The Whisper of the Nightingale

Chapter 41: A Slip of the Hand

Without even so much as a glance towards the two men who were discussing the supposedly unavoidable death of one of her family's supporters, Raven resumed her departure from the Black Eagle. For her, being inside or outside the tavern didn't make that much of a difference - she would hear what was said anyway if she stayed close enough.

Once outside, Raven made a quick right turn and walked around the corner of the building, melting into the darkness of the alleyway.

"Are there any other interesting fights I should know about?" The two men inside begrudgingly moved on from their expectations regarding the Nightingale versus Talon set-up. Neither of them were spiritualists and rather seemed to make, or at least attempt to make, a living by instead gambling on spiritualist's fights.

"Not really; Limpkin is gonna be back, but the odds are too low with him for it to be really interesting."

"Any newcomers?"

The conversation dragged on for a while longer before they wrapped it up. After agreeing to meet an hour before the battles started, the two of them got up from their table and left. Outside of the tavern they parted ways, one heading south, the other north.

Five minutes after they had departed, Raven's figure emerged from the alleyway and calmly started making her way north. There were roughly 300 meters between her and her target but she didn't need line of sight to track him and his dull-grey presence. After a while, the man stopped, looked around, to make sure he wasn't followed, and ducked in between two rather rundown buildings. There was very little maneuver space in that passage, and most people would overlook it completely.

Raven, still 300 meters behind him, smirked. That narrow passage would normally have made following someone tricky for any tracker whom wished to not be seen; no doubt the intention of whoever chose to base their operations at the other end of it. Unfortunately for them, the passage was short so Raven had no problem listening in on their conversations without entering. Instead, she once more stepped to the side and hid in the shadows of a nearby crate.

"Your membership medallion," said one of the people that greeted Raven's target in the small hut located at the end of the passage. The voice belonged to a woman, a very voluptuous woman - if her manner of speaking was anything to go by. The man moved to pull something out of his pocket and the already alluring voice grew even more seductive; "Welcome to Combat Abyss' betting service. How may I be of assistance tonight, sir?"

"I'd like to place ten gold on Fiscal in his slaying, five on the rat in the bout and ten on Limpkin in all his fights."

"Naturally, sir," a small pause, and then, "hmm . . . those are all low odds bets, sir. A rugged man like yourself surely wants to earn a bit more?" The woman practically purred as the spoke and leaned forward, most likely to accentuate a well-endowed bosom. "I so admire a man willing to take risks. . . ."

"Ah, well . . . " the man swallowed and resisted for a moment but clearly the woman knew what she was doing for he quickly yielded; "of course I will - I'm not one who fears living on the edge! I'll bet forty on the first newcomer who fights!"

"Most impressive, sir," said the woman in well-faked awe, "that will be seventy five gold, sir."

Raven couldn't help but laugh silently. 'Her employers made a wise choice in hiring this woman, she tipped the bets further in favor of the house with ease.'

After placing his bets, the now rosy-cheeked man came back out from the passageway and Raven continued her quiet stalking of him as the sun slowly disappeared below the mountain range. Eventually, the man made the mistake of walking down a deserted street and, noticing that not a soul was out and about within a 400 meter radius, Raven made her move.