32nd of Spring, 516
Roland was a depressing sight. Torn and unwashed clothes, dirt-streaked face, unkempt hair tied back to keep it out of his eyes. His sitting form leaned against a shaded wall, keeping out of the Spring sun. Whistling tunelessly, his eyes scanned the crowd of people passing through the marketplace. Weary travelers from far-away lands mingled with the fierce-looking Akalaks. Plenty of Drykas, and he thought he might have seen a Konti in the crowd. That brought back some memories.
Lurching to his feet, Roland's eyes snapped to a trail of red cutting through the crowd. Hastily slinging his bag over his shoulder he took off after retreating figure. It's not possible, he thought to himself. My luck's never been this good. Pushing past a walking couple with a muttered apology he finally got a good look: a Drykas with long red hair the color of blood and the mark of Rak'keli on her face. The man could hardly believe what he was seeing. This had to be the one!
Amunet, according to the man who'd hired him--a foreboding figure Roland had distrusted immediately. A couple of years ago he would never have taken the job. Whatever the man wanted her for it couldn't be good. But the money was too good to pass up, and Roland was tired of working untrained labor. And besides, he had told himself, he would probably never even find this girl.
Serves me right, Roland thought to himself as he followed her through Rivefall's streets. Old lessons resurfaced in his mind. "Keep your distance. Don't act suspicious. Stick to the crowds if they're there, the shadows if they aren't. You want the mark to feel safe..." Roland pushed the thoughts away, swallowing feelings of guilt. He wasn't going to steal from her. Just watch.