Her thoughts were interrupted by the old man who, having noticed her entering, had risen from his seat and was now enquiring about her needs. She had thought to visit a cordwainer, a person who made shoes for the rich and influential but had been told such a craftsman was unavailable in Draybourne. The cobbler, however, knew his business and was soon measuring her feet. By the time noon had arrived, Natalia's order was complete. He would make three pairs of shoes for her, varying in height and style, though he was so busy, it would take him a week or more.

She left him payment in advance and wandered out into the street, this time eyeing the crowd, looking for anyone that might be watching her. After stopping for a brief meal, she meandered about the town, taking in the sights. Several times she turned suddenly, cutting down a side street or alleyway, always on the alert, lest she was being followed, but nothing came of it.

By late afternoon, Natalia returned to the Green Leaves, feeling her coins had been well spent.

The next few days passed quickly, and before long, her dresses arrived at the inn. She was pleased with the finished products and took great delight in finally shedding her court dress, hanging it carefully in the wardrobe. It required a good cleaning, but she could see to that later, for, with her day dress on, she felt much less encumbered and was eager to get out of her rooms.

The weather was unseasonably warm, the sun on her face making her feel alive as she stepped from the inn. She looked about at the passing city folk, no one paying attention to her, and fell into the general flow of traffic, resolving to make her way to the cobbler's to see if her shoes were ready.

Vladimir Kurzak sat in the Lucky Weasel, by the window, the shutters open wide to clear the stale air out of the place. He was lifting a tankard to his lips when he spotted her. She was a vision in blue, her pale skin standing in stark contrast to her black hair.

He quickly put down his drink, fishing around in his pouch for a selection of crumpled papers. He skimmed over them, finding the one he was looking for. Unfolding it carefully, he searched through the words. It described a pale woman, of average height and black hair. Could this be one and the same? He read on to note she was last seen in Karslev and it mentioned a rather distinctive looking ring.