Chapter 6 (Continued)

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

Chavon adjusts his shoulders and relaxes back again. The longer Iana talks, the more his lips curve like the proverbial cat that got into the cream. "So the Lady is indeed behind all of this. As I expected," he says. You could almost imagine him steepling his fingers in evil glee. "Doesn't it feel much better to just go ahead and tell me what you know? No need to argue, to make threats, just a conversation. A civilized conversation. I get so tired of the other kind sometimes. 'Why don't we just beat it out of him, boss?' they'll say, and yes... that does work sometimes. But sometimes they'll just tell me whatever I want to hear so that we'll stop beating it out of him, whether it's true or not. I appreciate that you're my partner in this, M Tigenet."

As she sees that smile, hears that odiously satisfied tone, Iana's eyes close in relief. He believed it. Her bluff worked, and she is going to be able to string him along for a little more.

She makes herself open her eyes again right away, though. She does not dare to take her gaze off of Chavon for more than the briefest moment - and, more importantly, she is fairly certain that he will interpret her relief as 'feeling good about telling the truth.' She cannot under any circumstances risk him realizing that she is actually relieved that he is going along with her lie.

So, instead, Iana makes a valiant, if shaky, attempt to smile back. "Thank you," she offers. Let him think that the weak nature of her smile is only from the fear that he already believes has just passed, or perhaps the very real pain in her hip that is very much not diminishing. "Yes, I do appreciate my good fortune that you are the one I am speaking to right now." There, that bit of sycophancy might buy her a few more moments to think....

He drums his fingers on his knee for a moment as he considered what to ask next. There are so many options. "Now, I have a lot of outstanding unanswered questions about this Lady, whoever she is. There are those I work for -- with, really, our goals simply align for now -- who are quite troubled by the sudden appearance of a new player in this little game of ours." He breathes in deeply through his nose. Iana's suggestion of scent might have gotten to him. "Especially one who seems to have a number of cards up her sleeves. Are you... affiliated by chance with this Lady? Or are you simply on her trail as well? What do you know of her? Details. I need details. What will she be doing at the Mayor's Ball? If she has access to the box, I have--"

He cuts off, holds up a hand in apology. "I talk too much. Please, you go ahead."

Perhaps…perhaps she can start to feed into the plan that she and Asra had been building? Can she feed him some more information - a place and a time when she 'knows' the Lady will appear, to lure him towards that place?

She might be able to play on that arrogance, too: if he is so focused on the idea that Iana is giving him - no, that he has made Iana give him - information that the other conspirators do not have, then he might be more willing to believe her.

Anything to draw this out longer, to keep him talking. Both in the hopes that he will let something slip, but also just to stall long enough that she can think of a way to escape, or that someone can come rescue her. How long has she been here? She does not even know.

Oh, gods, she thinks, absurdly, with a twinge of pain, I hope I am not late for my date,

And then tells herself, Focus. Focus.

"No, it's all right," Iana ventures, with another weak smile. "I - I do not know whether she has access to the box, but…" She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "I believe that I have managed to determine a few pieces of information about her. Not her age, or her name, unfortunately. Her appearance, I am sure you already know." She offers a plausible semblance of a respectful smile, full of confidence in Chavon's prior knowledge. "But her origin - my evidence suggests that she is from Kasial. She may even truly bear the title of Lady.

"Also, I have been studying the records of her past appearances. Where she has shown herself, at what times, and to whom." That is something plausible for her to have been doing - which he will know, if he has actually been keeping an eye on her. (She will shudder about that later. A lot.) "I think I've started to find a pattern."

She pauses, with another small sniff, then leans forward ever so slightly - not that she can manage any more than 'slightly', bound as she is - as if confiding a great secret. "I believe I may have determined where she will appear next."

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Vensa, for once, doesn't have a torrent of words gushing from her mouth. She blinks owlishly, red-rimmed eyes now empty of tears. "Asra. Oh... okay. At Whitestone," she mumbles, looking down at her ghostly pale hands. Vensa clearly doesn't spend a lot of time outside.

She's silent for a while, then blurts out suddenly, "Tumbledown."

A little quiver passes through her body as though her brain has just returned to her body. "That's where I live," she says by way of explanation. "It's up from Dockside, down below the Plaza, West Island. It's named that because the roads are steep. Stuff tends to... well... tumble down. If you're not careful." Of course, Asra already knows all that, having lived in Meriava for years, but Vensa does like to explain things. And explain. And explain. Tumbledown's a step up from the Canals, but it's definitely not Highside. A lot of small apartments packed into a small space, but they're generally in decent shape. "You're awfully nice..." Her eyes go wide and she claps her hands over her mouth. "I'm such a cotton-head," she squeaks between her fingers. "I haven't asked your name. You must think me awfully ungrateful, you making all these offers and helping me and I c-c-can't even remember to ask your name!" Uh oh. Here come the water works again.

Asra smiles, putting a hand on Vensa's shoulder to calm her. "Just call me Lynn," she tells her. Retracting her hand, she takes a few steps away before waving over her shoulder. "Think about what I said. I'll come see you in Tumbledown sometime!"

* * *

For a moment, there's no response, just long enough for Asra to start to worry about Finch too. Then there's a clatter and a crash and a muffled string of curses that could only be Finch.

"Never know how to work these stupid things," Finch says, but she's not exactly saying it into the disc, given the muttered tone and the low volume. "Was I supposed to put my fingers here? Or is it upside down? Can you he--"

Finch's voice cuts off suddenly. She's apparently managed to turn the disc off entirely.

She's back a couple of seconds later. "--wasn't it at all. Shit. Is this thing on now? Asra?" she says, then speaks slowly and loudly. "Can. You. Hear. Me?"

If Asra wasn't so worried about Iana, not slightly flustered from her conversation with Vensa, she might find this situation with Finch figuring out the disc entertaining...

Who was she kidding. Leaning against the wall of the building she had hid behind, she lets her appearance fade back to her normal one as she smirked at the disc. She'd offer some advice, but she had faith in Finch's ability to figure it out. She had deft fingers, after all.

Once Finch's voice finally comes through clearly, Asra lifts it to her lips so that she can speak quietly (but clearly) with her companion.

"Yes, I can hear you," she confirms. "Listen, I think Iana got snatched up by someone in Obsidian. Some brute named Ishan that lives in Tumbledown. Turns out he's been talking to people outside of Obsidian, so there's a chance its the people we're working against..."

She pauses for a second, before muttering bitterly, "I wasn't fast enough to stop it, and I made some bad calls. That's the only information I have currently, but I've made connections with a potential informant. I... I'm not sure what to do from here. I could try tracking them down, but if I end up in another chase or a fight, I'm not going to last long. What should I do?"