Ryott begins her covert surveillance for Divale.


The first day of the first month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Central Bazaar, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 18 May 2018 04:00




Central Bazaar

All roads in the weyr ultimately lead here, to this center of commerce. Canvas awnings jut out over time worn, sandy cobblestone, sheltering customers and wares alike from the majority of Igen's elements, and funnel scents both mouthwatering and vomit inducing through the thin streets. Almost all store fronts are open air, delineated by sandstone arches with intricately carved facades. The insides of these stone-shingled buildings act as an amplifier for the salesmens' bawled enticements, and are held up by the chipped swirls of marble pillars.

Winter days in the Bazaar tend to be filled with people quickly hurrying about their business so as not to be lingering in the cold for too long, heads down, faces wrapped with thick scarves or tucked into the upturned collars of their jackets. It’s still just as bustling though because business must be done.

So it is easy for a simple urchin girl to slip unseen while in plain sight through the crowds. Wearing muted desert colors she blends even more easily into the background. Her loose dress is mostly shapeless, making it hard to pinpoint her age. A heavy shawl is draped over her head, listless blond locks sweeping in long bangs over her forehead, and down the sides of her face. Skin is sallow, with a couple of old bruises fading from purple to green and yellow on the side of her jaw, cheeks sunken slightly to give her a faintly starved look. Moving skittishly through the crowds, she slumps in on herself, twitching nervously away from anyone who comes too close.

The only thing that may betray Ryott in her disguise, are her dark eyes, still as sharp as ever and covertly monitoring her surroundings from under the long strands of horse hair that she has sewn into the edge of the shawl. Trouble and Strife are nearby, watching and waiting to see if they are needed. It’s the spyling’s rest day, because Javid doesn’t “officially” know about her work, she doesn’t have a legitimate reason to ask for time off her classes. It will make the surveillance take a little longer than she maybe would like, but there’s nothing for it.

Now she makes her way in a roundabout circuit to the spice shop owned by the man she has been asked to gather information on. When Divale passed her the hide with his name, Ryott had recognized it but it took her until she had gotten back to the Caravan Grounds before she remembered where she had heard it. At the race tracks, last summer.

The day she had gotten that sizeable purse off the rich old lady. That was when she had met Cascabel, who had introduced herself as Enyem’s wife. She has to admit to herself, the coincidence made the job that much more intriguing for the girl. She may be just a kid, but she didn’t like how that young woman seemed so trapped by her situation, having to deal with a cow of a mother in law. She still has most of the woman’s marks squirreled away among several secret caches, Ryott is thrifty with her ill-gotten gains.

Once she arrives at the spice shop, the spyling finds a nice little spot where she can sit and do her starving beggar child routine, her head slumped forward as if she hardly has the strength to hold it up, ratting the lone mark she put into the bottom of her chipped cup herself. Even while carrying out the routine convincingly, she is paying close attention to who is in the shop, peering in through a window and the door whenever it is opened. As well as those who enter and exit.

Most of the clientele seems to be regular bazaar folk as far as she can tell after about a candlemark of surveillance, in which time her cup has gained a couple more small marks, which she sees as a bonus. It's not until a couple of rougher individuals slip inside the shop in the late afternoon when the winter sun is sinking lower towards the horizon, that Ryott's interest is piqued enough to venture into the shop herself.

She had spied Cascabel through the window so she knew the woman was there as well as her husband. Taking care to keep out of view of the young woman, Ryott doesn't want to risk being recognized this early in her investigations, so she follows the tough guys back to where they are in conversation with Enyem. Pretending to browse through a shelf that contains a wide variety of exotic spices, she shoots covert looks towards the men, who are gathered close together, murmuring in low voices. Shuffling closer she moves on to a shelf with mortar and pestles made from a variety of materials. She manages to catch when the pair of ruffians pass a package to the shop owner in exchange for a hefty purse of marks. Once their business concluded, the men don't hang around and they brush right by Ryott on their way out the door, barely registering the girl as there. Sending an image of the men to her two blues, she pictures the pair following them and reporting back to Ryott with their final destination.

Taking her time to browse some more, she is about to leave when she hears voices raised in the back of the shop. Slipping between the shelves soundlessly, she manages to peek around the last one to see that older woman she took the marks off that one time, berating poor Cascabel near the back. A bubble of anger threatens to erupt from the spyling girl, but she gets a grip on it as she turns swiftly and leaves the shop soundlessly.

Once back on the street, she decides on a different perspective. She keeps up the charade of the shuffling fearful beggar girl until she reaches a certain narrow alleyway. With a quick glance around, she darts between the buildings to a hidden nook behind a couple of stacked barrels. Pulling a pack from the recess, she quickly pulls off the heavy shawl from her head, the horse hair pieces coming with it by benefit of being sewn around the edge. Running a hand over the brush of her dark hair, she slips the loose dress over her head and quickly bundles it to stuff into the pack along with the shawl.

Underneath, Ryott is wearing her standard climbing gear, tight leather pants and a cropped jacket with a tall collar that she turns up and buttons so that it cover the bottom half of her face and over her nose. From a pocket on the side of the pack, she pulls a black woolen hat, fitted perfectly to her head so that when pulled down over her ears, only her eyes are visible, every other part of her covered in darkness. Tightly securing the pack to her back, she uses a convenient stack of crates at the back of the alley to climb her way up onto the roof with all the grace of a stray feline.

Once on the rooftops, Ryott quickly finds the best vantage point from which to watch the shops’s entrance, having scouted it out on a reconnaissance exercise one evening before light’s out. Laying flat on the rooftop, she watches patiently, knowing that the working day is soon done. She wants to see where Enyem goes after-hours…

To be continued…

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