I find myself quite disappointed in your decision, Gloria.She'd come back to her room in the Broken Dagger to find it virtually empty; there had been
a girl staying there, and the wood still reeked of her curious potion-making and the smoke from the long-burnt agents of chemistry. But the strained ropes of the other bed had been emptied of sheets and bedding-tick; all that remained was the seamstress' belongings, her sack of scrap fabric, and her meager belongings.
And this, a letter delivered to her from Rhaena Olwak.
She read it. She read it again, and a third time. She hammered the tip of her wooden clog over and over into the stocky leg of the bedframe until her toes begged her to stop. It might have been a reasonable courtesy to reply, but she'd no words in her that might merit such etiquette. Instead, the seamstress found the valuable Razasan fabric brought back for a governor's lady's dress, and though she poised the tip of a mirror-shard knife to shred it, rend it to ribbons, she paused--
...who else would have done the right thing and spoken on behalf of such a monster?Who was
she to speak of right things; who was
she to give praise for composure?
She gathered her scant belongings and left her bed in the Broken Dagger to be filled by the next patron. There were other places she could sleep -- Cherny's small abode, perhaps, or Darkenhold.
The letter was kept. But she spent her remaining few shillings for the delivery of another package to Rhaena Olwak -- the brilliant fabric that should have long ago become a commissioned dress, but was left still folded, unharmed, and intact.
Tucked inside it, a note:
Find another seamstress.