High Tides and Low Life

Trinkets and Gears

Samirah

Samirah looked around the streets of San Cristobal’s market place. Her eyes followed the flow of people as they surged through the narrow ways visiting shop and stall alike. Her “master’s” voice barked over the murmur of the crowd. Her hand involuntarily gripped her scythe’s handle. This was the part she hated the most. The meetings that were staged as customers coming to shop. These meetings were precursors to the real meetings, but there was always a chance of being over heard or someone following them.

If agents of the Vaticine caught on to what was really going on, they would be in major trouble. That’s why she was here. Her Sultan had told her to seek out aid to help drop the embargoes held in place by the Vactine Church. If they were discovered they would definitely not be leaving this city alive.

Her “master” seemed more beast than man at times. He always looked at her with a spark of lust mixed with a fear resting just behind his eyes. He wanted her but knew that if he tried his luck without her consent he would not survive the encounter. Samirah forced her hand to relax and the frown she had developed to soften slightly. She gave herself a silent prayer that it was successful.

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