Breaking the Sword

The Antique Job (IV)

It was getting on toward evening when Elyse returned. She found Tigraine chatting amiably with the wife of the head customs official, who had come to meet her husband for an evening out but was being kept waiting by some important business or other. Elyse stopped on the corner of the street on the periphery of the conversation, practically hopping with impatience. After a few moments, the warrior glanced around in the midst of her conversation, catching the thief's eye. Otherwise, Tigraine gave no indication that her attention had ever strayed from the conversation at hand.

Shortly, however, she bade the other woman farewell, and as the official's wife passed back into the building, probably to pester the husband into finishing up, Tigraine strode casually over to Elyse.

"The second hour after dusk," the thief said.

Tigraine glanced at the position of the sun. "We have hours yet. What's got you so jumpy?"

"I'm starving," the other returned emphatically. "Didn't want to break for lunch in case I missed my chance..."

Tigraine, accustomed to long marches on low rations, passed her a half-empty packet of campaign biscuits. Elyse took a bite of one and grimaced. She paused for a moment, considering spitting the salty, dry thing out, but she was desperate and so she swallowed –with great difficulty.

Tigraine watched her with amusement and accepted the biscuits back without taking offense. "We might as well find a tavern to wait in until it's time," she said, folding the packet carefully and returning it to a pocket.

"Your wizard hasn't turned up yet," Elyse pointed out. "Oughtn't we to wait for him before moving somewhere else?"

"He'll find us," Tigraine told her meaningfully. "Never you worry about that."

After some argument, they selected a rather seedy establishment on the edge of the warehouse district. It was too small for Tigraine's taste, the sparse clientele increasing the odds that someone would remember enough about them to point an investigating Imperial Guard or crime boss's rushers in the right direction. But Elyse had made a good case for the importance of proximity to their target, and finally the warrior had agreed. The two women took a table in a far corner of the taproom, ignoring curious glances and leers from the tavern's other, exclusively male, patrons.

"Queen's Grace, indeed," Tigraine muttered as she took the seat facing the doorway, referring to the name on the sign outside the establishment.

"She'd be rather graceless after a night with this lot," the thief agreed. She didn't seem nearly as troubled by the thought as Tigraine thought she should be. As it was, Tigraine was keeping a firm grip on the hilt of the knife she kept strapped to the inside of her forearm.

Elyse eyed her tense companion and said, "I'll go order some food, shall I?"

The warrior nodded, her senses on high alert for danger. She stared aghast as the thief adjusted the fall of her blouse so it was much lower, then strode, swinging her hips, to the bar. That kind of behavior seemed to be asking for trouble. But then Tigraine shook herself and made note of which of the other patrons followed Elyse's movement with more than just casual interest. Who cared how the woman behaved when the man's mind was already made up?

Elyse leaned against the bar as she waited for the barkeep's attention, sizing the room up in her own way. And they call me promiscuous, Tigraine thought. As for Elyse, she knew perfectly well what she was doing and could handle trouble if it came her way. She didn't expect it to –looking was free, where trouble could cost. It was a fine game she played, giving enough to look at to be sure none were eager to take the risk. In very short order, she had ordered two servings of the stew the Queen's Grace had on hand, as well as two brandies that would do for show but go largely untouched. There was work to do that evening, after all.