"Maybe this is what Tim found out," she whispered to herself as she watched the paper curl into ash. "And that's why we found his body outside the church."
Tim had been a favorite of hers, and everyone knew it. When they discovered him dead, there were only two options as to why. Someone had wanted to anger her or someone had been particularly stupid. Now, there was a third option. He had stumbled upon something that he wasn't supposed to find. It had to have been important for them to risk angering Esha.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Quickly, Esha crossed the room and opened the door. Yotam stood in the doorway, looking worse for wear. Without a word, she stepped aside to let him enter and closed the door softly behind him.
One of her personal spies, Yotam had been handpicked and specially trained. He was one of the few people that knew almost as much as she did about the intricate workings of the underworld in Resmoor. Some people whispered that he could take her power if she wished. She never minded these mutterings. She knew Yotam would never try to take over. He liked working in solitude and working, for the most part, on whatever projects grabbed his interest. He couldn't stand being in charge and while he was an amicable fellow, he was a terrible leader.
Standing in the middle of the office, he looked around while Esha settled herself at her desk. The room was large and warm, the walls paneled in dark wood and the floor carpeted in dark red. A large hearth took up most of the wall opposite the door and Esha's desk stood right in front of it. On either side of the hearth hung large tapestries that hid doors, one that led to a storage room and the other to a secret tunnel. There were bookcases lining the other walls and covered in both books and strange artifacts. There was a story behind each of those artifacts, but not even Esha knew all of them. Most of the items she had inherited from previous thief lords and ladies. A black armchair stood in one corner next to a lamp, a book open and lying face down on the cushion. A table with a small collection of bottles and two glasses stood within reaching distance of the desk, but most of the bottles were empty or almost so. There were no windows, but windows were useless underground.
Tim had been a favorite of hers, and everyone knew it. When they discovered him dead, there were only two options as to why. Someone had wanted to anger her or someone had been particularly stupid. Now, there was a third option. He had stumbled upon something that he wasn't supposed to find. It had to have been important for them to risk angering Esha.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Quickly, Esha crossed the room and opened the door. Yotam stood in the doorway, looking worse for wear. Without a word, she stepped aside to let him enter and closed the door softly behind him.
One of her personal spies, Yotam had been handpicked and specially trained. He was one of the few people that knew almost as much as she did about the intricate workings of the underworld in Resmoor. Some people whispered that he could take her power if she wished. She never minded these mutterings. She knew Yotam would never try to take over. He liked working in solitude and working, for the most part, on whatever projects grabbed his interest. He couldn't stand being in charge and while he was an amicable fellow, he was a terrible leader.
Standing in the middle of the office, he looked around while Esha settled herself at her desk. The room was large and warm, the walls paneled in dark wood and the floor carpeted in dark red. A large hearth took up most of the wall opposite the door and Esha's desk stood right in front of it. On either side of the hearth hung large tapestries that hid doors, one that led to a storage room and the other to a secret tunnel. There were bookcases lining the other walls and covered in both books and strange artifacts. There was a story behind each of those artifacts, but not even Esha knew all of them. Most of the items she had inherited from previous thief lords and ladies. A black armchair stood in one corner next to a lamp, a book open and lying face down on the cushion. A table with a small collection of bottles and two glasses stood within reaching distance of the desk, but most of the bottles were empty or almost so. There were no windows, but windows were useless underground.
