The bag of gil was plump, and open at the top so Zhavi could see inside. It rested on the table, seductive and tempting.
"My master 'as a problem," the man across from her said.
She looked up, and leaned back. It wasn't typical for her to be invited to such a (relatively nice) place as the Drowning Wench, nor was it typical for business to be conducted somewhere so public. She didn't think she'd been contacted by this employer before. It made her cautious. More cautious than usual, at least.
"Dockrats, scabies, whatsit then?" Affected boredom was easy enough, and Zhi let her eyes slide left and then right, wondering if there were other eyes on them and whether or not they were with the big roegadyn.
"A tabby what got into t'wrong pantry an' et all t'wrong things."
Zhi didn't bother to hide her annoyance. The roegadyn smiled at her in response. It wasn't a very nice smile. Zhi hated it on sight. She bet he knew that, too, the cheeky git. She rolled her eyes and stared at him in expectation.
He didn't disappoint. "Boss wants ya ta lead t'right sorta trail to't, now. Fer the dogs t'ave a sniff at. Reckon there's a right mess t'clean, an' Boss wants t'see it put t'rights afore upper bossmen sees it."
Zhi scratched at her shoulder, getting a nail under the bug that'd lodged itself in her skin. "This now?" She nodded at the gil.
The man smiled at her.
"What about after, then? If this tabby o'yourn is a biggun, I'll be wantin' proper coin."
"This again, plus half."
Zhi considered. "Double, an' half asides if I get my arse clawed."
"If yer slow enough t'get raked, ain't me problem."
It was worth a try. "Tch. Double."
"This an' three-quarters."
"Done."
The roegadyn tightened the purse's drawstrings, put a piece of paper under it, and slid it over to Zhi's side of the table. "Map's where t'tabby gets fed. An' some other places where its made a mess. Take a gander 'round t'big blot an' y'might see summat int'restin' at sundown."
Zhi took the paper and glanced at it, glad to see there wasn't much writing. She could read a little, but too much could be confusing. She recognized the places the map alluded to -- chocobo-scratch sort of map, but plain enough -- and tucked it into the bag. She'd memorize it later and get rid of the paper.
"'Oo's me contact?" Zhi asked.
"Ol' Lubbins comes fer a drink at noon each day. 'E'll know t'find me." The roegadyn's head lolled sideways and back, and a man at the table behind him lifted his mug of swill.
Zhi stared at him long enough to memorize his features, and then nodded back to the roegadyn. She grinned. "So who let t'tabby run loose?"
The roegadyn put a hand over his heart. "Why, I'm too ashamed t'say. Cut it, Nim. Full sails, an' don't go screwin' me pantry no further, else y'find yerself without no rudder."
Zhi shrugged. "Y'think I'm some limp gutterborn, t'lecture me?" She snorted, and winked at the man. "Leave it t'me, erendrake, an' I'll see this tabby o'yorn clipped proper."
He grunted, watching her as she split up the gil in the bag, carefully storing them so they wouldn't make noise as she moved. The bag itself was then tucked down her shirt, where it would fall to the robe belt at her hips. "Full sails," she said to him, and left the Drowning Wench with a swagger to her steps.
After memorizing the map, Zhi soaked it at the docks and watched it float away in pieces. She then contacted her main informer, Brindle, and ordered him to keep watch on certain gully-holes at the mouths of the docks on his route before heading to the backstreets -- the location of the "big blot," as the roegadyn had put it -- and the collection of mismatched hovels that marked the poor's residential district, notable only for their ability to cling onto the sides of cliffs without falling. It was why some people, Zhi included, referred to them as Barnacle's Reach, though it was also affectionately known as the shite side of town. Zhi found herself a hidey hole, after ensuring she'd gotten the right crooked alley between homes and poormens' businesses, and settled in to wait for sundown.
"My master 'as a problem," the man across from her said.
She looked up, and leaned back. It wasn't typical for her to be invited to such a (relatively nice) place as the Drowning Wench, nor was it typical for business to be conducted somewhere so public. She didn't think she'd been contacted by this employer before. It made her cautious. More cautious than usual, at least.
"Dockrats, scabies, whatsit then?" Affected boredom was easy enough, and Zhi let her eyes slide left and then right, wondering if there were other eyes on them and whether or not they were with the big roegadyn.
"A tabby what got into t'wrong pantry an' et all t'wrong things."
Zhi didn't bother to hide her annoyance. The roegadyn smiled at her in response. It wasn't a very nice smile. Zhi hated it on sight. She bet he knew that, too, the cheeky git. She rolled her eyes and stared at him in expectation.
He didn't disappoint. "Boss wants ya ta lead t'right sorta trail to't, now. Fer the dogs t'ave a sniff at. Reckon there's a right mess t'clean, an' Boss wants t'see it put t'rights afore upper bossmen sees it."
Zhi scratched at her shoulder, getting a nail under the bug that'd lodged itself in her skin. "This now?" She nodded at the gil.
The man smiled at her.
"What about after, then? If this tabby o'yourn is a biggun, I'll be wantin' proper coin."
"This again, plus half."
Zhi considered. "Double, an' half asides if I get my arse clawed."
"If yer slow enough t'get raked, ain't me problem."
It was worth a try. "Tch. Double."
"This an' three-quarters."
"Done."
The roegadyn tightened the purse's drawstrings, put a piece of paper under it, and slid it over to Zhi's side of the table. "Map's where t'tabby gets fed. An' some other places where its made a mess. Take a gander 'round t'big blot an' y'might see summat int'restin' at sundown."
Zhi took the paper and glanced at it, glad to see there wasn't much writing. She could read a little, but too much could be confusing. She recognized the places the map alluded to -- chocobo-scratch sort of map, but plain enough -- and tucked it into the bag. She'd memorize it later and get rid of the paper.
"'Oo's me contact?" Zhi asked.
"Ol' Lubbins comes fer a drink at noon each day. 'E'll know t'find me." The roegadyn's head lolled sideways and back, and a man at the table behind him lifted his mug of swill.
Zhi stared at him long enough to memorize his features, and then nodded back to the roegadyn. She grinned. "So who let t'tabby run loose?"
The roegadyn put a hand over his heart. "Why, I'm too ashamed t'say. Cut it, Nim. Full sails, an' don't go screwin' me pantry no further, else y'find yerself without no rudder."
Zhi shrugged. "Y'think I'm some limp gutterborn, t'lecture me?" She snorted, and winked at the man. "Leave it t'me, erendrake, an' I'll see this tabby o'yorn clipped proper."
He grunted, watching her as she split up the gil in the bag, carefully storing them so they wouldn't make noise as she moved. The bag itself was then tucked down her shirt, where it would fall to the robe belt at her hips. "Full sails," she said to him, and left the Drowning Wench with a swagger to her steps.
After memorizing the map, Zhi soaked it at the docks and watched it float away in pieces. She then contacted her main informer, Brindle, and ordered him to keep watch on certain gully-holes at the mouths of the docks on his route before heading to the backstreets -- the location of the "big blot," as the roegadyn had put it -- and the collection of mismatched hovels that marked the poor's residential district, notable only for their ability to cling onto the sides of cliffs without falling. It was why some people, Zhi included, referred to them as Barnacle's Reach, though it was also affectionately known as the shite side of town. Zhi found herself a hidey hole, after ensuring she'd gotten the right crooked alley between homes and poormens' businesses, and settled in to wait for sundown.