As Dark as the Forest

Chapter 3

Ori

The room felt like a prison cell.

Orianne stood in the doorway, breathing the damp air with its inevitable musty underground scent. She had been dreading this moment since that morning. She took a few shallow breaths, glancing toward the far side of the room where the curtain-covered cage awaited her.

Ori stepped inside, shutting the door behind her, and thus shutting out the guards who were still positioned there, keeping prying eyes away from Remo's most precious asset.

Once the curtain was removed, the asset, such that she was, appeared unchanged from the morning.

The poor Quercian girl had barely moved.

"How in the name of the gods am I supposed to study this poor half-starved creature?" Ori grumbled, pulling out the art supplies she'd brought with her to complete the set that Remo had left down here for her. She examined the ones he had left for her – they were well-made and likely very costly.

The custom handmade kind that she could never steal for herself.

She knew that Remo was trying to buy her off. He had always that kind of person - showing affection (if one could call it that), with gifts and material goods. As nice as these were, the stolen ones still meant more to her than this expensive new set of paintbrushes ever would. Her stolen art supplies had memories tied to each and every one of them. Like the pastels she'd nicked from a young noblewoman's home. She'd really been there disguised as a servant to learn information on the whereabouts of the noblewoman's beau, whom Remo had a mark on.

The woman wasn't a very good artist, judging by the scant samples in her drawing room, so it was not as if she would be needing the pastels anyway. Ori would make better use of them. A bonus of sorts for completing her job for Remo.

Once she set herself up, the easel facing just the right way, and the mage-lights adjusted as well as she could get them, Ori began to sketch the hard lines of the Quercian girl. The sharp, thin shoulders. The long, matted hair. The unmistakably pointed ears. Once she had done a few sketches, she would try one with color, and she thought about how she would get the pale skin tone just right, with the slightest hint of green.

Ori fixed the butt end of the pencil against her lips. How was she to glean anything useful from this observation, if she was only able to see this Quercian weak and curled into herself on the cold floor in the less-than-ideal lighting.

A groan, barely audible, startled Ori's attention away from her work, and Ori stepped away from the cage..

"Hello?" Ori said, to the Quercian girl. But it came out barely a whisper.

She had felt uncomfortable at the prospect of studying someone in such an enclosed space – normally she did her sketches of people and other creatures in their natural surroundings. It was part of the study. Simply looking like something else wasn't always the most convincing. If she were transforming into another person (which was illegal – but she had done it once before for the guild – it had been very nerve-wracking), she would want to know their habits. Their likes, their dislikes.

Transforming into animals was usually less specific – even though animals had their own unique personalities. But no one was going to pay much heed to a cat. From observation and experience, Ori knew that most cats kept for lady's pets were lazy, and the more functional house and barn cats were fluid and kept themselves mostly out of the way. It wasn't unusual for a cat to be cleaning its paws in a stable – even one that didn't necessarily belong there. And it was a great way to listen in on the gossip of hostlers or conversations had by the horse's masters.