Liar, Liar
Timestamp: 21st of Ymiden, 716
Location: The Crown (Hightown), Andaris
Location: The Crown (Hightown), Andaris
Trial Three: House is still quiet. No one in, no one out. Neighbours are beginning to give me strange looks. Hoping they don’t call the Iron Hand – do not want to explain this to Bram.
Or, Ilaren forbid, my mother.
Or, Ilaren forbid, my mother.
Ink blotted the page of Sabine’s journal as she tried to balance it on her lap while she wrote. She had taken to capturing the details of her investigation on paper while she watched the home. In theory, the notes served as a memory aid. In practice, the notes were a good way to look busy and avoid appearing overtly suspicious
Still, that didn’t mean she’d been able to avoid suspicion altogether.
Sabine glanced up from her notes and met the gaze of a pale, black-haired neighbor who, under the pretense of gardening, had been keeping an eye on her all morning. He was a tall man, with a well-trimmed beard and a skeptical expression. This time, rather than ignoring him, she shot him her most innocent smile.
He stared back at her, stone-faced.
...and that's exactly why I haven't approached him for help.
Sabine had first visited the two-story house fourteen trials earlier, shortly after Gray asked her to investigate. It had taken her several breaks to find the damn thing, hidden as it was within the maze of twisting laneways and expensive-looking homes. It also didn’t help that, although Gray had given her its address, the house itself had no identifying information. No number, no mailbox, nothing but stone and darkened windows. She’d ended up walking past it twice before finally putting the pieces together.
On that visit, night had fallen by the time she found the house, and so she wasn’t able to do much more than observe its shadowy appearance. Later that evening, she’d written that,
Still, that didn’t mean she’d been able to avoid suspicion altogether.
Sabine glanced up from her notes and met the gaze of a pale, black-haired neighbor who, under the pretense of gardening, had been keeping an eye on her all morning. He was a tall man, with a well-trimmed beard and a skeptical expression. This time, rather than ignoring him, she shot him her most innocent smile.
He stared back at her, stone-faced.
...and that's exactly why I haven't approached him for help.
Sabine had first visited the two-story house fourteen trials earlier, shortly after Gray asked her to investigate. It had taken her several breaks to find the damn thing, hidden as it was within the maze of twisting laneways and expensive-looking homes. It also didn’t help that, although Gray had given her its address, the house itself had no identifying information. No number, no mailbox, nothing but stone and darkened windows. She’d ended up walking past it twice before finally putting the pieces together.
On that visit, night had fallen by the time she found the house, and so she wasn’t able to do much more than observe its shadowy appearance. Later that evening, she’d written that,
The house is conspicuous exactly because it doesn’t stand out. It is plain, compared to its neighbours, and the gardens are simple and overgrown. Dark windows, plain stone, no people in sight.
It took some time for her to be able to return. Between the chaos of the Arena and the resulting mystery surrounding the Blue Cloaks, Sabine had been working overtime at the Gazette and had barely given a second thought to the investigation.
It didn’t help that Gray had disappeared shortly after Kala removed the arrow from his shoulder. She had stopped by Ye Olde Inn several trials after the incident, but was told that Gray hadn’t returned since the 13th. According to the steward, he sometimes left the city without notice and she shouldn’t be too concerned.
Still, would it have really been that much extra effort to leave a note? To give me a heads up? To offer some sign that he wasn’t dead or jailed?
Ass.
But despite Gray’s extraordinary lack of consideration, Sabine had managed to dust off her injured ego and move forward with the investigation. The trial before, on the 20th of Ymiden, she’d spent several breaks scouting out the house from beneath a shady oak. Not a single person came in or out and, aside from the stone-faced neighbour and several passersby, no one even came close to approaching it.
This morning had not been any different, and she was getting sick of waiting.
Across the street, the neighbour spared her a final glance and retreated into his home. Without delay, Sabine blew softly on her notes to dry the ink, snapped the journal shut, and tucked it into her leather bag. She slung the bag over her shoulder, stood, and strode towards the smugglers’ house.
She’d had enough boredom for one morning.
Sure, Gray had warned her not to approach the home, but it seemed deserted and she might be able to save them both a headache if she was able to get in and poke around. Besides, if he was just going to disappear without notice then she felt perfectly justified in taking liberties of her own.
Sabine rapped loudly on the door.
No answer.
She knocked again, with more urgency.
Nothing.
Sabine shifted her bag higher up on her shoulder and reached for the doorknob. It was worth a try. Maybe they hadn't locked the door. Maybe the lock had rusted away. Maybe-
“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?”
It didn’t help that Gray had disappeared shortly after Kala removed the arrow from his shoulder. She had stopped by Ye Olde Inn several trials after the incident, but was told that Gray hadn’t returned since the 13th. According to the steward, he sometimes left the city without notice and she shouldn’t be too concerned.
Still, would it have really been that much extra effort to leave a note? To give me a heads up? To offer some sign that he wasn’t dead or jailed?
Ass.
But despite Gray’s extraordinary lack of consideration, Sabine had managed to dust off her injured ego and move forward with the investigation. The trial before, on the 20th of Ymiden, she’d spent several breaks scouting out the house from beneath a shady oak. Not a single person came in or out and, aside from the stone-faced neighbour and several passersby, no one even came close to approaching it.
This morning had not been any different, and she was getting sick of waiting.
Across the street, the neighbour spared her a final glance and retreated into his home. Without delay, Sabine blew softly on her notes to dry the ink, snapped the journal shut, and tucked it into her leather bag. She slung the bag over her shoulder, stood, and strode towards the smugglers’ house.
She’d had enough boredom for one morning.
Sure, Gray had warned her not to approach the home, but it seemed deserted and she might be able to save them both a headache if she was able to get in and poke around. Besides, if he was just going to disappear without notice then she felt perfectly justified in taking liberties of her own.
Sabine rapped loudly on the door.
No answer.
She knocked again, with more urgency.
Nothing.
Sabine shifted her bag higher up on her shoulder and reached for the doorknob. It was worth a try. Maybe they hadn't locked the door. Maybe the lock had rusted away. Maybe-
“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?”
