Delith had spent the last couple days worried out of her mind. At first, she just figured Sariel had gone to a party, perhaps gotten drunk and stayed over with some floozy, as he was prone to do. So when he didn't return home that first day, she wasn't worried. Annoyed, but not worried. Not that she cared what he did with some tramp.
When he didn't come home the next day, however, that's when the sinking, sick feeling began. It was like Sariel to come home reeking of wine and hungover. It was not like him to go several days without sending notice--or having someone notify her, and she had heard nothing. Maybe something had happened. Maybe he'd gotten injured, or drank himself to death, or any number of stupid, awful things that could happen when fuddled.
And when she got the letter...
Sariel's parents had given her an education, and it was only because of that that she could read the letter--and it gripped her with worry. He wasn't just off partying; he'd been kidnapped and if the fee wasn't paid...
It felt unreal and Delith felt sick, but she did the only thing she could think to do in the heat of panic:
She filled a purse with Sariel's money and set off to the location described in the letter.
Maybe she should have told someone, like the city watch or a soldier or something, but the thought didn't occur to her until she was nearly to the slummy, decrepit place. She was too panicked, like if she didn't hurry, like if she wasted any time, then something horrible would happen to him. What if it already had? What if she was too late?
Besides, the letter had been very, very clear: bring no one else but herself and tell no one of this or Sariel would die.
So be it. She hurried her way there at the appointed hour, while the sky was darkening and the streets were deserted, and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She couldn't help but be afraid, because this wasn't a good part of town nor a good time to be here, especially not alone as a woman and with a whole lot of money tucked away in her skirts. She'd slipped a kitchen knife beneath her dress, though, just in case. Tied it to her thigh like she heard some whores did to protect themselves. Maybe they had better knives, but a kitchen knife was as best as she could gather on short notice.
Reaching the place, an old, run-down building, Delith took a shaky breath and approached the door. She was afraid, but also angry, and she tried to hold onto that anger so she wouldn't be afraid as she lifted a fist and pounded on the door.
"I brought what ya asked for! Now gimme back my master!"
