**************
Disclaimer: This story is a sequel story to Pakal, taking place roughly 25 years later. The main characters are new characters, and the stakes are new, so deep knowledge of the first saga isn't necessary to understand this story, but be warned there will be a lot of references and returning characters in minor roles. (I'd still advise reading the epilogue of Pakal.)
First, if you need help to visualize where all the fictional locations are:
**************
Pilot: Part 1/3
**************
Batya yawned, and looked at the stars. It was a clear night – no cloud at all.
The marine wished she hadn’t drawn the short straw. Now, she was on guard duty for the night.
The black-haired dark-skinned brown-eyed woman adjusted her belt. She was wearing a red sailor cap, a wide white long-sleeved tunic, brown trousers, and black shoes. A brown belt was tied around her waist.
Batya was walking the docks. At this time of the night, they were empty. The merchants were comfortably sleeping in their homes, and the sailors were either resting on their ships or spending their pay in taverns or whorehouses.
The marine thought her patrol was pointless. Who would dare attack the ship she was watching?
The Queen’s Fury was the latest addition to Ghazan’s war fleet. A brand new flagship built to lead the fight against pirates. Indeed, these ruffians had become bolder and bolder the past couple of months. It was time for the navy to teach them a lesson!
The guard’s thought process was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of footsteps. She reflexively grabbed the hilt of the dagger strapped onto her belt, just in case.
The newcomer was clad in a colourful red-orange-and-golden-yellow short-sleeved long dress. A hot red sash was tied around her waist, and she was wearing cheap but colorful jewels. Her outfit was designed to catch the attention of passerbys. The dress indeed had a neckline most men would easily notice...
Batya rolled her eyes, and let go of her weapon.
A harlot...
The woman was staggering. Batya supposed she was a bit drunk. She approached her.
The harlot had auburn hair tied into a ponytail, and a light skin. There were a few freckles on her cheeks. However, the most noticeable thing about her appearance were her eyes. They were a captivating shade of blue and green – as deep and changing as the Sea.
“This area is off-limit.” Batya warned her.
The harlot giggled. “Don’t you want some company? Nights are pretty long and lonely in this part of the town...”
Drunk indeed. Batya thought to herself, with a feeling of disgust.
“I’m not interested. Go away, or I’ll have to use force.”
“Oh come on, I’ll make it worth your time!” the woman teasingly retorted, with a hand in her cleavage. “Check this!”
Suddenly, without any warning, the woman threw a strange grey powder she had been hiding in her hand at Batya’s face.
The marine coughed and took a few steps back. This strange powder was blinding her.
The harlot moved behind Batya, and wrapped an arm around and over the marine’s throat. She was swift. Her drunkenness had only been an act. She tightened her grip, cutting Batya’s breath.
“Neat technique, uh? It comes from the land of Kin. They call it a ‘sleeper-hold’. With enough pressure, I can even go one step further and snap your neck. But we won’t need to go that far tonight, do we?”
The auburn-haired woman’s voice was sharp. No drunk mumbles anymore.
The marine gurgled, but couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t breath either. Stars started to dance in front of her eyes.
She quickly passed out.
**************
Batya was woken up by a faint high-pitched noise. She shook her head, trying to recover her senses.
The marine first realized she was almost naked. Her only articles of clothes were her undergarments: a black leather strap wrapped around her breasts, and brown underdrawers.
Batya attempted to move, but realized her wrists were cross-tied behind her back with ropes. Her ankles, calves and thighs were also bound. One last coil was wrapped around her shoulders. A thick bandanna was tied in-between her teeth to muffle her protests.
Batya was concealed behind a big pile of ropes. Next to her, she could feel the warmth of an other woman’s bare skin.
The girl looked young, in her early twenties, with a tanned skin, soft reddish brown hair, and green eyes. Her haircut was an exotic crown-braid. She was trussed up with ropes the same way as Batya, and gagged with a thick bandanna.
She was also completely naked, her big breasts and sexy curves fully displayed. The girl was sobbing, though her cries were muffled by her gag. These were the noises Batya had heard.
The marine’s groggy mind started to put the pieces together. She suspected the woman who had assaulted her was an impostor, and the girl in front of her was the real owner of the dress.
“Good. You wake up just in time for the spectacle.”
Batya raised her head.
Her mugger was standing next to them, towering above Batya. And she was now wearing her marine uniform!
The woman noticed Batya’s glare. “Suits me well, don’t you think? I guess the only difference between pirate and marine is the flag under which one sails…” She bent forward, and patronizingly tapped Batya’s cheek. “Now, please remain still, and enjoy the show.”
Batya looked at what she was pointing with her finger. She could discern the silhouette of a ship approaching the Queen’s Fury.
Batya understood why she had been mugged. With her out of the picture, there had been nobody left to warn the soldiers on the admiral vessel.
The enemy ship’s crew suddenly activated several strange devices, which vaguely looked like ballistas mixed with bellows. However, instead of arrows, they were throwing some strange black oily liquid. Then, the pirates shot a few flaming arrows.
The result was instantaneous. The liquid immediately caught fire. In no time, a blazing inferno was roaring. The Queen’s Fury was on fire!
“Magnificent, uh? It’s liquid fire.” the auburn-haired pirate commented.
Batya couldn’t believe her eyes. Liquid fire was a powerful but expensive tool of war. How could lowlife scums such as these pirates get their hands on some?
Screams of alarm and pain could be heard from the burning ship.
“That should send a message to the king. The sea is ours now.” Batya’s mugger commented. “Too bad for your friends still on the ship… I don’t think they’ll be able to escape in time...”
She then glanced at the two bound-and-gagged women.
Batya stared at her with undisguised hatred.
“You’re wondering why I didn’t kill you?”
The pirate cupped Batya’s chin.
“Simple. Tales can’t spread if there aren’t any survivors...”
With a wicked chuckle, she left the two trussed up women to struggle in the dark.
**************
It was the end of the afternoon.
Yuka sighed, and rubbed her temples. She was feeling very tired.
Motherhood could do that...
Yet, the sight in front of her was familiar. Or, more precisely, it used to be familiar when she was young, 25 years ago… But now she was 53, and while her body physically aged slowly – like all shapeshfiters did –, she was feeling very tired.
Lying on the bed in front of her, a young woman was thoroughly restrained. Each wrist was tied to one bedpost with rope. An other coil of rope was binding the girl’s legs together, and a last one was wrapped around her pelvis and the bed to prevent her from moving too much. She was cleave-gagged with a thick red scarf.
The girl had neck-long curly brown hair, golden brown eyes, and a tanned skin. Her breasts were small but round, and her thighs were thick. Her cheeks and waist were chubby. She had been stripped down to her undergarments: She was only clad in a light pink underdress. The undergarment was thin and plain, thigh-long and sleeveless, with white edges and shoulder straps.
The bound-and-gagged girl was a servant of the palace. It was obvious someone had stolen her outfit.
And Yuka already knew who the culprit was.
A young woman in her early twenties walked next to the shapeshifter. She was Yuka’s spitting image – albeit roughly three decades younger.
“Aisha?” the newcomer asked.
Yuka nodded. She looked at her daughter. “Yasmin. Your sister is up to her usual tricks.”
Yasmin sighed, and shook her head. “Again…”
Yuka unknotted the scarf, and ungagged the plump servant.
“Ezgi… Where is Aisha?”
“My queen! The princess assaulted me!” Ezgi exclaimed very fast. “She used her royal status to make me comply! She left me no choice!”
The maid was, of course, lying. Yuka could see the ghost of a smile on the servant’s lips. And there were hickeys on her neck and shoulders. She was Aisha’s lover, and they had conspired together.
However, Ezgi also knew Yuka and Rashid were benevolent towards the palace’s staff – perhaps a bit too much. Plus, as head servant and personal handmaiden of a royal princess, Ezgi both did her job perfectly and was immensely popular among the staff. Finding a replacement would be very hard. The plump servant knew they wouldn’t fire her for assisting Aisha in her running away.
There was an important state ceremony and dinner later that afternoon. The kind which had a heavy-handed rigid protocol. Aisha had most likely slipped away to avoid it. It wasn’t the first time…
Yuka was feeling conflicted.
As a mother, she wanted to encourage her daughter to find her own path. She understood her girl’s feelings. Aisha needed thrills. She needed freedom. She needed to be outdoors, without the burden of a strict protocol. Out of Yuka’s and Rashid’s three children, Aisha was the only one who had inherited her mother’s temperament. Yuka had been like that when she was a teenager – before Hinata’s death. Rebellious. Wild. Always outdoor. Always picking up fights. Yasmin and Ahmed were their father’s children through and through – calm and collected just like him. But Aisha was reminding Yuka of who she used to be. She wanted to give her daughter the happiness she had been robbed of by Hinata’s death...
However, as a queen, Yuka also knew Aisha’s behavior was going to weaken Rashid’s faction. It had been 15 years since Mehmet’s death, and Rashid’s crowning. A period of time long enough for her husband’s reforms to have taken effect, and for the people to have become used to them… but also short enough for the king’s opponents to still have enough supports to undo them if they played their cards right. Thanks to Rashid, the kingdom of Ghazan was stronger. However, the conservative aristocrats were unhappy. The reforms had greatly reduced their influence. They were looking for any opportunity to undermine Rashid’s authority.
Plus, currently, the kingdom was facing a resurgence of piracy. These new pirates were more organized than usual. They had better ships, better tactics, and better weapons. Rashid had a hard time containing them, and his failure was eroding his popularity. The conservative aristocrats were, of course, taking advantage of the situation. And several foreign countries were moving forward their pieces, trying to expand their influence over Ghazan.
In that context, Yuka feared her husband’s enemies could use her rebellious daughter against him.
Or worst… that they could hurt her.
“Yasmin. Tell the captain of the guards to mount a search party.”
**************
Aisha exited the main building of El Idriss’ royal palace.
The complex was very busy. Plenty of maids, guards, scribes, and messengers were doing their errand.
The young woman looked around, and smiled. The servant clothes she was wearing were doing their trick. Nobody had realized that one of the royal princesses was walking among them.
Aisha, like her twin sister Yasmin, had inherited most of her mother’s features. She had straight dark brown hair, and hazel eyes. Her skin was tanned, and her face was round-shaped. She was of average size, with unremarkable curves: flat hips, thin limbs, and small breasts – something which annoyed her a lot.
Currently, the runaway princess was clad in a white tunic, a white cloth sash wrapped around the waist, a white ankle-long skirt, and sandals. Her hair were tied into a plain ponytail with a blue ribbon.
Aisha was careful to avoid making eye contact with anyone. She was walking with her head slightly down, but without any hesitation – acting as if she had been called somewhere for her duty.
Discreetly, the disguised princess entered one of the palatial complex’s many storerooms.
Satisfied she hadn’t been followed, Aisha closed the door.
A woman hidden in the shadows suddenly spoke: “Took you long enough.”
Aisha scratched the back of her head, and smiled apologetically. “Sorry Zaïde.”
The other woman stepped into the light coming from one of the windows. “You’ll never learn to be punctual…”
“Hey! I’m a royal princess! A lot of people watch me. Sneaking out is hard. It takes me a lot of time and efforts.”
“Especially when it involves stealing the clothes of your pretty servant.” Zaïde smiled slyly, and added: “I bet you took your sweet time binding her… and she loved every second of it.”
Aisha did her best to not look flustered. “Don’t tease me!”
“I’m the senior. It’s my privilege.”
Zaïde was indeed two years older.
She was Aisha’s cousin. Daughter of Istir, the former head courtesan, and of the late prince Yusuf, Rashid’s older brother. Ghazan’s complex court etiquette meant that, while Zaïde had no claim to the throne, she was still considered part of the core royal family.
Zaïde had inherited her mother’s flawless curves and sensuality, but also Yusuf’s tanned skin, brown curly hair, and green eyes. Ironically, she looked more like Rashid than his actual daughters… Though Aisha envied more her cousin’s busty chest, and her hips and behind which were the heart of many men’s (and women’s) fantasies.
“Can we just leave?” Aisha said to close the topic.
Zaïde nodded. “Follow me. We’ll pretend you’re doing an errand with me.”
The curvy young woman was dressed as a scribe. Her hair were tied into a professional tight ponytail. Yet, even the plain hairstyle couldn’t hide how gorgeous-looking she was. She and Aisha exited the storeroom.
“How did you get the clothes?” the princess asked.
“My mother had a set in her wardrobe. I borrowed them.”
“Trite. Couldn’t you at least steal them?”
“Not everyone has a pretty servant always at hand.”
“Zaïde!”
The curvy woman smiled. “You asked for it.”
“Let’s- Let’s just go meet up with Rasha.”
Indulgent, her cousin didn’t press her advantage.
**************
Rasha finished knotting the scarf binding her victim’s wrists behind the back. Her restraint was makeshift, but the knot was tight, and the cloth was sturdy.
The poor girl moaned feebly and stirred a little, but she was deeply asleep – and wouldn’t wake up soon.
Binding and gagging the girl was probably unneeded. According to the apothecary, the sleeping potion’s effects would last for hours. However, Rasha couldn’t help it...
The thief loved the feeling of dominance she was getting when she was overpowering an other woman, or when she was robbing her of her clothes. And she was feeling the same thing when she was moving and binding their motionless unconscious bodies.
The other thieves and cat burglars kept telling Rasha her fun was an unnecessary liability. That she shouldn’t bother herself with lugging around bondage tools. That she wasted time when she was trussing her victims up, and that she could be spotted at any moment. They said it was more practical to just stuff them somewhere once they were unconscious – or dead.
And Rasha agreed with their point. (Though she also liked to remind them she was the city’s best thief even with her self-inflicted handicap.)
However, she couldn’t help it. Rasha maybe loved money, but she also loved adrenaline. She was a risk addict. Of course, like everyone, she wouldn’t turn down a boring job – easy money was better than no money after all. However, she preferred when there was a challenge. She preferred when there was danger. And what better way to have a challenge than to take a few calculated risks? In a way, she was being fair. She was giving the people she robbed a chance to find her in time.
And she simply preferred to bind her victims. It was so much more pleasurable… Rasha loved that feeling of dominance.
The thief shoved an other thick piece of cloth in her victim’s jaw, in-between the teeth, and tightly knotted the cleave-gag behind her head.
The poor girl was now thoroughly restrained and silenced. Her wrists were cross-tied behind her back with a scarf Rasha had found in the storage room. An other scarf was tightly wrapped around her thighs, and a third one was binding her ankles together. Rasha preferred to make due with improvised restraints whenever she could. Of course, like any cat burglar worth her salt, she was carrying rope. However, she preferred to use it scarcely – in case she needed it to climb down a wall.
The bound-and-gagged girl was a novice of the Church of the One True God. She was young – most likely in-between 18 and 20, with a round-shaped juvenile-looking face, and a small nose. Her hair were dark brown and short. Her haircut was a square cut. Her skin was tanned, and her eyes were green-brown.
The novice had had the bad luck of coming across Rasha after she had sneaked inside the temple by climbing the wall. The thief was looking for a disguise. The novice was her size. End result, the novice was now only clad in a thick grey cotton underdress, thigh-long and with short sleeves.
Rasha dragged the girl’s unconscious body, stashed her inside a wardrobe, and pushed her into the back corner. Then she closed the door with her foot to conceal the unconscious novice.
Contrary to most thieves, Rasha wasn’t afraid to rob the Church. Of course, she believed in Aharu Azdam, the One True God, “of Whom all the other gods are merely the aspects”. However, she was part of a sect which didn’t think the Church was legitimate to speak in Their name.
Though she didn’t mind her colleagues’ faith. It meant less competition for her!
Rasha briefly checked herself and her disguise. Her black hair were tied into a short ponytail. The thief’s skin was tanned, and her eyes were dark brown. She hadn’t had the luck to be blessed with an attractive body, but she didn’t mind. In fact, Rasha preferred her small breasts, flat curves, and plain appearance. They helped her go unnoticed. Thanks to her average size, most of the clothes she stole were a decent fit.
Rasha was wearing the novice’s outfit: brown sandals, a long black religious robe with a hood, and a white cloth sash tied around the waist.
The thief smiled. The illusion was perfect. And she hadn’t even needed to remove her own outfit – she was wearing the robe over her thief’s clothes. Thanks to the wide religious garb, she could even conceal her tools and the rope she had wrapped around her torso.
The cat burglar was now ready for an other perfect heist, one which would fuel her legend...
Rasha was a former street kid who had played her cards right. The sixth child of a poor family, nothing had marked her out for greatness. She was simply a bit smarter and nimbler than most others, two qualities she had put to good use. Twenty or so years later, she was one of the kingdom’s most famous thieves. Or infamous, depending on who you asked.
Well, famous... Most people didn’t know her face. They only knew her nickname. Whisper.
Rasha adjusted her stolen robe, then put on a white face-covering mask. Novices were supposed to wear a mask during their service as a token of humility. It was the reason why the thief had chosen to impersonate a novice.
Suddenly, Rasha’s acute ears picked up a noise through the door. Someone was approaching.
The disguised thief remained cool-headed, confident nobody would suspect the nearby wardrobe was hiding a bound-and-gagged scantily-clad girl. She got in character, and pretended to be rummaging through the shelves.
The storage room’s door was opened. It was a priestess. She saw Rasha, but was fooled by the thief’s outfit, mask, and docile attitude.
“Novice. Good timing. I need someone to carry new candles in the inner sanctum. You’ll do.”
Rasha discreetly used her foot to make sure the wardrobe’s door was properly closed.
“Of course.”
**************
Rasha played the part of the obedient novice as she was following the priestess, carrying a handful of candles.
The priestess leading the way had hazel brown eyes, neck-long reddish brown hair and a slightly tanned skin. She was thin and tall, with sharp cheekbones. She had the fit body of someone who led an active lifestyle and avoided excesses. She was wearing a beige hooded ankle-long religious robe with long baggy sleeves. A white cloth sash was tied around her waist. She was walking in brown leather sandals.
Rasha estimated the woman’s clothes could fit her…
The priestess led the disguised thief into the temple’s inner sanctum. Rasha was smiling internally. Thank you for making my job easier… I won’t even need to come up with an excuse...
Once inside the room, the priestess started to arrange the candles.
Rasha recognized what she was doing. It was one of the Church’s most well-known purification rituals. Rasha didn’t know the specific details, but she knew one thing. The one performing the ritual was going to spend hours in the inner sanctum, praying and meditating… And nobody had the right to disturb them, under any circumstances.
Things were becoming interesting...
The priestess finished her preparations. “Thank you, novice. You are dismissed. Return to your duties.”
Rasha stepped forward.
“Of course. But first, there’s one last thing I need to tell you.”
The priestess looked at the disguised novice. “What is it?”
Rasha punched the woman directly in the face. The priestess grunted, and collapsed on the ground. Out like a light.
“Sleep tight.”
Rasha rolled the motionless woman onto her stomach. She removed the priestess’ sandals, then untied her cloth sash. Finally, she took off the religious robe.
The woman was left clad in a black knee-long sleeveless slip. The undergarment was thin, highlighting some pretty decent curves, big round breasts, and shapely thighs.
“Those baggy religious outfits… You never know what treasures lie under until you remove them…” Rasha joked.
The thief took off her novice robe, and grabbed the rope she had concealed wrapped around her torso in case she needed to flee by climbing a wall. She used it to tightly hog-tie the priestess: binding the arms, the wrists, and the ankles, then connecting the ropes together. She cut a few strips of the discarded novice robe, and used them to gag the woman, as well as to tie her thighs together.
Rasga then slipped into the priestess robe, put on the sandals, and wrapped the cloth sash around her waist. The baggy garment was perfect to conceal her thief outfit and tools once more.
The real priestess groaned. She was slowly regaining her senses.
Too late...
Rasha left the bound-and-gagged woman lying in the middle of the room, in open view. The next person entering the inner sanctum was in for a big surprise…
With the priestess out of the way, Rasha began to search the room.
“Now… They should be in the inner sanctum somewhere… Ah! There they are!”
The offerings.
Rasha ignored the big objects – gemstone-encrusted gold chalices and various precious tableware. However, she grabbed all the small jewels, storing them in small sacks strapped onto her belt. For her trouble, she also stole a couple of purses filled with coins.
Once she was done, Rasha adjusted the priestess robe to make sure the garment was concealing the stolen goods.
She noticed the priestess was now awake, and glaring at her. The thief winked at the bound-and-gagged woman. She ignored her squirms of anger, and left the inner-sanctum.
**************
Exiting the temple was unbelievably easy with a priestess robe. Rasha actually afforded the luxury to leave through the front door. When the guards politely saluted her, she returned the salute. She was laughing up her sleeves, and had a hard time keeping a straight face.
She relished the feeling.
The disguised thief knew exactly which itinerary to use in order to leave the area quickly.
At one point, when nobody was looking at her, she nimbly entered a dark empty alleyway.
Flawless victory… Rasha thought to herself.
However, the thief suddenly froze.
There was a woman blocking her path. She was wearing the sand-colored large desert coat, the beige cloth wrapped around the waist, and the white headcloth of the desert tribes’ bedouins. She was armed with a jezail – a brand new weapon which combined the technology of oversea firearms with Ghazanite power-infused crystals.
The woman’s headcloth was designed to cover all the hair, and she was also using it to conceal her lower face. However, Rasha could still see a few locks of red hair.
“Ah. Dear Beatrix! As reliable as ever!” Rasha said to the redhead. “I trust you made sure nobody came nosing around…”
The other woman nodded and stepped forward.
Beatrix was an oddity. Her mother came from the former Vassal Kingdoms (now named the Northern Kingdoms), hence her name, but her father was a Charioteer. Mixed children like her were almost unheard of, as Charioteers usually didn’t marry outside their people. However, Beatrix could never deny her heritage. She had the inimitable fluffy curly bright red hair and amber-coloured eyes of her father’s people. However, contrary to full-blooded Charioteers, she didn’t have a bronze-coloured skin – hers was only lightly tanned. She was taller and had broader shoulders than the average woman, but her long limbs were skinny, and her face was thin and angular-looking.
In the underbelly of El Idriss, Beatrix was a minor celebrity. Officially, she was a bounty hunter. In truth, she was more akin to a thug-for-hire – working with criminals as often as she was chasing them. Her fees were higher than the average grunt, but her sharpshooting talents more than made up for them.
Recently, Rasha had formed a very profitable partnership with the redhead.
“Nice outfit by the way. You stole it?” the thief joked.
“These clothes belong to me. I bought them years ago.”
“Lame...”
Rasha kept on walking.
However, when the thief passed next to Beatrix, the redhead suddenly spoke again: “Your bounty has increased. I could turn you in, and get a hefty price…”
Rasha didn’t lose her smile. She didn’t even blink. Instead, she threw a purse of coins. Beatrix nimbly caught it.
“But we know you won’t.” the thief simply retorted.
The red-haired bounty hunter shrugged. “We have a deal, don’t we?”
Rasha laughed. “With a business associate like you, who needs friends?”
The purse of coins disappeared inside Beatrix’s coat. “I trust the heist went well.”
“Disappointingly well, actually. Hardly a challenge.” Rasha tapped the small sacks filled with jewels strapped onto her belt, still concealed under the religious robe. “In truth, this was a mere pastime before my meeting of today…”
The thief left the area. Beatrix followed her.
While walking, the redhead removed the scarf covering her lower face. She had a broken nose, which was giving her a dour expression all the time. Her red hair were tied into a ponytail, but Beatrix hadn’t been able to prevent cowlicks from escaping her tight hairdo.
“I don’t like working for the princess. She’s an idealist. She’s reckless. It’s too risky.” the redhead complained.
“You already voiced your objections, and I already heard them. The money Aisha offers WAY outweighs the risks. Besides, things have turned out fine the previous times, right?”
Beatrix grimaced, but she didn’t try to argue further. She knew her place. Rasha was paying her, therefore she would follow Rasha’s orders.
It was a good healthy relationship...
**************
The pair was walking the streets.
It’s not good… Rasha thought to herself.
Too many people were glancing at them. Some were even doing a double take.
The thief was still wearing her priestess outfit. She stood out too much in this part of the town – especially while walking alongside someone as shady-looking as Beatrix.
“You seem preoccupied.” the redhead commented.
Rasha smiled. “Oh. Am I so easy to read?”
“You keep looking all around you.”
“I think we stick out too much…” the thief explained. “It’s because of my clothes. Someone dressed like me shouldn’t walk with a woman wearing rags such as yours.” She briefly looked at her partner, and added: “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Now, if only I could-” Rasha suddenly stopped talking, as something was peaking her interest.
More precisely, someone.
The woman was from one of the nomadic tribes of the southern desert. Rasha could see it with her clothes. The lass was a long and robust brown woolen robe covering all the body. The robe was actually even longer than her wearer and was gathered at the waist with a dark blue cloth belt. To protect her head and neck, the woman was using a brown headscarf tied with a dark blue headband. She was also wearing a veil to cover her face. In her customs, this was both a token of modesty and a way to protect oneself from the sand.
The thief smiled. “Give me ten minutes.”
Beatrix groaned. “Do we have to?”
Rasha indulgently rolled her eyes. Her red-haired accomplice was a war veteran. Like many soldiers and former soldiers, she was despairingly unsubtle. “It’s indispensable.” she retorted.
The veiled woman went into an alleyway.
The thief snickered to herself.
It was too easy…
She rushed after the unsuspecting woman.
Beatrix leaned back against the entrance of the alleyway. She ignored the sounds of the sudden scuffle, and the muffled yelps for help.
**************
Ten minutes later, Rasha exited the alleyway.
“As good as new!” she beamed. “I won’t tell you what her underwear were though. Or what she looked like. Or if I tied her up. You’re going to have to use your imagination for your fantasies.” *wink* *wink*
Beatrix glared at her. “What’s up with you all of the sudden? I couldn’t care less.”
“One day… One day I will meet someone who does care… So that my effects won’t fall flat…”
Beatrix adjusted the shoulder strap of her firearm. “Can we go now?” she complained.
Rasha sighed theatrically. “Lead the way.”
They couldn’t afford to be late. They had a date with a princess after all.
