Rom found that Llomerryn, at first glance, was a place that agreed with him wholeheartedly.
The gates were open for the day, and the guards weren't really making any effort to stop anyone coming in. If they had to stop every suspicious looking person on their way in or out of the city they'd never get a moment's rest the entire day. Rom had done his best along with the others to make their group look as unnoticeable as possible, though with a man of Leon's size that was rather difficult. Still, with some conversion of the Tevinter robes they had at their disposal they managed to create some nondescript looking cloaks, shorn of all identifying marks and symbols. As a whole they looked like a fairly drab group of travelers, but Rom could already tell that such a practice was common in Llomerryn. Like Orlais, many of the people here were probably more than they seemed, just without the need for prancing around in fancy dresses and gilded masks.
They put some distance between themselves and the gate quickly, as Rom figured if anyone was watching for their approach, it would be at the gates where they would need to enter. They paused often, checking for figures trailing them. Rom led the way, but often asked Zahra for directions. He might've been born here or somewhere nearby, but that didn't mean he knew the place. He knew cities, and she knew the way. There were more Tevinter people about than he'd expected, robed men and women with slaves trailing dutifully behind them. Close enough to be useful at a moment's notice, but far enough away not to crowd the space of their masters. It evoked familiar memories. It was difficult to tell if any of them were among those specifically watching out for their presence, but all the same it was better to avoid them. Use the crowds as their screen.
It wouldn't do for them to get separated here, Rom thought. The city had a haphazard layout, especially as they approached the renowned bazaar. Rom paused before they entered it fully, turning to Zahra and pulling back the edge of his hood slightly. "We're close. Any idea where he'll be in this mess?"
âThrough the bazaar, tucked to the right, closest to the Boarâs Head. Dirty tavern. But they do love their fish and cockles. He might even be inside,â Zahraâs eyes frequently searched the crowd for robed figures, only slipping back to meet his when she answered his question. Several carts were set up along the busiest roads. Merchants crying out their wares; some more aggressive than others, shaking beads and baskets to those foolish enough to wander too close. Almost as dangerous as the cloaked men if they managed to tie you up in one place, some going as far to snatch up potential buyers wrists. Sheâd already warned them to steer clear of them as well.
The bazaar itself was formed in a less than precise circle, with the majority of wagons set up in messy rows in its center; blocking off lanes. The right side, left side, and heart. The crowd was as varied as the produce that were being sold here. Some looked to be from Ferelden; others had rolling Antivan accents. Clothes and countenances of every variety squished in one area.
She scrubbed a hand across her chin and dipped closer to Româs side, inclining her head towards the left side of the bazaar. There were two cloaked individuals slipping through the crowds, hands slipped into their sleeves. It was obvious that they were searching for something rather than perusing the bazaarâs wares. Stark-faced. Serious. âAhâthereâs some there too.â She hadnât pointed. Only tilted her head in the opposing direction. A larger group. Three, or four, loosely packed. Some stood, while others leaned against the closest houses. Eyes raking the crowd.
âDo you think we could make it through the middle without being spotted?â
"Not without splitting up, and we're not doing that," Rom answered, without much in the way of hesitation. They'd be spotted just standing still if they didn't do something soon. Two solutions immediately came to mind, but he wasn't sure which one they would prefer, nor did he have time to properly explain them both. They needed to act quick. He exhaled a breath, tilting his head to better see Zahra. "We can kill them all somewhere quiet, or kill one and make a scene. Up to you."
Cyrus cleared his throat softly. âFar be it from me to have any say." His mouth pulled a bit to the side; he looked like he was doubting his decision to speak even as he continued. âBut we could also not kill them. Rendering them insensate should achieve the same effect, yes? Death is a rather unkind punishment for serving the wrong house in ignoble ends." He shrugged with a soft rustle of fabric. âUnless it comes to them or us, I suppose."
Even Zahra appeared to feel the urgency of the situation as she rocked back on her heels and pressed closer to the wagon they stood beside, eyeing the others before pinching her eyes closed. She reopened them a moment later, though there was a pull to her lips that suggested she wasnât so sure either, âWhatever we do, it has to be quiet. We donât want raiders nipping at our heels.â This wasnât her forte; subtlety. Staying her arrow. Not so surprising given her loud, over-the-top temperament.
Besides, Llomerryn was capricious at best. Where most people would turn their heads, and allow blood to stain the streets as long as they were left alone, there was no guarantee they wouldnât join the fray. Upset a wagon and a merchant would be as willing to jump in as any mercenary would. Llomerrynâs people operated under different rules; if any at all. A far cry from most of the civilized places theyâd seen so far. There was no Game here, and certainly no honor. She readjusted her hood as they cut out from the middle path and started veering to the left side. Less robes to contend with.
"Follow me. Act like you're paying them no mind." Rom started forward, expecting the others to keep up behind him. It was too tight a space, and there was no way they were going to avoid every gaze searching for them. All it took was one, and the others would be alerted. They would be followed, so long as it looked like they weren't aware they were being followed. Rom carefully counted their numbers as they passed. Six. That was problematic. Killing six without raising an alarm would be difficult enough. Rom supposed he wasn't thinking when he was willing to condemn them all to death being on the wrong side, but Cyrus's suggestion would be even tougher to pull off. Especially if they couldn't find an ideal location to spring a trap.
He led them deeper into the bazaar, taking a few twisting turns until he found an area that was almost entirely unpopulated. Empty stalls, high walls around them. It would do. Their pursuers would not be far behind. Rom glanced back at Leon. "Six following us, they'll be here soon. Think we can do this bloodless?"
Leon considered it. "If we're quick and prioritize keeping them quiet, I think so. I can handle two for those purposes." The way he said it made it sound like something he'd had particular experience with, and knew from that experience, rather than guesswork.
"Alright," Rom agreed, "you take the two in the front, I'll handle the two in the back. Cyrus, Zee, split the two in the middle." It was a safe bet they'd be separated enough to make picking targets easy; the alleyway they'd walked into was barely wide enough for three people to walk side by side comfortably, in most places. "Find someplace to hide and stay quiet. Wait for me to attack first. They'll turn around for you to hit them from behind."
There was no more time to lose, as they were already risking being seen. Rom ducked into an empty merchant's stall, using a tall pile of drab rugs to conceal himself with. They were obviously so low in quality whoever owned them wasn't even worried about them being stolen. Cyrus crouched behind a few haphazardly-stacked barrels next to another cart. Empty, most likely. Leon's options for concealment were slightly more limited, but he folded himself into an overhanging doorway, the shadows doing more to conceal him than the outright cover did. Zahra had no such issues. Most of the objects in the alley wouldâve been capable of concealing her diminutive size. She slipped off to the right and hunkered down behind a cart stacked with dirty carpets and blankets.
Soon after they were all settled, they could hear boots coming down the alley in their direction, echoing softly off the cobblestones underneath their feet. They slowed as they approached, but if they were aware that those they sought chose this particular place to hide in, they didn't show it. "Which way?" one of them asked, near the rear. There was no answer. They continued walking.
Once the last of them had passed Romulus he threw himself out over the counter of the stall, landing as heavy a punch as he was capable of to the temple of the nearest robed Tevinter man. He stumbled and went down, but he'd only be there for a few seconds. Before the next one closest could react he'd reached up and locked his arms around the man's neck and head, swiftly choking him into sleep.
As expected, the rest of their pursuers turned at this, ready to meet the unexpected threat. Leon stepped out from behind the doorway then, swiftly grabbing the front two men and curling his massive arms around their heads, hands easily spanning their noses and mouths. It wasn't the right angle for a proper suffocation, so he did the next best thing. With a controlled surge, he knocked their heads together, the impact heavy and audible, particularly as things were still relatively quiet.
Cyrus was clearly considerably less used to this sort of thing. His first attempt to grab his target was evaded, but he did manage to trip him instead, following him to the ground and muffling his cry of alarm with the man's own scarf and putting a knee to his chest, holding him in place and wrapping his other hand around his neck, cutting off his airflow until he went limp.
The last man certainly hadnât expected a woman to jump out from behind a wagon. Zahra immediately grabbed onto the back of his jerkin and yanked him backwards, taking advantage of the surprise so that she could readjust her grip in order to grapple onto the side of his face, guiding it into the nearest wall. There was a crunching noise, before he tumbled to the ground. She ahâd beside them, stooping low enough to tilt her ear by his mouth, straightening up a moment later, âOh good, heâs still alive.â
Rom tossed his unconscious first target aside, swiftly moving onto the second just as he made his way back to his feet. He had time to briefly shout, but not enough to draw a blade or light a spell in his hands before Rom was on him. His knuckles found his throat, striking hard and silencing him with a pained choking sound. He then twisted him around and snared him in another sleeper hold. He waited patiently, watching the others resolve their brief bouts as the man finally stilled.
"They should be out for a while," he said, shifting the unconscious body so he could more easily carry him. "Hide them in the stalls." There was plenty to conceal the bodies with, old rugs and blankets that wouldn't look out of place at all on the floor of a particularly dingy bazaar street.
After theyâd hidden all of the unconscious bodies and tucked them them out of sight. Under tattered rugs and ragged blankets pulled up across their faces. A rude awakening would follow. Zahra brushed off her knees and clapped her hands once, before turning back towards them. âNot so bad after all. The tavern has a crooked boarâs head stuck on the front. Shouldnât be much further from where weâre at.â
It didnât take them long to retrace their steps through the winding alleyways. The herd was thinned, so theyâd have less trouble making their way through the bazaar. They picked their way through the crowd and avoided anyone in suspicious robes, with Romulus still leading the way. Only when Zahra pointed out a particularly ratty building with the aforementioned boar head leaning at a tilt did they slow their pace. The windows had no shutters to speak of, so anyone could take a gander inside, if they wished.
The rabble inside werenât much different than those pushing past them in the streets. A little rougher, maybe. Lined, dirty faces. Scarred. Mostly everyone had a blade of some sort hanging at their hips. Tankards were jostled together, and roaring laughs cut through the noise. Pirates. Raiders. Uncouth individuals. She took a few tentative steps forward and tucked herself closer to the wall, peering inside. Squinting hard. Her mouth was set into a thin line, clearly focused on trying to pick her father out of the crowd.
Only then did she beckon them over and bob her chin towards a man seated in one of the furthest tables. Alone. He carried a wicker basket that appeared mostly empty. He was slightly slumped forward, wrinkled face already blotchy-red with drink. Eyes shuttered closed. A cane made of some sort of reed had was leaning against his chair. âI⊠think thatâs him there. Should we⊠?â Her question drifted off, as if she were suddenly unsure. The color from her face seemed to drain, as well.
âWell we came all this way to see him, didn't we?" Cyrus's body language bespoke unruffled carelessness: his arms were crossed loosely, shoulders low, back almost slouched a bit, like he didn't quite want to stand at his full height. But his tone was another matterâquieter, more solemn, and his eyes were the same when they made contact with hers. âDo you want us to go with you? Or follow you in, maybe, stay close by?"
âI⊠Iâd like you to come with me, Iâm not sure if I can explain the situation right.â Zahraâs tone was stronger this time, at the suggestion of having them alongside her. It may have been what sheâd intended in the first place. She took a deep, withering breath and stepped closer to the doorway; taking tentative, slow steps. Only when she turned to see the others at her heels did she finally make her way inside, closing the distance between her and the man sheâd believed to be her father.
At first she only stood at the foot of the table, hands stretching out and curling into fists. The man himself didnât seem to be aware of their presence, hardly stirring. Head set off to the side, hidden from view. He may not have even been awake at all. The recognition was immediate. Her shoulders stiffened and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. âMaccio Tavish?â It sounded weak. Constrained. As if she hadnât wanted to utter those words. Father mightâve been too heavy. Too unfamiliar. Only then did the man move; slow, lethargic.
He did not respond vocally. Though he did raise his head in their direction. Zahra took a step back and made a noise in the back of her throatâsomething caught between an intake of breath and a startled hitch. Age was not the only toll taken to his face. Red veins stripped down from beneath his heavy lids, spread out like spidery webs that spanned past his cheekbones. His pupils were white, sightless, and rippled with red. Where thereâd once been color, only red remained. As if heâd been struck on the head and never recovered. Empty. Unnaturally so.
It stunk of magic.
Only then did he speak, âThatâs right. Whoâs that now?â
When it became quite obvious that Zahra was either unwilling or unable to respond, Leon cleared his throat quietly and took out a chair at the table, letting it slide over the ground with a muted noise that seemed intentional. As though he were doing his best to make his motions and actions obvious but unobtrusive. He settled into it and leaned forward against the table on his forearms. "My name is Leon Albrecht," he said mildly. "I'm with a group of people called the Inquisition. One of our members pointed us in your directionâshe said something had happened to your family. Is there a chance you'd be willing to speak with us about it?"
âThat right?â Maccio sucked at his gums, considering his words for a moment. His head had turned in Leonâs direction but he appeared to be staring over him. Chin raised. Patchy salt and pepper hair falling over one eye. He was peering somewhere over his head. The ugly markings stretched as his mouth formed a thin line, âIf this isnât troubleâŠ. I suppose it couldnât hurt.â
The gates were open for the day, and the guards weren't really making any effort to stop anyone coming in. If they had to stop every suspicious looking person on their way in or out of the city they'd never get a moment's rest the entire day. Rom had done his best along with the others to make their group look as unnoticeable as possible, though with a man of Leon's size that was rather difficult. Still, with some conversion of the Tevinter robes they had at their disposal they managed to create some nondescript looking cloaks, shorn of all identifying marks and symbols. As a whole they looked like a fairly drab group of travelers, but Rom could already tell that such a practice was common in Llomerryn. Like Orlais, many of the people here were probably more than they seemed, just without the need for prancing around in fancy dresses and gilded masks.
They put some distance between themselves and the gate quickly, as Rom figured if anyone was watching for their approach, it would be at the gates where they would need to enter. They paused often, checking for figures trailing them. Rom led the way, but often asked Zahra for directions. He might've been born here or somewhere nearby, but that didn't mean he knew the place. He knew cities, and she knew the way. There were more Tevinter people about than he'd expected, robed men and women with slaves trailing dutifully behind them. Close enough to be useful at a moment's notice, but far enough away not to crowd the space of their masters. It evoked familiar memories. It was difficult to tell if any of them were among those specifically watching out for their presence, but all the same it was better to avoid them. Use the crowds as their screen.
It wouldn't do for them to get separated here, Rom thought. The city had a haphazard layout, especially as they approached the renowned bazaar. Rom paused before they entered it fully, turning to Zahra and pulling back the edge of his hood slightly. "We're close. Any idea where he'll be in this mess?"
âThrough the bazaar, tucked to the right, closest to the Boarâs Head. Dirty tavern. But they do love their fish and cockles. He might even be inside,â Zahraâs eyes frequently searched the crowd for robed figures, only slipping back to meet his when she answered his question. Several carts were set up along the busiest roads. Merchants crying out their wares; some more aggressive than others, shaking beads and baskets to those foolish enough to wander too close. Almost as dangerous as the cloaked men if they managed to tie you up in one place, some going as far to snatch up potential buyers wrists. Sheâd already warned them to steer clear of them as well.
The bazaar itself was formed in a less than precise circle, with the majority of wagons set up in messy rows in its center; blocking off lanes. The right side, left side, and heart. The crowd was as varied as the produce that were being sold here. Some looked to be from Ferelden; others had rolling Antivan accents. Clothes and countenances of every variety squished in one area.
She scrubbed a hand across her chin and dipped closer to Româs side, inclining her head towards the left side of the bazaar. There were two cloaked individuals slipping through the crowds, hands slipped into their sleeves. It was obvious that they were searching for something rather than perusing the bazaarâs wares. Stark-faced. Serious. âAhâthereâs some there too.â She hadnât pointed. Only tilted her head in the opposing direction. A larger group. Three, or four, loosely packed. Some stood, while others leaned against the closest houses. Eyes raking the crowd.
âDo you think we could make it through the middle without being spotted?â
"Not without splitting up, and we're not doing that," Rom answered, without much in the way of hesitation. They'd be spotted just standing still if they didn't do something soon. Two solutions immediately came to mind, but he wasn't sure which one they would prefer, nor did he have time to properly explain them both. They needed to act quick. He exhaled a breath, tilting his head to better see Zahra. "We can kill them all somewhere quiet, or kill one and make a scene. Up to you."
Cyrus cleared his throat softly. âFar be it from me to have any say." His mouth pulled a bit to the side; he looked like he was doubting his decision to speak even as he continued. âBut we could also not kill them. Rendering them insensate should achieve the same effect, yes? Death is a rather unkind punishment for serving the wrong house in ignoble ends." He shrugged with a soft rustle of fabric. âUnless it comes to them or us, I suppose."
Even Zahra appeared to feel the urgency of the situation as she rocked back on her heels and pressed closer to the wagon they stood beside, eyeing the others before pinching her eyes closed. She reopened them a moment later, though there was a pull to her lips that suggested she wasnât so sure either, âWhatever we do, it has to be quiet. We donât want raiders nipping at our heels.â This wasnât her forte; subtlety. Staying her arrow. Not so surprising given her loud, over-the-top temperament.
Besides, Llomerryn was capricious at best. Where most people would turn their heads, and allow blood to stain the streets as long as they were left alone, there was no guarantee they wouldnât join the fray. Upset a wagon and a merchant would be as willing to jump in as any mercenary would. Llomerrynâs people operated under different rules; if any at all. A far cry from most of the civilized places theyâd seen so far. There was no Game here, and certainly no honor. She readjusted her hood as they cut out from the middle path and started veering to the left side. Less robes to contend with.
"Follow me. Act like you're paying them no mind." Rom started forward, expecting the others to keep up behind him. It was too tight a space, and there was no way they were going to avoid every gaze searching for them. All it took was one, and the others would be alerted. They would be followed, so long as it looked like they weren't aware they were being followed. Rom carefully counted their numbers as they passed. Six. That was problematic. Killing six without raising an alarm would be difficult enough. Rom supposed he wasn't thinking when he was willing to condemn them all to death being on the wrong side, but Cyrus's suggestion would be even tougher to pull off. Especially if they couldn't find an ideal location to spring a trap.
He led them deeper into the bazaar, taking a few twisting turns until he found an area that was almost entirely unpopulated. Empty stalls, high walls around them. It would do. Their pursuers would not be far behind. Rom glanced back at Leon. "Six following us, they'll be here soon. Think we can do this bloodless?"
Leon considered it. "If we're quick and prioritize keeping them quiet, I think so. I can handle two for those purposes." The way he said it made it sound like something he'd had particular experience with, and knew from that experience, rather than guesswork.
"Alright," Rom agreed, "you take the two in the front, I'll handle the two in the back. Cyrus, Zee, split the two in the middle." It was a safe bet they'd be separated enough to make picking targets easy; the alleyway they'd walked into was barely wide enough for three people to walk side by side comfortably, in most places. "Find someplace to hide and stay quiet. Wait for me to attack first. They'll turn around for you to hit them from behind."
There was no more time to lose, as they were already risking being seen. Rom ducked into an empty merchant's stall, using a tall pile of drab rugs to conceal himself with. They were obviously so low in quality whoever owned them wasn't even worried about them being stolen. Cyrus crouched behind a few haphazardly-stacked barrels next to another cart. Empty, most likely. Leon's options for concealment were slightly more limited, but he folded himself into an overhanging doorway, the shadows doing more to conceal him than the outright cover did. Zahra had no such issues. Most of the objects in the alley wouldâve been capable of concealing her diminutive size. She slipped off to the right and hunkered down behind a cart stacked with dirty carpets and blankets.
Soon after they were all settled, they could hear boots coming down the alley in their direction, echoing softly off the cobblestones underneath their feet. They slowed as they approached, but if they were aware that those they sought chose this particular place to hide in, they didn't show it. "Which way?" one of them asked, near the rear. There was no answer. They continued walking.
Once the last of them had passed Romulus he threw himself out over the counter of the stall, landing as heavy a punch as he was capable of to the temple of the nearest robed Tevinter man. He stumbled and went down, but he'd only be there for a few seconds. Before the next one closest could react he'd reached up and locked his arms around the man's neck and head, swiftly choking him into sleep.
As expected, the rest of their pursuers turned at this, ready to meet the unexpected threat. Leon stepped out from behind the doorway then, swiftly grabbing the front two men and curling his massive arms around their heads, hands easily spanning their noses and mouths. It wasn't the right angle for a proper suffocation, so he did the next best thing. With a controlled surge, he knocked their heads together, the impact heavy and audible, particularly as things were still relatively quiet.
Cyrus was clearly considerably less used to this sort of thing. His first attempt to grab his target was evaded, but he did manage to trip him instead, following him to the ground and muffling his cry of alarm with the man's own scarf and putting a knee to his chest, holding him in place and wrapping his other hand around his neck, cutting off his airflow until he went limp.
The last man certainly hadnât expected a woman to jump out from behind a wagon. Zahra immediately grabbed onto the back of his jerkin and yanked him backwards, taking advantage of the surprise so that she could readjust her grip in order to grapple onto the side of his face, guiding it into the nearest wall. There was a crunching noise, before he tumbled to the ground. She ahâd beside them, stooping low enough to tilt her ear by his mouth, straightening up a moment later, âOh good, heâs still alive.â
Rom tossed his unconscious first target aside, swiftly moving onto the second just as he made his way back to his feet. He had time to briefly shout, but not enough to draw a blade or light a spell in his hands before Rom was on him. His knuckles found his throat, striking hard and silencing him with a pained choking sound. He then twisted him around and snared him in another sleeper hold. He waited patiently, watching the others resolve their brief bouts as the man finally stilled.
"They should be out for a while," he said, shifting the unconscious body so he could more easily carry him. "Hide them in the stalls." There was plenty to conceal the bodies with, old rugs and blankets that wouldn't look out of place at all on the floor of a particularly dingy bazaar street.
After theyâd hidden all of the unconscious bodies and tucked them them out of sight. Under tattered rugs and ragged blankets pulled up across their faces. A rude awakening would follow. Zahra brushed off her knees and clapped her hands once, before turning back towards them. âNot so bad after all. The tavern has a crooked boarâs head stuck on the front. Shouldnât be much further from where weâre at.â
It didnât take them long to retrace their steps through the winding alleyways. The herd was thinned, so theyâd have less trouble making their way through the bazaar. They picked their way through the crowd and avoided anyone in suspicious robes, with Romulus still leading the way. Only when Zahra pointed out a particularly ratty building with the aforementioned boar head leaning at a tilt did they slow their pace. The windows had no shutters to speak of, so anyone could take a gander inside, if they wished.
The rabble inside werenât much different than those pushing past them in the streets. A little rougher, maybe. Lined, dirty faces. Scarred. Mostly everyone had a blade of some sort hanging at their hips. Tankards were jostled together, and roaring laughs cut through the noise. Pirates. Raiders. Uncouth individuals. She took a few tentative steps forward and tucked herself closer to the wall, peering inside. Squinting hard. Her mouth was set into a thin line, clearly focused on trying to pick her father out of the crowd.
Only then did she beckon them over and bob her chin towards a man seated in one of the furthest tables. Alone. He carried a wicker basket that appeared mostly empty. He was slightly slumped forward, wrinkled face already blotchy-red with drink. Eyes shuttered closed. A cane made of some sort of reed had was leaning against his chair. âI⊠think thatâs him there. Should we⊠?â Her question drifted off, as if she were suddenly unsure. The color from her face seemed to drain, as well.
âWell we came all this way to see him, didn't we?" Cyrus's body language bespoke unruffled carelessness: his arms were crossed loosely, shoulders low, back almost slouched a bit, like he didn't quite want to stand at his full height. But his tone was another matterâquieter, more solemn, and his eyes were the same when they made contact with hers. âDo you want us to go with you? Or follow you in, maybe, stay close by?"
âI⊠Iâd like you to come with me, Iâm not sure if I can explain the situation right.â Zahraâs tone was stronger this time, at the suggestion of having them alongside her. It may have been what sheâd intended in the first place. She took a deep, withering breath and stepped closer to the doorway; taking tentative, slow steps. Only when she turned to see the others at her heels did she finally make her way inside, closing the distance between her and the man sheâd believed to be her father.
At first she only stood at the foot of the table, hands stretching out and curling into fists. The man himself didnât seem to be aware of their presence, hardly stirring. Head set off to the side, hidden from view. He may not have even been awake at all. The recognition was immediate. Her shoulders stiffened and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. âMaccio Tavish?â It sounded weak. Constrained. As if she hadnât wanted to utter those words. Father mightâve been too heavy. Too unfamiliar. Only then did the man move; slow, lethargic.
He did not respond vocally. Though he did raise his head in their direction. Zahra took a step back and made a noise in the back of her throatâsomething caught between an intake of breath and a startled hitch. Age was not the only toll taken to his face. Red veins stripped down from beneath his heavy lids, spread out like spidery webs that spanned past his cheekbones. His pupils were white, sightless, and rippled with red. Where thereâd once been color, only red remained. As if heâd been struck on the head and never recovered. Empty. Unnaturally so.
It stunk of magic.
Only then did he speak, âThatâs right. Whoâs that now?â
When it became quite obvious that Zahra was either unwilling or unable to respond, Leon cleared his throat quietly and took out a chair at the table, letting it slide over the ground with a muted noise that seemed intentional. As though he were doing his best to make his motions and actions obvious but unobtrusive. He settled into it and leaned forward against the table on his forearms. "My name is Leon Albrecht," he said mildly. "I'm with a group of people called the Inquisition. One of our members pointed us in your directionâshe said something had happened to your family. Is there a chance you'd be willing to speak with us about it?"
âThat right?â Maccio sucked at his gums, considering his words for a moment. His head had turned in Leonâs direction but he appeared to be staring over him. Chin raised. Patchy salt and pepper hair falling over one eye. He was peering somewhere over his head. The ugly markings stretched as his mouth formed a thin line, âIf this isnât troubleâŠ. I suppose it couldnât hurt.â