Chapter Text
"You're late."
Ayla took a moment to breathe and roll her eyes before turning to face her contact, giving the other Gerudo an unimpressed stare.
"I arrived at the exact time you specified," she countered. "If anything, I have been waiting for you."
Her contact shrugged.
"In this place, being on time is the same as being late," she said. "Ideally, one should arrive fifteen minutes early. Or more." She gestured to the bustling market around them, and the sheer tempo at which the fair-skinned Hylians moved as they attended to their shops and shopping. It was not difficult to notice how they kept giving the Gerudo a very wide berth. At least there were no glares or spitting at their feet. "The Hylians are obsessed with time, and the money they lose by wasting it."
"Good thing we're not Hylians, then," Ayla replied, looking expectantly at her. "Well?"
Now it was the other Gerudo's time to roll her eyes.
"Not here," she said, jerking her head towards an alley. "Follow my lead." Her face went from serious to ecstatic in the blink of an eye, plastering a huge smile on her face as she grabbed Ayla by the hand, dragging her towards the alley. "Of course I want to hear news from home! Please, follow me! You can sample some of my fabrics while we speak!"
Ayla sighed, but let herself be manhandled by the smaller Gerudo. She was quite strong, despite her size.
Then again, that was likely why she'd been chosen for the position in the first place. Like this, playing an enthusiastic seamstress eagerly showing a potential customer to her shop, she appeared about as dangerous as an excited puppy meeting a new friend.
"Please, sister, enter!" she shouted happily, more or less shoving Ayla into a gaping maw of a doorway in the alley, the only thing suggesting it led to a shop being the ratty-looking sign above it, showing a crude carving of a Gerudo woman wielding a needle and thimble.
The air inside was humid and stuffy, and the shop itself was dark on account of the windows being blocked by huge rolls of fabric. Hardly quality stuff, but their purpose lay in hiding the inside from view rather than enticing customers, as well as softening the noise.
Ayla cleared her throat, the musty air already getting to her.
"Nice...hole in the wall?" she said as her contact shut the door behind them and locked it, though not before making sure they weren't followed.
"Thanks," she said, dropping the cheery façade from before. "I hate it. I'm pretty sure it's the worst property the landlord had, and he wasn't willing to show me anything else. The roof leaks when it rains, it is always humid, and I'm pretty sure there's something alive beneath the floorboards." Something rumbled ominously above them, causing her to wince. "The less said about the plumbing, the better." She lit an oil lamp and placed it on the counter before hopping behind it, gesturing for Ayla to sit in a chair in front of it. "Go on, we don't have much time."
Ayla nodded. That was true. She had, at best, twenty minutes before she had to return to Atiya's side at the teashop some streets away, where he and his other bodyguard for the day were pretending to enjoy a relaxing afternoon. Ayla had been sent to purchase some random item from the market, which she had done before pretending to be accosted by her contact.
"Ayla," she introduced herself.
"Sivan," the fake seamstress replied. "A pleasure."
"Wish it were under better circumstances. What have you found, Sivan?"
Sivan sighed, shaking her head. "Frustratingly little. Whoever these Keepers are, they know how to hide their tracks, which is alarming."
"How so?"
"Because it means they don't want any attention beyond that which their messages gain," Sivan explained. "Usually, with groups like this, there is some sort of narcissism at the very core of their motivation. They want people to know they are responsible, which manifests in them consciously or subconsciously leaving behind clues and tracks. Not necessarily the kind that is easy to figure out and follow, but there is always something we can latch onto in our investigations."
"However, in this case..." Ayla said questioningly, trailing off.
"Nothing," Sivan confirmed. "Absolutely nothing. The others and I have scoured the location of the incident and probed at every layer of society in Castle Town we have access to, but no one seems to have heard of or been in contact with the group."
"Could they have been bribed?" Ayla suggested.
Sivan cocked her head to the side. "It's possible," she admitted. "But given the number of assets we have in play, I highly doubt it. The cost would be enormous, no matter who is bankrolling these people."
"So, if they are not bribing people into silence, they might simply be good enough to elude our spies," Ayla said.
That was...alarming.
"Indeed," Sivan said, nodding. "And that is where I start to worry. There are only two groups I would consider good enough to conceal their presence from us so completely, even in their own territory."
"The Sheikah?" Ayla suggested.
"That is one of them," Sivan replied. "But I cannot imagine them being willing to do something like this to one of their own, much less their leader's own nephew, even if they stood to gain anything from this mess...which, to my knowledge, they don't. Hylian Intelligence, however..."
"I thought the Sheikah were their intelligence?" Ayla asked.
Sivan gave another sigh, and Ayla felt a little insulted. Sure, she hadn't been considered smart or cunning enough to be accepted into the ranks of espionage, but she wasn't stupid!
"The Sheikah answer to the Hylian royal family, and to them only. No other branch of the Hylian hierarchy has authority over them," Sivan said, evidently not picking up on Ayla's irritation. Or just not caring. That was also a (more likely) possibility. "They lend their assistance to Hylian Intelligence every now and then, and nominally the groups are supposed to share their resources and findings, but...well, let's just say there's no love lost between them, and that says a lot given the relationship between the Sheikah and Hylians to begin with."
"So, you think someone from Hylian Intelligence is behind this?" Ayla asked, just to be clear about this. The last thing she wanted was to report back to Atiya with bad intel. Making baseless and erroneous accusations at this point could set the relationship between the Gerudo and Hyrule back decades.
Sivan cocked her head sideways again. It seemed to be a habit, when she didn't have a simple yes or no answer.
"Possibly?" she said. "At the very least, I suspect that someone with a background in Intelligence is among the Keepers' leaders. The attack itself was amateurish at best, but the clean-up afterwards was nothing but professional. From what I've heard, even the Sheikah are struggling with this investigation—who better to give them a run for their money than their arch-enemies?"
Ayla rested her forehead on the surface of the counter, regretting it a little when she felt the unusually moist wood warping under it. She groaned.
"Trust our brother to get us involved in this mess right after securing us a peace agreement," she muttered.
"Oh, I don't know," Sivan said, retrieving a bundle of letters sealed with wax and placing them on the counter next to Ayla's head. "If nothing else, this will bring us closer to the Sheikah once they realise we're investigating the incident as well. They're the ones worth allying ourselves with, in my opinion."
"Not the Hylians?" Ayla asked, looking through the bundle of letters. "Encoded?" she added, gesturing to the letters.
"Of course," Sivan said, looking offended. "What do you take me for, an amateur? And no, not the Hylians. They are a petty and cruel people, and show no compassion for anyone but themselves, and even then it is mostly for show." She shook her head. "The Sheikah, at least, have honour."
"Some of them are good," Ayla said, though it took her a moment to think of any examples besides Princess Zelda.
"The princess doesn't count," Sivan said, eyes glinting in a way that told Ayla she knew exactly what she'd been thinking. "That girl almost makes up for her people. Almost." She glanced at mechanical clock on the wall, eyes narrowing. "Ah, but this is where our meeting ends. I have a client coming in about five minutes, and I'd rather not have to get caught up in unnecessary chitchat about my origins," she said, shuddering.
"Just as well, I need to get back to the prince," Ayla said, shoving the letters into her shirt. She paused at the door. "Do you actually do any sewing?" she asked.
"Me? Hah!" Sivan barked with laughter. "I wield a needle with the skill and precision of a blind archer. Nah, I have a Terminan friend with an actual shop a few streets over who takes care of my orders. I just bring her the measurements and she does the rest."
"Why not just work in her shop, then?" Ayla asked. "Doesn't seem worth it, keeping a front like this. How many customers do you even get?"
"Surprisingly many," Sivan said, shrugging. "Quite a few rich people who see no issue with exploiting a poor, desperate Gerudo who's willing to do the work for nearly free in an attempt to gain further patronage, and they certainly talk a lot when they think the stupid girl doesn't understand them." She pointed to the clock again. "Like I said, Ayla, the Hylians are obsessed with time and money. Besides, I've always wanted to be an entrepreneur...or at least pretend to be one, and this way I don't have to do any actual work."
"Right," Ayla said slowly, unsure of what to do with that information, eventually deciding to discard it entirely. "Thank you for the information," she said, gesturing to the letters hidden on her person. "Same time next week?"
"Agreed," Sivan said. "If I discover something major before then, I'll contact you."
"Good hunting, sister," Ayla said in their tongue, dipping her head slightly.
"And to you, sister," Sivan replied. "Now get the fuck out of my shop; you're going to scare away my customers."
Kafei lingered outside Sheik's door. He did that a lot these days. Lingering. Whenever he wasn't on duty, he found himself both restless and listless at the same time. He didn't have the energy to do something useful, but found it impossible to rest, his mind racing too fast for him to calm down.
The images his mind presented him whenever he tried to wind down all involved Sheik, and the various states of horror they'd find him in one morning, when the Keepers had managed to infiltrate his quarters and finish the job. The images were relentless, bombarding his mind's eye the moment his real eyes closed.
Logically, he knew that the chances of the Keepers getting to Sheik again were remote, secure as he was at the very heart of the Sheikah operating base in the castle. He didn't need to stand here, making sure none of those bastards could ever get near Sheik again.
Logic and Kafei had never been close friends, even during the good times.
The only way he managed to find some semblance of purpose was standing guard outside his cousin's door, waiting for him to wake up. And if he had a chance to catch one of the Keepers in the act, all the better.
Unfortunately, Impa didn't agree.
He heard her footsteps, but he didn't turn his head to acknowledge her, much less bow his head. Something like that would have earned him a cuff over the head when he was younger. Now, however, Impa simply sighed tiredly, taking up position next to him, back hitting the wall with a slight thud.
"Anything to report?" she asked.
"Nothing," he replied. "Neither out here nor in there."
"The physicians all agree," Impa said. "He will wake up. It's just a matter of time; when his body decides it has healed enough."
"Which could be years from now," he said bitterly. "Forgive me if I don't feel particularly reassured."
"Truth be told, neither am I, but I have to remain confident that Sheik will get bored with healing and wake up soon." She shook her head. "If only to calm Prince Atiya. He caused quite a scene during the council meeting earlier."
"I don't blame him," Kafei said, wishing he could have seen it. Few things made Kafei happier than seeing discombobulated Hylian nobles. Really, the only things that outshone that bright light was Elenwe—he reached up to touch the ring in his ear—and having fun with his cousins.
"Hmph, you're not the one who had to wrangle the angry lordlings who took insult," Impa grumped. "The little shits are getting bolder with their demands." She sighed. "But I'm not here to talk politics." She eyed him closely for a moment. "You can't keep going like this."
"I beg to differ," he said with a sniff. "Besides, I'm off-duty, I can do whatever I like with my time."
"Not when what you do off-duty starts to affect your performance," she said firmly. "I looked over your report from this morning. Full of errors and mistakes—mistakes you have never made before. Mistakes stemming from you not keeping your head in the game. Mistakes that can get people killed."
He scowled. "Everyone makes mistakes."
"We don't," she said, the heat of her glare practically warming the side of Kafei's face. "The others look to us for guidance—for answers. If they cannot trust our intel, why would they trust anything we have to say? How can they put their lives in our hands and believe that everything we do is carefully planned and calculated, that nothing is left to chance?"
"That's your perfectionism talking," he said, glaring back at her. "No one can live up to those demands, not even yourself. You know that."
"That does not mean I cannot strive to do so," she replied. "True, not every plan will succeed or pay off in the manner we expect, but until one does fail miserably, we have to appear to be infallible, and that includes not making the mistakes you have been in the past few days. You need to rest, Kafei."
"I can't," he said, gritting his teeth. "Every time I try to, I get this feeling..." he trailed off, feeling stupid.
"Feeling?" Impa prodded.
"I...I feel like leaving him alone is the biggest mistake I could ever make," he said. "Like, if I take my eyes off this spot for even a second when I'm not on duty, then someone will find their way inside and...and..."
He couldn't even say it. The thought alone was horrifying enough, but to voice it out loud felt akin to making a prediction. Like it would turn from fantasy into reality.
Impa lowered her head, glaring at her feet. "Paranoia is a double-edged sword for us," she said. "It keeps us alive in the field, but absolutely ruins us outside it. It took me years to learn how to suppress it when it is not necessary."
"How do you do it?"
She gave him a helpless look. Or, as close to a helpless look as the Sheikah clan leader allowed herself to give. Sometimes, Kafei wondered if Impa had hid behind her mask for so long that she'd forgotten how to emote like a normal person.
"Your guess is as good as mine. One day, it simply...clicked into place. It remains hidden behind a smokescreen, and only emerges when I need it. I wish I could say there was a trick to it; meditation, mental training...but no, there is no technique to call upon. It simply...does as it should, when it should. I suppose it comes with experience...which is of no help to you at all."
He closed his eyes, knocking the back of his head against the wall. "So you're saying I'm fucked, is what. Nothing I didn't already know."
"You survived me finding out about your and Sheik's impromptu diplomatic meeting with Prince Atiya in the desert," Impa said, huffing. "I'd say that makes you the luckiest man alive."
He shuddered a little at that. "I still have nightmares about you sharpening your knife."
"I've always enjoyed audio-visual aids," she said, grinning a little too widely for it to be anything but unsettling. "They help plant certain seeds in the heads of my targets."
"You do remember that we are, technically, family, right?" he said.
"That just makes it funnier."
It was no wonder, really, that Kafei's family was as messed up as it was, considering its matriarch. Still, he supposed it could be worse. Somehow. He'd yet to find an example, but he knew there was one out there. Somewhere. He had to keep that hope alive.
Impa grabbed his arm and started pulling him away from the door. "Come," she said.
"What?" he asked, trying to pull away but her grip was like iron and she had no trouble dragging him along, no matter how firmly he tries to resist. Where did she hide all that muscle on such a willowy frame?! "What are you doing? Where are you taking me?!"
"To the dojo," she said with mock cheer. "You need to get out of your head, and I need to let off some steam, lest I beat the next noble I see to a bloody pulp. We'll both benefit from this, now come along."
"I fail to see my benefit!"
"Think of it as me shifting your paranoia to something actually useful."
"Goddesses, save me!"
But nobody came.
"That's it?" Atiya asked, glowering at the pile of paper on his desk like they'd personally offended him with their uselessness. "This is all they have to show after five days?"
"Five days is not a lot of time for an in-depth investigation," Ayla reminded him. "They're still probing at the edges, trying to find leads—"
"It's not good enough," the prince said. "Tell them to pick up the pace. I want results."
Ayla took a deep breath, reminding herself that the prince was still young and inexperienced, and had no understanding of the concept of professional detachment. The boy's lover had been hurt, and he was desperate to find the people responsible. Of all the good qualities the king had managed to instil in his younger brother, patience was not one of them. Combined with the infamous tempers they both possessed, it was a wonder a peace agreement had ever been made.
"They are working as fast as they can, my prince, but they also have covers to maintain," she said, trying not to sound too gentle but not too harsh either. "If they probe too deep too soon, their true identities will be compromised, and we could be looking at an international incident since I doubt the Hylians will appreciate a recent enemy already looking into their secrets."
Atiya groaned, leaning back in his seat. "I know!" he exclaimed. "I know, but...I just wish they could work a little faster. The more time we waste the more time the Keepers have to cover their tracks!" He gave Ayla a pleading look. "And you're sure you've checked in with everyone?"
"Everyone," Ayla confirmed for the fifth time. "Sivan was the last. They have been instructed to contact us immediately if they find something of interest. Until then we will simply have to wait."
"I hate waiting," Atiya said petulantly. "It makes me feel useless."
"I know," Ayla said. "But it is all we can do for now."
The prince slumped behind his desk, grimacing before carefully shuffling the spy reports into an orderly pile and putting them into his desk's drawer, locking it. Then he stood up, cracking his neck with a pained sigh.
"I'm going to see Sheik," he announced. "Why don't you take the afternoon off, Ayla? I'm sure there's something more fun for you to do than stare at a wall while guarding me."
"My prince, I cannot leave your s—"
"I insist," Atiya said firmly. "I will be in the middle of the Sheikah headquarters. Just about the safest place in Castle Town, if I'm not mistaken. You haven't gotten to do much sightseeing—why don't you explore the city a little?"
Ayla felt her eyebrow twitch. "You know this is a serious breach of protocol—"
"I'm just trying to make sure you don't overwork yourself," he said, giving her a genuine smile. "You deserve a break. The Sheikah will keep me safe in the meantime."
The million reasons Ayla could have given in response to that statement died on her lips when Atiya's face twisted in a pained grin. Sure, there was technically an agreement in place for the Sheikah to protect Atiya for the duration of his stay here, but that was mostly for official and public events. They would probably take their obligation seriously, especially after giving Atiya access to their headquarters, but the idea of just leaving her charge on his own while she gallivanted around the city left a bad taste in Ayla's mouth.
"I can make it an order, if you'd like?" Atiya added, seemingly reading her thoughts. "Or just say that I'd like to be alone for an afternoon without you hovering at my back."
"Your brother will—"
"I won't tell Gan if you don't."
"...very well. But I will be back at six bells."
Atiya smiled at that, pulling her into a tight embrace, which she reluctantly returned. Her little brother was such a pain sometimes, but...
"I'll see you soon," he said. "Have fun!"
Alone in the prince's office, Ayla briefly debated just heading to her quarters for a nap. There were a few reports she'd neglected writing, and a book she was looking forward to getting started on, but...the castle was starting to feel a little claustrophobic.
"Fuck it," she muttered, heading for the door. There were still a few markets she hadn't visited yet, and plenty of little hole-in-the-wall shops to explore. And if she happened to be keeping an ear out for leads on the Keepers...well, who could stop her?
Impa watched Kafei leave the dojo, trying not to feel too guilty about the suppressed groans of pain coming from her cousin with every step he took. She'd probably gone a bit overboard with the leg locks, but they had worked so well to get Kafei out of his headspace and actually focus on the fight at hand. Rather than fret and stress about Sheik's condition, he'd been busy trying to beat her.
He'd failed, of course, but he'd tried, and that was the important thing. The winded and sweaty, but relieved-looking Kafei who'd left the dojo was a marked improvement over the jittery one that had entered it. She could only hope he'd be too tired to rebel against her order to get some sleep. If not, she'd recruit Paya. She always had a way with getting her cousins to do as they were told.
Impa finished her stretches, trying not to feel annoyed at how much longer it was taking these days, and changed back into her uniform. Her shift was technically over after pulling an all-nighter, but being the clan leader meant that she was, more or less, always on duty. It wouldn't do to be caught out of uniform if something happened and she was needed immediately.
The corridors weren't particularly busy at this time of day—most of the operatives were at their posts or enjoying their downtime somewhere else. She nodded to those she passed but did not stop for conversation. Not out of the norm for her, but she had a feeling she was coming off as less approachable than usual.
Mana was standing outside the door to Sheik's room, leaning against the wall and writing in her journal. The small black book contained all manners of secrets, none of which Impa had ever been privy to, even though she'd grown up with the other Sheikah.
"How is he?" she asked without preamble.
"Stable," Mana replied without hesitation. "My fears regarding his lungs were unfounded—his breathing is mostly fine, though somewhat constrained by his broken ribs. No sign of perforation after all." She looked at Impa. "The prince is with him at the moment."
"I am not surprised," Impa said drily, wondering if she'd ever again have a moment with her nephew that did not also include Atiya. "How long?"
"He just got here—poor thing looked absolutely miserable."
"His bodyguard?"
"Absent today," Mana said, crossing off a line in her journal before closing it and putting it in her uniform pocket. "Sent her off on sightseeing, apparently." There was a knowing glint to her eye when she said that.
Spying, more likely, Impa's mind told her. "Is someone keeping an eye on her?" she asked.
Mana grimaced. "Obviously."
"Good. Why don't you take a break?"
"Well, don't mind if I do. I'll be off," the other Sheikah said. "Try not to kill the prince while I'm gone, hm?"
"I won't, provided he behaves himself," Impa said, refusing to rise to her bait.
Mana chuckled and left. She still had a slight limp from her injury all those years ago, even if she did her best to hide it. One of Impa's many mistakes.
She took a breath and knocked once on the door to Sheik's room before letting herself in. She was not surprised to find Prince Atiya sitting as close to Sheik as he possible could, almost draping himself over the still form of her nephew. The only thing stopping him from doing it fully was knowing it would probably cause Sheik a lot of pain.
"Mistress Impa," Atiya said, bowing his head, but refusing to stand up, as if Sheik was going to disappear the moment he left his side. "Good afternoon."
"Your highness," Impa greeted in return, bowing. "I trust you have been treated well by my people?"
"They have been perfectly courteous," Atiya replied. "I'm sorry for imposing."
No, you're not, Impa thought. But that's all right, because you're doing it for him.
If there had ever been a moment in Impa's life where she was certain she'd lost it, or that a stroke was coming on, it was the moment she'd been told the full story of Sheik and Atiya's meeting in the desert.
She'd known something was afoot when she'd received the reports and spotted a few discrepancies and things that did not match up, but it had seemed minor in the grand scheme of things, so she'd let it go. It had been Sheik's first time in the field—of course things hadn't gone off without a hitch, but they'd all made it back alive so why make a big ruckus about nothing?
And then, several weeks later, Kafei had gotten massively drunk.
It was his own fault; challenging Mag to a drinking game always resulted in massive casualties. Rather than interfere, Impa had elected to simply observe, always amused to see the many ways in which Kafei could get himself into trouble. It was one of her kind-of-sort-of nephew's more entertaining qualities. After all the grey hairs he'd put on Impa's head, he deserved a bit of public humiliation.
Of course, she hadn't expected the fool to blurt out that he'd met a Gerudo prince in the desert, captured him, and then let him go...as a response to a question of how he was feeling.
Idiot couldn't hold his liqueur. Usually a source of entertainment, this time a headache the size of the moon.
Luckily, the people around them had been too drunk to remember it, or just hadn't believed him. Impa had coaxed the whole story out of him later that night, once he'd sobered up a little.
She could envision the approaching disaster from the very first moments of the story, and when Kafei revealed that Sheik had been...intimate...with the prince, she'd seriously considered committing seppuku right then and there to spare herself the calamity...but then she'd remembered Iana would be waiting for her in the afterlife, ready to kick Impa's arse for allowing her son to be besmirched in such a manner.
It had been a struggle, really, not to talk to Sheik about it in the weeks that followed. That said, she had been impressed with his ability to lie through his teeth and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. If only he'd known his cousin had sold him out over a tankard of ale.
She was content to leave it at that...until Ganondorf, the fool, had brought Atiya to Hyrule for the peace summit. The way Sheik's eyes had nearly popped out of his head had been amusing in its own right, but his reaction to Zelda introducing them...well, Impa was quite sure Iana had been laughing too. It was too bad she had to play the part of the surprised and shocked, or she would have had no small amount of comments for Sheik.
A small, petty part of her wanted to blame Atiya for this. The Gerudo, in general. The Keepers had probably formed as a response to the peace agreement and the Gerudo guests arriving in Hyrule, and if peace had never been made, then perhaps Sheik wouldn't be where he was today.
...but that wasn't right. She knew that. The Keepers wanted to expel anything and anyone that wasn't Hylian from the kingdom, not just the Gerudo. The Sheikah were also on that list. This would have happened sooner or later anyway, she suspected.
She just wished it hadn't been Sheik.
"You are not imposing, your highness," she said. "You are welcome here."
Atiya nodded, his eyes softening as they returned to Sheik's face. Still so swollen and bruised, it was hard to know that was her nephew. "His breathing sounds better today," the prince said softly.
"Mana tells me his lung wasn't punctured after all," Impa replied, trying to keep an even tone. She couldn't let herself show emotion. Not to the prince. "His breathing will improve as his ribs heal."
"That's good," Atiya said, his eyes shining a little in the candlelight. "He didn't deserve this."
"He didn't," she agreed. When she found the ones responsible, nothing would save them. Zelda wanted them before her in chains. Impa had no intention of letting them get that far. "I shall leave you to it, your highness."
"Please, don't leave on my account," Atiya said quickly. "I did not mean to chase you away—"
"I only had a little time to see him, and I'm glad to see that he is not alone," she said, shaking her head. "Thank you for keeping him company, your highness." She bowed again.
"Thank you for letting me see him," Atiya replied in kind, also bowing. "Few would, considering our...relationship."
It was the first time either Sheik or Atiya had spoken about it out loud. At least to Impa. It was hardly a secret, but if talking about it made Sheik uncomfortable, Impa wasn't about to bring it up as long as both participants were happy.
"You're a romantic at heart, even if you try to deny it."
Iana had been right. Too bad it wasn't she who'd been saddled with this political nightmare. The sweet embrace of death sounded pretty good right about now.
"As long as he's happy," she told the prince, "I have no objections. The moment he says no, however, you will respect it."
"Of course."
"I am glad we have understanding, your highness. Good afternoon."
She didn't give Atiya a chance to reply, quickly leaving the room. She wasn't running away. Nope. Not at all. The corridor outside was empty, and she took a moment to recompose herself before heading back to the briefing room. She preferred to remain within view for the on-duty Sheikah, and available for consultation or assistance.
She didn't get far, however, before encountering someone who was not supposed to be there.
Constable Calli was breathing heavily, her face red and sweaty from the effort of moving around. She had a crutch under each arm, her knuckles white from the tightness of her grip on them. She was wearing infirmary whites beneath a neutral tabard; her feet bare on the stone.
"You should be in bed," Impa told her, watching the constable take step after agonised step. She'd help, if she didn't know how the constable would react. Trying to fight an injured person didn't look good, no matter who struck first.
"I want...to see him," Calli said through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing at Impa in an expression that was hauntingly familiar. There really was no mistaking where she'd come from. "Get out of...my way..."
Impa rolled her eyes. Even the stubbornness was familiar. She'd been at this for the last few days, insisting that she wanted to see Sheik, to see for herself that he was still alive. She'd been kept in the Sheikah infirmary, same as Sheik, for fear of further attacks by the Keepers. She had not appreciated this, and had made several escape attempts already, easily foiled because...well, one does not simply walk away from such an injury.
"I cannot allow that yet," Impa said, standing firm. "Look at you, you're about to pass out, and then where will we be?"
"You?" Callie asked. "Preferably somewhere...else..."
Spare me the stubbornness of children, Impa thought, stepping forward and taking Calli by the arm. "Come along, I'll take you back to your room."
"Don't touch me!" Calli hissed, trying to pull away, but failing. The injury really had taken a toll on her. "Let me go!"
"No," Impa said simply, readjusting her hold on Calli and, after a moment of thought, tossing the constable's arm over her shoulders, effortlessly turning them around and heading back the way Calli had come. "You need rest, constable."
"I want to see—"
"Sheik is stable, but unconscious," Impa continued relentlessly. "He is in no condition to talk to you, and he already has a guest who does not take kindly to strangers."
Plus, Impa had no idea how Atiya would take to meeting the constable who'd been Sheik's partner the night of the attack. The prince had graciously enquired about the constable's condition, but that could have been knee-jerk politeness rather than genuine concern, and there was no telling how people under such emotional stress might react to each other.
"You can see him later," she added when Calli continued to struggle. "Until then, you need to focus on healing and getting better."
"Why do you care?!" Calli asked, teeth bared in a snarl. "You never did before!"
Impa fought down the urge to bark back at her. She deserved that, she truly did. The anger from Calli was nothing new...though it still had the same effect on Impa where it immediately triggered her challenge response. She fought it down and continued to half-drag, half-lead Calli back to her room, listening to her protests the entire way.
Her grandfather had a lot to answer for.
After several hours of walking around Castle Town, checking out its many shops and cafes and taverns, trying her best to mingle with the locals, Ayla had come to a conclusion.
She could never be a spy.
She didn't have the patience for it. Playing a character other than herself, asking seemingly innocuous but deeply probing questions, gently leading targets to reveal more about themselves and the people around than they should, subtly gathering information that could be aggregated and analysed to gain a deeper understanding of their targets...
...no, she'd go mad within a day. Almost had, this afternoon, when her attempt to ask a merchant's son about his father's business had resulted in him making embarrassing passes at her...which had then gotten aggressive after she'd turned him down. It was only a customer coming in that had stopped her from rearranging his face.
Realising she was absolutely shit at spying, she'd taken to wandering the streets at random, just taking in the sights and atmosphere of Castle Town. Sivan had been right—judging from how much of a hurry the Hylians seemed to be in all the time, time was money to them. Few seemed to have the time to just sit and enjoy life for what it was.
Things got busy back home as well, but never at the tempo these people moved. Partly that was because of the climate—the temperature threatened to knock you out if you worked too hard—but also partly because...well, to Gerudo, work was more about survival. It wasn't about the money itself.
She shook her head. She missed home. She missed her sisters. Being Atiya's bodyguard was an honour, but she hadn't anticipated this mission to last so long. If everything had gone according to plan, they'd be on their way back to the desert already, but the attack had changed that. She didn't begrudge her prince his time with his beloved, but...things were getting dangerous. There was no telling when the next attack would happen, or who would be the victim.
They wouldn't be stupid enough to go after Atiya, but they could go after any of their sisters living in Castle Town. Or another Sheikah.
Before she knew it, she was turning into the side-street where Sivan kept her shop. Or pretended to keep her shop, at any rate. She wasn't sure why she'd taken this path, but she felt like talking to someone who wasn't going to make crude jokes or insult her.
She found the Gerudo in question seemingly closing her musty shop for the day, stuffing her bag full of papers.
"That was quick," Sivan said, blinking at her. "I just sent the runner—guess you took my words to heart. He deserves a big tip."
"Runner?" Ayla asked. "What runner?"
"The one I sent to fetch you? For the measurements?"
"I just wandered here by mistake," she said. "Was there something you wanted?"
"You have the most peculiar timing, then," Sivan said, retrieving one of the papers from the bag and handing it to her. "One of the others just brought me this. We have a name."