The Rogue sat in his corner at the Golden Hind and listened to the rumors that people brought to him. Tonight the streets were buzzing about the new arrival in the city. Talac had wasted no time is spending his windfall of coin and drunkenly babbling to everyone how he had gotten the money.
Marc sighed. Talac was loyal to him and with Stanzi slowly gathering supporters her couldn't afford to lose a single thief but he had to do something. People couldn't just go around telling just anyone with a couple gold where to find him. That was a good way to end up getting hanged. He couldn't come down too hard on him without risking his loyalty. But he also couldn't ignore it. He could not appear weak right now.
Marc smiled. He had just the solution. He'd hit Talac where it would hurt the most. He'd take a special tithe out of those two gold. And the thief couldn't even deny having the money. Everyone on the streets knew he gotten the money and how he had gotten it. Maybe this would teach the thief to keep his mouth shut.
But that was really the smaller of his two problems. The more he heard about this stranger, the more he didn't like. And he hadn't actually heard all that much. Somehow this person had never been seen in the city before, wasn't staying at any of the local taverns, and was looking for him.
Hell, he'd be happy with a name.
It was amazing how this woman had managed to completely disappear in a city he had thought he controlled completely. This was further proof to him that things were getting bad for him. This feud with Stanzi had to end. If it didn't, the only thing that was for certain was that all the thieves would suffer.
There was something in the air. It was one of those moments when everyone seems to pause their different conversations all at once. And that was when the stranger walked into the tavern. Marc tried to shake it off as just a coincidence, just one of those odd little things that happen but there was something about this person that set off every warning bell Marc had ever had.
There was nothing really special about the cloaked figure. Until the person left the hood on their cloak up. It wasn't unheard of in this part of town to want to stay unanimous but the thieves were at war with themselves and the Rogue couldn't allow anything to go unknown right now. He was about to get his second, Luthor, to go check on the new comer when he realized that the stranger was coming to him.
It was almost magical how the thieves around him managed to disappear. It appeared that he wasn't the only one who had noticed the stranger and was wary.
When the stranger was standing before him he called out cheerfully, "Ho there stranger. Can I help ya find someone here?"
The cloaked figure in front of him pushed back the hood that was obscuring the person's face and revealed a woman.
'Shit. I'll give ya three guesses as to who this is and the first two don't count.' Marc thought, looking into the face of the woman in front of him. There was something about her that unnerved him. She wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense. Rather, there was something about her face that spoke of strength and the regal tilt of her head that made a man stare. No. Not beautiful. The woman in front of him was noble.
"Greetings. You are the Rogue?" the woman asked. Her voice was like the rest of her. Something was odd about it. I reminded him more of a purr than anything else. Her voice was deep and rich. Cultured.
Putting on the charm, Marc jumped up and bowed. "For a lovely woman like yourself, I will be anyone you wish me to be. And who might you be?"
The woman nodded, her expression never changing as he flattered her. "I am Alex, a messenger. Is there some place where I might talk to you privately?"
Marc felt his eyebrows rise up to meet his hairline. A messenger? What kind of messenger? Well, might as well ask.
"What kind of message might you have for me, lovely?"
"The kind you wouldn't want told to you in front of witnesses." she replied smoothly.
Marc looked at her. She seemed harmless enough but if the rumors from last night were true, harmless was not the right word. Assassin? Maybe.
"I'm not sure I trust you enough to be alone with you." Marc finally stated simply.
The woman in front of him bowed slightly, "You may take any amount of people you want with us but, I warn you, you will not want many to hear what I have to tell you."
Marc looked at her. If she was telling the truth then he wanted as few people as possible in that room but if she was lying, the less people he had with him the more dangerous it was. Finally he nodded, once, sharply.
"Lothor. Selvete. You're with me." he said, getting up and heading towards the backstairs. The woman, Alex, followed.
At the top of the stairs he turned to her, "Selvete will have to search you for weapons."
"Of course. Let me speed up the search." The woman said. In the blink of an eye, her black cloak lay on the floor and a matched pair of daggers lay elegantly on top of it. She then turned to Selvete and spread her arms out to the sides, allowing for an easy search of her person.
Marc tried to keep his expression bland as he watched Selvete search the woman over. She was fast. It was very possible that she could have killed him right there if she had wanted to. Instead she had disarmed.
The woman wore a loose pair of dark gray pant and a long dark blue tunic. Her hair was tied back into a tight braid. He couldn't decide if her hair was more silver or black. It was streaked liberally with both. She seemed young to be going silver already but it was not unheard of for people to gray prematurely. It just seemed odd.
He almost laughed at that thought. Odd? Everything about this woman was odd. If her hair was odd, that was the least of his worries.
Selvete stepped back and nodded at him. Well, apparently she had disarmed completely back there. Selvete picked up her cloak, wrapping the daggers carefully up in it. Her saw Alex watch the man and nod with approval.
Who was this woman?
As soon as the door closed behind him, Marc turned to his "guest", "Well? What is your message?"
Something about the woman changed. It was like she both relaxed and tensed at the same moment. And her eyes suddenly caught the light and reflected it back at him like two jewels.
"Lord Taro has sent me here to help you fix this situation you've created."
Marc swallowed. Taro? What the hell was going on?
"Bullshit." he heard Lothor say calmly from behind him, "Prove it."
The woman sighed and shook her head, "People always want proof. Doesn't anyone follow on faith anymore?"
"You've forgive the skepticism, but your story is a little hard to believe." Marc said, trying to figure out what was going on here. This woman was not normal. He just didn't know if she was really from Taro.
"What would constitute proof of my Lord? What could possibly prove to you I am who I say I am? Or at least get you to accept my help?" she asked him, her eyes continuing to reflect the light as she stared straight at him. "Hmm, I know. Attack me."
Lothor stepped forward, "Attack you? But you defenseless."
"Just try and kill me already." she sounded almost bored, as if this were all some tired script that she had heard recited a million times before.
Marc watched in horror as Lothor suddenly drew his dagger and lunged at the woman in fron of him. She never flinch, just let the blade slide through her.
"Shit!" Marc heard Selvete yell behind him.
Lothor looked at the woman with a stunned expression, "You should have dodged."
Lothor pulled the blade out and took several shaky steps away from Alex.
"Oh relax. That hurt like a bitch but it won't kill me."
Marc's head snapped up from the bleeding wound to the woman's face. She seemed...annoyed.
"May I have something to stop the bleeding with? Otherwise I'll bleed all over your floor."
Selvete was the first to react. He pulled his own tunic up over his head and handed it to her with a small bow, "Milady."
"What are you?" Lothor asked, a note of fear creeping into his voice as he watched the woman rip strips off of Selvete's tunic and create a rough bandage.
"I am the messanger of lord Taro, god of Thieves." she said, looking directly at Lothor as she said it.
Marc realized two things at that moment. The first was that no one else had been able to see her eyes until she looked at Lothor. The other two had been flanking her, like he was now and the angle didn't show the reflections of her eyes. The second thing that he noticed was she had claws. He had been amazed at how easily she was able to rip apart the tunic Selvete had given her. As he had looked more closely he noticed that she was deftly flicking out a black claw to create a gash in the fabric which she would then use to tear the next strip.
This was no woman. He wasn't sure what she was. But a messenger of the gods sounded just about right.
