Winding sprawl. Through sunken alleyways under Imirka’s common knowledge Serib’s stomping steps echoed, following Shay’s graceful swiftness. Woid was altogether quiet from place to place. A spectrum united quick through old markets sealed away and best left forgotten. Best left unbothered for a Shadow lived there, some say. Pieces of the Shadow were a person once, I have read - the rest of it was whatever remained; of a tool and device from a war or duel already lost. A rotting thing now of incomprehensible, irreconcilable Grief.
“The seeds are primary, now.” Shay motioned to Serib, thinking aloud as she went. “My plan is under my mask and armour, Serib just picked up hers. You’ll need a hood to complete your set, though. I have to find some goggles.”
∞
“Goggles?” Woid scoffed. “Just who are you dressing up as? Panzjrah?”
Shay walked a little faster, definitely smiling under her mask. Speaking hidden words to make it visible she leapt to the rusty ladder up to her shop with Serib close behind, who thought the shop was much further away before.
“He wins in Greed’s arenas for a reason.” Shay said. “As you pointed out, a direct approach is not advised.”
∞
“Why do you need to dress up as the person we’re stealing the seeds from?” the little shaman asked while Shay was rummaging through drawers of props, eventually finding what she was after:
“I do not know how exactly or where precisely you met Lay’d Payn…” She placed down her swords, removed her mask and waist-cloak. “…but Entroprison is not in one place. It moves constantly. If Panzjrah is going to deliver those seeds, he’ll need to be told where it is or will be, at a certain moment.”
Her leathers she set aside and the rest of her clothes underneath had an ‘anyone’ look to them.
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“And if we know where he’s going we can intercept him - and his pockets - and take the seeds straight from there to Entroprison ourselves.”
Woid was leaning on the grandclock again:
“You’re a bit taller than he is, though.”
In front of a clean mirror she added to her chin and cheeks a kind of sticky dusting of facial stubble. The wig was short, of curls growing out before they could fall down, and for her final touch she adjusted her posture until she was unrecognisable. The goggles really completed the look. Shay disguised as Panzjrah found Serib a suitably coloured scarf and hood to hide her distinctive half-hair and tusks.
∞
Woid appeared satisfied until he scrunched his brow:
“Why did you say that to our Dam’e, about exploiting nerves? A distraction? Aren’t The Dorns working for Greed?”
Shay nodded, making her final preparations:
“Always best if she doesn’t know exactly how we go out-about it.”
“Lord of Secrets and Lies… I’m sure she knows but doesn’t care.” Woid shrugged.
“And in that case, we never know who else might be listening.” Shay added.
∞
“There’s no shaman lessons that cover this sort of thing, hmm?” Shay spoke to Serib, but in a grumbly voice not her own.
The girl tried to change her own posture and put on a voice, though she just looked ill and sounded surreal. Woid loved it. Shay was refilling some straps on her wrists and a belt under her clothes with powders, petals and other such contingencies. Such things that allowed her to dispatch four foes at once.
“You might draw more attention like that.” She warned Serib. “The clothes are enough; you’ll blend in perfectly. No one will be looking for you in stormy robes.”
Shay's pace was not easy for Serib to keep up with. Short and stocky goggled 'Panzjrah' was already half-way down the rusty ladder into the tunnels, when Serib still in the shop looked back at Woid:
“Where’s your costume?”
“Don’t you worry! I won’t be seen unless I want to be.” He leaned against the grandclock in no hurry whatsoever.
“Didn’t see you there…” Serib repeated something one of The Dorns had said to Woid.
“That’s the idea.” She heard him say, though he had already vanished into other shadows.