Kasoria rarely got what one would call "eager". Excited, yes, though that was another rare sensation for him. The eave of a brawl, the rush of it, the feeling of letting his Sparks run loose or his skills see him to victory, these were known to him. But as he stood quietly and watched the two men exchange notes, reports, objectives and intelligence, he felt that... restlessness, work its way through him. An impatience that he had to force not to show in a shaking leg or tapping fingers. More than once he had to clench his jaw and remind himself he was on the job.
For he'd been doing his own reading. The Dubois library was well-appointed, after all. Full of lore and knowledge, in a dozen languages. It hadn't taken him long to find one about magic, and a brief look at the index saw him flip through to "Sovereign".
Kasoria liked what he read. The ability to move objects, but more than that. Set them to task. Have them embark on simple but useful procedures. From mopping floors to wielding swords to sewing to cooking... it was all possible. Not only that, but the ability to transport the workings of your hands across distance. To make a fist and crush a throat from across a room. Open a door while still walking towards it. Even a final ability that the book only alluded to, that was essentially an eruption of air and ether all around the mage, blasting all around him away like a star crashing to Idalos. Like most magical disciplines, the broad limitations were strict but within them... so much potential.
At a price, and too bloody right he's thought of one.
But business and duty had to come first. Timur was Vuda's man in Rharne (well, one of them), and he had plenty to impart to the delegation. So Kasoria stood there, silent and watchful, while ambassador and operative sipped tea and went over the data. He listened to rumors and reports, memoranda and current events. Trying to decipher whether any of it was relevant to him. As far as he could tell... not particularly.
It's a big world. Plenty going on in it that has sod all to do with you.
"You've given me a lot to chew over, Timur," Manclin finally said, speaking with the tone of a man bringing a discussion to an end, and rising from his seat to punctuate that. "I'll go over it and get back to you... shall we say another tentrial?"
The spy finished the rest of his tea and rose as well. "Mayhap a little longer? I have some business outside the city and I may be occupied longer than I wish. I should be back by the 70th, or thereabouts."
"Come see us as soon as you return, my friend," Manclin said with a companiable pat on the man's arm. Measured, familiar yet without being unctuous. Kasoria smiled slightly. The young man was learning the game well. "Kasoria will see you out."
Timur mirrored the look on the sellsword's face, as if reading his mind. "I daresay he will..."
He was proud of himself for waiting until Manclin was at least out of earshot before beginning. He knew he should have waited even longer, let Timur broach the subject, but he was an old enough hand at this to know playing coy wasn't befitting. They both had something to give, and to gain. They both knew it. So why dance around and guzzle booze and talk sweet nothings if you were both dead set on dropping drawers and-
"What would you want for initiatin' me?"
Timur didn't bother looking surprised. "I need a favor. Some work done that needs a man unknown to all in this city. On behalf of the Shadow Quarter. You've heard of them?"
No dancing. No rhetorical questions. Kasoria fancied that Timur was enjoying the novelty of being able to just say exactly what he wanted for a change, rather than hide behind layers of disassembly and deception. Such was the life of a spy, after all. The fact he wanted a "favor" instead of coin was no shock, either. He was the Raggedy Man, after all. All of Etzos, even those not in Etzos, knew what he did, and how well he did it. Services rendered from a man such as him would be worth more than a sack of coins or jewels.
"Huh. Heard tell 'bout 'em a few times back home. Gangers wiv' more fancy titles an' secrecy, that about right?"
Timur chuckled and nodded. "I doubt that'd enjoy that description, but yes. All the rackets that the gangs back home ran, they do the same here. The Shadow Quarter is not a place, like Earth or Glass. It's an alliance of individuals and organizations. There are freelancers here and there, but they either pay handsomely for the right to exist, or they don't last long. The Shadow Quarter and the Kingpins who rules them, run crime in Rharne."
"They ain't got scratchers? Guessin' that's the kinda work yeh need me t'do for 'em."
Now Timur paused, and Kasoria weighed that silence carefully. What was he hiding? Oh, plenty, but what in particular? Was it that he didn't wish to speak of it here? Or he was unsure if what he'd been told was true? Or did he truly not know? Kasoria could guess the arrangement already established. That Timur would find some way to make his "friend" in the Shadow Quarter happy, and he would be owed a favor. Maybe several favors, depending on the task to be accomplished... and if he was setting someone like Kasoria to he task, it was likely no little thing.
"What know you of Syroa?"
"S'a Morty. Dunno what of."
"She was. She was killed, last arc."
Kasoria snorted and grinned with genuine mirth. Always warmed his heart when one of these arrogant abominations ended up proving what a massive lie their titles were. "Good. One less a' the cunts t'worry about."
"Aye, but her followers are not, and they've been burrowing into cities like Rharne ever since. I have no idea why, so don't ask. The Shadow Quarter thinks that this rot has extended to their own kingdom, and they want it carved out. They want to know who is... compromised, and thus who to expunge from their ranks."
Kasoria digested this, and took his time. Until they were halfway down the gravel path. This was a simple task at a complex time. Ferreting out his prey was as familiar to him as killing. One came with the other, and made men like him far more dangerous than petty scratchers who were simply pointed at a face in the street or a doorway. They were given what intelligence was available, and... handled it from there. Be it a trial or a tentrial or a season later, bodies dropped, and the problem was solved.
But this isn't back then, or back home. You have duties here. You can't just swan about as you like.
"Gettin' out an' about won't be easy," he said eventually, voice low and contemplative. "There's five of us, me an' the lads. Leavin' fer a few breaks is one thing, but trials at a time? That's summin' else. People see I'm gone, they're think we're vulnerable."
Timur gave a musing hum and scratched under his chin. "I hear tell that there are ways out of the Dubois estate. Like the homes of the rich all over Idalos, they like to have their secret ways."
"Oh, aye? Any clue where?"
"Come now, Kas. Can't do everything for you. But if you found such a passage, it would let you sneak in and out without anyone outside the estate knowing. Give you a layer of deniability, too. No-one saw you leave from the street, so if anything should happen-"
"They won't be able t'prove I was elsewhere, aye, point taken."
The two men stopped before the gates, and Kasoria made his decision. So much to be considered. His job, his crew, his clients... and stepping into the shadows of a whole new underworld. One where his name didn't carry the same weight as back home. Oh, it may have been known, but the fear, the obedience... he couldn't bank on that here. Yet, the rewards... the potential...
"Set me a meetin' wiv' yer man inna' Shadows." He said finally, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I'll see what he sez."
"Do so, and one more thing, and I'll initiate you the trials after."
"What other thing?"
Another pause, but this one... tasted different. Kasoria looked over and saw not the cold mask of calculating appraisal he was expecting, but some... softness. A sorrow. One he recognized, even if it was gone a moment later, replaced by a smirk and a wink.
"Something small, and personal, and not to be done until you return home."
Kasoria looked into the eyes of the man, and saw a kinship there. Of loss and longing. Of regret and resignation. Of another father.
"... aye. Works fer me."
He watched the spy leave and that eagerness thrummed through him again. For knowledge, for magic, for strength, and yet again for a bloody task to be handed to him. He should have been ashamed for such black-hearted excitement. But it had been a long time since he'd been on the hunt, scourging through shadows and alleys and sewers and secret, hidden places. Not only that, but what crime to his soul and his country was it to butcher those who worshipped the mutants? None, as far as he could see. But with all that said... he still sighed as the gates clanged shut.
Gotta tell the others.
