Lady Marienne Brightwater was exactly as advertised. She wore a whirlwind of colorful fabrics, jingling jewelry, and effervescent laughter that filled the Nightshade manor's usually somber halls with unexpected vitality. Her gown was a dazzling confection of teal and gold that seemed designed less for practical wear than for maximum visual impact.
"Isolde, darling!" she exclaimed upon arrival, embracing Lady Nightshade with dramatic enthusiasm. "You look positively radiant! Country life clearly agrees with you!" Her gaze fell on Kieran, who stood at his mother's side with perfect posture. "And this must be the prodigy I've heard whispers about even in distant Portside!"
Before Kieran could offer a proper greeting, he found himself enveloped in a cloud of exotic perfume as Lady Brightwater scooped him into an embrace. "Absolutely precious! Those amber eyes! That silver hair! He's the very image of a Nightshade, but with your warmth, Isolde!"
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Brightwater," Kieran managed when she finally released him, suppressing the urge to straighten his now-rumpled formal attire.
"And so well-spoken!" Lady Brightwater exclaimed, clapping her bejeweled hands together. "Isolde, you've accomplished a miracle—a noble boy with actual manners!"
Breakfast proved to be an exercise in patience as Lady Brightwater dominated conversation with a stream of gossip about various noble houses, most concerning scandals that would have been inappropriate for a child's ears had Kieran actually been an ordinary five-year-old. He ate methodically while cataloging the potentially useful information embedded within her chatter.
'Duke Harmond's youngest son caught with a kitchen maid—potential leverage. House Arventis experiencing financial difficulties despite public prosperity—valuable intelligence. Church of the Luminary Flame expanding influence in coastal regions—relevant to primary mission.'
After the meal, the party departed for the market district—Lady Isolde, Lady Brightwater, Kieran, and two Nightshade guards following discreetly behind their carriage. The market square bustled with activity, commoners bowing respectfully as the noble party passed.
"I simply must visit Tailor Matthias first," Lady Brightwater declared. "His work with imported silks is unparalleled, even compared to our coastal craftsmen."
For the next several hours, Kieran found himself trailing behind the two women as they swept through various establishments, leaving a wake of flustered shopkeepers and rapidly depleted inventories. Lady Brightwater's approach to commerce seemed to involve acquiring as many items as possible in the shortest time, with minimal concern for practicality or cost.
At the fourth shop where a jeweler specializing in gemstone setting, Kieran surprised both noblewomen by interrupting Lady Brightwater's immediate acceptance of the stated price.
"The craftsmanship is exquisite," he observed, examining the sapphire necklace she had selected, "but surely such quality deserves fair valuation. The setting appears to be standard silver rather than the white gold claimed, which would justify a thirty percent reduction at minimum."
The jeweler sputtered in protest, but Kieran merely raised a small eyebrow. "The acid test would resolve any confusion, of course, if you'd prefer to demonstrate..."
"Perhaps we could reach a more reasonable arrangement," the jeweler conceded hastily.
When they exited the shop with the necklace at less than two-thirds the original price, Lady Brightwater regarded Kieran with newfound respect. "Where did you learn to haggle like a seasoned merchant, young lord?"
"One should understand the true value of things," Kieran replied with a slight shrug, "whether they be gemstones or lives."
Lady Brightwater laughed delightedly, clearly interpreting his comment as childish philosophy rather than the literal statement it was. "Isolde, your son is absolutely fascinating! So serious, yet so clever!"
"He's always been an old soul," Lady Isolde agreed, beaming with maternal pride.
They continued their shopping expedition, now with Lady Brightwater occasionally deferring to Kieran's assessment of merchandise and it was a development he found both practical and vaguely amusing. 'The deadliest assassin of one world, reduced to evaluating the quality of silk ribbons in another,' he mused. 'The goddess must be enjoying the irony.'
As the afternoon waned, they made their final stop at a perfumer's shop, where Lady Brightwater became engrossed in sampling various exotic fragrances. She had just selected an expensive vial of something called "Midnight Orchid Essence" when the transaction was violently interrupted.
A hooded figure darted through the shop doorway, snatched Lady Brightwater's ornate coin purse from her momentarily unattended shopping basket, and bolted back into the crowded market square.
"Thief!" the perfumer shouted belatedly. "Stop, thief!"
The Nightshade guards moved to pursue, but the market crowd had already closed behind the fleet-footed robber. Lady Brightwater shrieked in dismay, clutching Lady Isolde's arm. "My grandmother's locket was in that purse! A family heirloom!"
Before anyone could react further, Kieran was already moving—slipping through the shop doorway and into the crowd with serpentine agility. His enhanced perception tracked the thief's passage through the throng by the subtle disturbances in movement patterns, the glimpses of a gray hood bobbing between market-goers.
'Amateur,' he assessed. 'Opportunistic rather than planned. Retreating toward the eastern alleyways where market security is minimal.'
He cut through the crowd with easily, his small size allowing him to slip between adults who would have blocked a larger pursuer. Within moments, he had closed half the distance to the fleeing thief, who remained unaware of the diminutive hunter on their trail.
The thief was a gangly youth perhaps sixteen years of age. He ducked into a narrow alley between a tannery and a cooperage. Kieran followed, instantly noting the alley's dead end some forty paces ahead. He slowed his pursuit deliberately, allowing the thief to realize his predicament before revealing himself.
The youth reached the brick wall terminating the alley and spun around, breathing heavily. His eyes widened in confusion at the sight of the silver-haired child standing calmly at the alley's entrance.
"What the hell?" the thief muttered. "Get lost, rich boy, before you get hurt."
Kieran tilted his head slightly, assessing his target with detached interest, "The purse, if you please. Lady Brightwater is particularly concerned about the locket within."
The thief barked a harsh laugh, drawing a crude knife from his belt. "You've got nerve, I'll give you that. But you should've waited for the guards, little lord." He advanced a step, blade extended. "Now you're going to turn around and forget you saw me, or I'll open your fancy jacket and see what color nobles bleed."
Kieran sighed softly—a sound so at odds with his childish appearance that the thief faltered momentarily.
"Do you know," Kieran said conversationally, his voice dropping to a register no five-year-old should possess, "I've killed men with their own knives precisely two hundred and seventeen times?" He took a step forward, amber eyes gleaming with something ancient and terribly cold. "The first few were messy—learning experiences, you understand. But by the fifteenth, I'd perfected the technique."
The thief's bravado wavered, confusion warring with instinctive unease on his face. "What—what are you talking about?"
"The human body contains so many vulnerabilities," Kieran continued, advancing another step. "Particularly around the neck and abdomen. Your knife, for instance, could pierce your femoral artery with minimal pressure applied at the correct angle. You'd bleed out in approximately ninety seconds." His small lips curved in a smile entirely devoid of childish innocence. "I've timed it."
The thief's face drained of color as something primal recognized the predator behind the child's eyes. "Stay back," he warned, voice cracking. "I'll—"
"You'll what?" Kieran interrupted softly. "You've already made two critical errors. First, you stole from nobility, which carries a hanging offense rather than the standard flogging for common theft. Second..." His smile widened fractionally. "You threatened me."
He took a final step forward.
"The purse," he repeated quietly. "Now."