"Natasha!" Hemingway called out a single time, expecting to gain the "Thief Chief's" attention. Now at the pier of Sogbury, he had joined his ally, the Ambassador, in an additional step to this investigation of Ivel's alcoholic antics. At this point, the source was imminent, but the intention behind the delivery was yet to be specified.
"Ugh, I know..." she scampered from her perch on Sogbury's most functional steamboat, clinging to the railing for the entire distance, keeping her eyes stuck to the wooden boards of which much of the harbor consisted. In no time, she had reached the pseudo-Sulukridger and Moth, standing forlornly amidst a murky landscape at the end of the dock.
"We've arrived for an interview," Moth sighed, taking note of the fact that Hemingway and Natasha declined to make eye contact again. "It's about that cartful of alcohol that you delivered to Grant's Shrine. It was intended solely for Ivel's wishes, no? As the Ambassador, I already know this, but for the purpose of the Kyueb Reacsoa's advancement and the Breyer Bejir's enjoyment, would you please inform us of what you meant by giving this order?"
"Ahem," Natasha, hands behind her back, began to justify this action. "It was meant as a protest. Ivel may long ago have ignited the flame of the Crusade, but since then, he has done little to live up to K -- to live up to that promise. In fact, he seems to have gone out of his way to disobey Hendera and the people of the region. I decided to taunt him into realizing something by sending forth the cart."
"And that is all you must say? That it was defiance that set this in motion?" Hemingway was somehow more inquisitive than this. "And what was it you were going to say when you trailed off earlier...?"
"Um," Natasha shivered, "I meant... that he wasn't as good as Kurst."
Moth's eyes widened as he glanced at the two of them. "And, you persist in believing in his theories. What could this mean, Hemingway?"
"I have mastered a practice as a pseudo-Sulukridger," Hemingway answered. "I can measure how intensely one's Vorren is capable of vibrating. Should Natasha truly be an age-crosser, then this would be revolutionary for the Thieves of Sogbury. Maybe... no, that can't be true. But I remain doubtful. Natasha, hold your hand out."
The Thief Chief's hand wavered but hesitantly agreed, for the sake of the interview, to touch her hand to Hemingway's. The pseudo-Sulukridger, after a moment or two, had something to announce, proceeding to release his hand from hers, much to his thanks.
"Natasha, you're a Sulukridger."
YOU ARE READING
The Sketch Rift: The Eternal Crusade
Fantasía{Book Two in the Sketch Rift Trilogy} Samuel Lawrence, or Soal, is revolted by the mere premise of returning to the bleak metropolis of Hendera. But these hopes are laid to rest when sentinels of the enigmatic Charles Hemingway draw his reentr...
