The Shadow of Csilla
The cantina smelled of spilled lum and engine grease, a thick miasma shared by a dozen different species that had likely not seen fresh air in standard weeks. It was exactly the kind of hollowed-out dive where information liked to hide within the smoke and the noise.
Shade sat alone at a small durasteel table near the back wall, situated far enough from the bar to avoid the rowdiest patrons but positioned perfectly to watch the entrance through the silvered reflection of a cracked mirror behind the bottles. The lighting was dim and uneven, provided mostly by failing neon strips that hummed with a low, tired electricity that felt like a headache in the making. She preferred the atmosphere this way, as shadows were far more predictable than the people who inhabited them.
Her posture was relaxed, though it was an illusion she had carefully maintained through years of fieldwork. One boot rested lightly against the leg of the chair opposite her, angled just enough that anyone approaching would be forced to shift the seat before they could sit down. It was a measure that gave her half a second of warning, often the slim margin between walking away on her own power and being carried out in a bag.
A glass of something amber sat untouched in front of her, having been ordered fifteen minutes ago more as a prop than a refreshment. She had not taken a single sip, keeping her senses sharp while her crimson eyes moved toward the entrance every time a group stumbled through the door in a cloud of dust and raucous laughter. None of them matched the description she had been given, but she remained patient as the name she was hunting tonight had come attached to a generous contract and a discreet transfer of credits.
Rax Vordain was a smuggler and an information broker who occasionally acted as a courier for items not listed on any official manifest. More importantly, he had recently acquired a list of shipping routes used by several Outer Rim defense convoys, and whoever had hired Shade wanted that list before it was sold to the highest bidder or before Vordain managed to disappear entirely. Shade had learned long ago that men like him rarely stayed visible for long once the credits started flowing.
Her gaze lowered briefly to the datapad resting beside the drink, where the screen had gone dark, though the last message she had sent still lingered in her mind as a simple inquiry. She had requested a meeting with a man named Reiss, whose reputation had surfaced in three different ports over the last year as someone who knew how to find people who did not want to be found. That kind of specialized skill tended to travel quickly through the underworld, and Shade had reached out through the only channel that did not immediately vanish.
The fact that he had answered at all made him interesting.
The cantina door groaned open again, letting in another gust of desert wind that carried the faint scent of grit and overheated engines. Shade did not immediately look up, but instead lifted the glass in front of her and rotated it slowly between her fingers while she watched the amber liquid catch the failing light.
Then her eyes flicked toward the entrance with a quiet and precise evaluation.
"You took the time to ensure you were not followed," Shade remarked to the empty chair across from her without needing to turn her head. "That was the correct decision."
Only then did she shift her gaze fully toward the doorway, her expression calm and unreadable.
"Sit down, Reiss. We have business."
Kaelan Reiss
Shade sat alone at a small durasteel table near the back wall, situated far enough from the bar to avoid the rowdiest patrons but positioned perfectly to watch the entrance through the silvered reflection of a cracked mirror behind the bottles. The lighting was dim and uneven, provided mostly by failing neon strips that hummed with a low, tired electricity that felt like a headache in the making. She preferred the atmosphere this way, as shadows were far more predictable than the people who inhabited them.
Her posture was relaxed, though it was an illusion she had carefully maintained through years of fieldwork. One boot rested lightly against the leg of the chair opposite her, angled just enough that anyone approaching would be forced to shift the seat before they could sit down. It was a measure that gave her half a second of warning, often the slim margin between walking away on her own power and being carried out in a bag.
A glass of something amber sat untouched in front of her, having been ordered fifteen minutes ago more as a prop than a refreshment. She had not taken a single sip, keeping her senses sharp while her crimson eyes moved toward the entrance every time a group stumbled through the door in a cloud of dust and raucous laughter. None of them matched the description she had been given, but she remained patient as the name she was hunting tonight had come attached to a generous contract and a discreet transfer of credits.
Rax Vordain was a smuggler and an information broker who occasionally acted as a courier for items not listed on any official manifest. More importantly, he had recently acquired a list of shipping routes used by several Outer Rim defense convoys, and whoever had hired Shade wanted that list before it was sold to the highest bidder or before Vordain managed to disappear entirely. Shade had learned long ago that men like him rarely stayed visible for long once the credits started flowing.
Her gaze lowered briefly to the datapad resting beside the drink, where the screen had gone dark, though the last message she had sent still lingered in her mind as a simple inquiry. She had requested a meeting with a man named Reiss, whose reputation had surfaced in three different ports over the last year as someone who knew how to find people who did not want to be found. That kind of specialized skill tended to travel quickly through the underworld, and Shade had reached out through the only channel that did not immediately vanish.
The fact that he had answered at all made him interesting.
The cantina door groaned open again, letting in another gust of desert wind that carried the faint scent of grit and overheated engines. Shade did not immediately look up, but instead lifted the glass in front of her and rotated it slowly between her fingers while she watched the amber liquid catch the failing light.
Then her eyes flicked toward the entrance with a quiet and precise evaluation.
"You took the time to ensure you were not followed," Shade remarked to the empty chair across from her without needing to turn her head. "That was the correct decision."
Only then did she shift her gaze fully toward the doorway, her expression calm and unreadable.
"Sit down, Reiss. We have business."
Kaelan Reiss