Her gold cubes had been accepted without balk or question at the inn she now moved toward. There was no reason to change when something so convenient was availed to her. It was strange, she knew that well enough. It would not matter in a few days’ time when the red city was at her back and the hippocamps had moved to surround it, but no innkeep in such a place should take strange currency. At least, no innkeep who suffered delusions of being upstanding. Either the woman had intended to melt the coins and make them usable or there was no more meaning in the faces printed on the golden circles. Her plans did not factor the bother of determining the reasons. Neither did they include plans to be in the city much past sun-up. She had slept enough after her work was done with the faun and the return ride had been slow.
She walked casually through the empty, wide street. There was some motion from the side streets though none which seemed to care much for her passing through the city. Nothing followed, nothing called. The horse sat, dutifully, beside the wall of the inn when they arrived. Aile stepped in, walking with speed toward the bar. The elf woman from before was there. She did not seem to sleep, having been in the tavern any time Aile passed through it. She took two cubes from her bag and placed them on the counter. The woman looked at them.
“I mean to leave in the morning. I will have breakfast as early as you’ll serve it.”
“Keep paying as you do and I’ll wake Cookie with boiling oil.” The elf picked the gold up and rolled them in her hands. “Horse?”
Aile nodded.
“Alright. He’s a sweet thing, that one. Where’d you get him?”
“From a goat.” Aile turned with that and moved for the door. “I will be back near dawn.”
Her horse began to stand when she exited but a sharp point at the dirt sent the animal back down. It complained, shaking its head but Aile wasted no time bothering to soothe it. The horse was a thing, in the end. A useful one but if the thing became a burden, she would be rid of it.
A move away from the main roads brought on thin alleys and darting side streets. A mess of a city, in the best of places. Filthy and packed too tight. At the very least, the streets seemed to play host to few elves. The ones she saw did not see her. Guards were nowhere to be seen. Welcome enough, but curious still. Such a calm would be welcome if she was sure it would not soon turn to something very different. The air reeked of it. The silence was unnatural.
When she came to the famed iron fence of Fásachbaile, an understanding began to form. She climbed the side of a two storey building by ladders and ledges to see a better view of what she was sure she’d seen. When she made the roof, she came to the edge and confirmed the view of passing alley exits. The gate was lined thoroughly with city guards, most no more than arm’s length from the one beside and set a few yards away from the fence itself. She clicked her tongue quietly and crouched. There was no obvious way past the fence, at least where the ground stood, but none of the guards seemed to look above. Half looked to be nearly asleep, which was welcome at least.
Aile made her way down and then toward a walk between the gate and the houses. She was careful not to show herself. A sighting might send a wave of renewed diligence out from whoever spotted her. The Goddess saw fit to bless her as so often she seemed to. A plank poked itself out over the street from a roof just down from where she’d inspected and so she climbed again.
The board itself, she found when she’d come to the roof, was properly affixed to the structure it jutted from. The spikes were fewer above the roof line and the board lined with one perfectly, and even had a near-height leap at the other side. The board was here for this purpose. Curious it had been left as it was. Perhaps it was watched. Aile considered the idea and peered over at the sleeping guards. She scanned roof after roof across the gap and saw nothing which her eyes said to be guards. They may have just been confident enough in the guards who stood watch, or more patrolled beyond. It was of no consequence. She had need of new leathers and she meant to have them.
She leapt from the roof and caught the thin iron spike easily enough. A quick shift gave her leverage enough to cross to the roof at the other side of the gap. The High District was below her now. She had only the rough memory of where the leather worker kept her shop. Toward the Bastion and a left, she remembered. There was nothing to do but move and search, so she did. It was slow work with the guards as they were. Most did no patrolling. Rather, they stood in pairs and spoke of gossip like children, never looking overhead or behind. Their comfort afforded easy passage near enough that she found wider streets, familiar ones. Enough cause to turn left. She had brought a piece of the name from somewhere in her memory. The word “Skin.” It ought to be enough. Signs passed with no such luck and the walls grew a bit closer with each street passed by. She’d considered turning back
