Time was that Murder Row — or Augur’s Row, if you go back far enough — frequently played host to individuals who could fairly, if charitably, be called professionals. Tonight it was full of idiots.
Three weeks we’ve been married, and someone has posted a five thousand gold bounty on Westel’s head. We do not know who has done this, or why… or even if it actually exists, to be fair. The person who tipped Westel off to it — a Blood Knight, by name Crazus — may have been simply trying to get a rise out of him. Unfortunately my wild wolf has enough unpaid debts in his past that we can’t be certain that this threat is someone’s terrible idea of a joke, and so we must take it seriously until we determine otherwise.
Westel suggested that it might be Bareris, that it wouldn’t be beyond the man to think that if my new husband were dead then I might need a strong Argent shoulder to cry upon. And while manipulation of that sort is completely within Bareris’ capability… this just doesn’t seem his style. There’s no way for him to act the hero until after the deed is done… and even if his hatred finally did drive him to murder, I can hardly imagine that he would delegate the deed to someone else.
When I mentioned asking Sejia for assistance in uncovering our opponent, Westel again suggested that she might be the one offering the reward. This seems even less her style. A quick in and out, no one the wiser, no one given the chance to out her plans — that’s her style! And for all that she delights in tossing off cheap insults to her former lover, she wouldn’t let anyone else have the pleasure of ending Westel’s life.
Westel forbade me to seek assistance from Anetho Dawnpride. I was entirely prepared to defy him until he admitted that he’d already talked to the man himself. Anetho has honor, after a sort, and he will not abandon a man who risked himself to save his life. Apparently Westel told him enough to pique his interest (much to Westel’s own dismay when he realized what he’d done); the rest will take care of itself.
Still, tonight the only lead I had wasn’t much of one at all: I knew that if there was any information to be gained on a hit placed on a mostly-well-respected Ranger-General of Silvermoon then Murder Row was the place to find it. It seems, however, I shall have to find it on some other night. Everyone competent had fled the scene in search of better company than those who littered the Row tonight, getting into random fistfights and generally sulking about. Those I saw who might be in the trade were evidently young and green — unlikely to know much of use, and more likely to think they could pad their pockets by wasting my time. I have neither time nor patience to squander on drunkards and children tonight.
…and yet, I have to admit that my lack of success in finding anyone useful might have more to do with me than them. It’s been too long since I skulked the Row on a regular basis. Faces that were familiar to me have been long gone… and those who were green then may be the elders now.
Perhaps I should give it another night, soon. The idiots might just surprise me.