Assallya Kressair couldn't help but listen in, her sensitive Elven ears adept at overhearing secrets, reading lips to fill in what was lost over the distance. Life in the jail wasn't life. It was a purgatory, a place between life and death that was every bit as horrible as any hell. It was a time while one waited upon a actions that they had no influence over, while a magistrate arbitrarily assigned one's fate via a quill upon an abbreviated summary of offenses. Only a lord was worthy of a true trial; Mere commoners, the dregs of the street, weren't worth the effort, time or expense.
Assallya wasn't truly a rebel, not like those who'd been cast in. She was a courtesan, affiliated in some way with rebels. She'd sold them information from time to time concerning juicy bits of information she'd gleaned from the nobles that hired her. One of the nobles had caught her rifling his drawers and, fearing the embarrassment of having had a mere whore spilling his secrets decided to have her quietly transported to the local magistrate. She rather suspected she would be swinging from the gallows in the morning under some trumped up charge that had nothing to do with the noble that had turned her in.
She'd been watching them, the rebels. There was a strength in numbers and the rest of this rabble were simply thieves and pickpockets. Such criminals were loners and nearly incapable of working together. These rebels had more cohesion, a common purpose, and they could escape.
Padding quietly over towards the one calling himself Nyx, the one who appeared to be the leader. She was brazen, ensuring that everyone saw her making her move as she sashayed, using her curvaceous figure to advantage. While she had been dirtied somewhat, her ebony silks and rose blushed porcelain flesh, were still enticing to the eye and her golden hair sparkled as if on fire in the light of the torches.
"Tell me how I may help?" she said simply, presuming on his behalf that he would agree to her assistance.
