Snippet #1411773

Loki listened in complete silence to the entirety of the tale, impassive all except for the mention of a voice. For just the briefest moment, something flitted carelessly across her face, but it was gone before it was truly registered, at least with her. When Eos fell silent, Taylor spoke up, and to this too she did not respond for several slow seconds. In the intervening time, the princess let fall her eyelids, breathed once, twice, then refocused her gaze straight forward. Though it was her compassionate ally she addressed, her appraising eyes did not leave the prisoner's face. Unconsciously, her head tilted ever so slightly to one side.

"You are right of course, Lord Taylor. If Parliament had any inclination that we had freed this man, or even that we were here, the chances of my taking any part in it, and likely as well the chances of truly seeing anything in this city changed would be as nothing. However... a very wise man once told me that it is not the truth that matters, only perception, at least perhaps in cases like these. And as someone not so wise once deigned to say... there is more than one way to skin a cat." The princess fished around in one of the deep pockets of her dress and produced a single bronze key, tarnished with age and use, and a sly smile bloomed over her too-pale countenance.

"No guard not already affiliated with a certain ally of mine ever saw us come in, and none shall see us leave. Whether or not they see you, Eos, is largely of your own choosing. I would, as ever, recommend the window." Her eyes flicked for a moment up the stairs and to the right, enough of a hint for one who knew what she did about how to communicate without words. Since they'd had the same teacher, she had no doubt he'd understand the meaning well enough. "I do believe it shall be rather overcast tonight," she commented in an idle voice, handing Eos the key. "Makes it so dreadfully difficult to see anything around here."

With that, she turned on her heel and led the way out of the dungeon. There were still many things to be done, after all; trying to coordinate a seizure of power with a full-scale independent investigation into a man's death was no simple task, even for one such as herself.

---
Three days later, District Delta

Ishtar watched with something between irritation and disgust as her husband continued to chew his fingernails. It had always been the one thing about him she simply couldn't stand. Being one for immaculate hygiene herself, she had never seen the appeal. And the noise! In such penetrating quiet as this, the noise was almost enough to drive one mad.

Seeking for some form of distraction, she shifted warm doe-eyes across the room, searching for anything else to look at. Men had gotten lost in those, eyes, once; they still could and did if she approached it the right way. It was really quite unfortunate that she seemed to have no such hypnotizing effect on their guest. Perhaps it was because he had but one of his own?

She had decided the first time she met him that she did not like this man, this scarred stranger. Of course, neither the fact that he was scarred nor the fact that he was still a stranger had anything to do with this. No, it was nothing like that. Rather, something about him reminded her of rot, festering slime and foul disease, the kind she'd always warned her daughters about and some other kind that was not of the body, but the soul. How she hated that Aram associated with such a one! But... whenever she brought it up, she was informed that she was being petulant and unfair, to judge a man before knowing him.

How laughable that was. It was in her very nature to make these kinds of judgments, and that sort of intuition was a valuable one, not the sort to be dismissed. How many times had that special instinct saved someone's life? She'd lost count, but she knew that her own as amongst them several times over. That was the way it was when you entered her profession: you learned whose money to take quickly, or you learned painfully. Perhaps both.

The man (whose name she had still not been given) ignored her, which all in all was making her feel like a rather useless fixture here. How she despised the feeling. But alas, when one is only given half the information, one can hardly be expected to act otherwise.

At long last, Aram set down the report he'd been reading and spoke. "Very well... I see you managed to make it look like something else, but how long do you honestly think it will take them to figure it out? Nobles aren't the brightest bunch, but assassins don't employ idiots." Ishtar resisted the urge to sigh, but only just. If they continued to habitually dismiss the intelligence of those who ran Revelation, their little rebellion would go absolutely nowhere. Had he already forgotten what happened to the last one? Quashed flat by a pair of assassins nobody saw coming, and for what? So few even knew of it anymore.

"Let them. Even if they discover the ruse, there is nothing in the truth pointing them any closer to you." One-eye replied, shrugging carelessly. Ishtar's lips pursed; no, she did not like this man at all.

"Fine. Your payment is ready; had to contract that thief-child more than I would have liked, but she does good work." Of course she does. It was my idea to hire her in the first place, dearest.

One-eye left at long last, and if Ishtar was a little colder to her husband than usual that evening, he was certainly too busy basking in the glory of his own success to notice.