The man who called himself Daystar looked up at the knock on his door. It was well after business hours, but he was still in his office. There was other business to be done, after all.
"Enter," he called, then reached for the trigger under his desk.
The woman who entered was half-elven, lithe and lean, and looked like nothing more than another clerk. She closed the door gently behind her, then smiled. "You needed a favor, Brother?"
Daystar scowled. "I have a job for you, Sister," he corrected gently. "One that pays very well."
Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment. "Something related to your project?"
Reluctantly, he nodded. "I have some tools in place, but I no longer trust them to do everything I need."
"Then you do need a favor, Brother," the woman said, "even if the opportunity pays."
Daystar swallowed down a burst of anger. It wasn't that his sister was wrong, it was just that she wasn't supposed to notice that. "Very well. Yes, I will owe you for this."
"All right. I'm listening."
"There's an exchange happening at the Overlook soon."
"Beggars territory," his sister observed.
He nodded. "Anderlin Greycloak is meeting with an upper-city merchant in three days, for a discreet purchase. My tools will see to the items involved, but I need you to ensure that neither Greycloak or the merchant survives the meeting."
"Quite a kick to the anthill," the woman observed. "And the targets are prominent. Double my usual rate, and you'll still owe me at least a minor favor."
Daystar could live with that. "Done," he said.
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