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Just as before, he came smiling. Just as before, he came keeping an eye open for Inaza. And of course he had a friend or two working nearby, just as before. Viltre found himself in the unfortunate position of needing outside help. His network was still young, subtle as it was. There weren't enough contacts, legitimate or ill-, to get the job done without involving the Kavensei in some way further. As they (mostly Merle) were what stressed his nerves at present, the less involvement his family had here the better. Therefore, the errand required discretion. Ideally, it followed that discretion and skill were bound together, and in this one case they were. The tricky bit here was that he'd already crossed the contact for the tradesman in question twice. Hopefully it hadn't come to light, but there it was. And when the contact was a thug like Inaza... well. That was why he had an extra stop to make before the attempt. A potential buffer 'twixt the man's knife and his own lean belly.

In a fair fight, the secondboy was cleanly outmatched. He might well escape or cripple the b*****d, but either mutually exclusive outcome hindered the current plans, relying on backups where there should have been no need. Better that nobody fight and nobody die. He'd waited until after the fortune-tellers shift, keeping away and out of sight until her companion took the day's earnings and headed off to handle that. Better still, he made sure that the Friends enjoying their time with the caravan were not folk the marks had seen near him...

With the fortune teller moving, young Kavensei made his own. Not quick enough to be threatening, not low enough to be casual. Viltre conciously communicated on several levels. Sneaking would have sent the wrong message as well. Hence, a businesslike stride out of thinning crowd. If her back was turned, then a quiet knock at the tentpole would announce him, assuming shoes on eath hadn't anyway. Otherwise, a wave and that same chirpy grin he'd worn last time. "Hullo again. I don't suppose you could spare a few words while you close up shop?"

It was growing dark, sunset burning a pink horizon red. Keeping a respectful distance, her late 'customer' kept firmly visible in the fading light. The scribe held ink-stained hands to the sides, firmly away from his sash, and movements remained smooth. She'd told Inaza which pocket to pick on his suggestion, and didn't look the worse for it, but being near that man in a snit couldn't have been much fun. Not twice. "Only I had a thing or two to discuss. Like my apology."

A short nod, and the smile faded into a quirk of the lips. Sarnai had things to do, just as he. "Nothing of your daytime business. Plainly put, I was looking to talk with your associate without being gutted for... well, not being a good little mark twice in a row. I was hoping you might have a word with the man, at least so I can lay out the business. Bit useless for all involved if I'm dead.

Wouldn't ask you this sorta favor for free, of course. Time's valuable." The mentioned apology, meanwhile, was for something else. Or the possibility of something else. Despite his efforts thus far, the lanky redhead didn't know everything, even in his home city. "I'm fairly sure he came back smoldering both times ...Did wanna apologize if that came back on you somehow."

"That doesn't make it something I should ignore my own part in. But that's a discussion for another time." The hypocrisy in his response alone should have burned his tongue. Especially in present circumstances. Alas, the spirits were looking elsewhere this evening, and let him speak unhindered. "I'd prefer not to deal with him at all, but it doesn't seem I've got much choice about it. The transport specialists I usually deal with have too many other strings on, can't trust them. And the best independant, unfortunately, is tied to Inaza."

His left hand came up to smooth some of his hair back. Beyond that, the stress didn't much bleed through his mask. Couldn't let the wrong rumours start up. Not at this delicate phase in his scheming. "He's the contact, you're only loosely associated, I know. I've been learning the dance here. But yes, I'd appreciate not being stabbed today. Dying would complicate things right now."

'Drop the act.' That was a phrase the tall young man hadn't encountered in some time. Sarnai might as well have asked him to drop his breeches around Inaza. His instincts screamed to double down. There was a long pause, the bulk of which was spent getting the better of the redhead's own ingrained impulses. The rest of it had compartmentalized, and set to reorganizing the pitch. Things went very still, loud heartbeats alone marking any passage of time. When he broke his silence, Viltre's low voice came soft, barely carried the few feet between them. "...You remember your prediction? You were right. But it's not just her she needs to take care of.

Someone is about to go too far, and the results might boil over. She and her lover can't stay in Tale. The consequences otherwise are not permissible." A deep breath. There was no anger. Anger wasn't useful. A great deal of the nervousness and charm had drained, leaving her customer's green eyes more tired than their owner's scant years should have allowed. There was no fury, no rage. Even cold wrath might have been expected, but no trace bled through, if indeed that sort of emotion was present at all. "Are the rates for people fixed?"

A slow blink answered the initial objection. Perception and extended proximity tipped the shifter's falsehood. Namely, her own. Whether involved directly or not, she clearly knew both smuggler and Inaza through long association. And absorbing information about those you lived or worked near was a natural process. Especially if you made the effort to avoid and notice nothing about the person in question, as you needed information to better avoid them anyway. Minds worked oddly, like that. Wouldn't be politic to point that out, though; not after she'd given a good long stretch with which to sort his own lies out. Instead, he kept his ears open, and trusted to the Friends seeded about the place to sound a warning if the pair were approached or eavesdropped upon.

A short nod saw him begin. "Sister went an' took a lover. She's with child, and neither husband nor Mother dear's happy about that. She an' her gent need to be out and away to his family in Matori. The trouble is that my family's business has wide roots, gets news from a long ways off. Not just Tale, but Sauti and Oba as well. I'd be running interference and using all the leverage I've got shy of bloodshed to muddle things. Maybe even that." Clipped, precise, very little of the strange goof Sarnai had previously met remained in his patterns, whether of speech or body language.

Someone else might have found it refreshing, not to need to lie. Honesty, he'd heard, was a cleansing thing. Dung. Dung twice. All it did was make his fingers and the space between his shoulderblades itch. "From what information I've got, I'm prepared to offer half over the usual price per head. Half the total up front if the job is taken, the other on confirmation of delivery. Destination doesn't have a name, but I've got coordinates and a contact. Also at minimum a favor from me, and whatever safety measures I can offer you personally, if you're taking a risk in delivering this." She was likely more involved than she let on, but Viltre could respect a cover. 'I've shown you mine' was not an acceptable principle. And would, until it became necessary otherwise.

Again, that small nod. "Valid point, hadn't occurred yet. Wouldn't ask you to." A moment's thought brought an alternative to mind. Here he was on familiar ground. Haggling over terms was something Vulir had nurtured in his children, a merchant's instinct. "Compromise: she's close already. Birth is gonna happen before this caravan moves on. Can still pay the half, a retainer in case the job becomes necessary in the near future. ...An' hopefully make future transactions easier. If the children come with leaf colors, then you and yours keep the fee; no strings, I still owe the favor for your kindness on top of that. In this happy outcome, I just need to polish my new brother's manners to a gleam. Simple work." And not a drop more potential bloodshed than absolutely necessary. More was the pity.

There likewise wasn't much point in hiding his intentions. The face he now wore was a familiar one, calm probing and a good deal of focus. Quite close to the mask he wore when alone with his books, with the minor detail that he wasn't worrying at his lip over a particularly troublesome equation. Hands shifted, resting at his sides in plain view. He leaned in a little, more to better meet the fortune tellers gaze than to loom (though he did that naturally anyhow). The charm.crept back into the voice and inflections by sheer force of habit, but tired green eyes didn't change at all. "The caveat to this would be straightforward. Should they come bearing other than leaf colors, the job's back on. And with her official mate ...Carlos? Probably has a less fake name, but I never bothered remembering. He's as purebred as my silly kin, so that'll be apparent somewhere."

There were minor tensions about the corners of his eyes at the thought. Tightenings, a minor naowing of the eyelids. The facts were not optimistic in their tracery. Facts gained by judicious bribery, framed and solidified as brotherly concern. Terrwyn's guard, wheher witting or not, was someone Viltre considered a Friend, with all the quiet protections that brought. "I finally got confirmation that Carlos ain't above harming her. Her guard told me everything once they got back. Why take the chance? If he won't, my own dear mother would. Which devolves very quickly into a messy revenge spiral I'm workin' to avoid. Gotta keep priorities straight: top of the list is avoiding people getting hurt here. Revenges can wait 'til after family's safe." Even the patriarch of thr family, who enjoyed his work, could set his playing aside to get things done. Business before pleasure. And what a pleasure the reprisals will be.

"If this weren't a mess already, I wouldn't be here. Ain't gonna pressure you for this job, that'd be askin' for a backstab at the worst point. Ain't lookin' forward to my backup options if you decline, but they exist. They're things I can stomach." Which wasn't saying much. As she'd probably guessed by this point, Sarnai's prospective client could stomach a lot, in this context. Hell, he'd even said as much outright. "Can have you the fee in a couple hours, whichever way this unwinds."