I was able to conduct a full conversation with the woman who broke in yesterday evening. I fear I must proceed with her carefully. Something angered her yesterday atop the balcony, some news relating to her friends; all of whom seem to have abandoned her. Anger would of course be expected from one in her position, however the results of said anger were anything but expected. Once news of her abandonment was shared, she bore the expression of one about to do bloody murder, and almost in correspondence the wind rose. The wind. This sounds foolish, I realise as I write it, but I could feel anger those gusts. Atop the balcony, exposed to the elements as I was, the experience was quite terrifying. And once her mood had subsided, immediately, the sinister wind subsided also. Thus, to say I am excited to study this one would be an understatement.

Journal Entry – Ozymun Ayar

Rufford, his family, their guards and their servants occupied a large townhouse near the centre of the old city, not far at all from the keep. Or so Ozymun told her.

He seems to know quite a lot about this rival of his.

He also knew for a fact that Rufford powdered his whole face before his every presence at court. And in that detail lay the premise for Ozymun’s scheme for revenge. Kara sat and listened as the wizard lay out his master plan. Under cover of darkness Kara would climb down from his tower and sneak out of the keep. She would follow Ozymun’s directions and descriptions to find Rufford’s townhouse. Once inside she would locate his chamber, his dresser and then his powders. She would take a powdered solution of Ozymun’s design and mix it into Rufford’s make-up. Then, before his next date at court, he would unknowingly apply the mixture to his own face. By Ozymun’s calculations it would take around three hours for the solution to take full effect. It would cause hairs to grow profusely from every patch of skin onto which the solution was applied.

Kara did not withhold her opinion that it was a stupendous amount of effort to go through for what was, at its core, a childish prank. Ozymun, however, insisted it was all required to send exactly the message he intended to send. Ultimately, Kara didn’t care. She heard very clearly how much Ozymun intended to pay her for her part in his scheme. For that much she wouldn’t have minded cutting the heads off Rufford’s dolls or dunking his head in a chamber pot. She donned the same all-black outfit she had worn when she climbed up into Ozymun’s tower. Ozymun had repaired the sleeve that he cut open two days prior – there was no mark or any sign of a stitch – and in its narrow pockets she placed Ozymun’s hair-growing bull-shite and an invisibility potion he gifted her; in case of imminent detection, to use his wording. Ready, she clambered over the parapet of the terrace and made her steady way down the tower.

With darkness on her side, getting out of the keep was just as simple as getting in. From the base of the wizard’s tower she waited and watched, until opportunity presented itself. One of the guardsmen abandoned his post briefly to talk with another – something about a rash – and before he had turned around she was halfway up the outer wall of the keep. Skulking around the rich part of any town was never as easy; wide streets, the occasional patrolling guard, lanterns that actually had oil in them. Gradually, by keeping to alleys and only venturing out into open streets when no eyes were around, Kara reached the townhouse.

Large had been an understatement on Ozymun’s part. Kara thought if all the townhouses she had robbed were built on one street, smallest to largest, this one would certainly be close to the large-end. Only two floors, but wide, built around a spacious central courtyard with trees and even a pond.

In the middle of a bloody city.

Nothing she hadn’t managed before, but this time there had been no reconnaissance by the troupe, and Bull would not be hiding out nearby in case something went amiss. She made a lap around the perimeter of the house; on the south side a small garden lay before the main entrance, behind a high grey-stone wall. Everywhere else the house came right up to the street. A couple of postern doors lead out into alleyways on the north and east sides. There were glass windows dotted around the entire building, but none were open. Thankfully few of them showed any lights or signs of life coming from the inside.

I could try and force one of the windows open. Maybe one isn’t locked? Or I could get onto the roof. Maybe they have a door that leads up there?

As much as she hated to think it now, this would have been easier with the troupe’s help.

A creaking noise warned Kara that a door was opening. It was one of the north-side postern doors of the townhouse. A door she happened to be passing right by. She leapt against the wall beside the door as it swung inwards and a large man wearing a greasy apron walked out, and then a skinny fellow whose formal serving attire had been made comfortable by the loosening of collars, the undoing of buttons and the rolling of sleeves.

“I don’t know why I let him speak to me like that” started the skinny one.

“Because he’s your boss, you dolt” chuckled the cook, as he reached into a pocket and produced a roll of tobacco.

Kara’s hand rested on the pocket with the invisibility potion, but she didn’t reach for it. Yet. No need. The cook and the servant had left the door wide open behind them in their hurry to smoke. She sidestepped into it, and disappeared through the kitchens and into the house.

The kitchen led directly out into a grand dining room. It was lit, but dimly. Beyond was the main entrance and the stairway. Candles dotted the walls; not many, but enough that any wandering the house in the night would see her clearly enough. She felt for the invisibility potion inside her pocket again, just to reassure herself it was still there. “I don’t know why I let him speak to me like that” the servant had said.

So Rufford is awake.

The longer Kara remained in the open like she was, the greater the chance of her being seen. As such, she leapt up the stairs; silently, but at a lightning pace, touching only every third step. In the second floor corridor most of the lamps were unlit, and no light crept under any of the doors.

He must be downstairs.

Deftly she opened each door, peeked into each room, and closed the doors, one at a time until she found Rufford’s chambers. A couple of guest rooms gave her pause, but none had the lavishness she would expect from a man who owned a house with a pond and talked down to his servants. And powders his bloody face. Finally, a marble fireplace, vibrant red carpets, a king-sized four-poster bed and a lavish, mirrored vanity table with lions-sejant for legs told her the search was over.

Silently, Kara closed the door behind her and moved to the table. She had been in the house only minutes, but already she felt as if she had over-stayed. She opened the first drawer and, inside, found the green-and-yellow-painted tin container Ozymun had told her about. Trying not to think about how Ozymun knew the colour of the container, Kara unscrewed the top, poured Ozymun’s mixture in and stirred the two together with a gloved finger. Next to the container were some rings and necklaces; mostly gold, set with various precious stones. Her eyes lingered on them for longer than a moment as she pugnaciously brushed the remainders of powder from her gloves, but the young thief remembered what Ozymun had said.

Take nothing. There must be no evidence anyone had been there.

Her task complete, Kara reluctantly left the scene of the crime empty-handed and made for a wash-room she had poked her head into while searching for the master-chamber.

If I’m to leave a window open, better it’s not Rufford’s actual bedroom.

Inside she resisted the urge to rifle through the different drawers and cabinets, and swung a window outwards, checking none were strolling by on the street below. Kara clambered through the portal and held onto it from the outside by her fingertips. With one hand, she closed the window as much as possible without crushing her fingers. The window mostly closed, she let go and fell softly to the street below. She darted into the nearest alley and wasted no time in getting back to the keep.

Sneaking into the keep and scaling Ozymun’s tower almost seemed routine. She didn’t have to wait long for an opportunity to present itself. Slipping by a man in a green-on-white surcoat petting a stray cat, she wondered if she should pen an anonymous letter to the Duke and let him know of the quite serious flaws with the watch he had set. She put a hand to her mouth to stop herself laughing out loud at the notion of it.

What a terrible thief I would be.

Once atop the terrace, she let herself inside and into Ozymun’s chamber. The wizard, who had been writing something in a leather-bound volume, jumped when he saw her.

“My dear, I had not expected you to return so promptly. Most impressive.” He stashed the book awkwardly in a shelf above his desk and turned to face her. It did not escape her attention that it had been his journal he wrote in. The one she had been caught attempting to steal.

“Now, how much do I owe you?”

Kara smiled wide as the wizard counted out the gold Crowns and placed them gently in her palm.

“For a job well done” he smiled back.

“Remember,” Kara said, “I need you to find someone for me.”

“Yes, I recall. Who are you looking for?”