Salt on the wounds
Sunday, November 18, 2007
9:34 AM
Maybe you would find it surprising, but I am, if nothing else, a woman of my word. I arrived as I had promised to the Savant Estate dressed for dinner. He appeared surprised at my choice of attire, a very dark iridescent red gown. Modest enough in its cut, but a far cry from the masculine pants and coarse woven shirt I am accustomed to working in.
I had partaken of his drink, a smooth alcohol. Unfamiliar, and he informed me that it was an imported thing. I enjoyed it all the same. We had not even gotten to eat when there was a commotion outside. There on the grounds, harassing the gate keep was a group of perhaps four rough looking fellows. One wore a scar down his face, grizzley enough that I noticed it first as he spoke even from such a distance away in the dark. They were looking for me.
"I want the black bitch. She is responsible for the salt shortage in the city. I want her, and I want her now. She was last seen heading toward this estate." The other three grim faced fellows remained steadfast behind the apparent leader of the lynch mob. One of whom had a coil of rope in his hand.
I was named 'salt smuggler', among other unsavory titles. When I turned to address Mika, he had already gone, much to my irritation, to confront the gathering and send them off my trail.
It was foolish to consider leaving at that ahn and alone by that point. So I remained for the night, though slept sparingly. Whomever said that assassins sleep the soundest of all, were most assuredly not assassins.
I rose the next morning before the light ever peeked through the windows, and left for Trahkam's apartment in the Garden District. I bathed, changed into something more reasonable, armed myself and went in search of Mastavius.
"It is not widely spread," he confided, grimly. "But there is some word floating about, some speculation, that you are behind the salt shortage. That shipments have been raided by your men before they ever make it into Ar. Driving the the commodity to the black market, which you control, and putting out of business those whose property you would like to take for a bargain price. If you control the salt, you could control Ar."
It was, I admit, a believable story. My hand in the black market and the trade that comes in and out of Ar is not unknown by the people. Nor I suppose is it a secret that I have warehouses outside of the city. And had I an interest in bringing Ar to her knees, there might have been truth to what he was saying.
I decided upon returning to the Estate to change again and attempt to remain at least somewhat low profile. Mika showed me the beginnings of the tunnels that networked beneath Ar, dark and narrow catacombs. While useful information, I cannot imagine finding myself there often unless absolutely necessary, given my aversion to enclosed spaces. We ventured to the Great Square, and I stopped long enough to reconnect with the Magistrate. The problems at hand and his realization of the impotence of his position with the High Council has seemed to have taken its toll. He is disheartened, I can see it in his eyes.
Tia arrived shortly after. I am to make a swap with her this evening. I can't imagine it will do much to help prove my innocence, should the rumor spread further.
Labels: Savant Estate
