Beginne, deine Geschichte zu schreiben
If one were to trust the general opinion of Nyom's underworld, Taron Black was the best information broker on the Eastern Shore. He had connections on all ranks of civil administration, military and police, and was a valued advisor to the city's most influential crime lord. He'd find a solution for any problem too delicate for the official ways. His services wouldn't be cheap, of course, but usually money wasn't an issue for his clients. Not for Taron himself, either. Not any more. His most important currency were favors.
And Omri, the balding, red-haired head of the Central Station's technical service, owed him one. Taron had made sure of that.
Omri was sweating, his skin color almost matching his hair. "Monsire, you know, this could cost my job. And jobs are not easy to find these days, with the war, and the recession, and all that."
"I'm aware of the risks you're taking. I'll be quick. Shouldn't be more than ten minutes."
"Ten minutes?" Omri wheezed. "By the Divine Son. The Akanya Express is never late."
Taron cocked an eyebrow. "Well, it will be." He glanced at Omri's scarred hands pointedly.
Omri's cheeks turned an even deeper red. "Sorry, Monsire, please. You are right. Excuse me. I owe you more than my job."
"If this works out, we're even." Taron's gaze swept down on the platforms behind the office's large windows. The Nyom-Akanya Express was scheduled to leave soon, and platform 1 was accordingly busy. Baggage handlers hurried along the train, couples exchanged final hugs, young soldiers valiantly fought their tears before saying goodbye to their parents. Taron had not spotted his target yet, but he knew she'd be on the train. After what she had done, she wouldn't miss the fastest ride to the capital. He nodded grimly and went for the office door. "See you later, Omri."
"I'd rather hear you say Farewell."
Taron grinned and shook his head. "There's always another time, Omri."
—
Taron hopped onto the last carriage of the train, just as the locomotive started to move, decidedly ignoring the train attendant's sour glare. "Cab was later, ever so sorry, Madama!" He presented his first class ticket, along with his most charming smile. "My wife should already be here. Damyana Velamur, tall woman, braided dark hair, light luggage?"
Her frown dissolved into a small smile that emphasized a dimple in her right cheek, and she stepped back to open the door for him. "Compartment five. Welcome aboard the Akanya express, Monsire Velamur."
He bit back a hard chuckle. A suit made from valuable fabric, money and a smile - impressive how far one could get based on this alone.
Compartment five was in the second-to-last carriage. The aisles of the train were conviniently empty, with everyone settling into their reserved seats. He didn't have much time, after all.
The door of Damyana Velamur's compartment stood open. Unafraid. Of course. The train wasn't scheduled to stop for the next five hours, and there was no other means of transport even close to its speed. She was probably celebrating her success already.
Time to change that.
Taron felt for the dagger he carried hidden under his silken vest. He wouldn't need to use it, but when dealing with spies, it was better to come prepared.
Casually, he stepped into the open door and leaned to its wooden frame. "Good day, Madama."
She was travelling alone, with light baggage indeed. A small bag was open on the plushy seat next to her, and a wrapped package rested on the rack above her head.
A package just the size of three carefully packed books.
A package worth a lot more than both their lives. One he wouldn't allow to travel past this city's borders.
"Monsire", she said warily, following his gaze to the package. He noted her hand twitching, but she didn't reach for her weapon just yet. "Can I be of help?"
With his left hand he pushed up his other sleeve, revealing the simple orange lines of Zaram's rising sun, tattooed under his skin. "I believe you can. I have come to retrieve something you stole of my father."
"Hm." She frowned, looking him down once more. Under her calm gaze, he recognized the slightest nervousness. She was obviously used to hiding it. "You must be Taron Zaravi, then?"
Taron cocked his head. "I go by the name of Black, Madama. My father's business is not necessarily my own."
"Curious. Given what happened, I'd have expected you came here in his name."
"In parts. My father doesn't yet know what you took from him."
"He will." Her lips curled into a humourless smile. "And he is not known to be a merciful man. Too bad we're leaving his territory at any minute."
"I will bring these books back to him, Madama", Taron went on, unimpressed. "In his best interest. However, I can leave your name, and your superior's, out of it. If it's in my interest."
"I'm not sure you understand. I won't give them to you voluntarily. I'm a decent fighter. And you didn't bring backup."
Taron didn't reply, but looked past her. Run-down factories and the cheap housing of the city's southern outskirts passed behind the window.
Slightly disconcerted, she followed his gaze. Her eyes widened for a second. She knew the train's usual route, he guessed. She knew this wasn't it.
"This is-" Her voice was drowned out, as the train came to a screeching halt. Taron almost shook his head. Impeccable timing.
Damyana froze in her seat and her gaze drifted from the still cityscape behind the window to Taron, still blocking the compartment door.
"I ordered some of Zaram's people to this sidetrack. I actually just saw them passing outside. So, I didn't technically bring backup, but I brought you to the backup. They have yet no idea what is going on. But, to answer your question, if you don't cooperate, they will."
She shook her head and gave a baffled laugh. "You rerouted the Nyom-Akanya Express? To blackmail me?"
Taron shrugged. "Take it as a compliment. I highly value your work."
She shot him a glance. "I suppose I need to return the compliment. Assuming your proposal still holds. What do you want for yourself then, Monsire Black?"
"A name", he said. "You know which one."
She hesitated, and for the first time he could see fear in her eyes. "I can't-"
He cut her off. "I know this seems like a polite conversation. But it is about your life, Madama. If you work with me, you'll never be able to return to Nyom. But you'll have a future awaiting you in the capital. You're good. You'll have a good life, make a lot of money, impress important people. I suggest you think twice before you throw this away."
"I..."
"You give me your government spy, and you live. You don't, and my friends out there take these books and you to my father. Your choice. One minute."
She exhaled sharply, before she nodded. "Captain Garan Degoyo. Weekends at noon, he'll be in the Mother's Temple. Tell him you've been sent by Anica. And pay him in gold. Not money."
"What is-?"
"You'd need to double check everything I tell you anyway." She rose to her feet and reached for the package. "You'll figure out the rest, Monsire. Here you are. Your boss' precious books."
Taron ripped open the packaging on one corner, before he nodded contently. It was them. "Pleasure making business with you."
"If you make it to Akanya some day, pay me a visit."
Taron looked at her, standing in the middle of the compartment, her arms folded, yet still ready to go for a weapon, if he made any wrong move.
"Of course." He bowed shortly. "I wouldn't miss on the opportunity. Have a safe trip home, Madama."
