The Dragon Gate

(( Some slight bad language, not enough to warrant a 'mature' tag, but be warned if you're at work or something :) ))

Heulwen slumped comfortably, the morning sun warming her skin.  She was perched on top of a pile of crates in the Bazaar and leaning against the stone wall at her back.  Beside her lay a water-skin and a package of sandwiches wrapped in grease-paper.  At the base of the stack of crates was a satchel.  Just another courier waiting to meet a contact, a common sight in this part of Silvermoon.

Turning a page in her book, she looked up briefly from under the brim of her hat.  It was early, and the gate across the entry of Celestial Towers had yet to see the passage of a traveler either in or out.  If the pattern of the property held, it would be a short while yet before there was action.  Glancing quickly around the Bazaar, Heulwen was about to drop her gaze to the page again when she stiffened with sudden tension.   How the Fel had someone snuck up so close?  Ever so slowly she rotated her head to look at the crate to her right.  Make it look casual, then act surprised….

Heulwen gaped, so surprised she had no need to feign it.
“Fuck-a-gnoll, where did YOU come from?”

The Cat blinked placidly back.  It sat upright, tail curled neatly around its rump to rest atop its front paws, the sun revealing highlights in its grey fur.
“I thought you’d gone for good.  What do you do, anyway, hitch a ride with mages or something?  I know you can’t use a portal on your own, you don’t have sufficient mass to activate the channeling.”

The Cat blinked again, eyes on Heulwen’s.
“Yeah alright, I’m no scholar but I’m not an idiot – I’ve had drinks with tons of mages, I know how the bloody things work.”
The Cat sneezed, and looked away from Heulwen and across at the gate.  Was that disdain?  She chose to ignore it.

“Celestial Towers,” she said instead “there’s a guy in there up to something and I want to know what.  I’ve been watching for three days now, getting the feel for the place.”
The Cat twitched an ear and looked down at the crates.

“No, I haven’t been sitting here for three days!  You really do think I’m an idiot.  First day I rented a room in the inn over there and watched from the window.  Second day I spent on the rooftop of that forge.  Nobody’s seen me until today, and nobody’s going to pay attention because I won’t be here long enough to be suspicious, alright?  I’m being careful.  There’s money by the pile in that place, so security is tighter than a whore’s skirt.”

The Cat swiveled its head to look at the gate-house at the entry to the apartment complex.
“You bet there’s a guard, and it’s not some goon-for-hire either, it’s much worse – it’s a dragon.  If there’s anything nosier than a middle-aged busy-body, it’s a middle-aged busy-body who gets paid to be that way.  Anybody in or out, she sees them.  Anyone she doesn’t recognize, they have to sign in and out as a visitor.  She’s sharp, too, look at her.”

The Cat continued to gaze sedately across the Bazaar.  In the gate-house, the twitch and flick of a white cloth signaled a window cleaning was in progress.  Behind the moving material could be seen a face and above that some kind of cap, also white.
“She lives in a flat attached, that’s what that extension there is.  Hardly ever leaves her station during the day, and even if she does it’s not for long.  Eats and drinks right there in the window.”

The Cat swiveled its head again, this time to look at Heulwen’s water-skin.
“Call of nature?  Sure, she’s not a machine, but she pops back and forth out of sight and it’s impossible to tell from outside whether she’s gone to the loo or just to fetch her specs.  It’s too risky to try and sneak through in daylight.  And at night he’s home, so that’s no good to me…..hey here comes the mail, watch this!”

Obediently, or perhaps coincidentally, The Cat resumed studying the gate-house.  The mailman strolled slowly toward the entrance to Celestial Towers, stifling a yawn with the back of one hand and scuffing his heels on the flagstones.  The sliding window flew up with a crash and the dragon’s head appeared in the gap.  The observers on the crates were too far away to make out the slight sounds of conversation, but it was easy to read the martyred slump of the mailman’s shoulders as he waited for the dragon to write something down.  Finally there came a slight buzzing noise and a rattle as the mailman opened the gate.

“Right?  Same mailman every day, but she doesn’t care.  Stickler for the rules, that one.  Nuisance.” Heulwen said to The Cat.  “She’s a little nicer to the residents but not by much.  Silvermane’ll be leaving any minute now, you’ll see.”
She dropped her head slightly over her book.  The Cat lowered itself into a crouch and seemed content to wait and watch as well, and it wasn’t long until the pair was rewarded.  A red-haired man appeared in the courtyard beyond the gate, his suited form moving smoothly toward the entrance, a small leather papers-case dangling from one hand.

“Here he comes.  He usually heads straight for the auction house, but, just in case, act normal.  Don’t stare.”  Heulwen eyed The Cat, which eyed her back impassively for a moment before turning away dismissively.

Across the Bazaar, Silvermane was raising a hand to offer the dragon a perfunctory wave.  Another step and the same hand extended to the gate.  As the buzz and rattling noises were heard again, Heulwen lifted her own hand and pulled the leather boot-lace holding her ponytail free.  There was a crash of metal as the gate slammed shut and the sound of soft footfalls drawing closer.

The lace dropped down in front of The Cat.  Instinct won.  The Cat flopped down on its side, scrabbling and snapping at the twitching piece of leather.  Heulwen cooed meaningless words at the attacking feline, the brim of her hat tilted low, her line of sight just high enough to watch Silvermane’s expensive shoes walk past without a hint of hesitation.  She smiled and continued to flip the lace about until her quarry was safely entering the auction house.

The Cat lay on its back at her side, belly exposed to the sun and whiskers twitching as it waited for its own prey to come back into reach.  Heulwen dropped the lace onto the furry midsection and smirked.  “Not so fucking smug now, are you?”

“Anyhow, that was him.  Same time every day, off he goes, the auction house, his office, sometimes the bank, office again, auction house again.  Never anywhere else as yet.  So his place is empty, you see.  I just need to choose the best way in there to look around.”
Heulwen  reached for her water-skin, unscrewed the lid, then paused, looking across the open square.

“I think I have the solution, though.  That’s her coming along now in the white uniform.”  She raised the water-skin and drank slowly, eyes on the stout figure trundling toward the apartments.  The woman in question was pushing an empty laundry cart, one that appeared to have a basket attached for cleaning supplies if the broom sticking out of it was any indication.
“The dragon always watches her, but they never speak.  Doesn’t like her, I reckon.  Probably thinks the cleaning lady’s too far down the old totem pole.  Just buzzes her in and then out again later without even opening her window, cranky old bitch.”

Heulwen took another drink of water then turned back to The Cat, speaking as she did so.
“She’s my ticket in, eh?  Whaddaya reckon?”

The crate was empty.  She looked around swiftly, but that  section of the Bazaar was deserted in all directions.
The Cat was gone.  And so, Heulwen realized, was her hair tie.

“Thieving little bastard” she grumbled, returning to watch as her new target breached the defences of Celestial Towers.