Micah removed her clothes, starting with her shirt, which revealed an armored corset beneath it. She pulled that off as well, along with the small mechanism around her forearm that would release a poisoned dagger into her palm if she jerked her hand in a specific way.
A belt of darts followed and was hung quickly on the wall for her man to clean, oil, and have the poisons reapplied.
All other trappings that would have made her look like a courtesan were similarly discarded—the earrings, necklaces, and bracelets had been chosen to be shiny enough to keep eyes distracted from the weapons she was hiding. Here, however, she did not need to hide who she was.
A light leather vest fitted comfortably over a brown shirt with similarly light and comfortable trousers and boots. She shook her hair loose and a few beads and gold strands came free as she finally retrieved a leather strap to tie her hair back. With more time, she would have braided it neatly but for the moment, a simple tie would do.
Once fully dressed, she stepped out of the bedroom in the attire that would be more familiar to the people who worked for her and moved directly to the office she had arranged for herself. A large, overstuffed chair was set behind a heavy oak desk. It had been made to look a little more impressive than she knew was necessary, but it did make her feel more comfortable to have something that large and solid between herself and anyone who might come through the door.
A shelf was positioned between her and the secret passage leading in as an additional precaution. There were those in the city who wanted her dead, and they would soon find that killing her would be difficult even if they did manage to catch her off-guard.
A handful of papers already waited on the desk but she ignored those, retrieved a fresh sheet, and quickly noted the details of a new contract. It was a simple enough missive and one that was meant to remain confidential, so she applied the wax seal to ensure that no eyes would see it but those for which it was intended.
A knock on the door drew her attention and she locked the stamp and wax away and picked up the letter she had written.
"Come."
The door opened to reveal a distinguished man who appeared to have passed his fiftieth year judging by the gray that had crept into his thick beard and full head of hair. He was slim with angular features and wore simple purple robes that made him seem to glide as he stepped slowly into the room.
"Denir, good." She stood from behind the desk. "I'll need this letter delivered to the guildmaster—for his eyes only—and as quickly as possible. I won't have folk complaining that I'm withholding information about work from them. Not again."
"Of course, Dame Ferat." The man collected the sealed letter and slipped it into his coat pocket without so much as a second glance. "If it is not an intrusion, the dame should know that her sister has called upon her. I have directed her to the atrium to await her and instructed that she be provided with refreshments while she waited."
"How long has she been here?"
"The dame's sister arrived mere minutes prior to the dame's arrival."
The man's insistence on speaking like that to her was annoying. She knew it came from him wanting to respect her as much as possible but at the same time, it was odd to be spoken of in the third person.
"Send the letter. I'll see what my sister wants. Thank you, Denir."
He bowed stiffly at the hips and never once met her gaze as he spun and padded silently out of the room to send the letter. She didn't know if he did it personally or if he placed it in the hands of those whom he trusted to deliver it. All that mattered was that the missive was sent without delay.
She had other business to tend to.
Unlike the villas, her house was not that large despite the work she had put into making it as comfortable and luxurious as possible. The advantage was that she didn't need to spend hours walking along pathways in gardens to reach any one point of the property. The atrium wasn't far from her office, and when she arrived, she noted that the servants were still delivering platters of fruits, sweetmeats, and other delicacies along with a selection of drinks for her sister to choose from.
The woman looked very uncomfortable in her surroundings. Light-brown hair was tied back somewhat messily, and the look of her clothes made it appear as though she had taken armor off moments before the visit. Her pale skin was darkened by the sun, and everything about her screamed soldier.
Her discomfort fell away, however, when she saw her sister. Both women smiled and hurried forward to wrap their arms around each other in a warm embrace.
"It is nice to see you again, Sera."
"And you, Micah." The mercenary stepped back and grinned. "Or should I call you Dame Ferat? What—with a little bow or a curtsey?"
"Fuck that." Micah moved to one of the tables, selected a silver goblet, and filled it with what looked like honeyed wine. "The guild thought they would reward me with a title, and it's now taken root in everyone's head that they need to address me by it. If you start calling me Dame too, I'll slit your throat and toss your body into the swamp."
"You'll try," Sera retorted and held her goblet out to her.
Micah acquiesced and tapped hers to her sister's once both were full. "What should we toast to?"
"The end of you building this bloody house? At long last?"
"Possibly, although I might have a few alterations for the outside."
"Of course you do."
Sera was still making a name for herself in the guild, of course. She was captain of a peloton and earned well escorting those who needed it to and from Verenvan. Some who didn’t know better thought they might have been twins, although Micah was three years her sister's senior.
Not that she would let anyone think that.
They sat and the visitor served herself a platter of the food that had been provided for them. She knew that trying to steal from Sera's plate might be a good way to lose some fingers, but Micah didn’t feel hungry enough to even try.
"What brings you here? I happen to know that you hate the swamps I call home."
The other woman smirked. "That hate has a good reason behind it, although it might be explained as simply that I lack your obsession with the area we called home as children. But I do like to see you and talk to you between missions. Neither of us spends enough time in this city for us to wish to spend all our time in it apart."
Micah couldn't help a small smile. "Tell me, what adventures have you engaged in over these past few months?"
"I think you're well aware of what I've been up to, given that you've asked questions around the guild. I have asked you to not concern yourself with my business."
"You're the only family I have in the world, Sera. I'll never not worry."
"Well, if you must know, I was involved in a rather interesting enterprise. The business itself was not quite so interesting, although we did run into a group of bandits who tried to steal all our possessions. We had a man with us, though, who dealt with them rather well—one of those who came to me for an escort. A barbarian."
Her sister nodded and inclined her head like she hadn't learned all the details a few hours earlier. "A barbarian?"
"Aye. Skharr is his name. The man's instincts are difficult to question, as well as his fighting abilities. We returned to civilization while he continued with his mission."