When the man had not appeared on the second day, they retired back to Etani's suite and Sasha continued the lessons, delighting in the fact that her skills were so valuable to someone else. In return, Etani taught the girl how to wield a knife for self-protection. They continued making trades, Sasha teaching Etani how to remove stains from fabric in exchange for Etani teaching her how to make a smoke bomb. It was not hard, just a couple of commonly found chemicals that were quite content on their own when inside the jar, but when thrown to the ground, the chemicals would interact violently, and the moment they came into contact with the air, they would erupt into smoke.
Then came an exchange on how to embroider in exchange for Etani teaching Sasha how to turn her braid into an elaborate rose. It had been something Letari had taught her and it did not take long, but it looked incredibly pretty.
When they arrived at court in the afternoon on the third day, Sasha pointed the man out, smiling a little anxiously before she hurried away. Watching the girl go, Etani noted a heavyset woman staring after her, a pale hand touching her own hair with longing. Perhaps the rose braid would become popular.
Lord Carriger was a tall man, slim, and gaunt with sharp grey eyes and a little pointed black beard that sat perched on the tip of his equally pointed chin. He was older than she expected, perhaps in his late forties, and she watched the man for a time, curious as to why the lich would want him dead.
He was wearing a scrumptious pearl grey suit with a ruffled neck and little heeled black shoes. It was a funny look at first, but it appeared to be quite fashionable. He left the men he had been talking to as soon as Alaric appeared. Etani smiled in amusement as the king made a valiant effort to keep his annoyance from his face. The conversation did not appear to go very well, and the lord stormed from the throne room in a rush.
Excusing herself from the small group of ladies who had been trying to coax her into a conversation, she followed the man out of the castle and into the city. With her quick pace and balled fists, it wouldn't be hard for her to be passed off as just a stuck-up noblewoman forced to go out into the city and handle some chore, or perhaps she was off to find her cheating husband. It did not matter, after the first glance, she would be otherwise ignored.
Modifying her glamour as she moved, she added fine lines to her features, reduced the overall appearance of her lips and applied just a few streaks of silver to her hair. At a glance, she would become an older aristocrat, annoyed and uninterested in dealing with the common filth in the city. It worked well as she saw eyes dropping, those around her not wanting to catch her eye and draw her stern, angry glare to them.
Carriger seemed to be in a hurry himself. He was quite easy to follow, his smart little shoes clacking merrily against the cobblestones as though those around him were applauding him as he rushed by.
The thought that he might have modified his shoes to ensure they made that sound almost broke her scowl.
He was unobservant, and she was not being careful to go unnoticed; he did not once look around to see if he was being followed. She glanced around in search of street signs as though she were lost while examining the faces of those dawdling around in the late afternoon sun.
When they reached the central marketplace, however, Carriger's posture became tense, and she was fascinated to see his attempt at going unnoticed. It was having the opposite effect. He glanced around, trying to look subtle, but he did not use any of his peripheral vision. Instead, he looked up at a stall, and his eyes moved around freely, looking all around him while he rigidly tried not to turn his head at all.
It would have been comical had it not been so strange. Those around the market only shook their heads as though that was a common occurrence before returning to their tasks. The man slipped inside a side door to a shop she could not read the name of, and she cursed herself for failing to learn the stupid language.
Unable to resist waiting for him, she stepped into the alley and loitered around, exchanging a silver coin for a large square of incredible lavender fabric. She had no idea what she was going to do with it, but the colour had caught her attention.
She and the shop owner had exchanged a cheerful conversation while she positioned herself to watch the shop out of the corner of her eye. The shop owner had been quite a polite man, and he seemed to think he had won a prize at having the attention of the older noblewoman she was pretending to be.
***
Finally excusing herself from his presence, she thanked him again for the cloth and informed him that she would have her servant come by for more soon. He had been a little disappointed, but still pleased that she was happy with her purchase and wanted more of the fabric.
Tucking the cloth safely away in her skirt pocket, she made her way down the alley and paused, making a show of looking first left and then right as she came to the end. There was a handful of homeless in the street and they watched her curiously while she silently cursed at their presence. It would have been easier if they were not there.
When no street signs were evident, she exchanged a silver coin to a dirty young man, asking him for directions back to the castle. He pointed back the way she had come and told her to cross the square and take the main street down to the far end of the city. The castle would be to the right but she would see it as soon as she was on the right street.
She thanked him and turned back the way she had come. She scanned the building from that side, searching for windows or any form of pipes that she could use to get on top of the building. There were three windows, all of them high up on the second floor and with one quick glance up as though she were checking the weather, she knew she could get across from the building to her left. The overhanging rooves from the two buildings made the space less than two feet. That would be easy to jump… were she not in a dress.
Letting out a slow sigh of irritation at the formalities of the court, she had to wonder how Catherine got away with wearing pants while Etani had been expected to wear dresses. Was it because the werewolf was in the military?
'Well, that just was not fair…' she thought dryly as she made her way around the building. She skipped the next alley, but the third alley appeared to be empty and she headed into it.
Glancing around quickly, she noted she was alone, and while still grumbling to herself about the unfairness of men getting to wear pants, she reached down and hitched up the stupid, lovely dress. She pulled it up around her knees and to her front so that the skirt was tight against the back of her legs and then tucked the whole lot in between her legs. Taking the tail, she split it into two sections and pulled them around to the front over her hips and tied them neatly into a bow. It left at least two-thirds of her legs exposed, but she had full manoeuvrability.
Crossing the alley to a pipe, she gave it a firm tug and when it did not jiggle, she lifted her foot and planted it against the ceramic, hoisting herself up and beginning her climb. A small sound caught her attention, and she looked down to find a young boy staring up at her with huge, fascinated eyes. She stuck her tongue out at him after a moment of consideration, and pulled herself up onto the roof of the building. Even if he did tell anyone he had seen a noblewoman climbing a wall, no one was going to believe him.
From the roof, she could see much of the city. It lay like a blanket of uneven platforms that made travelling easy. She would simply have to avoid the taller buildings in case anyone was looking out, but even then there were a huge number of chimneys and if one was not expecting to see a person walking on the rooftops, they might simply believe the smoke had played a trick on their eyes.
Turning her attention to the shop she needed to get to, she set off at a run and leapt across the narrow alley and onto the roof of the next shop. It was a thrill to run and leap and move, and it was exhilarating to feel free again.
Moving to the edge of the building, she sank down onto the tiles and looked across to the wall she needed to get to. She was not tall enough to reach the windows from the top, but she thought she could probably jump down and catch the windowsill.
Glancing down, she noted that the homeless people had either left or seemed to be asleep, so she decided to take her chances.
Rising and taking a few steps back, she ran forward and jumped off the side of the building, her nails digging into the soft wood of the windowsill. She pulled her legs up, landing in a crouched position against the wall, her feet hitting the wood with a soft thud.
Pushing the window open, she peeked inside and looked around. No one ever thought to lock their windows on the second floor, and it made the job of people like herself so much easier.
Pulling herself up onto the windowsill, she looked around. The sound of laughter caused her to freeze. A couple of guards strolled past, talking quietly. Turning her face towards the window to hide the paleness of it, she waited for the guards to pass before she moved again. Then she turned and slipped her legs in through the window, setting her feet down onto the boards.
Moving slowly, she lowered herself down onto the boards, her movements ever careful not to make the wood groan as her weight came down on it.
***
After a solid minute of crouching on the wood, she edged her way along towards a light she could see across the room, her arms stretched out to disperse her weight. Moving slowly, she crawled on her hands and feet.
Around halfway across, she realised she was on the roof of a storage space above the second floor of the shop. She heard muffled voices from below and tilted her head. She could make out the occasional word as she inched closer to the stairs. The word 'risk' was being used frequently in relation to importing costs. It was curious, and she had to wonder what they were importing that would involve substantial risk. Something illegal most likely, but it was shining a little light on why the prince would want the man gone.
Still, it seemed to be beneath the man, something that a prince should not really care about unless it was something dangerous or otherwise threatening to him or the crown.
It did not really matter why the prince wanted him dead, she was more curious than anything, and as the conversation seemed to be nearing its end, she started back towards the window, her mind jumping from conclusion to conclusion on what they could be importing.
She slid out of the window and looked down at the alley. Finding it empty, she flipped over to hold on to the windowsill and swung herself to the side before letting go and grabbing onto the pipe that ran down the side of the building.
Climbing up onto the roof of Carriger's building, she leapt easily across and turned, looking down at the door the man had gone through earlier.
It was not long before he appeared again and she saw that he looked furious, his face red and shoulders tense.
As he started down the alley away from the market, she followed after him from above, half of her attention on him and half on the surrounding buildings in case someone decided to find out what she was doing up there.
The building they came to was prettier than she expected, a large townhouse with a six-foot wall wrapped around it, a small yard and a garden. The wall was inconvenient, but she could work around it.
A loud squeak pulled her eyes down as she settled herself in the shadow of a chimney. The man opened his gate and closed it again, taking a moment to lock it before he stormed into the house and slammed the door.
What was the point of locking a six-foot gate? Half of the mythicals would be able to see over it and the other half would be leaning on the top of it like a bench. If one wanted to keep mythicals out, they needed at least ten-foot-high walls.
Mythical beings were tall, at least most of them. There were the fairies and pixies, gnomes and other common mythicals who were all considered to be mutants if they were taller than five foot. Certain breeds of elves were rarely taller than six feet. Then there were the rest of them, who considered anyone under six foot to be laughably short. She fell into the latter category and one of those lucky beings who were supposed to be tall and graceful and elegant, but hers and her twin's bodies seemed to have not gotten that notice and stopped growing before reaching the 'acceptable' six-foot mark.
She was just shy of six foot and as a result, she had been teased mercilessly by any mythical she had come across in the past nine hundred years.
They only teased her once, and if they survived that, they did not tend to try to pick on her height again. She was a little sensitive about it.
Watching the pretty house as the sun set and candles were lit, she hummed faintly to herself and tapped out a tune on her thigh. The breeze felt wonderful on her skin and each slow breath told her she was still alone, at least from anyone upwind.
The hours trickled by and finally, the curtains were drawn on the windows of the house and she exhaled slowly, pushing herself away from the warm chimney as she watched. There were two people in the house she had been able to see while observing the building. There was the tall man upstairs and a smaller woman downstairs. What interactions she had observed through the windows had been perfunctory and that made her think that the woman was most likely his maid. It was not surprising; he was a wealthy man and would have live-in staff. She assumed there was a gardener as well, she doubted he would tend to the garden himself.
Her observations told her that he did not tend to leave the top floor and that was not surprising either, a man like that would want to be above his staff, and so he would reside on the top floor.
It made life easier for her, as it meant she would only be dealing with a single person since there did not appear to be a wife or children.
***
It was closer to midnight before she finally stood from her spot and made her way towards the edge of the roof, easily sliding down to hang from the edge of the tiles before letting go.
Landing silently on her feet, she bent her knees to absorb the impact and straightened, turning around to glance first left and then right before she crossed the street. She trailed her fingers over the wall as she walked, ears and eyes alert to who might be around, but there was no one. Curfew was in effect and the only ones she would run into were others up to no good or guards. Guards were easy to hear, though; they jangled with every step.
An adjoining wall that connected to a smaller fence of a neighbour made it incredibly easy for her to scale the wall and drop down onto the soft grass.
The man had done well for himself; she could not deny it. His house was huge and very well maintained, made of expensive white stone and dark wood, decorated with statues and marble. Crossing the yard, she followed the plan she had made up in her mind while waiting for the time to pass. She was so relaxed, she could almost hum to herself.
She had the main plan, a backup, and a backup for the backup. The final plan would be to simply kill everyone in the place and then go off and hide for a while. But she did not want to do that. She might not care that much for the humans, but the maid did not deserve to die just because Etani had agreed to work for Epharis.
It was not hard to get up to the top floor, stepping up onto the sill of the bottom window, springing up to catch the next, pulling herself up with the assistance of the decorative cross-shaped beams and repeating the move until she was at the window on the third floor. If she ever had her own home, she was going to make sure it was difficult to get to her. The humans never stopped to think how easy it was for mythical assassins to get in, though even the humans would have managed this house.
The curtains were lovely, made of thick and lush velvet that made her want to stick around just to touch them. Added bonus, they would block out noise, or keep it in.
Smiling to herself, she pressed the window open… of course, it was unlocked… and peeked inside.
The room was dark and warm, and smelt of a musty cologne that made her nose burn. It was oddly rich, as though it had been sprinkled all over the carpet. Her eyes began to water.
Forcing herself through it, she slid down from the windowsill. The carpet was incredibly thick. Thick enough that she could have slept on it comfortably. It felt like a massage on her feet. She wanted carpet like that in her room, very badly.
Listening to the slow, deep breathing of the man, she tilted her head and after a moment, she counted only one breath. This confirmed her thoughts that the man was indeed unmarried.
Crossing to the bed with careful steps, she noted irritably that he was one of those people who slept right in the middle of the bed. Rolling her eyes, she slid one knee up onto the mattress and eased her weight onto it. He stirred, frowning, but he did not wake. At least not until she was kneeling over him, a mere foot from him, her hands reaching for his face.
His eyes snapped open, and he made to strike her, but it was too late. She grabbed his head and pulled his face up to hers, her lips meeting his with a firm pressure. She pushed that tendril of her mind out of herself, through his lips and down into him.
She found him there, warm and blue, flickering beautifully. Her fingers curled around the blue light and she pulled him up to her, pulled him out of the shell that was his body and into herself. Her eyes slid shut as his corpse collapsed to the bed, her body humming with the taste of him.
She did not dare linger and slunk back across the room and out of the window once more.
Throwing one last glance at the carpet and curtains, she slid from the window and was gone.