Jenn leaned back in her exquistely carved wooden chair and drummed her fingertips on the arm rythmically. Her plump red lips quirked into a sly smile as she considered the recent developments in her games.
It had been a slow start, given that she knew so very little about her opponents, but the pace was beginning to pick up nicely now. Information was the key to success in these matters; that she knew without a doubt. Knowing the nature of the game, how best to play it and how to change the rules to suit oneself was not enough. One must also know ones opponent, for in doing so one might predict their moves and thus be ready to counter or cut them off. Better yet, one could use their moves to ones own advantage, letting them defeat themselves with only a little encouragement; that was always the most amusing way.
Information on the girl was not hard to come by. Indeed, what little Daigan had said had been enough to lead her to others who could expand upon it. Blodwynn and Baradar had been most enlightening, although they would never know it. Talking to that pair had been something of a chore, though. Baradar asked questions constantly, which was not too much of a problem. In fact, he gave more away by his search for answers than he might have liked. Blodwynn, however, was an idiot.
How Jenn loathed dealing with the mentally deficient people. They had a terrible tendancy to find a single statement or question to sink their teeth into and then they would hold onto it for dear life like a starved cur with scrap of meat. Intelligent people were easily distracted, easily steered away from such things and onto others. Stupid ones though, they got a thought in their empty little heads and refused to be swayed from it lest they never find a new one. Still, by playing on her sympathy, Jenn had been able to prod her moth-chewed mind along the correct course. A careful approach to both of them was required lest either seize upon a slight crack in the facade, but with the right handling they would prove themselves useful.
Still, at this point it was not information on Ilaru that was necessary. She was the main prize in this, certainly, but there was another who stood in the way for the moment. It was imperative to keep the girls guard dog at bay. He was protecting her for whatever reason; friendship, familial love or possibly just something to do. His reasons mattered little; what did matter is what he would do should she be hurt or killed.
The knife he had left with Siward's body had been enough to tell Jenn a few things about this man. He was clearly well-versed in their usage; no rank amateur would carry such a well-crafted blade. Likewise, the unique appearance of it suggested that it was not a show piece but instead a specialised item, made for a specific purpose. It was expensive, meaning that he would not have discarded or lost it so lightly. He was, then, trying to throw people off the scent and blame the murder upon himself.
Let him, she thought as she turned her sea-green eyes to the nearby window.
That would play perfectly into her hands. In fact, it already had.
One of Siwards old contacts and business partners, a man going by the name of Matt, had been convinced enough by the false evidence that he had promised to dig up as much information on Davick as he could - for a fee, of course. She doubted that he would find much. No one seemed to know a lot about this man at all, but the combined knowledge of both him and herself could be enough to tip the balance in her favour. Likewise, this evidence had been put to good use yet again when a chance encounter with a soldier in the tavern had netted Jenn a useful pawn.
Gilgarad seemed like a nice enough fellow; a straight, up-standing citizen with a strong sense of justice and a strict moral code. Men like that were so very useful indeed. Within half an hour of talking he had already vowed to bring Davick to justice for the murder of Siward and to protect both her and her son. Whether or not he could kill or imprison the man was neither here nor there. His asking around about Davick and, with luck, harrying him should they cross paths would provide adequate distraction whilst making it seem that Gilgarad was the one seeking vengeance and not Jenn.
She pushed herself up from the chair, her silk skirts rustling softly as she stepped across the polished wooden floor. Out of the window she could see the starry heavens and the bright full moon shining high above like a silver coin. Somewhere beneath that same sky, Seaver stalked the lands.
That boy, so alike Siward in mannerisms and facial features that there was no room for doubt who his father might be, would be the instrument of Jenn's first strike against the girl. The plan had been as simple as it was devlish. Provided the boy fulfiled the orders she had given him and did not stray or falter, then all would be safe. Like Siward, he was a little bloodthirsty and that could pose a problem for Jenn did not want Ilaru dead at this time. Enthusiam in his task was to be applauded, but only if he was not overly zealous in it.
