The first time she comes back, it’s with salt in her hair, her feet carried by the waves with each step she takes. Her hand brushes against the hard brick wall of a pub, dust sticking to her fingers even as she rubs them – the dust clings to her skin and the smell clings to her hair. This, maybe, is something she didn’t miss, the foul odour of alcohol, sweat, blood, and other things she doesn’t want to think about. After months at sea, salty air in her lungs, Ketterdam’s decaying perfume almost makes her cough around a gag.
But she is home, and she smiles.
Hiding beneath the shadows comes easy to her, the way it always does. Her feet recognize every rock on the ground, every brick and alcove and roof as she climbs her way to the city’s highest points. She perches herself on top of the highest finger of the Church of Barter, if only so she can admire the city – the harbours full of life, people coming and going in the Financial District, even the high silos she climbed, a lifetime ago. Her lips curve up, hair dancing in front of her face, before she decides that she has business to attend to.
Each member of the group made multiple suggestions, in turn, and the gameplay continued for some time, until Matthias nodded his head with finality and said, “I have an accusation.”
“I think it was Professor Plum in the Billiard Room with the lead pipe.” When no one responded or moved to show him a card, Matthias looked down at his cards once more and nodded. He reached to the center of the board and picked up the confidential envelope. The rest of the room waited on bated breath as he examined the three cards inside and then placed them down on the table.
“I win,” Matthias shrugged, seemingly uninterested, but the smile that he directed down at his hands said otherwise.
Kaz, looking rather smug that his character had been the murderer, collected the rest of the cards and shuffled them again for a second round. “I think I’ll keep this piece,” he remarked.