The builder had been careful to use gracious amounts of plaster to remove many handholds, but they had doubted the skills of people like her.

There were many things Valerlanta was good at. She could pick a lock. She could shoot a bow well enough to win tournaments. She could move silently enough to sneak up on her father. Her best skill, however, was climbing. As a child, Opaklen had taught her, and she had practiced in all her spare time. Then, when she had almost mastered it all, she practiced some more.

If she didn't climb, the memories of her past would creep up on her until she could not handle it.

The obsessive training had a good side, though. It made reaching Askyel's rooms almost seem like no trouble at all.

Valerlanta pulled herself in the open window with the silence of a breeze.

As expected, Askyel sat at his desk. At night he frequented parties; socializing and building clients. When the sun came up, he planned traveling routes or wrote to prospective customers.

Askyel was a businessman through and through, and it helped him that he was both charismatic and handsome. It made it so that he was not only good at his job, but he was also very well liked. People trusted him even as he pulled strings to get his way.

The businessman did not know she had crept behind his desk until the edge of her knife pressed against his neck.

His whole body stiffened.

Despite the danger, Askyel lifted the quill to keep the ink from ruining the page he had been working on. His other hand reached for the knife she had already spotted beside his left knee.

“Do not even think about it,” Valerlanta whispered in his ear, her voice heavy with amusement.

His shoulders relaxed, but only the slightest fraction.

“Ah, Valerlanta. This is an unexpected visit.”

“Yes, that was the idea,” she said and the knife flicked away from his neck. Valerlanta sat on the edge of his desk and glanced at the papers. He reflexively scooped them up and tucked them into a drawer. Funny, since he knew very well that she could not read, let alone read anything in the strange code he wrote in. “I need information on an item I acquired.”

Askyel glanced at her dirty clothes then to his desk and a small twitch hit his eye. He was, of course, a man of tidy piles and sparkling stonework; while she spent her days amongst dirt and trees. Valerlanta had little doubt that he would clean the whole room the moment she left.

Finally, his annoyed eyes lifted to her mask, then to her eyes. “Is it really so hard to make an appointment?”

“I am busy.”

“So you always say.”

“Because I often am.”

Valerlanta brought her pack in front of her, and withdrew the covered orb from deep inside it. She held it out to him with cupped hands, as if she held a delicate injured bird. Askyel took it equally as carefully and removed the wrapping with swift fingers. When they did, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open a little.

“Where did you get this?”

“You should know better than to ask that,” Valerlanta said with a mischievous smile. It was a rule. He would not ask where they got things, and those things would keep on coming for him to sell.

He gave her a pointed stare.

Valerlanta sighed in defeat, though she did not care either way. “In the woods. I took it off a dead man dressed like a peasant. Some soldiers had killed him and his whole group.”

“Hmm,” Askyel eyed her for a moment, then went back to analyzing the ball. He let out a small laugh as he spun one of the rings. “It is a puzzle.”

Click, click, click, it went as he twisted the rings.

“Is it valuable?”

“More valuable than anything anyone has ever brought in this room,” he mused, flashing her a smile. The smile was innocent enough, but she knew him well enough to see what was behind it. His dark eyes seemed to question her, judge her.

‘And he wants it.’ Valerlanta realized. ‘And he wants it without paying for it.’

Her father might have a business relationship with him, but it was not like that with Valerlanta. Their time together was always…complicated. Their feelings for each other were a mix of caution and fascination that often led to games like this.

Valerlanta smiled back, daring him to play.

The corner of his mouth curled a little wider, but he did not take her bait to fight. Instead, Askyel set the ball beside her on the desk.

'Just like always.'

After all, last time they had fought, Valerlanta had left him with partially dyed hair.

They had been younger at the time, and Askyel was just an apprentice for the current black market master. Her father and his master were having a meeting with them waiting outside, when Valerlanta and Askyel started arguing. She didn't even remember what started it, and she — judging by the bruises she received — certainly did not win, but Askyel had not expected her to fight so dirty. The bottle of ink she dumped on his head caused him to wear a hat over his hair for a long time.

Valerlanta smiled at the memory as she swiftly tucked the ball back into hiding. “What does the script say?”

“That is a good question I can not answer."

"What? Seriously? Well then. I'll find someone else."

"It is not a matter of education. This orb is an ancient artifact with a script much older than I — or anyone else — would have the ability to read. It is Dryad script; possibly one of the last examples of it in all of Avelynd.”

'Dryad?'

Valerlanta paused, her mind whirling, planning.

Dryad's were long-living creatures that — according to story — could step in and out of trees as if they had doors. This ability gave them a deep attachment to nature, but with their long lives also came endless knowledge. When they cared to, they could create things beyond human understanding. The Dryads — like all creatures of magic — fled during the magic purge, and left little behind to show they had been in the kingdom at all.

'Except for one place.'

Her head snapped up, looking to the window and the forest beyond. The vaguest beginning of an plan began unfolding in her mind, sending her heart fluttering with excitement.

“Valerlanta,” Askyel said in a measured tone, as if reading her thoughts. “Perhaps it would be better if you sold the orb to me and left it at that? There is movement in the woods, and word is that Wlyfaren is planning on crossing the border any day now. The wilds will be full of war. It is often times like this where it is best to lay low.”

“I am flattered! Askyel, I did not know you cared!”

Askyel snorted and leaned back in his chair. “Care? I would argue that you dying would be an inconvenience. Although, without our conversations, I would certainly get more work done.”

“Please. I visit once a season, if that at all. You are so dramatic.”

“I would not expect a carefree wanderer to understand.”

"Yes, well, this carefree wanderer has places to be." Valerlanta tossed him the money she had stolen from the men in the forest. “For your information.”

The bag bounced in his hand a total of three times. Knowing Askyel, he was likely able to tell the amount right down to the coin just from the weight. He nodded and tucked it in a drawer.

“You can leave through the door, you know,” he said as she crossed the room.

“I can,” she agreed, but did not even slow before sliding out the window.