The Wharf, Old Rose Harbor
She felt, Niccolette was startled to realize, dangerously close to losing her temper. Her eyes searched Leander’s face; her field held indectal and clear, but it was a close battle, closer than she might have liked. She held her breath; she found the rhythm of it through his speech, and won back her self control, hard-fought.
Leander, oblivious as ever, went on; he had the sense to lower his voice, at least, hissing, half-hysterical but at least quiet.
“Quiet,” Niccolette snapped, softly, when he finished. She grabbed hold of Leander’s forearm, and squeezed, sharply. Her hand was distinctly warm, warmer than it should have been; he would be able to feel it even through his clothing, and there was a faint, sharp, thickening to the air around them. Her hand cooled, as she held on, and whatever the feeling had been drained from the air.
Niccolette took a deep and careful breath, in, and out. She let go of Leander’s arm. “Look at me,” she said, quietly. She waited until he had turned; she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with hers. “Stay quiet,” Niccolette said, carefully, deliberately, “and stay calm.”
There was a burst of tight laughter from the dice game behind them; Niccolette, from the corner of her eye, saw Gap-tooth look away again.
“These are not our friends,” Niccolette continued, softly. She took another deep breath, even.
“Hawke was told,” Niccolette said, intent, her voice sharp and serious, “I was told, that among these papers there is only one legitimate document. Only one. Our job,” Niccolette continued, quietly, “your job, is to identify which.” Her eyes searched his face; she grimaced, faintly, again.
Niccolette turned, and looked down at the papers; she made another face, running her fingers over the remainders. “Do you need sharper vision?” She looked back up at Leander, raising her eyebrows. “More sensitive touch? I need you to be certain before you tell me that these seven are all legitimate.”
Niccolette paused; she glanced over towards Gap-tooth again. He was looking at them again. She found something like a smile for her face; it ached through her cheeks. She settled her gaze on Leander again. “Otherwise,” Niccolette continued, still soft, “it means that we were lied to – that Hawke was lied to – and he shall have to do something about that. So be certain, Leander. Be very, very certain.”
“Bird,” Howie’s voice came from behind them, just a little raised. Niccolette did not look away from Leander.
There was a distant chorus of groans and laughs; Gap-tooth’s gaze flicked away again. The game paused; then the rattle of dice went on.