The show had
hardly worked on the man. Pity, usually Deliah's lovely eyes, filled with
tears, had a softening effect on any male. This one was different.
She could see he was buying none of it. It was true, Deliah and her father
did not get along. Anyone who was worth their salt in the gossip
department knew that. She was his sole heir and to a pretty little fortune
too. She was hardly distraught about his demise, but she was genuinely
sad. She hadn't wished him dead. Still now there was one less person to
tell her what to do. It wasn't as if Guisep was a bad man, he really
wasn't, and she didn't hate him. He was merely . . . in the way. She
had ideas and dreams and with him, there was little way that she could
accomplish what she had in mind.
The guild had
come to her early. She loved the way they made everyone nearby nervous.
She wanted that kind of power, that sort of affect on people, that respect.
She was going to get it. Taking a piece of paper from her father's desk drawer,
she moved over the thin deeply tangerine hued bead. That was for someone
else to find.
She set off
to the garrison to show the papers to those in charge. She hoped the
sullen-eyed one would be there, she would delight in the way his eyes lit up
when she handed them the paper with the storm cloud on one side, and the
lightening cloud on the other. . .
