[RiddleRose]: 298.Stories.Untitled- Chapter 2

Chapter 2: To Gather Information...

When Ali woke up it was noon. She had slept for about ten hours, and she felt thoroughly refreshed. She bounced up, dressed in a navy blue tunic, her favourite poofy white shirt, and shockingly orange breeches, (just for contrast of course). She secreted seven throwing stars and five knives about her person, belted on a small light sword, and changed her mind about the breeches. She took them off, put on a much more sober pair, and decided she was presentable.

Flinging her door open, she announced to the empty corridor, “I'm hungry,” and fairly flew through the halls to the kitchen. Because the inhabitants of the Guild were all assassins, they kept very random hours, and consequently, there were people hungry at all hours of the day and night. Because of this the Guild employed two cooks, one who worked only in the day, and one who worked at night. Although there was no paid help, all novices and apprentices were required to do kitchen duty on a rotating schedule. 

There was a table in the kitchen that was constantly kept laden with food and plates, so that even if it wasn't an official mealtime hungry people could grab a snack. There were four meals in each twenty-four hour day, one at dawn, one at noon, one at sunset, and one at midnight.

There was a meal going on now, and Ali ate it with great relish. She chatted with some of her friends, then left the table. She had a destination in mind, but she needed to make a few changes in her attire if this was going to work....

Although the Cat could go about in breeches and a tunic, Ali couldn't. She was a girl, and wearing a skirt was (unfortunately) the only thing considered “seemly” for her gender. Usually this didn't matter, because usually when she went out she was being the Cat, but on this occasion she was going to meet another source of information. Because it was daytime, she had to wear a skirt. Bugger.

And for this particular source... if she was going to get complete information, she'd have to wear a bodice too. Double bugger. You couldn't breathe in those things, never mind bend over. And running was completely out of the question. 

Grumbling under her breath about the folly of feminine attire, she put on her one bodice, which was stiff black leather, and a red skirt. She felt constricted, contained. Well, at least there was plenty of room for weapons under the skirt. She slipped two knives and three throwing stars up it, then stuck a knife in each boot. As an afterthought, she stuck a bodice dagger down her front, and strapped wrist sheaths onto both wrists. 

Finally ready, she slipped through a secret passage to the back street. She headed for the Shartor district, the district of entertainers, performers, and starving artists. She had a contact in every district of the city except for the extremely wealthy ones, but this one was exceptional. His name was Cal, and he was a jester, only a year older than herself, and he learned everything that went on in his district.

He did this by playing that he was stupid. People talked around him because they thought he didn't understand them. And even if that failed, no one notices the jester. He's just there.

Of course, that was in the day. In the night he learned things from the whores he visited. They adored him, and told him everything that they heard from their clients, which was a considerable amount. People told whores things quite often, because once again, they assumed that the whores wouldn't understand them. They were wrong. No self-respecting Madame would take on a stupid whore.

Ali didn't know much about the whores of the city. She knew there were lots of them, and she knew that the Whores' Guild was located in the Shartor district. She knew that the Guild had its own codes and rules, but she didn't really know what they were. 

She reached the edge of the Shartor district, and went towards the square in the center. This was where her contact's group worked. They had a musician, a contortionist, a high wire walker, and a low-level mage as well as the jester, so they were one of the more well-off groups. She watched them, caught Cal's eye, and jerked her head towards an alleyway nearby. Cal nodded minutely and winked at her, then finished his juggling act with a huge flourish and a flip. He bowed theatrically, and turned the act over to the contortionist, who proceeded to amaze the crowd with her flexibility.

Cal slipped into the deserted alley unnoticed, and saw Ali leaning back against the wall with her chest displayed to full advantage by the bodice. Cal leaned an elbow next to her ear, and tickled her nose with the bell of his jester's hat. If someone had looked in the alley, they would have seen only a pair of lovers.

Of course, they were nothing of the sort. Although Cal, looking Ali up and down appreciatively, thought that perhaps...
“Stop ogling me you perv,” she said acidly, “you know I only put up with this for the sake of the disguise.”

“Mm. So you say,” he murmured, looking smokingly at her chest, “So you say...”

She put an arm over his shoulders, and a knife at his throat. Flirting with Cal was immensely fun, “Just remember,” she whispered, “there's more where that came from.” The knife disappeared.

“You know I like it when you get rough baby,” said Cal, sliding a hand down her hip, “I bet I can find the others...”

“Perhaps another time darling. I came on business, as you well know. What have you got for me?”

“Nothing special. A couple murders, a few affairs, a few arrests... the usual. Speaking of affairs...” He waggled his eyebrows. With all the makeup of a jester on, it was quite frightening.

“You look ridiculous. Tell me about the murders. Any leads on the killer? Any distinguishing marks on the bodies? Anything in common between them?”

“Hmmm... Two women, one beaten to death by her husband,” he frowned darkly, and Ali murmured a quick prayer, “the other was strangled. One man, in his thirties. Oh. This might interest you. They haven't found the killer, but the man was smiling, and his blood was all gone. I don't mean he bled to death, it looked like, like it had all been sucked out of him or something. Like a vampire had sucked him dry.”

“That is interesting. Very interesting. There have been similar killings in the Murk... find out what you can about that man. His life, his business, relations, that sort of thing. And if there's anyone else killed in the same way, be sure to let me know. Oh, when was he killed?”

Cal thoughtfully stroked her thigh, “Ummm... I think last Tuesday. So three days ago. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Ali considered, “And the woman in the Murk was exactly a week before that... it's too little to go on. I need more information!” she growled in frustration, “Why in hell were they smiling? Why a woman and a man? Their ages weren't similar, I don't know what they looked like, what they did, this is infuriating!”

“Well, don't fret yourself sugar. I'll find out as much as I can. I trust you've got everyone on watch. Any idea who the killer is?”

“I don't know who he is, but I may know what he looks like. Very tall, dark hair, moves like a snake, and,” she grimaced, “by some accounts, he has a voice like chocolate. Who knows. That's all I got for you. Do your best, but don't get killed! By the way, did you just call me 'sugar'?”

Cal got a bit shifty-eyed, “Maybe...”

She drew a fingernail down the side of his face, almost drawing blood, “Don't. I'm more of a... cat, don't you think?”

“And by 'cat', of course you mean 'tiger',” he said, sounding a bit strangled, “Far be it for me to ever think you were such a clawless thing as sugar,” he gulped as her nail curved down his throat, “Tiger,” he said a little breathlessly, “How about my payment?”

“So mercenary. Very well...” she drew a little pouch, which clinked in a friendly way, out of her bodice, “here you go.” She stood up straight, which left him only a little bit taller than her, plopped the pouch in his hand and left with a flutter of eyelashes, and a wink. She didn't get out of the way quite quick enough to avoid the usual slap on the bum however. Someday, she thought, without much hope.

She visited her other contacts in the other districts, a beggar in the poorest, a butler in the richest, and various others in the middle. None of them had seen or heard anything of particular note, except the butler, who had heard of the murder in the Shartor district. She let all of them know to keep an eye out for this mysterious maybe-vampire, and went back to the Guild house.
 
She went to sleep for an hour, then decided it was about time she did some paperwork. It had been accumulating for about a month, and she wasn't looking forward to it. She decided to finish it if it killed her. 

Three days later, she signed the last bill, and reflected that she should have killed herself while she had the chance. For three days, she had done nothing but work on the blasted paperwork. Well, now she was going to indulge herself. But first, she needed to limber up.

Unused muscles protested vehemently at her while she exercised, but when she was done, she felt much looser. Then she went and ate a huge meal, and visited Cal. This time she didn't bother with the bodice. She just wore a skirt and a blouse, and who cared what people thought!

Cal had nothing for her. There hadn't been another killing, the tall dark man hadn't been seen, at least not in the Shartor district. Her other contacts said the same. She went to bed that night frustrated. She needed to get on the roofs again, but it would have to be tomorrow. Bugger. She fell asleep, to troubled and frustrating dreams.