After Galier left the inn, the day passed slowly for Lana. The room she had been given was at the end of the hall above the common room. Saphi, the chef, had insisted that it being further away made it less loud but Lana was uneasy about just how far she was from the exit. The bed she sat on in one corner of the room was plush, incredibly soft, more than she had thought possible. It was like sitting on nothing at all which made her a little uneasy. It matched with what she thought of lords and ladies very well. These people, she had never seen their like before. Or rather, she had never been so close to them. She had heard the stories of course. Those stories told of monsters waiting to seize unsuspecting girls, she had grown up in paralyzing fear of those stories. She had been so sure that one day when she let her guard down, one of them would pounce. They were always hungry, these nobles and merchant folk. They were always ready to use people like her, use them until there was nothing left to use.

She told herself they were just stories, Galier was clearly different, he had given her food, a place to live far better than any she had even seen before. And Saphi, the matronly woman reminded her of her mother, long since passed. They had been good to her even though she had only just met them. They were just stories. But stories could be true.

Soon after showing Lana to her rooms, Saphi had left in order to “find some proper clothes for a lady.” She had sniffed derisively when Lana had asked to keep the jacket but had promised she would not throw it out, only wash it. For the time being, it was all Lana owned aside from a thin linen shift given to her by one of the serving girls who lived there at the inn. It was much too big, there was room for arms and shoulders that hung limply on Lana’s spindly limbs. The garment had been made to be nearly form fitting on the top but it was loose down the whole length on her. The girl who had given it to her had a much more substantial figure. You did not get to keep that long living rough in Maerin.

Supposedly the room was small, the smallest in the inn according to Saphi who seemed unhappy about that fact. It still felt luxurious though, the wood was fine if kept rough, and well cleaned. The floorboards polished to a shine. There was even a small fireplace across from the bed. On a stand against the wall next to the door was a stand with a deep bowl atop it, it was empty now but Saphi said she would send up water for the “washbasin.” It all seemed too good. Who would waste such resources on her? Or rather, why? All Galier had asked for was information, some of which may have been important, if she had really known anything. Aside from asking about that assassin of his, he had been content to listen to the stories she would usually trade with the few people she trusted around Maerin. It was not the kind of thing she thought a lord would want to hear. Too much about the misdeeds of his own kind. Perhaps he had not gotten to his actual point yet. She meant to be ready when he did.

Lana was glad that Saphi had not questioned her wanting to keep her knife. It lay on the bed now, wrapped in part of what used to be her shirt. An inch or two of the blade showed but it was dark enough with the patina of old bronze that it did not reflect light. The dull brown of the blade transitioned to mossy green bordering on black as it went from the single edge to the flat. She did not think she needed the weapon now, in fact it would certainly bring more scrutiny than if she did not carry it, but she could not bring herself to be without it. Too many times that length of bronze had been all there was to save her from the grasping hands of drunken men. Sober ones too, even women sometimes. Enough to drink or the relative anonymity of night could stoke the coals of lust in many. She shivered just thinking about it. It would be good to stay somewhere away from all of that.

She did not have to wait too long before Saphi returned, a pair of serving girls in tow, each of the three women carrying small bundles of fabric. They deposited their bundles on the bed and Saphi waved the others out of the room, probably trying to preserve Lana’s modesty. She did not have the heart to tell the older woman that there was little left to preserve.

“Well,” Saphi said briskly, she seemed dissatisfied. “This was the best we could manage on short notice, hopefully something will fit.” She began to unroll one of the bundles. Lana moved to help but her hands were slapped away.

“Sometimes it seems the lord Caerest’s visitors leave more than they arrive with.” She looked up to Lana and blinked slowly. “Oh, I mean…” She swallowed and busied herself with picking a dress out of the bundle. At least it was clear what Saphi thought Lana was doing there at the inn.

The dress she finally pulled out was of plain grey wool, it was probably the simplest of the dresses on the bed but even still, it was decorated with geometric patterns along the cuffs and hems in fine embroidery. The fabric was slit from the hem nearly to the knee in the middle, probably to show off fancy petticoats but it would also allow the wearer a little more mobility. Saphi tossed it aside quickly, it was clearly not up to snuff for her even though hers was just as plain. The next one she pulled out was much more extravagant, all bright blue with enough embroidery that it was a wonder the fabric did not fall apart. The rest were similar, the next one always gaudier than the one before it. Eventually, ten in total were laid out in a pile on the bed.

Saphi had Lana go through them and put aside the ones she did not want to wear but each time she tried, it prompted a sigh or sniff from Saphi who clearly had her own ideas about what was appropriate. It took much consideration and looking at dresses so hideously over decorated they made Lana’s eyes hurt to convince the older woman that she had indeed decided to pass one by. The going was slow, the massive pile of fabric seemed unending and each time Lana did make a choice, it was clear she was erring in Saphi’s eyes. But eventually, after what seemed like hours, Saphi walked out of the room carrying the remaining dresses that Lana had not liked or that did not fit. She was left with three now, two that she only picked to satisfy the matronly woman. The only one she would even remotely consider was the first, the dull grey with relatively minor embellishment was the closest thing to normal clothes she had been shown.

The dress was much tighter than Lana would have liked. Saphi said it fit well but the way it held her waist was too constricting. It felt like the fabric was holding her ribs in place so that she could hardly even breath. But she could, if only in small gasps. After a time, mostly spent sprawled on the bed, she stopped feeling lightheaded. If a noblewoman could wear such a garment, she could too.

With a pained groan at the pressure on her ribs, Lana managed to sit up. The dress forced her spine to stay entirely straight as if an iron rod had been threaded through it. Her shoulders were held back too far, pressing her chest forward. It was a thoroughly unpleasant feeling, like she did not really have control of her own body. But the tailor had been skilled indeed, even though the dress held her in position, she could barely feel the cloth against her skin. It made her feel incredibly exposed and sent goosebumps down her arms even though the room was still warm. But it was the best option she had. The only one, really. She certainly could not go out in only the light shift and her old clothes were long since gone.

She stood up and walked over to the stand across the door from the bed. The bowl there had been filled while Lana was going through the dresses with cool water, it was nearly miraculous that they managed that, even the canals would be warm to the touch so late into summer. She bent over as best she could in the tight dress and cupped her hands to gently scoop the water. It was clearer than any she had seen, like the top of a rain barrel after a storm. Lana marveled at how flippant they were to waste such pure water. She raised the water to her lips and took a long sip. She could scarcely even taste it but it was as soothing as a long night’s sleep when she swallowed. She eagerly took another sip from the deep basin, and another, and another. She drank until she feared her dress would tear and more. Even still, there was enough water left to cleanse her face and hands. The amount of grime washed off that way was more than a little shocking, it left the water with a noticeable grey tinge.

When she finally looked in the mirror behind the basin on the stand, the difference was striking. Her arms looked to be sleeved in sheer grey compared to her hands and face. Droplets splashed up from the bowl traced lines down ending at her wrists. She shivered looking at herself. She was nearly unrecognizable. The gaunt look of her cheeks was lessened greatly without the dirt and grime and though her oily hair still hung limply off her head, when she tucked it behind her ears it almost looked purposeful. She smiled weakly at her reflection, she was no lady, not by miles, but the woman she saw reflected back at her made her stomach feel full of butterflies. She returned to the basin to wash her arms up to her shoulders. The dress had no sleeves at all, the garment would be warm enough as it was. Again, tiny rivers dark with the dirt of a lifetime spent in the gutter streamed over her pale skin. It went away so easily, Lana was almost sorry to see it go. As much as the itching, the rashes, the infections were a thorn in her side, so much more were the benefits. A little easier to blend into a shadow, a little less enticing to the eye of a passing man, it was her second skin. She felt naked without it.

Lana shook her head ruefully. Things had changed. Even if she were to return to her life before, skulking in alleys and begging in the streets, it would not be the same. Now that she had seen what the others lived like, only a sliver, so enticing in its mystery, she knew she would not be content to live as she once had. The dresses and finery did not hold her eye, no, it was the privacy. The walls to keep others out, the food that did not have to be won with blood.

She walked back to the bed to retrieve her knife. She had no belt to hold it on, no sheath even, but she would not leave it behind. What she did have was what seemed to be an endless supply of fabric so she uncovered the blade and with a few deft strokes, she cut the hem from another of the dresses on her bed, a length of blue ribbon perhaps an inch wide. It would do. With more effort than was reasonable, she hiked up her skirts and lashed the exposed blade to her thigh with the ribbon. It held surprisingly well, she worried more about it falling than any injury. She was left with a piece of ribbon as long as her forearm, on a whim she took her greasy hair in hand and tied it handily behind her head, with the ribbon, it looked purposeful. More importantly, it would keep her hair out of the way.

She turned back to the mirror. She looked little different, the knife could not be seen and her hair looked practically the same but she was satisfied. The woman she saw in the mirror was someone she would not beg from nor ponder robbing. A woman of such middling means as to go unnoticed in any crowd. She smiled. Perhaps her arms were too thin for a proper lady, perhaps her eyes were too sunken but she would not be taken for a guttersnipe when she skulked around corners. The dress, for all of its shortcomings, would be made to work for her.

Now looking like an entirely new woman, Lana exited her room, careful to lock it behind her with the key given to her by Saphi. There was nothing in the room worth stealing, nothing that even belonged to her but it felt good to be able to do it. To be able to shut the door and know nobody would be waiting for her in there upon her return. She placed the key on its string around her neck, the key itself was barely hidden by the neckline to her dismay.

In the common room below, a crowd had begun to form. At the bar sat a pair of men, both clothed in jackets as elaborate as Galier’s, no doubt as expensive as well. Lana wondered where Saphi had taken that jacket, she meant to get it back. She had earned it. Besides, if this situation were not as long term as Galier had made it seem, it would sell for a sizable sum.

The few occupied tables in the common room were quiet. Of the two rows going down the length of the room, only one row had any occupants. Three men in total, two at one table and another alone at a table far enough away from the others that it was clear he meant to be alone. He leaned against the post that separated his table from the next. Such posts divided every table from the others without it looking to be purposeful but Lana doubted the ceiling really needed the support.

Aside from the five men, nobody else was in the common room. Even the servers seemed to all be busy in the kitchens or elsewhere. A woman appeared behind the bar as Lana crossed to the door but Lana did not recognize her.

When she passed through the door, the afternoon sun lanced painfully into her eyes. It was a cloudless day, the sun stood bright and domineering overhead. Usually she would be huddled in a hollow along the canals at this time of day or else begging from underneath an awning if she could find a spot devoid of guards and still rich in foot traffic. Today would have been a bad day for begging, there were few people out. With the sun beating down as it was, she could not blame them.

Once in the street, Lana set off at a brisk walk towards the city proper. She may have made her home in the harbor district but she knew the city better than most. It was a necessary skill. She wagered Galier would be at Derran manor if what she had overhead about him was correct. She knew the way, it was not far.

Her bare feet burned as she walked over the hot cobblestones. Where she could, she kept to the shade as much for the relative camouflage as to ease her feet. The walk was not long by comparison but she did not mean to arrive with burned feet. And so she made her way from shadow to shadow along the widening roads. Even deeper into the city where tall buildings kept the worst of the sun away, few people were to be found. The doors she passed were all shut, nobody stopped to chat and nearly everyone she passed gave her a quick, suspicious look. At first she was concerned. They must see who she really was, the disguise must not have worked, but then she began to notice how they eyed each other, the same suspicion lurked behind their eyes. No matter who passed whom, they gave a wide berth.

Her walk ended when she turned a corner and ahead of her, flanked by a pair of guards, loomed the gates of Derran manor. The guards were clad in bronze even though they stood directly in the sun and they looked to be alert, not lounging or chatting at all. They continually scanned the streets, taking in every thing they saw. Lana quickly crossed the intersection, trying not to show she had stopped at all, but once she passed out of their sight, she paused. The block of buildings she stood by now was split by a thin alley, barely visible from the street, it looked to be just a shadow between the buildings but Lana knew how to spot the nooks and crannies of the city where she could hide or move about without watching eyes.

With a look around to make sure nobody was there to see, Lana slipped into the alley. The buildings on either side left only the barest amount of light in between them. The sun reached less than halfway down the left wall and the diffused light left everything in shades of grey, the stones below barely distinct from the walls built atop them.

The alley was empty, nobody to get in her way. As Lana ran down the alley, she counted her paces and kept watch for any branching paths. She passed two leading in the wrong direction but came to a stop at one that led to a flight of widening stone steps, they probably led up to some shop owner’s dwelling above the ground floor. Lana hunched over as she began to climb them to be sure she would not be seen by unwelcome eyes.

The stairs led to a landing next to a solid bronze bound door on the second floor, as she had expected. From there she had a perfect view of the great gates, just across and down the street from the guards. She could see the manor over the wall, a looming behemoth of whitewashed stone so covered in pillars and fluted columns it was a marvel it did not collapse in on itself. There was no way of telling whether or not Galier was inside but clearly something needed protecting, those guards were not alone. On railed balconies and raised patios there were always a pair of men, not dressed as guards but with swords at their hips and watching eyes. Not a soul moved inside that Lana could see, they were hiding, house Derran was expecting danger.

Lana waited on her landing perch for what she judged to be a quarter hour before moving on. There had to be another entrance into the manor grounds. If their guards were anything to go by, these lords were prepared for attack, and that meant a back way out.

Lana walked around the manor grounds surveying as innocuously as she could. The walled complex took up several city blocks itself and often shops and houses were built right up against it. Even alleys between them were sparse and every section of wall she saw was unbroken by door or portcullis. She eventually rounded the whole building having found no other way in, not even a rough enough patch of wall or one with vines to provide footholds.

As she was approaching the gate again, still out of sight around the corner, she heard the groaning of the heavy doors’ hinges. It was opening, or closing perhaps. She quickened her pace to peer around the corner and found to her dismay that the doors were in fact closing, closed now. She did not catch a glimpse of who had gone inside, not that it really mattered. She frowned with distaste at having missed the chance to see inside the gate.

It was futile to find a way in and Lana was beginning to feel hungry again. No doubt she would have the chance to follow Galier more closely the next time he visited. It would be fascinating to see inside one of those massive manors, she had heard such stories about the splendor within and was now beginning to believe them. Perhaps she could even convince him to bring her along. She decided to make her way back towards the inn, careful to keep a street away from the one leading up to the gates. It always paid to keep out of sight of guards, no matter who they worked for.

Again she was struck by the lack of people in the streets. In the past, no matter the time of day, when she dared venture into the higher levels of the city, crowds choked the wide streets. There were always chariots and chairs held aloft by porters, carriages even. But now there was not a soul. Not a single other person occupied the broad road. There was no crowd to blend into and no passive watchers to see her every move. It was freeing, to move without restriction and yet there always felt to be eyes on her, watching her even though all the windows she passed were shuttered tight. That too was odd. It was a bright day, nobody, not even a noble would waste lamp oil when there was plentiful sunlight out of doors. It all just felt so strange. Lana kept to the sides of the road, within arms reach of the tall walls bordering the open space.

As she neared the intersection of her road with the one she had taken up into the city from the inn, she heard footsteps, loud ones, and laughing, at least two voices. She rushed forward a few paces to where a door was recessed a pace from the road and tucked herself into the hollow just as the footsteps she had heard passed the intersection. They kept on down their road towards the harbor district without missing a step and once Lana was sure they were out of sight around the corner, she peeked out of the doorway she had taken refuge in. The streets were empty again, only a ghostly wind distured the empty quiet. In the late summer heat, Lana thought she felt a chill. The strangeness of the empty streets was getting the better of her.

She would have to follow those men to get back to the inn, even taking alleys and side roads, she would be unlikely to avoid them if they were indeed heading for the harbor. She poked her head around the corner and saw the two men, shadowed by the afternoon sun. Both men were tall and clad in jackets far too heavy for summer, unsurprising for nobles. What was surprising was that they were alone, no guards, no chariot, not even a servant at their heels. One man stood a few inches taller than the other with broader shoulders and muscles that pressed on the sleeves of his jacket. Not as bulky as a tavern rough, he reminded Lana of a soldier though something about the way he moved had her watching him suspiciously, like she would a stranger encountered in a dark alley. He carried himself like a burglar, as ready to bolt out of sight as to ram a knife into your chest.

Lana decided it would be best to keep out of sight of the two men, at least until she determined their destination. She kept to the edges of the road, keeping track of the alleys and doorways she could hide in. She moved in a partial crouch, all that her dress would allow, always staying on her toes, ready to take cover. It was not so different from her days near the harbor she thought to herself with a wry grin. Here at least there were no guards to find her suspicious. None to help if she were caught by these men either.

As she followed the pair of men, she slowly closed distance, always careful to keep a nook to hide her between them but drifting ever closer. She could hear the murmur of their distant voices and an occasional laugh would break the quiet but no words. As she neared, she began to be able to make out their voices and was immediately shocked to stillness. She recognized one of the voices, she had not recognized him in the daylight and in his understated clothes but the smaller of the two men was certainly Galier, the voice was identical, if more jovial now. That made the other Jormand Derran then. She had expected him to be taller.

Suddenly she no longer crept behind the two men out of fear but out of embarrassment. She had meant to follow Galier to the manor but for some reason the thought of him catching her stalking after him left her cheeks flushed. She stopped in her tracks, thankful that her bare feet made no sound on the cobblestones. She would just have to find a way to get ahead of them and make it to the inn before they arrived.

Her opportunity presented itself not long after. A side street led to another that seemed to run roughly parallel to the one Galier and Jormand were taking. Lana took the chance and dashed around the corner, her dress flapping around her. It made far more noise than she would have liked but this street, like all the others, was completely devoid of traffic. She ran until she began to hear the sea again. She was nearing the harbor. The constant rush of waves and screams of gulls overhead were enough warning. She turned back towards the main thoroughfare, she hoped she was far enough ahead of the two men. She did not know how much time she had lost in taking the side street, it was best to hurry.

She took the turn at a dead run, bursting around the corner directly into the side of the man walking there. Her forehead collided with his shoulder and she fell back, catching herself on outstretched hands that were scraped on the cobbles. She looked up in a daze and flushed deeply when she saw who it was she had run into. Galier was still regaining his footing, looking just as startled as she. He had fallen against Jormand who was now pushing the smaller man back onto his feet with one hand. The other held a long, single edged knife just like the kind Lana had seen some of the more dangerous looking sailors carry. He certainly looked ready to use it. That heavy brow shadowed narrowed eyes that gleamed menacingly. Lana swallowed hard, she considered reaching for her own knife but she doubted if she could get a hold of it in time if that man decided to attack.

“No need for that, Jor.” Galier was saying, patting Jormand’s arm in a consoling way, he did not seem in the least bit concerned about the foot of bare blade in his friend’s hand.

“I… I’m sorry, sir… uh, lord Galier….” She stammered, still fumbling on the ground. The dress made standing far harder than she thought it would have. The cloth would not let her get her feet solidly on the cobblestones.

Galier turned to her with a grin, shaking his head as if to accept the fault himself. “Nonsense, I ought to look where I walk, it pays to be prudent. Here.” He offered her a hand which she gratefully took. If he had seemed none too strong when she ran into him, his hand certainly was now. He hauled her to her feet easily and dusted off her shoulders with that grin still on his face, as if any dust on her dress would even be visible on the grey wool. His attentions made Lana blush again, it was too familiar, she itched to back away but did not want to offend, especially not with that man hulking behind him, knife still in hand.

“This is the woman I was telling you about, Jor. Lana, this is the lord Jormand Derran.” Again Galier eased Jormand’s knife hand down and this time he complied, though he did not put it away.

“She’s not wearing shoes, Galier.” Jormand’s voice was flat and low, as if he were expecting someone to be listening in on the conversation but higher pitched than Lana would have expected from a man his size, it was nearly comical but she was more preoccupied with shifting her feet nervously. She had not thought to ask for shoes back at the inn. During the summer she was used to going barefoot. Better to be quiet. Better to be unnoticed.

“Oh, well, we’ll fix her up, give me a day at the shops and she’ll look every bit the country lady.” He seemed confident in what he said, not a hint of humor. Lana was stunned. Her? A lady? What were these two planning? It seemed they had a scheme worked out around her already and she did not care for it. But Galier was the ticket to a soft bed and hearty meals. And privacy away from the streets. She licked her lips. She could be a pawn in their scheme if it meant security. At least for now.

Jormand shook his head, clearly he did not believe in Galier’s transformative abilities but he finally put that blade away. He reached out the hand towards Lana, palm down. She eyed it suspiciously, weapons could be hidden anywhere and she still did not trust that look in his eyes. He gave no regard for her hesitation but grasped her shoulder in that hand of his and gripped nearly painfully. “Well met,” He said gruffly.

Lana blinked in confusion but then the awkward moment was over. Jormand let her go and began to walk again, down towards the harbor. Galier followed and beckoned to Lana. She scampered along after then, staying a pace behind and casting the occasional look over her shoulder. The streets remained empty as far as she could see.