reached in to a hidden pocket and procured a key. “A key to the lady’s room. I am the proverbial key master!”
Lyn’s eyes widened and she patted herself down frantically, not finding her key. “Hey!”
Satora laughed to himself again and slid the key idly across the table. “You don’t become bandit extraordinaire without learning how to pickpocket. It’s a very useful skill. I could teach you.”
Lyn snorted. “Right, me a pickpocket. I hate to destroy your image of me Satora but I don’t have the grace to avoid tripping over a rock, let alone the grace to pick someone’s pocket. Not to mention the moral objection to picking someone’s pocket.”
“Moral objections, right and wrong; the world isn’t so black and white. Don’t mistake me, I don’t fault you for your virtue in the least. Just be sure the virtues instilled in you don’t blind you to the way of the world. Some men’s pockets should be picked, some secrets let out.”
Lyn smiled and said, “Why, Satora, did you just say something serious? I might die of shock!”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Yes, it’s an unfortunate character flaw of mine; every once in a while I do something of substance, despite myself. Such a drag. Luckily I have you to keep me grounded in insanity.”
The following day Lyn went downstairs to the inn keep to pay for another night, only to find that her fare had been paid for already. When she asked by whom it had been paid, the innkeeper simply shrugged and said it had been paid earlier that morning. Lyn suspected that Satora had paid her way, and she was determined to confront him about it. She hadn’t taken his money the first time, she wasn’t going to do it this time. But he had already paid for her today, so she thought she may as well make use of it and have breakfast. After she was finished with her meal, she was surprised to find that Satora had been away all morning and wasn’t expected back until evening. Shrugging, she decided to spend the day with Alir.
She was finding it easier and much less trying to share consciousness with him, and they both found it to be an exhilaratin g experience. After spending the day thus, she decided to retire to her room to write in her journal. She was not yet ready to make plans to move forward, nor had she really even reached out much to the people here; she was still recovering from the ascent and didn’t feel particularly inclined to go back to her duties. She knew she had to, and she no longer was shadowed by the doubt of her abilities to do so, but she simply wasn’t ready just yet. It turned out to be fortuitous that she was not planning her next steps, because she was interrupted shortly by a knock on the door. Brow furrowed, she opened the door, wondering who it could be. She was surprised to see one of Satora’s men standing with his hands behind his back, face passive.
“My master Satora ha s requested that you come and dine with us tonight. We’re over in the tavern across the way, already have a table and everything. Shall I tell him you’re coming, then?”
“Your master Satora? I thought you traveling bandits were all free and equal men? Besides, where’s your mask?”
To the man’s credit, he remained stoic and paused only for a moment before deciding on his answer. “Even bandits have hierarchy, miss, and I don’t wear my mask because there is no danger of my being recognized here.”
Lyn looked a t him sidelong, but decided to acquiesce. “Tell Satora I’ll be there, just give me a moment to...freshen up.”
He raised his eyebrow ever so slightly, but nodded and turned away.
“What a group of people we’ve met along the way, hey Alir?” Lyn moved over to the looking glass and pulled her hair back in to a ponytail. She wasn’t as disheveled as she usually looked, since most of her day consisted of sitting and meditating, but somehow she felt pressure to look better. After nitpicking about herself for a few moments she threw up
Lyn’s eyes widened and she patted herself down frantically, not finding her key. “Hey!”
Satora laughed to himself again and slid the key idly across the table. “You don’t become bandit extraordinaire without learning how to pickpocket. It’s a very useful skill. I could teach you.”
Lyn snorted. “Right, me a pickpocket. I hate to destroy your image of me Satora but I don’t have the grace to avoid tripping over a rock, let alone the grace to pick someone’s pocket. Not to mention the moral objection to picking someone’s pocket.”
“Moral objections, right and wrong; the world isn’t so black and white. Don’t mistake me, I don’t fault you for your virtue in the least. Just be sure the virtues instilled in you don’t blind you to the way of the world. Some men’s pockets should be picked, some secrets let out.”
Lyn smiled and said, “Why, Satora, did you just say something serious? I might die of shock!”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Yes, it’s an unfortunate character flaw of mine; every once in a while I do something of substance, despite myself. Such a drag. Luckily I have you to keep me grounded in insanity.”
The following day Lyn went downstairs to the inn keep to pay for another night, only to find that her fare had been paid for already. When she asked by whom it had been paid, the innkeeper simply shrugged and said it had been paid earlier that morning. Lyn suspected that Satora had paid her way, and she was determined to confront him about it. She hadn’t taken his money the first time, she wasn’t going to do it this time. But he had already paid for her today, so she thought she may as well make use of it and have breakfast. After she was finished with her meal, she was surprised to find that Satora had been away all morning and wasn’t expected back until evening. Shrugging, she decided to spend the day with Alir.
She was finding it easier and much less trying to share consciousness with him, and they both found it to be an exhilaratin g experience. After spending the day thus, she decided to retire to her room to write in her journal. She was not yet ready to make plans to move forward, nor had she really even reached out much to the people here; she was still recovering from the ascent and didn’t feel particularly inclined to go back to her duties. She knew she had to, and she no longer was shadowed by the doubt of her abilities to do so, but she simply wasn’t ready just yet. It turned out to be fortuitous that she was not planning her next steps, because she was interrupted shortly by a knock on the door. Brow furrowed, she opened the door, wondering who it could be. She was surprised to see one of Satora’s men standing with his hands behind his back, face passive.
“My master Satora ha s requested that you come and dine with us tonight. We’re over in the tavern across the way, already have a table and everything. Shall I tell him you’re coming, then?”
“Your master Satora? I thought you traveling bandits were all free and equal men? Besides, where’s your mask?”
To the man’s credit, he remained stoic and paused only for a moment before deciding on his answer. “Even bandits have hierarchy, miss, and I don’t wear my mask because there is no danger of my being recognized here.”
Lyn looked a t him sidelong, but decided to acquiesce. “Tell Satora I’ll be there, just give me a moment to...freshen up.”
He raised his eyebrow ever so slightly, but nodded and turned away.
“What a group of people we’ve met along the way, hey Alir?” Lyn moved over to the looking glass and pulled her hair back in to a ponytail. She wasn’t as disheveled as she usually looked, since most of her day consisted of sitting and meditating, but somehow she felt pressure to look better. After nitpicking about herself for a few moments she threw up
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