The Redflower Threat

Chapter Four

Laica stares at her, eyes wide. "Seriously? You're inviting me along? Is that even allowed? Are you dragging me into some sort of political scandal that will inevitably get me killed or horribly injured?" Clarans knows she'll come to regret this over the next two months. She lets out a low breath.

"They said I could bring one person whose services would be of use to me. You're a member of the Cards, which is to say, you're a criminal and good at it. I'm not a criminal and never intend to be one. Look at the way you picked my lock. I couldn't do that if I tried a thousand times. Since the mission is dealing with a rebellion, many members of which are liable to be partaking in illegal activities, you're going to be very helpful."

Excitement shines in Laica's eyes. "Okay, fine, I'm sold." She rolls the apple on the desk idly. "I haven't got anything else to do. Well, I mean, I do. But nothing that can't be put on hold for a vacation to the world's hottest desert. Seriously, we're going to either be killed by rebels or by the sun."

Death is not exactly the ideal outcome of this mission, but it's certainly not an impossible one. Clarans weighs her next words carefully before she speaks them. "You needn't come if you're not willing to accept the risk. I'll ask someone else." She smiles wryly. "Maybe I'll ask Kristian." Both of them know that asking Kristian would get a definite yes. But it'd also get them definitely killed. Bringing the leader of a gang along on a government mission isn't exactly the wisest thing.

Laica mock winces, swatting her hands at her. "Don't even joke about that. That'd be terrible for all parties involved. And that reminds me. If I'm to follow you to Arctas on a whim like this, then I'll have to tell him. I'll have to tell him, like, today. Right now." Clarans shrugs. "Good luck with that." Her tone is flat. She watches as Laica stands, stretching on her way up. "Bye, asshole. Don't die." A classy greeting from a classy lady. She's dealt with dirt that had more class than Laica.

By the time she has a proper response on the tip of her tongue, Laica has already left. The heavy door shuts behind her softly, its hinges creaking slightly. Over the years Clarans has found creaky hinges to be a very helpful thing to have on a bedroom door, and as such she never bothers to oil them.

The room seems quieter now. Truly a blessing. She relaxes further into the soft down mattress, turning her head so that her bun doesn't come undone. The desk chair still faces the bed, uneven in its positioning. And the apple of two sides still rests where Laica had placed it. Clarans makes a note to return it.

Her eyes have found their way closed by the time there's a heavy rap on the wooden door. The noise pulls her away from the alluring drift of sleep, and for that she curses it. Clarans stands with little difficulty, brushing her hands down her uniform jacket to smooth any wrinkles. The knock comes again. Short and punctual. Clearly not Laica. Probably someone she should make haste in answering. She steps over to the door, no sign of having just been woken showing in her walk. One gets used to quick awakenings fast in her line of work. She opens the door.

One of the palace workers stands, with a binder of sorts in her hand. It's completely enclosed, with a bit of string tied around a hook clasping the top flap shut. It's the leatherbound sort of affair the Council likes to use for official documents. Namely, orders. She's glad she answered the door.

"Milady." The girl ducks her head and holds the binder out, hands shaking a little. Clarans takes it and nearly drops it. It's far heavier than it looks. What the hell did they put in this one? She tucks it under her arm and smiles at the girl. "Thank you. Hang on, let me give you a tip." Her hand moves to her pocket instinctively before she remembers that her purse is on her desk. She turns to grab it and pulls out a single golden coin. It's far more than the girl really deserves for simply delivering an item, but Clarans knows damn well that the palace doesn't pay these people as well as they should. The girl's eyes widen when she catches sight of the coin, held casually between two fingers.

"Take it, I don't need it." Clarans wonders if all the servants will start lining up to deliver her things now. So be it. She holds out the coin. The girl takes it and grasps it tight in her fist. "Thank you, milady." She bows low, lower and longer than Clarans has ever bowed to Ilthec. Her blonde bangs bounce as her head comes back up. The skin of her knuckles is white from the force of her grip on the coin. She nearly runs off, her feet pattering on the marble tile.

Clarans lets the door shut, noting the difference in the respect that kindness earns and the respect a title grants.