Wicked is the Curse.

04 | Execution

Chapter Four |  Execution.

There hadn't been another whisper of the Bloodhound in those three days and Aire had thrown herself into work.  In the sprawling city of violence and rot, there was plenty of secrets to be stolen. 

There had been a high-born lady determined to figure out where all her family's money was going and a spirit whispered back that her husband was gambling the money away in a tavern in Lower Irial.

The second day, Aire had spent hiding in the rafters of the theatre on information from a wailing spirit , where she watch a young girl step into her role as the painted, singing lady. This girl's maid, who followed her every step, had kept her lady's secret. Her parents had paid coin for information on her comings and goings, convinced she was stepping out to meet a man and that her maid was lying to them. 

Either way, Aire had lied to the girl's parents. 'She spent her days by the river, window shopping, walking with her maid.'

When Aire was not picking up odd jobs, she was skulking around other gang's headquarters and waiting for the ghosts to relay whispers back to her. Just something to justify sneaking in to steal concrete information, but they were all silent.

The execution was announced  on the washboards and whispered through the city as they balanced the rumours of the murdered man and the dead Wolfhound. Junhyn was right, Aire realized. People wouldn't linger on the knowledge that a man was murdered in Lower Irial, but the killing of a Wolfhound with a guard's collar was another thing.

When the execution was announced, Aire paid a visit to Ms. Alainne's shop. The shop was located in the merchant's quarter in Upper Irial, set in a small square where carriages and horses were forbidden. An arch of fake flowers, made of rough, colourful cloth arched over the doorway. A wave of heady perfume washed over her as she opened the door, the bell ringing to announce her arrival. She slipped out of her mud-caked boots and one of the workers scurried to get her a pair of slippers.

"Ms. Thielan," Ms. Alainne strolled out from the back of the shop, clasping her hands together. She wore a high-waisted trousers, cuffed at her heels and a shirt of blue silk. A pair of small round glasses sat at the end of her strong nose and a measuring tape was slung around her neck. Her head of dense, coiled curls was held by a silk sash of dark blue. "I expected you later. I was eating breakfast."

"I apologise." Aire grimaced, allowing Ms. Alainne to pull her towards the back. "I have another appointment for later today."

Ms. Alainne made a noise. "The execution ? Awful, isn't it?"

"It depends on how you look at it." Behind a curtain, Aire let herself be stripped down to her underwear. She cast an eye over herself, wondering if Junhyn would kill her for ordering another day outfit on his tab. Ms. Alainne didn't comment on her bandages, or new wounds. She had seen Aire in worse shapes before.

"Junhyn sent the message down yesterday and I have pulled some cloth out that I think might compliment your tone and stature." Ms. Alainne snapped her fingers at one of her workers and Aire's cheeks darkened as they began to measure her. "A gown for a party?"

"Something that can be done quick and simple."

Ms. Alainne regarded her over her glasses. "You know I loathe the word simple."

"Well, if you can get something not simple done in a few days, then be my guest. Master Doreng is the one paying for it." Aire grinned at the woman through the mirror. "And with the added challenge of not knowing exactly when this event is planned for."