She nods slowly. "Did either of them go under any other names, that you knew of? Did they talk to people regularly, people you know the names of? Or just how they looked..."
She shakes her head once, and then again--but the last thing, she can answer that.
"Brown hair, not long. He was tall." It occurs to her that this is perhaps too generic to go by, but fortunately, describing her mother is easier. "Sarra looked like me."
That is not enough, and she knows it. With Yseult sitting in the room, there is an expectation in there with them: provide as many details as possible, without being prompted. I think you're smart enough to understand what I want to know. After a pause, her voice lowering to what's essentially a pained whisper, she adds, "I did not meet other people. But sometimes they brought people to look at me. So they could see what I was, first."
I'm so sorry, Laura. That must have been awful. But it wouldn't be genuine, and she can't risk getting caught in a lie. Instead, she expresses the real emotion-- "That's fucking sick. Shouldn't've done that to you, kid."
There's a silence, one where names should be--Laura knows that much. Identifying the people who paid Reis clearly matters, or Eshal wouldn't have brought her back to discuss it. She especially would not have invited the head of another division to listen. Perhaps attention could be shifted elsewhere, if they had their own list of names to thrust at the king of Nevarra.
"I know what they look like," she finally says. She does not look up. "I remember."
"Alright. Just try and keep that in your head. We might need it later."
She brings forth the list of names again, sliding it toward Laura on the desk. "One more thing, and then why don't you spend some time with your friends? I'll send some food down. The good kind."
Her voice is gentle, but she doesn't wink or smile. She doubts Laura would care, or trust it if she did.
"Can you write down the locations, as far as you remember them, next to these names? Where they happened, and, oh, if you saw the face of who asked for it? Just a 'yes' or 'no' will do. Leave it blank if you don't remember anything."
The kindness in the offer does not go unnoticed, and Eshal is right not to draw attention to it; as it is, Laura is not entirely sure it an be trusted. It seems unlikely that it is due to Yseult's presence, from what little Laura knows of the woman. And she has yet to think of it as a part of Eshal's nature.
But--having expected to be questioned far longer, and with less gentleness--she is disinclined to ask for explanation.
"Yes." She looks over the list one more time, then begins to write out the answers in a sharp, clear hand. (It's all in Nevarran--sorry, Eshal.) A moment or two after she starts, she pauses, however, looking up at Eshal once more. "Do you want descriptions?"
Eshal nods, and grabs another piece of paper, because she would have suggested it herself. She notices it's in Nevarran, and makes a note to add this to Fabria's docket.
"And one more thing," she says, "dates, too. Dates, locations, descriptions. As much as you can remember. Please be honest as you can. I trust you."
Yseult gives it a moment, waiting until Laura seems far enough along that the requests don't pile up at once. She's remained still and silent throughout, hands folded neatly in her lap, legs crossed at the knee, listening without visible reaction.
"We'll also need the location of Reis's house," she says now, "If you can explain it or point it out on a map." Her voice is perhaps not as gentle as Eshal's, but the difference is more in formality than in tone, a certain subtle distance maintained. "And there's a man who sometimes sketches portraits for us of suspected agents. Do you remember the faces of Reis's clients well enough to work with him to create their likenesses?"
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"Brown hair, not long. He was tall." It occurs to her that this is perhaps too generic to go by, but fortunately, describing her mother is easier. "Sarra looked like me."
That is not enough, and she knows it. With Yseult sitting in the room, there is an expectation in there with them: provide as many details as possible, without being prompted. I think you're smart enough to understand what I want to know. After a pause, her voice lowering to what's essentially a pained whisper, she adds, "I did not meet other people. But sometimes they brought people to look at me. So they could see what I was, first."
Before they paid over their coin.
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And, "did you get any of their names?"
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"I know what they look like," she finally says. She does not look up. "I remember."
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She brings forth the list of names again, sliding it toward Laura on the desk. "One more thing, and then why don't you spend some time with your friends? I'll send some food down. The good kind."
Her voice is gentle, but she doesn't wink or smile. She doubts Laura would care, or trust it if she did.
"Can you write down the locations, as far as you remember them, next to these names? Where they happened, and, oh, if you saw the face of who asked for it? Just a 'yes' or 'no' will do. Leave it blank if you don't remember anything."
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But--having expected to be questioned far longer, and with less gentleness--she is disinclined to ask for explanation.
"Yes." She looks over the list one more time, then begins to write out the answers in a sharp, clear hand. (It's all in Nevarran--sorry, Eshal.) A moment or two after she starts, she pauses, however, looking up at Eshal once more. "Do you want descriptions?"
If so, she will need more parchment.
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"And one more thing," she says, "dates, too. Dates, locations, descriptions. As much as you can remember. Please be honest as you can. I trust you."
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"We'll also need the location of Reis's house," she says now, "If you can explain it or point it out on a map." Her voice is perhaps not as gentle as Eshal's, but the difference is more in formality than in tone, a certain subtle distance maintained. "And there's a man who sometimes sketches portraits for us of suspected agents. Do you remember the faces of Reis's clients well enough to work with him to create their likenesses?"