Leveling the Playing Field

[CherryStatic]

"And where are they now?"

"On their way to the meetinghouse, just like you said they would be." Selwyn sat cowgirl on the chair across from Crucia, smiling complacently. "Do you think they're going to go straight to the mayor?"

"I doubt it. That's not the way the half-elf operates. He'll go to someone who won't turn them away." She walked her fingers across a map of the town she'd drawn up over the past week, studying the span of streets around the meetinghouse. "I think we'll be seeing more of our friend the Kestrel if he has anything to say about it."

"Ah. I can't wait to meet her. I hear she's really something." the other grinned.

"Darling Sel," she said, glancing up to cup the side of his face in leather-clad fingers, "she's hardly your type. From what I've been told, she isn't much of a screamer."

"We'll see. Sharp objects tend to bring out the best in people."

"Just behave until then. I need you to be ready for anything she throws at us. Your Manifestation has always been especially useful against those who enjoy close combat."

The fingers of his gauntlet flexed loudly. "Believe me, I'll be more than happy to do my part. She already cost us two family members."

Crucia made a neutral sound sound in response, her eyes returning to the map. "If she interferes with us, we'll deal with her. Right now, I want the half-elf dead and his pretty head in my hand as soon as possible. I don't particularly care what happens to Montelle."

"Are you by any chance planning on making an appearance?"

She chuckled. "Not quite yet. It's much more fun watching them run in circles trying to find us. I think I'll stay put for a while longer. I'm leaving the Kestrel's men and Montelle's group to Venette if they present any problems."

"And the rest of us?"

"Alcara took Kess with her to pay a visit to a friend, and Fascine is our fly on the wall."

"Really? Is it close enough to see the Kestrel?"

Crucia smiled with satisfaction. "It's close enough to hear her breathing."

......................................................................................................................................................................

Fascine dipped its pen in the inkwell, scrawling fanciful script across the parchment that lay on the desk. To one side lay a stack of papers, with a list of guests expected by the Kestrel on top. It had already memorized the names on the list, relaying the information to its leader through the Bond.

Lounging near the door was Smith, looking for all the world perfectly relaxed. Fascine had seen that carefully stitched facade of indifference more times than it could remember, and was at that very moment maintaining one itself. It grabbed a chaotic pile of letters adressed to the mayor and tapped it into a neat and orderly stack on the surface of the desk, laying it aside, all the while wondering how far the secretary had sunk into the lake, her body cut up into pieces and stuffed in a crate filled with sand and stones early that morning.

It dipped its pen once more and continued writing just as the door opened, admitting two familiar faces. Fascine adopted a look of unfamiliar passivity, waiting for them to state their business, despite already knowing it.

"We've come to request an audience with the Lady Egris Verreaux." the half-elf said.

Fascine made a point of looking at the guest list before returning its gaze to them. It smiled.

"Of course. If you would like to wait in the parlor, I'll inform her right away, miss."