Agent of the Dragon

The cacophony of people and gulls assaulted Rhysa’s ears as the crew finished securing the ship to the pier. The trip had been largely uneventful except for a bout of seasickness at the beginning. She picked up her satchel, checked to be sure her sword was wrapped and her daggers well hidden, and headed down the gangway and into the crowd. She had a couple changes of clothes in her satchel, as well as a whetstone and polishing cloth. Her belt pouch contained a few coins and a letter to a factor in town authorizing a credit on a Royal account through several intermediaries. In a secret pocket, the pouch also contained a letter of introduction to a Royal Agent contact who operated in this country.

Her first order of business was to find a place to stay. She walked by the first several inns because they were too close to the docks. The crowd thinned out a bit as she made her way away from the waterfront districts. She looked at the buildings, the people, and shops. This seemed to be a middle class merchant district. It would do. She began looking for a suitable inn.

The inn she chose was appropriate for her persona. The sign bore a picture of a woman in servant’s clothing waltzing with a man wearing the clothes of a minor noble. Encircling the picture were the words “The Dancing Maid.”

She opened the heavy door and walked in. The common room was nearly empty. No surprise since the lunch rush was over and the dinner rush wasn’t due for another couple of hours. The furniture, as with all the inn furniture she’d seen, was stoutly made, though extra care had obviously gone into what was used in this room. Heavy and durable, the furniture also had a grace of line suggesting violence was uncommon in this inn.

Rhysa approached a large woman in a white apron wiping tables. “Excuse me. Are you the innkeep?” She made her voice polite and a little hesitant. Her persona wouldn’t have Rhysa’s bold confidence.

The woman straightened and looked Rhysa over. Apparently satisfied, she smiled. “That I am, Missy. Are you looking for a room?”

Rhysa nodded.

“We have a couple free right now. The cost is one Silver per night. Two Silvers will get you the room and any two meals you care to eat here.”

Rhysa pretended to think then nodded. “That will do very well.”

The woman turned and strode to stand behind a counter at the back of the room. She reached under the counter and took out a large book, a quill, and a small inkpot. “Now then. What is your name?”

“Mieryth Kavyn.”

The woman wrote down the name Rhysa had given. Rhysa saw the innkeep had written it beside the number seven.

“Did you wish to take the meals here?”

“For today and tomorrow. I just arrived and will be looking for work.” Rhysa fished out two silver coins from her pouch and handed them to the innkeep.

The innkeep dropped the coins into a box with a slotted top drawn from under the counter, then made a notation next to Mieryth’s name. “Now then. You are Mieryth. My name is Samra; call me Sam.” She shut the book, replaced it under the counter, then opened a drawer and pulled out a key. “Let me show you to your room.”

Sam led the way up a wide set of stairs and down a hallway. She stopped at a door with a painted number seven, and unlocked the door. Rhysa stepped in. It was not luxurious by any means, though much nicer than her slave quarters. Rhysa put her satchel on the bed and looked around. Abruptly, she realized Sam had just asked a question.

“Pardon?”

“Where are you from?”

“Oh. Ellendahl. I lived in Mestin Reach, the capital city.”

“Really? What brings you out here?”

“My husband died several months ago. I only just put off black two weeks back. As soon as I did, some of the creatures that live there started to approach me.” She shivered.

“Creatures?”

“Elves, dwarves, even an orc.” Rhysa shivered again. “Can you imagine?”

Sam nodded understanding. “Well. There aren’t any of those kinds here. We’ve pushed them out of the city and into the wilds where they belong.” She took a breath and tactfully changed topic. “The bathing chamber is at the end of the hall--women on the left, men on the right. I’ll let you freshen up. Come on down when you’re done.” Rhysa nodded and Sam left, closing the door behind her.

Rhysa grabbed a clean set of clothes and headed down the hall to the bathing chamber. She left her sword in her room, still wrapped to avoid questions, though she kept the daggers and the various body-sheaths with her. As she’d hoped, the bathing chamber was empty. She was relieved to see shelves on one wall held towels. She filled a small cauldron with water and placed it over the fire provided for heating water. It was slow, but she wanted to avoid using magic whenever and wherever possible.

One thing she couldn’t avoid using magic for was her disguise. Her red-gold eyes were too distinctive. When she got back to her room, hair still slightly damp, she stood in front of the mirror and examined herself. She tried to keep the amount of magic at a minimum by keeping her physical appearance the same, only changing the superficial details. She’d masked her red eyes with a light blue, changed her hair from white to auburn, and masked her tattoos. Her face still had softly chiseled features, her figure was curved and soft in the right places, and her height still slightly below average. When she satisfied herself the Masking was unshakeable, and even the traces of magic had been hidden, she grabbed her scrip and went down to the common room. As she descended the stairs, she let the Mieryth persona take over.

The common room was still mostly empty, and Sam was nowhere in sight. Mieryth sat at a table near the counter, keeping her back to the stairs and facing the common room and door. A young woman came to the table and asked if Mieryth wanted anything; Mieryth ordered a cup of wine.

The wine was brought and Mieryth leaned back to wait. It wasn’t long before Sam made her way to where Mieryth sat.

“Now then. You said you were looking for work. What did you do in Mestin Reach?”

Mieryth met Sam’s eyes briefly, then lowered them to gaze into her wine. “I was body servant to the Lady of a minor noble House. I can do just about anything a maid can do.” She smiled. “That’s why I chose this inn. Your sign.”

Sam chuckled. “Yes. It does bring in a certain type of person. So body servant and maid, anything else? Can you cook? Sew?”

“I can cook basic things like bread and simple dishes. My sewing is passable, though I’d never make a successful seamstress.”

“Hmm. You’re a bit young, but do you have any experience as a castellan?”

“No. I don’t really have a head for numbers.”

“Well. While you’re looking, I’ll ask around. I have a few connections in the noble houses, and some in the upper class merchants, too.”

Mieryth put on an expression of puzzlement. “Why? We’ve only just met. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but why?”

“Everyone should have the right to start over once in their life.” Sam gestured, taking in the inn around them. “This was my start over. Someone helped me when I needed it. I figure it’s my turn.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Mieryth was stunned, excitement and guilt washed over her. She’d never expected this kind of reception. This could make things easier, even if the guilt caused problems for her conscience.

Sam smiled, apparently taking Mieryth’s speechlessness for gratitude. “Never mind that stuff for now. Why don’t you walk around a bit. Get acquainted with the city. Stay away from the docks when dusk starts to fall, and you’ll be all right. The city guards are very good at keeping the streets safe.”

Mieryth returned Sam’s smile. Sam obviously enjoyed mothering her. She wondered if Sam had any family. “Thank you. It’s a good idea.” She stood. “Do I leave my key with you?”

Sam nodded. “There’s always someone on duty down here. This being a port town, and sea travel being what it is, we sometimes get customers long after other inns have closed their common room.”

Mieryth handed the key to Sam, who put it in the drawer behind the counter. Mieryth glanced around the room once more as if telling herself, “This is home, for now.” Then she went into the city.

The streets were busy, though not crowded. She’d memorized a basic city map, including the locations of her contact and the factor. Her contact was a tailor in the service section. The factor was in the financial section, near the border of the noble district. Mieryth checked the position of the sun and decided she only had time to see one of them.

The streets in the financial section were far quieter than the rest of the market district–at least the parts she’d seen so far. The few people on the streets wore well-tailored clothing preferred by the well to do. A couple wore the fine livery of a trusted servant of some noble or other.

The door she sought was made of ironbound oak and painted green, emblazoned by a scale encircled by a sun-in-glory inlaid in gold--a very distinctive description. She found it attached to a narrow, two-story brownstone building.

The door opened as she climbed the steps, and a young man stepped out. He was short, only slightly taller than she. A lock of his brown hair hung in front of his blue eyes. He pushed it back with an automatic, though ultimately useless gesture.

“Bright the day.” His grin and twinkling eyes cheered her. He eyed her appreciatively, but didn’t stop to talk. She returned his smile and entered the factor’s door. Wouldn’t he be surprised to know he’d just eyed a peer of Ellendahl. She recalled her persona and brought herself back to her task.

Mieryth found herself in a short hall or long foyer. There was a dark red runner down the center of a dark, wood-floor hall. The walls were wood paneled, though of a lighter color than the floor. An older gentleman stood in a door halfway down the hall on the left. Mieryth caught his eye and approached him.

“Mr. Aurimon?”

The man nodded pleasantly. “What can I do for you, Miss?”

“I just arrived in town.” She grimaced. “The voyage was dragonish. It left my stomach quite empty.” She blushed and apologized. “I’m sorry. I came to you for funding, not a prescription.”

The man gave her a brief nod. “Come into my office,” he said, “there’s a small kitchen in the back. I’ll have someone bring some refreshment.” He led her into his large office and gestured to a soft armchair, inviting her to sit. “I’ll be right back.”

She sat, watched him leave the room, then stood. She’d given the passwords: dragon, empty, and funding, but he hadn’t given the countersigns. Until he did, she didn’t dare remain seated.

Several minutes passed before the door opened and Mr. Aurimon came in. “I’m sorry it took so long. The stove flamed up. I’m afraid the kitchen staff will need to fill the water reservoir again.” He sighed. “Fortunately, the damage was small. Repairs won’t be expensive.”

Mieryth gave him a long look, then took something from her belt pouch before sitting down again. He’d given the countersigns: flame, fill, and expensive--but he’d left the room before doing so. It could be nothing; or it could be the first clue of a double agent. Fortunately, the Letter of Rights she handed him were to an account several steps removed from the Royals. Even if the factor were a double agent, all he knew was she was an agent for somebody in Ellendahl--not that she was a Royal Agent.

The Letter of Rights allowed her to set up an account to live comfortably, though not lavishly. She watched him read the letter, and only looked away when someone came in with a tray of tea and small sandwiches. Mr. Aurimon glanced up when the servant set the tray on a nearby table, then went back to examining the letter.

Mieryth helped herself to the tea and sandwiches. She couldn’t afford to send the tray back untouched; someone might have overheard her cover for the passwords in the hall. At the first taste of mint in the tea, she smiled. Double agent or not, the fctor was very good. The soothing properties of mint would help support her story of a tender stomach.

She’d started on a second sandwich when the factor rose and went to a filing cabinet. He pulled open a drawer and ran his finger across the tabs, searching for one in particular. Mieryth watched from where she sat. She still didn’t know if he was a double agent; she prepared herself in case he pulled a weapon from the drawer.

He selected a file and pulled it out. Instead of taking it to his desk, he merely rested it on top of the other files in the drawer. He opened the file and compared its contents to the document she’d given him. He took a long time comparing, but eventually he gave a satisfied grunt. With precise movements, he placed the Letter of Rights in the file, closed it, and inserted it in the proper place. He closed the drawer and turned to her.

“What name shall I place on the account?”

“Mieryth Kavyn.”

He nodded and sat at his desk. He pulled out a couple of sheets of pre-scribed documents with spaces to fill in specifics, and scanned the contents. At his absent gesture, she stood and went to sit in a chair across the desk from him. He looked at her as she sat, then reached for a pen and filled in some blanks. He wrote something at the bottom of the second paper.

“If you want to read through this, you may. Basically, all it says is you’re to have twenty Silvers put into your account every week so long as the total in the account does not exceed two Sovereigns.” He turned both sheets around and pushed them closer to her. She took the papers and looked through them. They looked like standard pre-created contracts most factors used. The bit he scrawled at the end was about limiting the account total to two Sovereigns.

If she had the conversion rate correct, twenty Silvers per week would be plenty for nearly anything she might legitimately need in her role of Mieryth Kavyn. That was twice what a well-paid housekeeper might make at home, and nearly four times what a new maid could expect. Mentally she rehearsed the denominations of currency in this country: one hundred Silvers per Sovereign, fifty Bits per Silver. She grunted internally at the mildly exorbitant price she was paying for her room and meals at The Dancing Maid. Well, she could re-negotiate for future lodging. Sam had been so motherly, the price had seemed reasonable when she quoted two Silver as the price of a night and two meals.

She returned the document to Mr. Aurimon. “It seems in order.”

Mr. Aurimon nodded and signed his name at the bottom of both sheets, then he handed her the pen and turned the documents to face her. She signed under his scribe-neat signature, then returned the pen. He took the pen and set it at the edge of his desk before taking the documents and blotting them. That done, he pulled a folder from a drawer in his desk, wrote her name on its tab, and placed the contract inside. Then he took a sheet of ledger paper from another drawer, dated the left column, and wrote “20s” in the next column. He turned the paper to face Mieryth and explained. “This notation indicates 20 Silvers. 20 Sovereigns would be written thus–” He took a small piece of scratch paper and wrote “20S”. Mieryth nodded her understanding.

“How much would you like to take with you, today?”

Mieryth thought for a bit. She’d already paid for tonight, but she’d need enough for at least two more nights. She had to assume she wouldn’t be able to negotiate Sam down any, so that would be four Silvers. Coming here, she’d noticed most items someone of her assumed status might want were priced in Bits. She decided to add a few Silvers and a handful of Bits. “I’d like eight silver and twenty-five Bits.”

Mr. Aurimon nodded, made a notation in an adjacent column to the deposit column, then said he’d be right back. He left through the door the servant had come through. She noticed he hadn’t yet put away the file containing the ledger of her account. She stood to get a better viewing angle, and saw the last column was labeled “Acceptance Signature”. She guessed that was for acknowledging receipt of funds, debts, or payments. She sat again.

It didn’t take long before Mr. Aurimon returned with a small belt pouch. He sat, opened the pouch, and dumped its contents on his desk, shaking it to demonstrate nothing was left inside. Then he counted the coins; Mieryth watched, keeping mental tally. When he finished, there was a stack of eight Silvers and five stacks of five Bits. He put the five coppery stacks in the pouch first, then put the Silvers on top. After closing all the coins inside, he handed the pouch to Mieryth. Then he picked up the pen and asked her to sign in the last column.

Once everything had been put away to his satisfaction, Mr. Aurimon turned to Mieryth. “You’re welcome to come and examine your account ledger at any time during normal operating hours. If I’m not here, one of my partners across the hall will help you. If you need additional coin, the process is much the same as today. Come in, look at your ledger, and tell me or my partners how many of what kind of coin you wish. We’ll count it at the safe, then re-count it in front of you. You’ll check the ledger to make sure everything matches, then sign in the last column. Some items will cost too much for you to carry enough coin to pay up front. In those cases, you may authorize them to draw the appropriate amount of coin directly from us. You’ll need to give them a signed note indicating how much to disburse. They’ll bring it to me to receive their coin, and we’ll compare signatures. Merchants usually do several at once in order to best consolidate the number of coins.” He gave her a penetrating look. “Is all that clear?”

Mieryth nodded. It didn’t seem too different from how she handled her own monies with her bookkeeper.

Mr. Aurimon smiled. “Is there anything else I can do for you today, Ms. Kavyn?”

“No. Thank you.”

Late afternoon had turned to dusk while she’d been inside. As she’d expected, she had had only enough time to visit either her contact or her factor. Feeling she’d made the correct decision, she returned to The Dancing Maid.

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