Dare Don't Mourn the Grey

[Evyn]

The Crow's Foot Tavern
Crorefell

"Fuck this piss!" Called out someone too deep in his cups.

Evyn ignored it. Stared at this one dreg of condensation falling down her empty glass.

"Ahh... never mind this piss shit ale. It's the... the uhh... the elixir that would help this taste better." The same man said. They thought they would not be overheard, not in this crowded room, but Evyn was able to latch onto their conversation.

She stopped the droplet from touching the bottom of the glass by pressing it. It split over her finger, but she curled her finger to wipe upwards to collect more to her simple dreg, and let the race start anew.

"And who has... this elixir? If one was looking to... procure some of it." Came a new voice. The one that caught her attention in the first place.

It had to be drugs. Something new to spread about, and although Evyn had no interest in partaking, she now knew this loose-lipped man was out of sorts. an easy target to take from his pockets.

It was a disgusting habit, one that saw her survive as a girl before the Brotherhood of Bastards took her in. Evyn had to fall back onto it the moment the Brotherhood began to fracture, and there... too many wounds went right down to the bones. She was good at it, that's for sure. It made her want to keep doing it, to get that sense of a thrill only winner's could gain.

"Are ye buyin' 'nother round, miss?" The voice cut through her eavesdropping reverie, and Evyn flicked her pale eyes to the man that she hired to search for someone here in this city. Russen, someone that can track shroudspells and weaving. He had a good reputation, and of his many references that she had interrogated, he was the most recommended .

He still had not found the man she was looking for. Her brother.

"No." She snorted, giving him a doubting look. "I bought two rounds already." And still he could not her brother. Evyn leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "If he hasn't used his weaving in a while, then... where could I start to look?"

"I'm a shroudhunt'r, girl. Not a feckin' t'ur guide."

Evyn scoffed and shook her head. She got up to leave, and Russen would be smart not to call out to her. She already paid the fees, even treated him to two rounds of ale before he managed to tell her he couldn't find a weaver that could see the past. On her way out, her boot caught a chair leg, and to stop from falling had grabbed onto the shoulder of the person sitting in the chair. "Fuck. Sorry!" Evyn winced, righting herself and shaking her leg before walking away.

Her pocket was heavier now. Coin. The fucking idiot kept all in coin in one pocket. One hand at his shoulder to distract him while her other quickly found it's way into his pocket and took her winnings.

Crorefell was larger than Veya, but it felt familiar. She was a bastard, forced to live on the streets, and so that made Evyn more adaptable. She knew better than to outright ask people if they had seen a man with ashen tears marking his face. What she remembered of her brother was that he hated people chasing him down. It was best to find him, unannounced... she just needed someone that knew where they were going.

 

[Fray]

“GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

Black horns gleamed as one absolutely furious Deva barreled down the street. Her long legs pumped like hellfire, momentum broken only by the occasional tipped basket or unlucky bystander, who she narrowly avoided flattening by shoving bodily out of the way.

About half a dozen paces beyond scampered her prey. A boy of maybe thirteen years, built like a maelstrom of limbs, bolted between shop stalls and patrons. He had a muddy sort of complexion–largely due to the amount of filth he was covered in–that made for stark contrast against the whites of his eyes. He screamed when she shouted, fear coursing through his veins, keeping him moving despite his exhaustion.

The pair ran so fast that hardly anyone had time to react. There were cries of surprise and outrage, but none moved to stop this flagrant disruption of an otherwise perfectly peaceful market day.

Twice, Fray almost managed to grab him by the scruff of his neck. And twice, she was thwarted, first by a panicked chicken, and the second by a drunk who fell face first into the dirt and nearly sent her tumbling ass over. But Fray, in her infinite fury, somehow managed to pull off the ugliest pirouette known to man, land forward facing on both feet, and continue pelting after the stinking bastard.

It had all started easy enough. She had paid a guy who knew a guy, who pointed her to a gal who wanted more money so she gave it, who then sent her knocking on some other poor sod’s door who gave up what they knew under threat of two black eyes. That had gotten her maybe three and a half days of skulking around one very specific alley, with a single scrawny fucker named Ade to show for by the end of it. Ade was a real talker, talking himself in and out of and back into trouble so many times Fray almost knocked his teeth in just to make him stop. But he was a kid, and she didn’t particularly like hurting kids, so instead, she bribed him.

Ade liked coin. Who didn’t, in these parts? And Ade had promised under pain of death (and some more coin) that he would lead Fray to a bonafide weaver. As much as Fray hated being anywhere near magic, she was not so steeped in her own prejudice that she couldn’t admit when some of the Shroud’s ill begotten tricks proved themselves useful.

What Fray hadn’t counted on was the weaver being Ade’s own mother. Worse yet, a mother who was an even bigger pain in the ass than her spawn, full of lies and tricks and a blouse cut low enough that it would temporarily hamstring anyone with eyes.

She had walked away from their initial meeting with a significantly lighter coin purse and face hotter than embers. The agreement had been that they would begin the job proper, under the cover of night. Fray had paid a deposit up front in good faith. The time, place, and supplies had all been set. She’d even, in the weaver’s magnanimity, received a little kiss on the cheek, which in spite of all its modesty, may as well have burned a hole in her face for how scalded it left her skin.

Fray set herself up dutifully at the agreed upon location. The meeting time came and went. Then an hour. Then another hour.

Thrice blasted Shroud. She’d been had.

Which was why, the next morning, when Fray happened to catch a glimpse of Ade’s weaselly face bobbing amongst the market goers, she had broken into a run without hesitance. And now, here they were. Crashing through the streets with reckless abandon.

Straight into the path of one pale, hungry faced bastard.

 

[Evyn]

"Fuck!" She hissed, rolling onto her side and pushing herself up slowly. No one came to help her, no one asked if she was alright. The crowd moved on, the flow of them all did not stop for a pebble being dropped into their current.

Ev looked around, saw the one responsible for bowling her over was in hot pursuit. It was unlike her to demand an apology, but she had a temper that was quick to burn. It made her hasty, often making her out to say something before she could overthink on what to even say.

"Mind where you're fucking going." She called out, now making to stand up and ignore the ache in her knee. It was throbbing, fucking protesting at any movement she made, but Evyn made pain into an old, childhood friend she could not ever forget. The sentimentality was too difficult to let go.

She peered at her hands, feeling numb from stopping her fall, but the fine stones in the dirt covering the cobbled streets did their best in cutting up the heels of her palms. "Fucking perfect."

It felt freeing to express her anger or her frustrations through cursing. A catharsis, one that truly helped her calm and assess on what to do next.

Evyn was a stubborn woman. She knew how to follow a target in a crowd. The Brotherhood taught her how to do so, how to weave herself into the crowd. Made herself into her own type of weaver, into a ghost among the many. No one paid her any attention as she rushed through the crowd to keep the tall woman in sight.

What did she even plan to do once she caught up? Pickpocket her? Ev knew that would be unwise. Her target was quick, making Ev work hard and regretting the fact she doubted keeping up her cardio wouldn't bite her in the arse. Right now, it was biting her on the knee as it throbbed from the impact of being knocked off her feet seconds ago.

 

[Fray]

Ade darted within the crowd like a jack rabbit while Fray simply plowed through. Her focus was singular; she hardly noticed who she shoved past. Most of them cursed her until long after she was gone, but nothing about that was new. Fray was used to people’s ire.

Once, she felt a sting of something that might’ve been second cousin to remorse. She hadn’t meant to push so hard, but she was gaining and didn’t want to lose her momentum, and the dark haired girl in her way looked more wraith than human. Fray had only caught the barest beginnings of cursing before she was out of earshot again, the sounds of wind whipping past drowning out all else.

Fray knew it was only a matter of time before Ade either gave her the slip or dove into some hidey hole she couldn’t fit through. She needed to catch him now or risk never seeing the oily little fucker ever again.

And the only reason that even mattered was because she really, really needed to spend some quality time with his mother.

The mercenary never had much of a head for numbers, schematics, or anything of that nature. Which was why she compensated by spending days at a time walking the streets of any new city she landed in, memorizing routes until her muscles knew where she was before her eyes did. She was so familiar with certain parts of the city that she could pick through them with her eyes closed.

Which was how she knew at the next turn that Ade’s ass was grass. There was a good chance he had some secret escape route nestled in one of the alleyways, but Fray had been banking on that, so she peeled away at the last second. Before Ade realized what was happening, she emerged on the opposite side, forcing him to take the first right he could.

Straight into a dead end.

Ade stumbled two steps into the alley and knew he was chopped liver. He ran down to the end anyway, then turned to face her with his scrawny back up against the wall.

“C’mon Ade,” Fray coaxed with all the warmth of a hungry leopard, “the more you run, the angrier I get. And at this moment, I can still be reasonable, so long as I get what I want.”

“I’m not letting you do filthy things with me mum,” the boy spat. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

Fray rolled her eyes all the way to the heavens then back down again. “Don’t be dramatic, kid. Yeah, I’d rather do filthy things with your mum. Unfortunately, what I need to do is get her to help me look into the past. I paid nearly your weight in coin to find a weaver like her. There aren’t many left around here.”

Ade thought for a moment, then said, “If she helps you, you swear you’ll leave us alone?”

“I would do anything to never see your ugly little mug ever again.”

“And you’d still pay what we agreed on?”

Fray sighed. “Course, idiot. Now tell me where she is so we can get this over with.”

There was an odd look that flashed over Ade’s face, but in the end he nodded. He walked over to her sullenly, head hung and hands in his pocket, and for the first time that morning the Deva could feel the nerve on her forehead pulse slightly less violently.

That was when a handful of sand suddenly exploded in her face and Ade bolted past her, straight out the way they’d entered.

 

[Evyn]

She knew how to follow someone in a crowd, and knew better to hang back a little so as to not get caught snooping. A group of people were nearby, placing bets for a dice game that she did not doubt was rigged, but lingered near for the cover of being a spectator to those unwitting and playing the game.

Evyn saw the child, sprinting for his life away from the alley, and her brows furrowed with confusion. Surely he hadn't just put down that woman?

Breaking away from the gathered crowd, she moved to approach the alleyway. Saw the woman who bowled her over wiping at her face. Ev's eyes fell to the dusting of sand that clutched to her front, and put it all together.

"It's a bitch to get out. Even if you wash it out, still feels like there is shit still in there." Folding her arms, she leaned into the stone brick building. "Would call it karma, but feels cheap to say when that boy played unfair."

She quirked a dark brow.

"Sorry. Should I have chased him down for you? Reminds me of a weasel, that one. Gone before I could even do anything, actually."

 

[Fray]

Fray was still coughing and spitting out sand when someone spoke. It took her a good few seconds to be able to open her eyes and get a proper look, and when she did, she was hit with a flood of dismay.

It was an absolute waif of a thing, all pale and gimlet eyed. Fray did not like what this stranger's presence implied. Granted, the Deva hadn't exactly been subtle about chasing Ade down, but it was suspicious at best to be followed around by some street urchin. Especially one she had knocked flat on their ass not a handful of minutes ago.

"Had you caught him, I would have had coin to spare. All you're doing now is wasting my time," Fray spat.

Now where could that little rat have gone?

Fray cursed, balled up her fists, and cursed some more. Bits of sand continued drifting off of her as she paced back and forth. She'd been so close. So close! Only to be undone by a handful of sand. Gods, if she ever got her hands on that runt again she was going to wring his skinny little neck.

"Unless you can tell me exactly where he went," she added once she had finally made up her mind, "you'd better stay the fuck out of my way."

And then Fray stalked off, headed for the last lead she had.

 

[Evyn]

Evyn was quick to follow.

"Afraid I am no help," she answered and turned around to watch the other move past her, "but if I find my brother, I am sure he can find anyone here in Crorefell."

She was no weaver, not privy to the whispers of the shroud, nor the fates yet to come to fruition, but Evyn was taught to pick out the interesting ones, and to follow. Her steps kept up with the Deva, but not too close. No, Ev didn't want to be in range of a fist flying out towards her jaw, learning from a mistake she made when she was younger.

Her eyes watched the crowd, keeping the sand spitting other in her peripherals. "I expect he did not get far. He ran to get away, not to run and hide." That boy legged it out of that alley, ran for his life to put distance between himself and the Deva cursing whilst dealing with sand filled eyes. "I bet you ten silvers he has found a vantage point to watch where you go. Bet they were proud of what they did to get away."

Ev could not help but lift a corner of her lips in amusement. She would have been proud of the little shit, but surely if it were her face that got dusted in sand and dirt, pride would not be her first response.

"Why did you chase him down? Stole from you?"

 

[Fray]

Brother? That was tempting, having someone lead her straight to the weaver woman. But Fray was already wary of being scammed. She was decidedly sick of dealing with back stabbing weasels disguised as dirty street urchins.

“Where ever he is,” Fray seethed, “I will find him, and I will wring his scrawny little neck.”

After about a minute of angrily marching towards where she first found Ade, she relented a little and sighed. “I chased him because he took my money and didn’t give me what I paid for.” Before that could be misinterpreted, the mercenary continued, “Well, his mum didn’t give me what I paid for.” And before that could be misinterpreted, she quickly added, “She’s a weaver, one that can see into the past. And…let’s just say that’s a skill I am willing to spare coin for right now.”

Pausing in the middle of a busy street, Fray squinted up at the rooftops, considering the wench’s words. The noise was constant here, an endless stream of bodies brushing by as dust filled the air and wagons rolled through. Patrons bartering while hawkers cried out their wares filled her ears to the brim. She could spend some indefinite amount of time wandering around, hoping to get lucky in catching a glimpse of Ade again. It had taken an entire morning to do just that. She was not thrilled at the prospect of repeating that process.

Or, she could try a new avenue.

“This brother of yours,” she drawled, squinting down at the waif as she crossed her arms. “How hard is to find? And how exactly would he know how to track down that rat?”

 

[Evyn]

Evyn stepped in front of the other, brows furrowed lightly, but even that gentle expression casted a deeper scowl on her features.

"He makes friends wherever he goes. Hasn't left word for me in years, but I know how to track him down... or at least I thought I did. This place is bigger than the home we both hail from. Duscan can't help it, but he makes friends and connections and soon has casted a net over a section... I just need to find it and follow." Evyn crossed her arms, somehow making herself look smaller and highlight the obvious parts of her that gave her the scrawny appearance.

She looked about the street, as if the answer was before her and she needed to squint to read into every detail around. "Dusc is a weaver. He can see the past too, and it kept him one foot forward a lot of the time. I know he likes his drinking, but it seems there is a tavern, bar, or inn on every street. Four I counted while following you on this street alone." As if to demonstrate, Evyn jutted her chin at the rowdy crowd spilling out from an establishment.

"Help me find him, I will have him help you." She cut a look back, a hand pulling away from her crossed arms to offer a handshake. "Deal?"

 

[Fray]

Duscan…

That name actually sounded familiar.

Fray was, as usual, a tourist in this town, planning only to linger until she made some coin and trouble dragged her elsewhere. But she had stayed longer than she’d intended in her efforts to find a reliable weaver. And, loathe as she was to admit, the mention of a brother tugged at strings that should have long since burned to ash.

So it was with great reluctance that she found herself seeing the practicality behind the girl’s words. No doubt there was a catch or trick somewhere along the way, but if their interests aligned, and her brother truly a past weaver, then it wouldn’t be much worse of a lead than trying to smoke out Ade. Besides, the name rang a bell. She couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it, but it had definitely been in a tavern, and that was a start.

The Deva cocked her head at the outstretched hand. It was a scrawny, sorry looking hand. And dirty, of course. But it did not waver, and neither did the waif’s dark gaze. She was serious about this.

Fray’s mouth formed a ghost of a frown, but in the end, she took the girl’s hand in a firm grasp. Her fingers were rough and bony. That was to be expected. And as Fray squeezed it in confirmation, she went on squeezing just a smidge too hard, trapping the girl in her grip. It was easy to pull her a few inches closer. She could have probably thrown the little wastrel straight into the air if she’d wanted to, though she opted instead to hold her there while a mirthless grin accompanied her next words.

“Alright then, kid. We have a deal. But if you cross me, I break every bone in both of your bodies.”

Fray let the girl go and turned to the nearest tavern. “I’ve heard your brother’s name passed around before. Unless you have a better idea, we can start here, where I may know a familiar face or two.”

After a moment’s thought, she added, “Better describe Duscan to me while we’re at it. I know something of his rep, but nothing of what he looks like.”

 

[Evyn]

Evyn had grown up with more brothers and sisters than she dared to count, each and every one of them had at one point threatened Ev like this before. A show of intimidation, of throwing about their strength and threat, but Evyn's frown was not at being belittled. Nor was it from the crushing force holding her hand in a deal agreed.

It was the doubt in Evyn this Deva possessed. Evyn wasn't the crossing type, not when she wanted to do everything she could to not be seen as traitorous as Ledan souring the waters of the Brotherhood of Bastards.

It was why she was here, to find Duscan and beseech him to return home with her. To put everything back to order.

"Well, must be good news you have heard of it." Evyn flexed her freed hand with a scrunched facial expression. "You'll know him by the ashen tears on his face. We're Veyan. We come from the city that likes to mark their weavers. Duscan has what looks like charcoal over his eyelids and tears as if he smeared them on himself."

She hated that was the most defining feature she could remember, but it had been quite some time since she spied him last. Long enough that perhaps he wouldn't recognise her straight away.

"I don't have marks. Not a weaver." She supplied uselessly. Here in Crorefell, it surely made her seem average, but back home in Veya, it meant she was safe from becoming indentured.

 

[Fray]

Fray listened, fighting her instincts to distrust every word coming out of the waif’s mouth. Old habits died hard. This could, at the end of the day, still be some colossal shit show of a trap, but she was short one slippery eel named Ade, and therefore also on options.

Ashen tears…that should be easy enough to pick out. She’d never heard of the child’s people or city, but whether it was true or not, such a feature should be hard to fake. Fray made a mental note to test this theory, should she and the girl actually be able to track down her elusive brother.

“Interesting…” Fray muttered as the description trailed to its natural end. At least, she assumed it was the end, since the girl offered nothing else beyond a uniquely fucked up looking mug. She supposed it ought to be detail enough.

After all, how many men with ashen tears marked on their faces could there be in Crorefell?

Fray sighed and started walking again. “And you’re lucky not to be. Nothing ever good seems to come from Shroud fucking.”

There was extra venom in the Deva’s tone. No matter how far she travelled, nor however many misadventures she survived, there was no forgetting why she ended up homeless in the first place. Displaced in every sense of the word. Untethered, unmoored, cut off from everything she once knew and used to be. All because of weavers and their damnable inability to leave things well enough alone.

“By the way, the name’s Fray,” she offered reluctantly as they rejoined the crowd on the main street. It wasn’t part of her agenda to befriend the little wastrel, but it would help said wastrel to know, as her name would carry some weight. Fray may have been relatively new in town, but she had also cracked enough heads—professionally, of course—and drank enough locals into the ground to earn herself something of a reputation. Should the girl find herself in a situation where a reputation like that would help, then it was something worth sharing.

The Deva looked briefly over her shoulder. “What’s yours?”

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at their destination. The Leaky Bucket was a mid-sized establishment of equally middling success. Not so seedy that one questioned the contents of their cups, but not so rich that the likes of Fray and her new partner in crime would be instantly turned away.

She took a moment to look down at the girl. “Your brother has a bit of a…controversial reputation around these parts. Some people think he’s a bonafide magic man. Others will beat him senseless on sight.”

A pause, then, “Probably best if we stick together.”

Taking a breath, Fray rolled her shoulders once, cracked her neck on each side, and stepped in through the swinging doors.

 

[Evyn]

"Evyn."

The mere two syllables were all there was to identify her by name. The name offered nothing else, not even a dreamy melody on one's tongue like many of her bastard brothers and sisters back home. She was used to being nothing, preferred it even, but there was rarely a place for peace in Veya.

Even here in Crorefell it seemed every one knew where to go.

The Leaky Bucket was something ordinary, not at all something trying to upscale their wares and clientele, but in a way that there was no need to pretend. This tavern would have loyal customers, locals that knew they could come here for a good drink at a fair price.

She took in her surroundings, scanning the faces around as if looking for Duscan was just that easy.

"Beating Duscan on sight sounds very much something he would cause no matter where he goes." A familiar smile twitched at her lips, remembering how Dusc could not resist being a smart arse. A warmth spread in her chest to hear that his years indentured in Veya did not change him too much. "Thing is, he is too quick to catch most days. Unsure about this 'magic man' tidbit." Evyn frowned slightly, pondering how that could relate to her brother. "Unless... he decided to use his shroudweaving again."

The thought of it did not sit well with her. Fray was right, weaving the shroud brought nothing but pain and inconvenience.

Evyn looked around once again, spying a table. Her arm lifted, hand gesturing towards it so that herself and her new acquaintance could make their way over.

Once seated, she tried to mind the too sticky from dried ale table top, letting her arms fall naturally at her sides. "I've been to two pubs while I paid a Weaver to track him, and I notice all the barkeepers knew his name... but each of them told me different stories of Duscan. Either Duscan is an actor and plays many roles... or these barkeep purposefully tell false tales about him... perhaps to protect him. When I tell them I am his sister, they laugh at my face and say I don't look like him."

She snorted softly, again annoyed by both similar reactions she got. She did not need lineage or blood to be his sister.

 

[Fray]

Fray pondered the lass’s name. A short and somewhat ambiguous sounding thing, divulging little no matter how you sliced it. And yet, it wasn’t an entirely hopeless one. The Deva had heard her fair share of idiotic namesakes in Crorefell, mainly amongst the lower echelons. Names like Bug, or Lambshanks. Fucking awful.

A waft of musk and ale hit their senses the moment they entered the tavern. It was a humble establishment offering only the essentials: a place to rest, things to eat, and ale to drink.

It was also early enough in the day that the few patrons present were the kind who found themselves hard up for luck. Most of them sat slumped, staring glumly into their empty cups. Only one or two seemed to actually be enjoying themselves, and neither had company to share their good humor with.

Once seated, Evyn grew exponentially more chatty. Fray fell heavily into a chair across the sticky table, half listening, half sizing up the rest of the patrons. There was, of course, the ever present buzz of suspicion circling her mind, but she tempered it with the necessity of collaboration. Scam artists were usually the chatty sort. They relied on running verbal laps around their marks to confuse and misdirect. Who was to say this Evyn wasn’t doing the same? But there was a ring of earnestness in her voice that Fray felt might be real, and she was willing to pursue this lead to its natural end.

“Sounds like your brother is a wily one,” Fray sighed, signaling the attention of a scrawny looking child of fourteen or so years. He had been wiping down a nearby table with a particularly lackluster spirit. “Something to eat and drink. Make it a nice and quick, kid.”

He blinked at them slowly before shuffling away. Fray waited till he was fully out of earshot before continuing.

“That being said, you got any ideas on how we can get his attention? Anything that he might, ah, have a hard time resisting?” Fray inquired with no subtlety whatsoever.

No sooner had she finished speaking than the boy returned, food and drink in hand. He set it awkwardly in front of them, just one cup of ale and a bowl of stew, with a single spoon as a utensil. Fray looked up at him askance and he stared back, oblivious, until the barkeep yelled at him to stop hovering and get his lazy arse back to work.

“Real eejit, that one…” Fray muttered under her breath.

 

[Evyn]

Evyn frowned.

"I have to admit, I thought word that someone saying they were his sister would get back to him and he would come find me himself... but it's clear I need to do better than that." Better than hiring another Weaver. The wraith of a thing then stared at the single bowl of stew, the sole spoon, and the cup of ale that sloshed about before it found it's place on the table. The foam at the top was barely existing, if it had been there at all.

She would have asked for her own serving, but the stew did not appear appetising to her, and she refrained from asking for her own meal.

"Where I come from, if word gets back to you that someone is looking for you... you keep your head down." You couldn't navigate Veya to find a Weaver without getting the run around. Only trusted sources, and those that ran deep with circles meant you were never alone.

Hide or become indentured.

"So I guess I have to make him come find me." The plan was beginning to form, and Evyn peered around the interior again. She hated drawing attention to herself, even if no one here knew who she even was. Evyn looked like she could blow away with the wind, but there was a strength and courage to her that had been taught to her when she was young. Back when the Brotherhood of Bastards had Duscan looking out for all of them.

Clearing her throat, Evyn took a deep breath. "Thank you for finding me. I have been wandering these streets for days and no one was being any help giving directions back to my lodgings. Actually, I am surprised Duscan hasn't offered a reward for my return... some brother he is." She crossed her arms, appearing bummed out, but really the young woman didn't like that her loud voice brought many gazes their way.

It was simple really. Here in a city full of deals and contracts, there was something lining those pockets. A mention of payment, and surely that would set things off.

"Excuse me, miss?" Someone waved for her attention. They smiled, toothily at that even if three of them were missing. "But I didn't know the Bastard had a sister."

"Aren't all bastards siblings? At least, where we came from, it is." Evyn slid an amused expression Fray's way. It seemed her horrid idea may just work and someone leads her to Duscan, expecting coin for compensation.

"I am just glad my new friend here found me. I am ill you see," and quickly, for she had seen the man's repulsion at the word ill, Evyn rushed on. "Weak lungs. I need my tonics and Duscan was getting me more when the crowd had me lost. No one has helped me get back home where I am sure Duscy is waiting for me. He must be out of his mind with worry..."

All of her words were lies. Things she had heard from her time quietly sitting in a hot room fletching arrows. It was good business to be in, especially when her craft was just as good as the master she worked for, and his business supplied the city with their arrows and bolts. She would have that window cracked open, hearing people yell and talk, and swear.