A Dream of Honor

II.

It was evenfall before she was ready to hit the tavern. She hadn't had much time for memorizing alleyways and shortcuts while she was running from the guards, so her first time here might as well have never happened. That made getting about all the more exciting. The marketplace was the first area she ran into, a square overflowing with people speaking many different languages and dressed in many different cultural garb. Odde recognized very little of it all, but the hubbub made for a pickpocket's haven. One run-through was all it took for her to garner a good deal of coin - one hundred pieces, when she finally sat down to count it all.

She spent thirty of the load on clothes, as it simply wouldn't do to celebrate in rags, and found a pond just on the outskirts of the city. She had a knack for finding things. A keen eye and a steady hand had done her many favors in life. Her body went limp in relief when she first submerged it in the water, letting her wild dark curls soak in the depths. Fireflies and dragonflies hovered above the water, zipping about in the cool evening air. It was the first respite Odde had had since before leaving Herebor. Had she known she would end up just shy of an execution block, she might have sacrificed her pride and turned the job down.

It all worked out for the best. Someone, somewhere was five-thousand gold pieces short, but that was their problem. Whatever agenda they thought they were going to force on Odde had her sorely mistaken for someone that believed in an-eye-for-an-eye. Tethered to the Crows though she was, she wouldn't bind herself to just any contract, and she happened to place a high value on freedom. Freedom was what led me to thievery in the first place, she recalled fondly.

She didn't rise from the water until the pads of her toes and fingers were all wrinkled. A thief wasn't meant to look the part of their occupation, so she'd purchased the outfit that made her most look like a commoner. The pants were heavy and baggy, cream-colored and tucked into leather sandals that covered the length of her calf. The red top left her stomach and arms exposed for what they were - scarred, muscular, and dark-complected. And because she enjoyed shiny things, she'd pickpocketed a gold band from some hapless woman that she now wore on her upper arm.

The city had calmed down since last she was within its walls. The structures grew bigger and fancier the deeper one ventured, she noticed. The southern district, which consisted of the marketplace, looked a lot more willy-nilly than the buildings in the richer districts, as if the architects had just thrown something together to get the coin flowing. Though lacking in aesthetics, the market stands were sturdy and the homes seemed cozy.

Odde moved for the inn. A sign hung outside the door reading The Sore Lioness, a tavern name if she ever heard one. She could hear laughter and merriment from within accompanied by the drunken singing and lute-fiddling of a bard. When she opened the doors, she realized the chaos of the marketplace at noontide had simply moved to the tavern. Not that she was complaining, of course. Environments such as this were practically home to her.

She maneuvered through the bodies, charmed by the smell of sweat, hot meals, and ale. Her hands slid along pockets as she went, grappling whatever lay at the surface. She came away with several coinpurses, a gold ring, and an odd amulet that had a name carved into the backside - Wymund Dane. She pressed her teeth into it to test its material. Real silver. It would fetch a handsome price.

She finally found an empty seat across from a man with his head buried in his arms on the table. She crossed her legs and reached over for his abandoned bottle of ale, taking a deep swig from it as she eyed him. Long blonde tresses fell about him, well past his shoulders in length. His attire was reminiscent of her own; baggy pants, belted sandals, a bare chest. The rings on his fingers didn't escape her notice.