name I paid for, the rest is up to you."
26TH APRIL
Ranna flounders in confusion as Casia addresses her. No recriminations. No insults. Not even an acknowledgment of how she'd left. Just immediate talk about a new job. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting but it wasn't that. Should she say anything or pretend it had never happened and move on?
Her decision is driven by her experience as a doctor. Leaving wounds to fester is never a good thing. "Before I say anything else, I want to apologize. I was dismissive of how much damage the Grinders caused because I was too focused on how it all affected me. I still think it was a s*~#ty situation all around, but I blamed you for something that really wasn't your fault."
"With that said...yes I'm in, if you'll still have me. What's the job?"
26TH APRIL
Casia frowns and looks down at the table.
"I ... uh ... I should be apologizing to you as well," she says in a quiet voice very different from her 'all business' tone. "You don't know who we are and you were rock solid in the brothel. I have a hard time trusting, but that's not a reflection on you." She sighs. "Besides, it's not a lie to say that we've been laying a trail of blood behind us. That's not how I've wanted the jobs to go, but sometimes it all just comes down to you or the other poor sap."
She shakes her head and draws a deep breath.
"This job, though ... We should be able to come away from it blood-free. Lyssa wants us to lift some evidence that's being held by a local Inspector. And since some of that evidence points to us, we have some incentive to make sure that it 'disappears'."
She turns the stack of notes towards Ranna.
28TH APRIL
"Little Nessie," Cinna replies, giving almost nothing else away in those short words. "She typically hangs around in the Rosewater Inn. You can tell her that I sent you."
When it's clear that Luce is waiting for more, she tips her head. "I like Casia. She's got her issues, but she's a good kid. When you work together on jobs like what the Mites take, then sometimes people get closer and things ... happen. I don't think things should 'happen' between you and her - you're all wrong for each other."
She takes another sip of wine and Luce gets the impression that the woman has said all that she's going to say on the subject.
26 APRIL
"Too much to do in too short a time." Luce makes her appearance without any sign of how much she has overheard already. "I can't make adequate preparations on this kind of time scale. Rush jobs..." She trails off and the disdain in her voice makes it clear what she thinks of rush jobs. "But circumstances dictate that we move quickly. So we will." She glances sideways at Casia - the young woman has ple ty of reason to want this job done fast, Luce just has to make sure it's done well.
"It's good that you're here Engine. We need a proper briefing for this job."
28 APRIL
Having received what she came for Luce nods and leaves without another word, vindicated in her decision to not employ Cinna directly.
Does Casia know how much she is cared for? She wonders as she slips into the steady flow of unwashed humanity. Cinna is a weak point for her. Someone else to watch out for.
25 APRIL
Luce
Mylera gives you a deliberately opaque look when you name Lyssa, the sort of look that tells you that you're on the right track but that she isn't going to be the one who drops any names. Whether this is straightforward plausible deniability, or simply the fact that the Iruvians have a maddening tendency to walk circles around their objectives rather than in a straight line, is less clear.
Either way, she gives you a small smile of approval. "Dear Luce." There is a pause while she drains her teacup. "As for what you can give... the Prophets tell us to keep our friends close, but our enemies closer. I can think of someone it would be good for you to become close to."
25 APRIL
"Well I'm always open to making new friends..." Luce replies delicately.
26 APRIL, 847 IE
Jonah offers Ranna a weak smile when the healer steps into the room. The Whisper is clearly exhausted and not well. His skin is pale, even more so than usual. His eyes lined with dark circles as the Whisper slowly rubs at the pain throbbing in his temples. When Ranna apologizes, he lets out a breath he hadn't really realized he was holding.
"Glad to have you back." He says to Ranna before offering his own thoughts on their new job. His voice clearly tired. "And I would just like to say I'm sorry as well. It probably would have been better to say something sooner about our hand in the Grinders demise. I'd no idea you knew them so well. Although it really isn't a surprise given the location of your clinic. I should've put two and two together a bit sooner."
A final sigh as he limps over to the pot of brewing coffee steaming on the small iron cook top that heats the hideout. Taking a welcome sip of the brew, he nods as Casia mentions their own need to see the job done.
"Of course, the first order of business is to get eyes on this Inspector and figure out where she might be hiding her evidence." The Whispers hand seems to shake a little as he brings the mug to his lips for another sip. "It'll likely be someplace personal to her. Anything in her office has probably already been searched by whoever Lyssa has on the inside."
"You didn't know. If anything I'm the one who should have said something sooner. I had at least heard about the Dusk Mites' previous run-ins with the Grinders. It slipped my mind after everything else happened, but that's not really a good excuse." Ranna's eyebrows shoot up when she looks over at Jonah. "Now, my first order of business is figuring out what the hell is wrong with you. You look terrible. Did those cuts get infected?"
She takes her kit and marches over to Jonah, nodding at Casia who seems to be in charge of this operation. "Give me the details while I look him over. Where's Fin, by the way? I owe him an apology as well."
Ranna's question catches Casia reaching for her own lukewarm mug sitting nearby on the table. A moment later and the young woman is cursing under her breath as she scrambles to gather up her notes from the spreading spilled coffee. "Sonofa ..." she spits out as tries to wipe up the mess with an old rag grabbed from a nearby table. She stills with the notes crumpling in one hand as her head hangs.
"Fin's ..." she starts and stops as her voice cracks. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she gathers herself. "He's in Ironhook. Lyssa gave him up as a sacrifical lamb." Visibly clamping down on her emotions, she resumes cleaning up the mess she's made. "His continued good health is both the carrot and the stick for this job. She's assured us that he'll be there no more than three months. Beyond that, nothing else needs to be discussed about him."
The remains of the spilled coffee now joining the patina that covers the battered table, Casia straightens out the parchments in her hand and glances down at them.
"We don't have a lot more details to go on at this point. We still need to discover where the inspector has stored the evidence and that's the main thing we need to find out. We could really use our spider right about now."
"Oh." Ranna doesn't say anything else. Her heart twists at the thought of Fin in Ironhook. No wonder Casia was so determined to get this job done quickly.
With the door shut on that particular topic of conversation she focuses her attention on Jonah's injuries. The cuts were bad but not bad enough to explain how ill he looked. Something else was going on. "I'd like you to stop by the clinic sometime soon for a full check-up. How have you been sleeping?"
She cleans the cuts as she thinks, both about Jonah's symptoms and the job. "I've treated a few inspectors. Probably not the one we're after, that would be too much of a coincidence, but I might be able to "accidentally" bump into someone I know and get a bit of gossip. Crow's Foot isn't that far from Charhollow, and people talk. What's this inspector's name?"
"Elanda." Jonah says wincing as Ranna cleans the cuts. "The inspector's name is Elanda. Haven't heard of her myself."
At the suggestion of going to the clinic, the whisper nods warily and tries to wave away the concern. "I've slept like the dead." He says. A brief thoughtful pause as he recalls a few snippets of the odd dreams plaguing him lately. But strange dreams were pretty common among Whispers. A side effect of constantly delving into the ghost field. Another shrug. "I'm sure it's just the usual exhaustion from too much work and a few bizarre dreams likely caused by too much eel pie and time spent in the city sewers."
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One of the many downsides of being a doctor, particularly when you run one of the only affordable clinics in the neighborhood, is that you rarely get a full night's sleep. At least I know better than to get fully undressed before bed, Ranna thinks drowsily as the sound of heavy banging rouses her. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she opens the door to see Stazia half-carrying an unusually well-dressed Islander. The woman's copper skin is tinged grey, her lips almost white.
"What's going on?" Ranna ushers both of them inside and gets the woman onto a table. She's clutching her midsection. Looking down Ranna can see blood seeping through the woman's pants.
Stazia's pale herself. "I sold Haseena some abortifacients three days ago but something's wrong. She came back to me this evening because the bleeding was heavier than expected. Other symptoms include fever, fatigue, and muscle weakness. Probably from blood loss. I don't understand, this has never happened before-"
"How far along?"
"Nine weeks."
Ranna frowns. Stazia's not a doctor but she knows her drugs. The ones she gives out for abortions are extremely effective up to about ten weeks after conception. Side effects and complications are always possible, but this seems close to full-blown hemorrhaging. "Alright. I need to examine you, which means I need to take off your pants. Understand?" Haseena nods.
A short examination later and Ranna has her answer. "You're not nine weeks along. At least thirteen, maybe fourteen." Haseena drops her eyes to the floor and nods again. Ranna wants to shake her and demand to know why she'd lie about something so critically important, but now is not the time. She starts disinfecting her tools while she talks. "You had an incomplete miscarriage. Some of the tissue is stuck in your uterus, preventing it from contracting the way it should. That's why you're bleeding so badly. I'm going to need to remove that tissue surgically."
"You're going to cut me open?" Haseena looks terrified. "You can't, they'll know-"
"First, the operation will be conducted vaginally. I'm not cutting you open." Ranna sharpens her tone. "Second, you're bleeding to death and unless I do this it's not going to stop."
Haseena inhales sharply, eyes somehow going even wider. She's probably around the same age as Ranna herself but in that moment she looks very young. "I could die?"
"Yes." Bedside manner has never been Ranna's strength.
Stazia fidgets. In a low voice she asks, "Would it be safe for her to go somewhere else?" She casts Ranna a sideways glance before adding delicately, "If you were more comfortable seeking help at home?"
Ranna eyes Haseena's clothes, (far too clean and high-quality for Charhollow, with an almost military cut to them), and several puzzle pieces snap into place. "If you got a carriage and went there immediately, yes, you could probably seek treatment elsewhere."
"But then they'd know." Haseena slumps. "Do it."
The operation itself takes only fifteen minutes. It goes relatively smoothly (thank the dead gods) and soon Haseena is recovering. "There will still be some bleeding but it shouldn't be any worse than a normal menstrual cycle. If you start running a high fever or if the bleeding worsens again, either come back here or go to a different doctor." Haseena nods, although given her eyes are half-closed Ranna's not sure she actually understood. She'll have to repeat the instructions in the morning.
With Haseena sleeping Ranna pours herself and Stazia some tea. "An inspector? Really?"
Stazia hesitates, possibly considering denying it, but then shrugs. "Apparently relationships are discouraged. They'd rather get supplies from someone like me than risk having their superiors find out. Turns out inspectors are people too. Who knew?"
"Who knew indeed." Ranna shakes her head. "I'd start warning them about the possible consequences of lying to you."
Stazia manages a tired smile. "I will, don't worry."
Ranna never expected to see Haseena again after that night, but two weeks later she was back. "I wanted to ask...would you mind if I recommended your clinic to some of my friends? Sometimes Stazia doesn't have the supplies we need."
"Of course. Engine Clinic is open to everyone."
30 APRIL, 847 IE
Ranna
Beyond her name, and the fact that she's an Inspector, you know next to nothing about Haseena; which makes it difficult to get in touch with her. You get the word to Stazia that you would like to see her, which Stazia promises to pass on, and a few days later you receive a typed, unsigned note at your clinic which simply reads: The Lost Ideal coffee-house. Tomorrow. 11 am.
The coffee-house in question turns out to be in Charterhall district, a bridge away from Crow's Foot but also another world. Clerks and government workers rush to and fro along wide, clean, well-lit paved streets; official papers bulging from their valises. Wealthy bankers trundle past in heavy carriages with private bodyguards arrayed in clanking armour. And, in the innumerable stalls and street-corner cafes around the University, students debate endlessly on triva, trying to impress, over-awe and/or simply flirt with one another. Some of the cafes are reputed to be hot-beds of radicalism, but most are simply where over-educated children of privilege earnestly discuss the need to smash "the system" without ever actually doing anything so gauche as taking action.
Which does at least mean that any conversation you and Haseena have will be most unlikely to be overheard. The Islander looks immeasurably better than last time you met; her dark, shimmering-black hair tied back severely, as controlled as the rest of her expression. The last time you saw her, she was at a severe disadvantage, but now Haseena is setting terms. She arrived early, taking a seat which lets her see the scene in its entirety and gives you a courteous nod as you arrive and sit opposite her. "This isn't a follow-up appointment... doctor." It's not a question, but it is a statement that acknowledges, however obliquely, that there is something owed. "So I'm left wondering what it is." She sips her coffee expressionless as she subjects you to her scrutiny, noting in particular the electroplasmic shock-burns on your hands and wrists. Her eyes meet your own, and there is (albeit closely guarded) a momentary flash of amusement in her gaze; a sense of humour that isn't allowed out to play very often. "Something you want to confess?"
30 APRIL, 847 IE
Ranna sits down at the table with her own coffee, mind whirling. She’d spent hours with Luce hammering out how this conversation might go. What to say, what to do, how to get Haseena to talk without revealing anything herself. Looking into amused dark eyes she suddenly suspects it was all for naught. Haseena’s not stupid. She’s not going to believe for a second that Ranna asked to meet her here for harmless gossip. No matter how circuitously she approaches what she wants to know, Haseena’s going to realize exactly what she’s doing. Maybe Luce could do it but Ranna’s never been good at this game. If she plays she’s going to lose. So she’s not going to play.
(Far away in the Dusk Mite headquarters Luce feels a chill run up her spine. A sense of fundamental wrongness fills the air.)
”Want to confess? No. Going to? After a fashion.” Ranna takes a deep breath and gambles it all. ”I’m going to be honest and beg you to hear me out. If you walk out afterwards I understand. I’d prefer you didn’t arrest me but if you do I’d understand that too.” She pauses to let the weight of that sink in. ”Engine Clinic isn’t able to support itself from paying clients alone. There are too many people who can’t afford to pay and I can't, won't, turn them away. So I get some of my funding from...outside sources.”
”There’s an Inspector in Crow's Foot, Inspector Elanda, who wants to clean up the district. Unfortunately for me, if the word on the street is to be believed, she’s going after some of the smaller gangs as well as the big ones. Including my main source of funding.” Ranna bites her lip, hard. ”They’re not bad people. They care more about saving lives than they do getting rich, that’s why they’re helping keep Engine Clinic running. But they are thieves and if she’s successful they’ll all end up in Ironhook.”
”Right now I see two possible outcomes. The most likely is that one of the bigger gangs has Elanda killed. It’s happened before, when an inspector tried to do too much too soon. Far less likely is that she actually succeeds. If she does it would be great for her career, change nothing for Crow's Foot as new gangs spring up in place of the old, and devastate Engine Clinic. My friends and I would prefer neither.” Ranna looks Haseena directly in the eyes. ”So that’s why I asked you here. To see if there was anything you could tell me about either Inspector Elanda specifically or inspectors in general that might help us find a third option.”
She tries to take a sip of coffee but her hands are shaking so badly she has to put it down before it gets halfway to her lips. ”For what it's worth I’m sorry for putting you in this position and I’ll understand however you respond, but I thought…you know firsthand the kind of work I do. I thought it was worth a try.” She can't maintain eye contact any longer and has to look away, pretending to study a group of students having a fierce debate. Surely she'd never been that young.
This had been a stupid idea from the start. She'd wanted so badly to be helpful, to make up for her behavior, to repay the Dusk Mites for the Coin they'd given up for Engine Clinic's sake. She hadn't thought through the specifics of how she was going to get "a little gossip." Hadn't thought about the fact that inspectors weren't the type to gossip and she wasn't the type to be able to manipulate them into it.
She's thrown her cards face up onto the table. All she can do now is hope Haseena understands.
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27 APRIL, 847 IE
Casia moves through the narrow confines of the alleyway with trepidation. The environment is one that she's quite comfortable in. Even adding in whatever light leaks from filth-covered windows to the dim space isn't enough to pierce the vaporous steam that fills the air.
No, it's not the environment that has Casia on edge - It's the destination.
The alley opens onto a cramped courtyard that's illuminated by a single harsh lamppost. The area is crowded by tubs filled with steaming water kept hot by coal-burning braziers. A number of women labor away at the tubs scrubbing clothes against ribbed boards and muttering gossip between themselves.
Taking a deep breath, she approaches a woman. The attractiveness she must have possessed in her youth has long been worn away by hard labor that's created heavy lines in her face and streaks of gray in her now-brittle hair.
"What do you want, Cas?" she says, her attention remaining focused on the wet lump of cloth she's rubbing up and down against her washboard.
"I ... I need to talk to her, Aunt Verona" she stammers out meekly.
"You know she doesn't want to talk to you. Just go away."
"I have to talk to her. It's about Fin."
"What about Finraeth?" a shrill voice calls out and Casia stiffens while the tired woman's shoulders slump.
Casia turns to see her. Mother is adjusting her faded skirts as she steps from another alley whose usage is best left unexamined. "Did you not hear me, Casia? I asked you a question. What about Finraeth?" The woman's face tightens. "If you're here to whine about him finally growing some sense and divesting himself of your toxic presence then you won't find any sympathy here. That would bring a tiny bit of cheer to the nightmare that is my life."
"No, I ... He's ..." Casia begins, but finds that she doesn't know if she can say what she came to say.
"He's what, Girl!" Mother snaps, stepping forward and grabbing Casia's shoulder in a claw-like grip. "What's happened to my boy?!"
"He's ... he's in Ironhook," Casia manages to spit out and closes her eyes.
"What?!"
The woman releases Casia's shoulder and stumbles back, her hand now clutching at her chest. "No. NO! Noooooo!!!" she screams before falling to her knees. "My baby boy!" she sobs as some of the other ladies rush to her side. The rest watch on in greedy fascination as drama unfolds before them.
Casia's aunt takes a tired breath and hangs the shirt she's working on over the edge of the metal tub. "Just go away, Cas. I think you've done enough here." She shuffles over to Mother's side and kneels down to take the woman in her arms. "There's no more damage you can cause."
Ignoring all the onlookers and their thirst for entertainment, Casia simply turns and slips back into the darkness of the alley.
30 APRIL
Ranna
Haseena carefully lifts the coffee cup out of your shaking hands, placing it back down on the saucer in front of you. She gives you a quizzical look, again laced with amusement. "I'm glad your hands were steadier the night you put me back together. You're really not suited to a life of intrigue." She chuckles. "It's rather endearing, actually." She sits back in her chair, and relaxes a little as she listens to the rest of what you have to say.
The Inspectors are incorruptible, everyone knows that. Try to bribe one of them, and you'll find that action added to your arrest warrant. But that doesn't mean they all have the same agenda; and sometimes, those agendas conflict. So when you mention Elanda's name, Haseena leans forward and takes a keen interest. "Hmm. Elanda is something of a blunt instrument; but then, she's still quite young and everything is clear-cut to her. Once you get to our age, you find yourself operating in shades of grey... hence the fact that we know one another, for example." She holds your gaze, giving you a wry look.
There's a long, long pause as she endeavours to think through the next series of moves in her head, as though it's a game of chess. "Hold out one of those unsteady hands of yours, doctor." Holding your wrist in place with one hand, she writes a name and an address on your palm with the other: Nessa. Apt 4, Comber Tobacconist
She puts the pen away, although her other hand still absently holds on to your wrist - her skin is cool, or maybe it's yours that is hot. "It's in Six Towers. Do me a favour, please, and don't go there alone." She gives you a half-amused, half serious look. "A good doctor is hard to find; and someone I can talk to is rarer still. Although perhaps you can't be both. Perhaps you shouldn't be either." Another wry look, mixed with playful humour. "What do you think?"
1st May
"So..." Luce says, standing at the end of the small table which forms the Dusk Mite's 'command centre', such as it is. "We have a name and a location, which may be our target. We also have a physical description. So given another day or so I should be able to confirm if this really is our target. Casia, feel like doing some stealth-ing? Looks like you could use the exercise."
Provoking her teammate might not be the best move, but Casia has been moping for days and prodding her temper is going to be the quickest way to get action from the Lurk. Given what Luce has learned over the past few days she is more sympathetic than she would have been, but inefficiency is still not acceptable.
"Assuming that we do confirm our target I'd like to take a little more time to learn what else we can about her." The spider continues. "What are her weaknesses? What is her routine? We are not going in and running into an inquisitor in her dressing gown."
She straightens up and catches everyone's eye in turn. "So Casia confirm our target. Once we've got that I'll work on the how. Jonah, check for any mystic defenses. Ranna, make sure you've got your non-lethal methods available. Everyone understand?"
She waits a moment for objections.
30 APRIL
Ranna closes her eyes and breathes, allowing the adrenaline to rush out of her. Haseena understands. She doesn't even seem to be angry at Ranna for asking. "Thank you." She looks down at where Haseena's still holding her hand, brain strangely focused on the unfamiliar sensation. "My hands are steady when they have to be. I can compartmentalize. Shove down emotions and let the training take over. I just never trained for this." Not for lack of effort on Luce's part. Ranna makes a mental note to not tell the Spider exactly how she got the address.
"I won't go there alone, but can you tell me anything about what to expect?" Ranna reaches for her coffee with her other hand, (no longer shaking), and takes a sip while she thinks through the implications of Haseena's final question. "I've already taken advantage of our professional relationship once by asking this of you. I can't promise I'd never do it again. If you wish to continue using Engine Clinic I won't turn you away, but ethically it would probably be best for you to find another doctor." Blue eyes meet brown and Ranna gives a wry smile of her own. "However if you do ever want to just talk...I think I'd like that."
30 APRIL
Ranna
Haseena pauses for a moment, thinking through your question about what to expect. "I think all I can tell you is that Nessa is helping me with some enquiries. In a way. More than that, I think she would have to tell you herself." She sighs. "I sort of envy Elanda, you know. It was nice being in a world where everything was clear-cut; although I suppose living in the grey comes with its own compensations." She smiles as she looks at you, and her eyes widen slightly as you look straight back at her. "Just talking it is then. Although... on the subject of our professions. I don't know how often you hear 'oh you saved my life, I can never repay you' but in my case it's literally true. If you get into trouble, legal trouble, I won't be able to help you. And if any harm comes to Elanda I'll have to arrest you myself." Even (or perhaps especially) in the grey, there are boundaries and sometimes they need to be more clearly delineated.
She looks down at her cup of coffee as she drinks it. "Please don't make me do that." Her lips twitch in the suggestion of a smile. "I'm not actually sure where my handcuffs even are, I think my ex might have walked off with them."
30 APRIL
Ranna shakes her head with a small smile of her own. "I understand. I'm already asking a lot of you; I wouldn't ask more. Particularly not anything...official." She leans back in her chair, once again studying the students. So very young. "I'll also do my best to avoid putting you in a position where you'd have to arrest me. For both our sakes."
30 APRIL
Ranna
Haseena finishes her coffee, and gives you a rueful smile. "I would hold off on deciding who is asking a lot of whom, for now." She doesn't elaborate, before standing up; she clearly has other places to be. "Thank you, it's been... nice getting to know you a bit. Maybe next time we can talk about something other than work." She gives you a slightly awkward look, possibly reluctant to slip back into her official persona straight away, after being let out to play. "So, do we hug or shake hands or what?"
2 MAY
Ranna, Luce, possibly others
The district of Six Towers is full of ghosts; most - but, importantly, not all - of them entirely metaphorical. This formerly prestigious district has faded over the centuries into a pale shadow of what it once was. The eponymous six towers were originally the grand residences of Doskvol’s first noble families; most have long-since been sold off and converted into cheap apartments or fallen into ruin and abandoned.
Sprawling old buildings are everywhere, dark without the flicker of gas or electroplasm. The broad stone streets are cracked and buckled, and the fires of squatters crackle from overgrown lots. It's not the sort of place to wander alone: keeping one pair of eyes looking behind you is a necessity in case curious stares become something more menacing.
The few residential areas tend to be clustered around useful amenities such as shops or main roadways; the Comber tobacconist is one such, located at one end of Comber street on the ground floor of an apartment building that has seen much better days. The flicker of light at some of the windows indicates that at least some of the apartments are inhabited. The stairs - white marble underneath a century's worth of grime and dirt - are slippery underfoot as you make your way up to apartment 4. The door here is new, reinforced wood and the brass number 4 has been polished until it shines; your knock is answered by a burly, bullet-headed woman with close-cut iron-grey hair and a bearing that tells you she's either military or Bluecoat, and possibly has been both. She looks hastily both ways down the corridor before opening the door just wide enough to admit you, and closes it quickly.
The living room inside is sparse almost to the point of emptiness: a battered table has seen better days, and a set of wooden stools without cushions. The bullet-headed woman puts down the pistol she had behind her back and unloads it before safely stowing it away, her actions confirming your earlier impression. She takes a seat, keeping herself close to the door. "I'm Nessa. She told me to expect you, but didn't say who you are."
2 MAY
Casia moves into the room first, her eyes scanning the corners and cubbies for indications of an ambush. Only once she's confident that there's no one else in the room, at least, does she gesture for Ranna and Luce to slip inside.
With her hands never far from sharpened steel, she takes a spot a couple of steps back from the conversation, continuing to listen for the tell-tale creak of floorboards indicating an approaching threat.
Her mood hasn't improved since Luce's prodding yesterday and her attempts to find out anything about Elanda's habits hasn't helped. It seems that, surprisingly enough, no one is interested in spilling any dirt on the inspector. So she's been forced to make her own suppositions based on observation - and that hasn't been productive at all.
Wait ... was that a footstep?
Casia shakes her head. She's getting jumpy and needs to focus on the here and now.
30 APRIL
"I don't know." Ranna stands up as well, not sure what else to do. A hug feels too intimate, shaking hands too impersonal. If Haseena was Skovic she'd go for a forearm clasp but she's not seen that form of farewell used in other cultures.
In the end she errs on the side of caution and offers her hand for a handshake with a wry smile. "Not talking about work sounds fun. If you ever have the time you know where I live."
2 MAY
Ranna is grateful for Haseena's suggestion to not go alone as they wander through Six Towers. She's never had a reason to be in this district before and the sprawling alleyways send shivers down her spine. Charhollow isn't safe, nowhere in Doskvol is safe, but the people there look out for each other. It's a living, breathing community. This is a ghost town.
By the time they finally reach the address Haseena had given Ranna's nerves are shot. Fortunately Casia and Luce are more confident than she is. (Or if they're not they're doing a very good job of pretending to be.)
Really, really not suited to this.
At least Nessa's no-nonsense attitude and military bearing are both familiar. Taking a seat herself, Ranna keeps things simple. "I'm Ranna, also known as Engine. My friends are Spit and Shadow." (She'd prefer not to use their real names; putting herself at Haseena's mercy was one thing, confirming the identities of the rest of the gang is quite another.) "There's an inspector named Elanda that's making quite the name for herself, and not in a good way. We're hoping to stop her from trying to arrest every gang in Crow's Foot simultaneously. Ideally before someone decides they've had enough of her meddling and just kills her."
"Haseena didn't tell me anything about you either, but the fact that she sent us here means she must think you can help. Can you?"
30 APRIL
Ranna
As you make the comment about her knowing where you live, Haseena's normally-controlled expression cracks slightly. "I would prefer not to revisit that place, if you don't mind." The tone is light, but she doesn't quite manage to hide the trauma she suffered. Perhaps trying to cover it up, she gives your hand an affectionate squeeze. "Happy to see you again, though."
With that, she's gone, lost in the crowd in the way only the well-trained are able to manage.
2 MAY
Nessa gives a nod of her stubbled head in approval of Ranna's speech. "Short and to the point, I like it. Haseena didn't say how she knows you but looking at you I'm guessing you're from the other side of the straight and level. Not that I care any more. My target is Strangford."
Lord Strangford - owner of a leviathan-hunting fleet and large portions of Charhollow district, respected member of the Duskvol city council - is known to you, although not personally. His sprawling manor house can be seen from most of Charhollow, as it perches on the hillside of a private island that overlooks the district. As Ranna is aware, the man is not entirely well-beloved by the locals: few miss the chance to throw the evil eye in the direction of his manor when they catch a glimpse of it.
Nessa continues, regardless of your reaction to her words. "Strangford killed some of my colleagues - friends - and put the rest of us on the run. Not personally, of course. He has people for that. He gave something to Elanda, for safekeeping - evidence of his handiwork. I can help you, I know which house in Brightstone is hers and I can get you passes into that district to get you in. In return, you find that evidence and get it to me." Her eyes shine with a zeal for vengeance. "Time was, I'd arrest people for planning this sort of thing. But I don't care anymore. Not when the real criminals are at the top."
You get a strong sense that Nessa - despite obviously being an intensely private person - is talking more freely than she would normally simply because everything has pent-up inside and needs an outlet.
2 MAY
"That makes sense." Shadow says soothingly when Nessa pauses for breath. "The criminals at the top are the real problem. They're the ones who need to be taken down and you're right, when it's people like Strangford the ends justify the means. He has to be taken down. You help us and we can help you - everyone wins. Except him."
The venom on the last word makes it sound like she has personal issue with Strangford, which couldn't be further from the truth - she has nothing against the man, but 'meaningless chatter 101' is to affirm everything your conversation partner says and then repeat it back to them in slightly different words. Then they feel like you're agreeing with them and that you understand. It makes them much more likely to keep opening up.
2 MAY
Nessa doesn't need much encouragement to keep talking. "It was happening right under our noses, a bunch of thefts in the docks - unrelated, we thought, but it was valuable items, easily carried, disappearing from secure warehouses, all of them owned by Strangford's fleet. Of course, they'd never existed in the first place - it wasn't theft, it was fraud. But Strangford was so convincing, so sure he was being targeted, so-" she breaks off with a bitter look. "-so grateful for the help of law enforcement, and it wasn't until we took a step back to look at the bigger picture that we realised what was going on."
She grimaces. "Too late, of course. First thing I knew he'd twigged that we'd twigged was when I came into the station for my shift and tripped over three of my colleagues, or what was left of them. Two more killed on their way into work, I was just lucky I guess. I got word to the others and we ran for it. Course, that and the station burning down made it easy to pin it all on us. F$%$er. If I hadn't got at least some of the papers to Haseena before it all went t*%@-up, she'd probably have arrested us too."
You've heard rumours of the Grey Cloaks - former Bluecoats who turned their collar for one reason or another - but they're more of an urban myth. Until now.
"How terrible." She's still talking, good. "So you're going to take down Strangford and avenge your friends?"
Time to draw out whatever plan this vigilante actually has. If any...
Ranna sits back and lets Luce do the talking, pieces falling into place. If Elanda was hiding evidence of something like this no wonder Haseena was willing to help. She wondered if Elanda knew what she had. How that sort of thing fit into her clear-cut world view.