Approach With Intent

After lunch, Zaida was on her way to training; this time for herself. It was not compulsory for knights the way other duties were, but it was important for Merridian's defenders to stay keen, and her absence would be noticed. She traversed the busy street. Plebeians set the ambience with their walk and talk. Aromas from bakeries and kitchens conceded to the occasional sack of spice carried on someone's back. The day was bright and warm, and florists showcased their blooming selections.

The knight was pulled from her sightseeing when she registered a face that tripped her memory. She moved out of the street and reached into her uniform's breast pocket. She pulled out the references and checked them against the originals. Yep, that's them.

Down the street, on the side opposite from her, were the ladies Tivra and Edie had set her after. It could not have been just one or even two of them. No, it had to be the full trio having their midday meal at a café. Zaida returned the portraits to her pocket and sighed. Did she want to do this? It felt cheap, going after them with ulterior motives. Better still, trying guaranteed nothing. A little skirt-hiking was no promise that these women would favour the knights.

Zaida decided she did not feel up to this at the moment, rejoining the flow of commoners to make for the training grounds. She would just pretend she had not seen them. No one could claim that she had.

An attention-inviting whistle sounded, and Zaida looked instinctively.

Damnation.

One of the women had spotted her, and was now beckoning her over with a finger. Zaida resigned herself to her fate and complied. At least they'll think it was their idea. One of them hastily swiped a chair from a nearby table and presented it to her.

"Good day, valiant knight," the first lady greeted. "How are you this afternoon?" She was quite warm toward Zaida for a total stranger.

"Hale and happy, thank you," she answered, taking the seat. She was confident that folks did not usually act so friendly toward knights they were not already close to. "May I ask whose company I am in?"

"Of course! My name is Eposi Nsukula..."

"I am Marisol Palacio..."

"And I am Dvorah Basch."

"And you are...?"

"Zaida."

When first seeing the portraits, Zaida had convinced herself that the illustrations were probably altered for the women's benefit. Such was common - a skilled artist is good at omitting the flaws without compromising the image. Seeing them in person though, she concluded that the illustrator must have made a deliberate effort to downplay their beauty. Why: she could only guess. What was more, the portraits only depicted them from the collar, up. All three of the ladies boasted a chest fit for a fertility deity, with Marisol and Dvorah showcasing their cleavage too. At a later date - when they were not seated - Zaida would learn that they were as endowed in the back as they were in the front.

Eposi was a black woman with an expression of admiration. Her dark eyes scanned Zaida appreciatively. Her dreadlocks cascaded over her shoulders nearly down to her abdomen. She wore a colourful dress with a layering pattern made to look as though she wore progressively shorter skirts over each other. A thick leather belt revealed the shape of her hips beneath.

Marisol had a look of hunger to her. It was nothing vulgar, but Zaida could see in the way her light-brown cheeks pulled back that she was after something; something she trusted would be gladly given to her. Her curly, dark hair was flipped to reach down from one side of her head. She wore a sleeved gown with vine-like textures woven in.

Dvorah gave Zaida an impression of confidence. She smiled almost like she was challenging the knight. Her straight, brown hair was worn long and free. A pair of beauty marks adorned her tanned-white face. She wore a bodice over a skirt and blouse. Onlookers could be forgiven for thinking that the bodice was to thank for her waistline, but it was in fact doing nothing to alter her figure.

"Well, Zaida dear," Eposi said, "pardon my presumption, but I believe you are as new a face in this town as you are in that uniform, yes? On behalf of my friends here and the entirety of Merridian, I would extend to you our sincerest of welcomes." She extended a hand to Zaida, but not for shaking. Rather, her palm was down and her fingers cupped as though she expected the knight to take her hand and kiss it. Zaida did so, but felt a tad awkward performing a salutation she had only seen done before by nobility.

"You are correct," Zaida affirmed. "Would you mind sharing how you know this?"

"We are, each of us, involved in crucial elements of the thriving community you see around you," Marisol said with a showy wave of the hand. "Our stations and connections keep us wise to even the most esoteric goings-on. I, for one, head Merridian's postal service."

"I plan and coordinate the city's waterworks," Dvorah said proudly.

"And I serve among the administrators for each of Merridian's schools; ensuring that none are allowed to fall behind in their moulding of the next generation." Eposi seemed to be fishing for a reaction from Zaida.

"Impressive," the knight nodded. "I have only seen exemplary performance from your respective domains." Had she been more honest, she would have admitted that she did not have more than a passing familiarity with any of them. The fact of the matter was that the ladies did bring about a high degree of performance from their corresponding territories, but not mail, nor reservoirs, nor curriculums were something that a gnoll found time to scrutinize in her eleven days posing as a knight. She simply told them what she thought they wanted to hear.

This is what Tivra and Edie asked for, right?

"Oh, you're too kind." Eposi brought a hand to her own cheek.

"No, I'd say that's simply an accurate assessment."

"Dvorah!" Marisol softly exclaimed in disapproval of her friend's playful arrogance.

"On a different matter, Miss Zaida: I was hoping for your take." Eposi laced her fingers and leaned in, clearly meaning to transition to a more serious topic.

"On what?"

"As one of the gallant guardians of our fair city, I assume you are savvy to circulating rumours regarding potential breaches."

"I... would like to think so." Zaida felt that her heartbeat was growing more audible with each thump.

"Then is there anything you could tell us? Anything that isn't... public knowledge?"

All three of the women had closed on Zaida. She found herself leaning as far back into the chair as she could while keeping all legs on the ground.

"Erm, no. I can't. I mean, it's not that I can't; it's just that there's nothing to say. There was a sighting, and that's all. Nothing else is known," she stammered. Had it always been this hot out? "Now if you'll, ahem, excuse me... I ought to return to my duties. Ah... knight guarding- I mean guarding the town..."

A tongue-tied mess, Zaida backed out her seat to leave. Feeling flustered, and on the edge of the street as she was, she stood and turned abruptly, crashing into a passerby. They were carrying a full bag of ground cumin, which Zaida learned when the collision gave her a face full of it. She accidentally inhaled some, sending herself into a coughing fit.

"Geod's breeches! Watch where you're going!" exclaimed the pedestrian, scrambling to save whatever spice had not wound up in Zaida's lungs.

"I'm sorry!" Zaida cried when she had her breath back. "I'm so sorry!" She wiped the powder from her irritated eyes. Yorresie stood before her, clutching a less-than-full cumin sack. "I... ahchoo!"

"You again? Aren't you knights ever not causing trouble?" the nun scolded.

"My- ahchoo! apologies... ahchoo!"

"Oh dear. Let us help you with that," Eposi said, standing with the other ladies.

"No! No, I'm- ahchoo! I'm just- ahchoo! Bye!" Not liking anything about the situation, Zaida took off with a power walk, only barely avoiding knocking into additional townsfolk.

Two more pumps of the well and Zaida rinsed the last of the cumin from herself. She blew her nose. Okay, now it's all gone. What a calamity that had been. When the ladies had alluded to her exposure last week, she had been alarmed by the possibility that they knew too much. Right after that talk of hearing about everything that happens in Merridian, Zaida could not convince herself that they meant anything else by it. Of course, being encroached upon by the three of them had not made the situation any less anxious. On top of that, she had gotten drowned with a spice. The straw that had broken the camel's back was seeing that she had angered that intimidating nun from the school again. Running away had been the only option.

"Ahchoo!"

Nope, still some left. Zaida did her best to clean her nose, but no matter what, the smell of cumin did not seem to be going anywhere soon. Ah well, should make laundry duty easier later.

Navigation was hard with one's eyes watering. The knight took the time to get her bearings. She spotted a sign that designated the place as 'Boner's Square' - the former home of a prominent butchery in Merridian. This was the place Isolt had mentioned. Zaida looked about, and sure enough, there was the tavern, not thirty paces away. Drying her face on her sleeve, she walked in.

Things were slow within, as one might expect in the early afternoon. Out of the sun it was cooler, but the air was thicker as the windows struggled to equalize the atmosphere with the interior. The yeasty smell that hung there was lost on Zaida's contaminated nose.

She scanned what few patrons were present before picking out a royal knight from the corner booth. For someone awaiting potential recruits, he had chosen a strangely out-of-the-way spot to linger. He had his boots kicked up on the table and was balancing a dagger by its point between his fingers; the picture of a bored man.

Zaida strolled over. "Excuse me, I'm here for Isolt."

With his focus disturbed, the knife fell, eliciting a thunk when the grip struck his breastplate. He looked up at the Merridian knight and blinked with surprise, as though he had not been expecting anyone older than sixteen. "Uh, 'kay..." By the way it took him a moment to think of how to proceed, Zaida guessed he had not had many seek him out.

He stood, leaving his tankard on the table and motioned for Zaida to follow him toward the staircase. He paused halfway across the room, looking at the barmaid and pointing to his corner. "I'm not done there."

"Empty booth's an empty booth, love," the barmaid shrugged apathetically.

The royal knight reached into a pocket, pulled out two coins, and set them on the bar. "I'm not done there."

"Reservation for one," the barmaid confirmed. She accepted the money, dropping it into an out-of-reach chest.

The royal knight took Zaida upstairs, past a number of... rather noisy rental rooms. Clearly the first floor was much busier than the ground floor in this establishment. One door opened as they passed, admitting a figure - buried in a heap of a cloak - into the hallway. Before closing the portal behind them, the figure turned and waved to someone else inside. Zaida caught a glimpse of a very euphoric looking woman waving back from the bed.

"Sss-ee you later, my precious blossom," sang the figure. He pulled the door shut then noticed the two knights standing there that had witnessed the exchange. Zaida could tell by his body language that he did not care. "Oh Markil, I'm in love! Let us never leave thi-sss magical town," he said dreamily.

His voice was raspy, like what a snake's sheddings would sound like if they could speak. The cloak that bound him was total in its coverage. Only a horizontal gap offered him vision of the world. It was too narrow for anyone to see into, though. His gloved hands were clasped to his chest like he was trying to maintain possession of his heart. Zaida guessed that he must have been cooking alive in such an outfit.

"Get your head out of your ass, Madwick," the royal knight snarled at him. "She's a harlot! She'd follow you to the altar so long as you pay."

"Sss-lander!" the cloaked man refused. "Do not sss-peak of my enchanting sss-ongbird like that! I know her occupation, but what we have between us is real! I can tell!"

"Whatever," Markil dropped the matter. "We have someone here who wants to enlist." He jerked a thumb at Zaida.

"Oh, finally!" Madwick raised his fists in grateful celebration.

"I never said I was here to enlist," Zaida corrected.

"What? Then what are you wasting my time for?" Markil groaned as though he had not been on boredom's gallows downstairs.

"I want to speak with Isolt."

"She's not here right now," Markil said like it was something Zaida could have known. "Tell us and we'll tell her when she gets back."

"No," Zaida declined. "I'll tell Isolt. Where can I find her?" Even if the matter she wanted to discuss had not been of a sensitive nature, Markil had made far too poor a first impression for her to trust him with anything.

The royal knight rolled his eyes. He did not give enough of a damn to challenge this backwater bouncer any further. "She'll come back here this evening; sometime after supper."

"Then so will I. Thank you for carving time for me into your busy schedule." Zaida gave a mocking curtsy and made for the stairs to leave the tavern.

"Shit heel," Markil spat when she was out of earshot. "Made me pay for the booth for nothing..." He looked to Madwick, who appeared to be daydreaming about the woman inside the rental room. "Hey, get your mind out of the gutter, green-dick." He pulled the head of the cloak down, obscuring Madwick's window. "We're here for business, not pleasure. So spend less time draining your balls in some whore, and more time on burning this town from the inside out."

"Maybe I sss-hould hire you a tramp!" Madwick growled once he had wrestled his cloak back into place. "Lord's unholy ass you're in-sss-ufferable! Find an outlet!" The channeler marched off in a worse mood than Zaida.