A Stitch in Time

[Ksenia]

Ksenia’s face burned like a bonfire. Here she’d thought someone was coming for the expensive fabric and all she was doing was bringing food. And settling in for a little chat, too, thought Ksenia wryly. She tucked her snips away into her work pocket, avoiding Marcy’s eyes while trying to compose herself. “Since you know Artemis, I suppose he won’t mind,” Ksenia said, gesturing to the table where the silk lay. “He said it was left to him by his nan, and that he needs to sell it. I told him I could make things from it that should fetch him more than the cost of just the fabric.”

Marcy snorted in a very unladylike fashion when Ksenia mentioned knowing Artemis. “Oh, I certainly know the boy,” she said with a brilliant smile. “But that’s neither here nor there lovie, come get some food. You look like you’ve been up and about all day.”

Turning to the platters of food, Ksenia surveyed the spread. The platters held more than only potatoes; roasted vegetables, a couple of hunks of bread, and some meats - from what, Ksenia wasn’t sure. She almost drooled from the aroma. Marcy motioned for her to dig in, nodding encouragingly. Ksenia stabbed a chunk of potato and popped it in her mouth. Clearly, whoever cooked here knew their way around spices. She hadn’t tasted a potato so flavorful since when Mam had been chasing two minor noblemen. The leftovers those kitchens produced were divine.

As soon as Ksenia started chewing Marcy broke down into giggles. “Artemis doesn’t even have a nan,” she said patting the seamstress on the shoulder, as she dug into her own food. “Now,” the wench paused to finish a bite. “Tell me all about this lovely fabric! It’s so shiny, and blue, like the ocean.” Marcy was starting to build in a near frenzy of excitement.

Ksenia nearly choked on the potato, hardly tasting it. He had deceived her! Spun a web of lies, complete with sad backstory and puppy-dog eyes, to ensnare her. Idols only knew where he actually got the fabric from. Not to mention how appalled she was to have been duped - and by a man, of all people! She should have known better - but he had surprised her, and the chance to work on that fabric was far too tempting. Ksenia coughed loudly to cover her reddening face and hopefully redirect Marcy.

“Well, it’s a figured silk. The pattern’s woven in. Artemis -” Ksenia pronounced his name disdainfully “asked if I would help him identify it, as he wanted to sell it. I pointed out that he’d make more if the silk was made into items already, I suggested a few possibilities, and now here I am with an order to make things.” She sighed. “I’m going to need lining fabrics to make things like bags and hats, but I don’t even know if that man knows what I asked him for.”

Marcy cooed and gasped as she looked over the minute details in the silk, “It’s just so pretty. You know how to work this sort of thing? I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she said with a soft sigh. “He won’t have the slightest idea lovie. Though he’ll likely spin some way to make you go pick up the materials you need anyway. Arty’s good getting out of the way like that,” she said thoughtfully tilting her head.

“Why am I not surprised?” Ksenia replied. Also - ‘Arty’? It sounded like a thoroughly annoying nickname, so of course she was going to use that. “I was thinking of starting with a pair of embroidered sleeves. What fashions have you seen around town, that you think people might want?” Ksenia took more food from her platter and Marcy smiled.

[Artemis Black]

The Cook had called for him, and so Artemis found himself in front of an entirely different iron-banded oak door. He hesitated, gathering his nerves before knocking soundly on the door. There was a faint click, and his second knock pushed the door open on silent hinges. The room was lit with only dim candles, heavy carpeting muffled the Thief's boots as he moved forward, steps firm in false confidence. "You asked for me, Cook?" he said towards the shadow of a large man seated behind a massive rosewood table.

The smooth polished surface was littered with tools of all materials. Glass vials and clay pots sat among scattered pewter implements and stone dishes. A faint rasping came from a mortar and pestle that Cook worked unhurriedly. "You've brought another one to the nest Artemis," the tattooed man said without preamble. "I-" the Thief started before Cook simply continued over him, "I'll give her the same chance we all get, but you know the rules." Artemis nodded, the faint scraping of the pestle already starting to wear on his nerves. There were several beats of silence as the scraping stopped. "Take the letter and go. I hope you've not jumped before your wings are ready," the Cook said in an ominous tone. Artemis took the sealed envelope off the table and left the room in a barely restrained jog.

It wasn't that Artemis didn't deeply appreciate what Cook and the Goose had done for him during his life. It was just that he terribly hated even being in the North district, no matter how well Deb said he could blend with some 'cleaning up.' He stood in the silent hallway for several long beats before deciding he'd simply lean on his newest associate a bit more.

With quiet steps, he made his way up the servant's stairs to the spare storage room. He could hear talking inside and so pressed his ear to the banded wood. It took only a moment to recognize Marcy's bubbly laugh and the Thief grimaced as it faded. He did not want to deal with that woman's vicious mockery today, particularly not in front of the seamstress. Instead, with all the care of a practiced thief, he slid the letter under the door and fled into the night.

[Ksenia]

Marcy had just finished telling Ksenia about a bag she’d seen when an envelope skittered across the wood floor. Both women stopped to look at it. “That must be for you, lovie,” Marcy said and began giggling. Ksenia walked over to the envelope- hm, parchment - and brought it back to where she’d been sitting.

Flopping down, Ksenia sighed and looked at the envelope; it was loosely folded thick parchment kept sealed by a large wax seal bearing a familiar goose. Breaking the seal, a second sealed envelope fell out. The outer parchment contained a letter, written in flowing black script. The ink was still fragrant; it must have been written very recently.

'Welcome,
You have been issued this letter due to contracts outstanding on your behalf.
Failure to abide by these contracts may result in collection of damages from your person.
Find enclosed a letter of introduction, to be delivered sealed, to one:
Dash O'dell
The Respectable Businessman
8 Canterleave Way, North District

Please treat all facilities with respect and care.
Inquire with staff if you require additional goods.
All unpaid use will be added to your account as appropriate.

With Great Interest,
[STAMPED GOOSE]

Ksenia stared at the parchment. “Marcy? Do - do you know anything about this? And ‘contracts outstanding’?” Her chest tightened and she held the parchment over to the other woman. “What am I supposed to do?”

"Oh dear, he seems to have taken the leap already," Marcy said, scanning over the letter. "Well, no bother, you'll do perfectly fine. I'm sure of it. Do you know how to navigate the North District lovie? If not, I can make you a rough map," she offered as she looked at Ksenia for her reaction. "Once you find the shop, I'm certain they'll have what you need. Do be sure to not open the second one though. Someone will know, and that's just not good for anybody." Marcy waggled her finger as if scolding a child. "Now, finish up your meal, no sense in worrying for now, the shop will be long closed."

“North District?” Ksenia questioned. “Will they even let me walk around up there? I mean -” She gestured to her clothes, well-mended but worn. She looked up at Marcy. “I’m pretty sure they’re going to tell me to ‘go back where I belong’ and not be afraid to escort me, by force if they think it necessary.” She propped her head up on her hands and let loose a long breath. “I hope this shop is worth it.” Marcy smiled radiantly as she silently continued to enjoy her food.

[Artemis Black]

Challenge Roll
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The Thief was crouched in the shadow of rooftop, nestled against the wood and shingles. He watched the flickering lights below him drifting from window to window. The warehouse he was casing was heavily guarded, and the guards appeared to actually take responsibility for their duties. The building below was a two-story single-floor goods storage. Filled from the floor to the rafters with pallets, boxes, and bags of all manner of material and product. Artemis was only interested in one of the smaller crates this evening. He had word from his contacts that a shipment of something called velvet was marked as taxed but with the buyer uncontacted. Sellers often preferred to not openly pursue these sorts of losses. After all, who wanted to order something from a merchant who did not protect his supply.

He watched the movements of the guards through the flickering lights as they made another circuit of the building before disappearing somewhere on the far side. The Thief did a final check of his armor, tightening belts and cloth straps as he readied to make his move. With a practiced sweep, he tossed a cloth-wrapped hook across the street-wide gap from his perch to the target building. There was a soft thunk as the hook and rope struck the middle of the roof. Artemis waited for several long moments to see if his clatter had attracted any attention. When there was no reply he started to reel the hooked rope in. It caught a few feet along the slope of the roof and he gave it a sharp tug. The hook held, and he moved to slip down from his perch before dropping to the street below.

Once he was beneath the warehouse, he gave the hooked rope a second sharp tug. Thankfully, there was no flex or give in the hook’s perch. Artemis twirled the rope loosely around his left arm and hopped up onto the wall. His crouch let him move slowly up the surface without dealing with too many balance issues. As he went, he slid his right arm up the rope, gripped, pulled, and walked a step upwards. Then he did the same with his left, letting his arm slip upwards on the rope before tightening it again. Despite the slow going entry was rarely the real challenge to this sort of job. He reached the high windows without truly testing his reserves. Placing his eyes just above the edge of the glass he peaked into the gloomy warehouse. There was a pile of boxes just below the window and no sign of the patrolling guards or their light.

He delicately lifted the window outward on its hinge and locked the frame in place. This design was common in taller buildings, allowing airflow without compromising security, or so the story went. With careful movements, the Thief crawled through the window and settled on to the pile of boxes, the rope still in his hand. He waited for two slow breaths before taking his first step off the column of goods. That was the moment the universe decided things needed to be exciting. There was a creak, a groan, and then the whip crack of snapping ropes. The pile Artemis stood on started to twist in on itself and collapse. On instinct he lept towards the outer wall, using his still anchored rope to haphazardly run his way down to the ground floor as the tower of crates scattered across the warehouse with a thunderous noise. There was immediately shouting and lamp light and Artemis tried to keep as still as possible as he let the rope swing away from him.

There was no way to stop the guards from spotting the rope and raising a further alarm. Thankfully their investigation would take time to reach the wall with their light. Boxes, barrels, and bags had blocked most of the close-packed walkways to the Thief’s hiding place. Despite this small bit of luck, he was still now on a very tight time limit. He knew the rough location of the target, but he lacked exact details, working off a rendition of the trader’s seal from memory. Artemis shuffled his way along behind the standing columns of goods. Each time he had to pass in the open he waited for the lamp light to be dim across his path.

He reached a small pile of boxes in the far corner and each bear the trader’s mark he expected. With a quick check for the still slowly advancing guards, Artemis moved over to the boxes and started to inspect their tax labels. A quick scan narrowed his search down to two crates, each marked with the word ‘Cloth’ in the goods section. The thief frowned intently as he realized the detailed list of goods for each box was handwritten. He had been hoping for the standard block stamps of the merchant’s guild. He didn’t have time to open the boxes, and he certainly couldn’t carry them both, especially with the loss of his rope. He stared at the two crates, trying to ignore the crash, curse, and shuffle of the guards who needed only to turn around to doom him.

With a soft grunt Artemis lifted each box in turn and decided to take the heavier one. After all, at the worst he got something heavy, and that usually meant valuable. He worked quickly, using a leather harness to strap the box to his shoulders sitting at stomach height. Then he lifted, letting the box settle in to the straps to transfer the weight from his arms. He took a quick glance at the guards, seeing they had just reached the rope and were starting to shout at one another. With a prayer to the dark, he was off. His steps weren’t as loud as a man in plate, but there’s only so much you can do to deaden the sound of someone in boots running with a heavy load. The guards immediately turned in his direction, but he was at the edge of lamp range and moving fast. They shouted for an ally and only experience helped Artemis dodge the tackle of the man just outside the warehouse door. He stutter stepped to get his balance under control and shouted, “The Crimson Skulls Strike Again.” As his voiced faded he continued at a full sprint out into the night.

[Ksenia]

The sun had begun to peek over the roof by the time Marcy knocked on the door with breakfast. Ksenia stumbled over to the door and took the steaming mug Marcy handed her. Giggling, Marcy set the plate down on the table and walked to the door. “See you when you’ve woken up, lovie,” she said, closing the door behind her.

An hour later, Ksenia ventured outside the Velvet Goose, freshly fortified by a strong mug of builder’s tea and a hearty omelet. She held Marcy’s handwritten map in her hand, although Ksenia knew she wouldn’t need it until she got to the North District proper. Following the wall in the East district, she got a few waves from passersby she had worked for, or who had helped her.

When she got to the gate that separated the North District from the East, Ksenia swallowed hard. Twice her height, thick wood doors bound with metal loomed over the guards standing watch. The pointed teeth of the portcullis seemed to snarl at her from their position at the top of the gate’s opening. As she walked toward the gate, a guard stopped her with an outstretched hand. “Halt! What business have you here?” He glared at her, looking at her like a particularly disgusting vermin he hadn’t decided whether or not to squash.

“I have a delivery for a Mister O’Dell.” Keep it simple, she thought. The less information she gave, the less they had to question.

“Oh, I suppose this ‘Mister O’Dell’ is in the habit of patronizing establishments that employ street urchins?” scoffed the guard. “I think your ‘delivery’ had better get lost.”

Street urchins?! Poor she might be, but urchin - that was a low blow. Ksenia bit back a retort. “All the same sir, I do have directions to take this letter to him.” She held up the folded parchment, out of reach of the guard.

“A letter? What, the post not good enough?” The guard huffed derisively. “You may as well stop with your cock-and-bull stories. You’re not getting in this gate.” He crossed his arms firmly over his chest and threw his shoulders back. “Now head back to the shack you came from and don’t trouble us any more.”

Ksenia’s face turned red. First Artemis lied to her, pawned this delivery off on her, and now some guard was throwing his weight around? There was no law prohibiting the poor from walking amongst their “betters”. The guard had no reason to stop her! She tucked the letter into her pocket and began walking determinedly to the gate. “Are you deaf?” the guard blocked her again. “I said LEAVE.”

A second guard came up to them. “What’s this now?”

The first guard opened his mouth, but Ksenia was faster. “I’ve a delivery for a Mister O’Dell, and this gentleman-” she nodded to the guard- “refuses to let me pass.” The guard closed his mouth and drew back a bit, clearly offended.

“Esyrax’s balls, Stefan, she’s just walking in, not planning to set up camp.” The second guard rolled his eyes and gently elbowed the other man aside. “I’ll walk her there myself if it’ll get your knickers out of a twist.”

“You do that.” Stefan stomped back to his post, little puffs of dirt coming up around his boots.

“What’s the address, miss?” The second guard asked Ksenia.

She pulled the letter from the Goose with her instructions out. “Eight Canterleave Way, for a Mister Dash O’Dell.” She smoothed out Marcy’s map. “I was told that I can take the main road here, straight for two blocks, then turn left and take the third right.” She traced the path with her fingers on the map as she showed it to the guard.

“That is likely the best way,” admitted the guard. ““I’ll walk with you so you don’t get lost.” Ksenia followed as he walked through the gate with an easy stride. “I don’t suppose you come this way often,” he offered as they traveled.

“No, not at all,” she replied.

“It’s funny, you look a little like someone familiar,” he said, squinting at her face a bit. Ksenia groaned to herself, but put a politely puzzled expression on her features. “I guess I’m mistaken though, what with you coming up through East District and all.” He began to whistle, and though slightly off-key, Ksenia found it less annoying than his conversation.

They stopped at 8 Canterleave Way, a white two-story plastered stone building with a single floor. Ksenia pulled the door open and was approached by a stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair. “May I help you, miss?” He clasped his hands together.

“I have a letter for Mister Dash O’Dell.” Ksenia pulled the more posh language she could remember together. “Do I have the pleasure of addressing him?”

“You do, yes,” he said, holding out his hand. Ksenia gave him the folded parchment and gazed around the shop. Bolts of fabric lay on shelves throughout, and a selection of trims were arrayed on a counter against the far wall. A large chest, that might have once belonged to an apothecary, held a bunch of tiny drawers labeled with descriptions; Ksenia guessed they contained buttons, closures, and the like.

The parchment rustled in Mister O’Dell’s hand. “I see,” he said mostly to himself. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for, miss?”

Deciding to stick with Artemis’s lie, Ksenia described the silk to him. “I’m looking for a fabric - or multiple fabrics - to coordinate with it.”

He led her over to a shelf with a stack of lightweight silk. “Any of these cendal would be excellent as a lining for a garment.” She slid her fingers under the edge of the fabric.

“Yes, I’ll take a yard and a half in the ivory, please.” Ksenia ran a finger over the bolt in the pile. “May I see your velvets?”

“I’m afraid we’re out of stock, at the moment.” Mister O’Dell sighed faintly. “Might I interest you in a medium weight wool? With fall upon us, it would be excellent for warmer garments.” He gestured to a shelf in the back corner. “The shelf on the corner there, and the one to its right, are both medium weight.” He turned to the counter to cut the cendal silk.

Ksenia walked over to the stacks of wool; the piles held plain fabric as well as plaids, stripes, and tweed. Considering what she might make, she decided on a black wool with a faint twill weave to it. “I should like two yards of this one as well, Mister O’Dell.”
As the haberdasher cut her fabric, Ksenia picked out an assortment of buttons, a nice clasp for a cloak, more thread, and fresh needles. “Do you have any embroidery silks?”

“A few.” He pulled a basket from under the counter. “I’m running a bit low, but choose whatever you like.” Ksenia grabbed skeins in white, red, green, and a pale lavender. Setting them next to her fabric and notions, Ksenia waited as Mister O’Dell wrote out an itemized receipt and copied it into a book he had kept under his counter. “Do please present this receipt to - the appropriate persons,” he said, handing her the list. “A pleasure to have your business.”

“Thank you, Mister O’Dell.” Ksenia gathered the neatly wrapped parcel in her arms and headed for the door.

[Artemis Black]

Artemis reached the Goose at perhaps an hour past midnight. He'd gotten slowed down several times trying to navigate buildings without his rope and hook. Having to rig up a temporary lift each time he needed to get the box over anything higher than a large step had worn down his nerves for near on the last two hours. When he finally reached the Goose roof access, his window taps were perhaps a bit harder than necessary. The frowning swain who stood in the hall past the window confirmed his suspicion, and Artemis offered the boy an apologetic smile and wave before making his way fully into the building.

He lugged the heavy box to the supply closet door and, mindful of his recent transgression, gently set it on the floor. Then he went to open the door and share the spoils with Ksenia. Frustratingly, the door was solidly locked, and there was no way he was going to pick it. He had no idea what sort of traps were on the keyhole. With a sigh the Thief kicked the box into the door, making it thunk satisfyingly. Then he realized how loud that kick would sound in the room and fled into the Goose.

[Ksenia]

The loud thud had Ksenia bolting up from her spot on the floor and crouching in the corner before she realized what happened. Shaking out her arms, she crept to the door and put her ear to the wood. Hearing nothing but the sound of disappearing footsteps, she opened the door slowly and found a decently large box, with a tax form attached, filled out with slanted handwriting. Ksenia dragged the box inside before quickly shutting the door. In the moonlight she squinted and deciphered the label to read “Fabric. - Figured Linen.”

It wasn’t satin, but it was a fine linen. Considering she now had the cendal silk and the wool, the linen fit in better than she had originally planned. She worked open the box to see a deep red linen, woven with a pattern of artichokes. Ksenia rolled her eyes a bit and smiled. She tugged the box over to the corner that held the table with the silk and her other supplies.

Feeling tired, Ksenia headed back to where she’d been sleeping. When she’d got back from the North District, Marcy had told her to come out to the main seating for food. From the moment Marcy set down the plate, Ksenia had been busy chatting with tavern patrons and the staff - who told some pretty ribald stories, some including the mysterious Artemis and his 'conquests'. Ksenia planned to check with Marcy, but the empty crates would make decent shelves if she could stack them. Her first order of business would be cutting out the silk - and now the linen - for a pair of embroidered sleeves.

[Ksenia]

When Marcy showed up with breakfast - and a lovely strong mug of tea - Ksenia had cut out the silk and linen on the table, and bundled the scraps and remaining yardage. “Thanks, Marcy.” Ksenia took the mug and the plate to set them on the crate near the door. Marcy looked around the room with a small frown that looked out of place on her face.

“You’re not working all hours of the day...where are you laying your head, lovie?” Marcy put a hand on her hip.

“Oh...um,” Ksenia gestured vaguely at the floor. “I’ve got a cloak.”

Marcy’s face dropped. “I’m- I’m going to murder him,” she said quietly to herself. “Come on, then,” she said, grabbing Ksenia’s arm. “We are going to fix this. Now. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.”

Marcy opened a door next to Ksenia’s store room. “Here’s the servants’ stairs, lovie. Use these to get around.” She headed down the stairs, Ksenia following quietly behind. “That way-” Marcy pointed, “is the kitchen.” She turned and passed several doors before she opened one and shooed Ksenia in. “Plenty of bedding here, so let’s get you something to sleep on.”

Ksenia turned around. Piles of bedrolls, thick blankets, sheets, pillows, and all manner of linens towered around her. “I think...maybe one of these bedrolls? Then I can put it away.” She slid her finger down a fluffy blue bedroll to her left. “Could I maybe get one of those quilts too, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“It’s no trouble, lovie.” Marcy tugged the bedroll out and shoved the others back to keep them from falling. She handed it to Ksenia before going after a thick blanket that had been patched a few times. “Here,” Marcy said, handing Ksenia the blanket and a pillow. “That should be a sight more comfortable, now.” She fixed Ksenia with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Is there anything else that you need to make that room livable?”

“I think I’m okay for now,” Ksenia replied. A fluffy bedroll and a warm blanket were much nicer than she’d had for a long while. Comparative paradise to the wood floor. “Oh, is it all right if I stack those empty crates in the corner? I’d like to use them as shelves for the fabric and things.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Marcy looked at her, a bit puzzled. After a beat, she giggled and her usual smile reappeared. “When you’re ready to eat at mid-day, just come down to the kitchens and I’ll take care of you.” She closed the door behind them as Ksenia made to go back upstairs.