Moving away from the Inn just as the sun was starting to rise, he turned to make his way towards the Market. As he moved down the road, mindful of the puddles of slush here out a habit to move quietly more than any concern over getting wet his hand slipped to a pouch at his hip, fingers finding the smooth round stone he had put there after she had returned it to him. It played between his fingers for a few moments before he pulled his hand free once again.
Less than two days ago it was about her neck, he doubted S'jira had removed it even to bathe in the months since he first slipped it about her neck as a sign of his claim over her. The weeks had gone by quickly and she had made great changes in that time, he often would find himself wondering just how she viewed him. While he felt she was beyond looking to him as a master, the alternative possibly put him at even less ease.
Passing in to the area that was the Market Place, shop fronts were just starting to be opened, the sound of cart wheels against cobbles as the city was waking for another day. Slipping past the book store he could smell the fresh baked pastries in the oven of the tea shop inside and then he turned down an alley that snaked it's way across the next couple of blocks.
At first, he had figured it was nothing more than her trying to appease her new 'master'. The over the following days and weeks he tried to tell himself it was just a crush. She was ....beautiful, of that there was no doubt. Not that the thought of taking her to his bed had not crossed his mind, but he was nearly twice her age. And he had promised himself he would not take her like that while she still thought herself as 'his', not in that way. No matter how he felt about her, to do so would be ....wrong. But by the gods, there were times he could not get her out of his mind. Her soft voice, the gentle smile, and her scent. Even now he could smell it as if she were standing next to him.
A slight shift in direction and he paused near the back door of one of the and made as if he was looking from doorway to doorway, pulling a piece of parchment from his pouch he glanced to the blank surface, and then scanned the different doorways again. The casual observer would likely consider him to be looking to match a shop name or other description to one of the various rear entries, when actually he was taking the time to verify there was nobody else within sight or earshot. Reaching up with one hand he raked his fingers through still damp hair before back-tracking the way he came by a few doorways.
A latch is lifted and the door under the unmarked entry swings open on very well oiled hinges. He moves inside, closing the door behind him. The short hallway is lit by a dim oil lamp mounted on the wall to his right. There is another door a few paces further in, a rather solid looking one. But rather than moving to it, he turns and raps out a short series of knocks on the wall to his left. A moment goes by and what looked to be a knothole in a board that makes up the wall opens up and an eye is just barely seen in the darkness beyond.
"Yar errly" a gravely voice is heard from behind the wall.
"I said by 8. It is not yet then. And I know he is up or you would not be."
There was a short pause, the knothole was replaced and the sound of iron against wood was heard, and then a section of the wall swung silently inward. A brief glance was made to the one guarding the doorway, and while half a head shorter than he was, the guard was nearly twice his weight. A polite nod was given as his cloak and pouch were put to a hook at the landing, the piece of parchment was flashed to the guard and he moved down the staircase that took two, three, and then a fourth turn before coming to a landing in the cellar of the building overhead. The room there was simple, but clean and well kept. Some nice rugs on the floor and a few comfortable chairs were grouped near each other near what could well be described as a throne of sorts. A high back, plush chair, ornately decorated with embroidery and bead work on a slightly raised platform against the back wall of the room. There were a number of doors on a couple of the walls that led to rooms and passes that connected to other cellars.
The lamps were still burning low as he moved to stand behind one of the chairs closest the 'throne'. Now he would wait, and he knew it. It was part of the game, part of the dance. His fingertip drummed lightly on the back of the chair as he stood there. He did not gaze about the room. He had been here enough to know all the details of the things about him. And other than a chair or two being arranged differently at times, nothing here changed.
The minutes ticked by and one of the doors opened. That is one thing that did change, it seemed each time he entered, Aziz would come from a random door. It too was part of the game. The door was opened by a guard, who entered the room and then held the door as Aziz entered, dressed in a finely tailor clothes. Nothing flashy, but definitely of high quality and the finest weaves. A polite nod was given to Aziz as he moved to sit upon his throne and motioned for his guest to have a seat as well.
A quick glance was made to the guard who remained by the door Aziz had entered from and he moved around to sit in the chair he had been standing behind.
"This visit is unexpected my friend," the caramel smooth voice of Aziz said, "is your client looking for work so soon again?"
A slight shake of his head. "No, things are fine in that regard. I come on behalf of another client...." That elicited a slight raise of an eyebrow from Aziz "....more of a personal favor for a friend I suppose." Friend of a friend, more of the game. "When it was brought to me, I felt it was something a man of your....influence was the best to ask for help." The parchment he had been holding was offered out and taken.
"I am looking for anything and everything there is to know about that symbol. This will likely go beyond RhyDin. All questions should be asked discretely of course."
"Of course." Aziz replied, then glanced over to the parchment, finding a rubbing that showed a circle, inside of which was a hawk, a pair of swords clutched in it's talons.
Less than two days ago it was about her neck, he doubted S'jira had removed it even to bathe in the months since he first slipped it about her neck as a sign of his claim over her. The weeks had gone by quickly and she had made great changes in that time, he often would find himself wondering just how she viewed him. While he felt she was beyond looking to him as a master, the alternative possibly put him at even less ease.
Passing in to the area that was the Market Place, shop fronts were just starting to be opened, the sound of cart wheels against cobbles as the city was waking for another day. Slipping past the book store he could smell the fresh baked pastries in the oven of the tea shop inside and then he turned down an alley that snaked it's way across the next couple of blocks.
At first, he had figured it was nothing more than her trying to appease her new 'master'. The over the following days and weeks he tried to tell himself it was just a crush. She was ....beautiful, of that there was no doubt. Not that the thought of taking her to his bed had not crossed his mind, but he was nearly twice her age. And he had promised himself he would not take her like that while she still thought herself as 'his', not in that way. No matter how he felt about her, to do so would be ....wrong. But by the gods, there were times he could not get her out of his mind. Her soft voice, the gentle smile, and her scent. Even now he could smell it as if she were standing next to him.
A slight shift in direction and he paused near the back door of one of the and made as if he was looking from doorway to doorway, pulling a piece of parchment from his pouch he glanced to the blank surface, and then scanned the different doorways again. The casual observer would likely consider him to be looking to match a shop name or other description to one of the various rear entries, when actually he was taking the time to verify there was nobody else within sight or earshot. Reaching up with one hand he raked his fingers through still damp hair before back-tracking the way he came by a few doorways.
A latch is lifted and the door under the unmarked entry swings open on very well oiled hinges. He moves inside, closing the door behind him. The short hallway is lit by a dim oil lamp mounted on the wall to his right. There is another door a few paces further in, a rather solid looking one. But rather than moving to it, he turns and raps out a short series of knocks on the wall to his left. A moment goes by and what looked to be a knothole in a board that makes up the wall opens up and an eye is just barely seen in the darkness beyond.
"Yar errly" a gravely voice is heard from behind the wall.
"I said by 8. It is not yet then. And I know he is up or you would not be."
There was a short pause, the knothole was replaced and the sound of iron against wood was heard, and then a section of the wall swung silently inward. A brief glance was made to the one guarding the doorway, and while half a head shorter than he was, the guard was nearly twice his weight. A polite nod was given as his cloak and pouch were put to a hook at the landing, the piece of parchment was flashed to the guard and he moved down the staircase that took two, three, and then a fourth turn before coming to a landing in the cellar of the building overhead. The room there was simple, but clean and well kept. Some nice rugs on the floor and a few comfortable chairs were grouped near each other near what could well be described as a throne of sorts. A high back, plush chair, ornately decorated with embroidery and bead work on a slightly raised platform against the back wall of the room. There were a number of doors on a couple of the walls that led to rooms and passes that connected to other cellars.
The lamps were still burning low as he moved to stand behind one of the chairs closest the 'throne'. Now he would wait, and he knew it. It was part of the game, part of the dance. His fingertip drummed lightly on the back of the chair as he stood there. He did not gaze about the room. He had been here enough to know all the details of the things about him. And other than a chair or two being arranged differently at times, nothing here changed.
The minutes ticked by and one of the doors opened. That is one thing that did change, it seemed each time he entered, Aziz would come from a random door. It too was part of the game. The door was opened by a guard, who entered the room and then held the door as Aziz entered, dressed in a finely tailor clothes. Nothing flashy, but definitely of high quality and the finest weaves. A polite nod was given to Aziz as he moved to sit upon his throne and motioned for his guest to have a seat as well.
A quick glance was made to the guard who remained by the door Aziz had entered from and he moved around to sit in the chair he had been standing behind.
"This visit is unexpected my friend," the caramel smooth voice of Aziz said, "is your client looking for work so soon again?"
A slight shake of his head. "No, things are fine in that regard. I come on behalf of another client...." That elicited a slight raise of an eyebrow from Aziz "....more of a personal favor for a friend I suppose." Friend of a friend, more of the game. "When it was brought to me, I felt it was something a man of your....influence was the best to ask for help." The parchment he had been holding was offered out and taken.
"I am looking for anything and everything there is to know about that symbol. This will likely go beyond RhyDin. All questions should be asked discretely of course."
"Of course." Aziz replied, then glanced over to the parchment, finding a rubbing that showed a circle, inside of which was a hawk, a pair of swords clutched in it's talons.