She needed to find someone who could read.  There were no questions about that.  The only question was: who?

The first face that came to mind was the dark skin lad from the train station.  He had a book and even said he could read.  Would she be able to find him again?  Was he someone she could trust?  The guy did seem overly honest in her brief interaction with her, and did seem to care about her welfare when she was on the tracks…

It took some work, back at the station to get a lead.  Didn't need to be able to read to get rumors from the vagabonds on the street.  Rumors led her to the library.  His name was Tristan Wells and he was a doctor. Finding his home was easy enough due to the copious amount of ads he had places.

Vigdis waited til dark.  She had confirmed it was his house, having watched him enter the building but not leave as the evening grew longer.  Why she just didn't approach him there?  Given their previous interaction, he probably was going to upset to see her again and not let her in  And she NEEDED him to read the envelope and it's contents to her.

While she knew how to pick locks and could have gone through the ground level doors , that was an easy way to get caught.  Traffic on the street was always curious about dark figures fiddling with doors.  So much so, they almost never looked up, toward the second or third story windows.  Vigdis was agile, an acrobat, having been raised on the ropes of a pirate ship.  It was nothing for her to find easy access to the roof.  She wore her soft leather shoes, the ones that muffled the sound of her steps as she prowled across the roof to a darkened window.  She wore her short, fitted gambeson and trousers that fit her body rather well.  Easier to sneak about in.  She hadn't touched her hair this time, it's full volume bouncing as she moved.

Once she found the window she was content with, she used the dagger that was left with the note to slide between the two panes and left the small latch that kept them closed.  No one ever installed real locks on the windows of the upper levels of houses.  Small latches, maybe, if they were even closed.  Vigdis pushed them open quietly and allowed herself into the room, perching on the window sill.  She waited a moment, to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room.  Vigga waited to listen for any sounds coming from the room or nearby.

Pippa was exhausted... She had worked herself to the bone; learning to cook and clean was hard work. Her hands were red and raw from scrubbing things and... and... Ahhh, and. It had been nice to have something to do to keep her mind off of her dead family... Except, of course, in the wee hours of the morn when nobody was supposed to be scratching about except for drunkards, the sots, or the occasional courtesan leaning out the window in the cool night air. She had crawled into bed and fallen into it, but her mind was keeping her wide awake.

It happened as if the whole world were against her getting a wink of sleep. Her eyes were just starting to grow leaden, the weight of it pulling down the delicate lashes until... until... Until nothing, for just as her eyes would have closed, there was a noise at her window. Her lashes shot back up, pupils dilated a little more. Surely she was imagining the noise she heard!

She lay still, eyes wide open, the breath halted in her lungs. Then her eyeballs shifted as far to the left as they could pan, waiting with bated breath until she heard the very quiet rustle of someone lurking in the darkness. Pippa rolled, suddenly, deciding now was not going to be her time to die! She did not spring out of bed as she imagined herself doing in the heat of the moment. Oh, no, it was... more like a stumble? Yes... And then, to her horror, instead of tackling the woman, she flopped onto the floor.

"AH!" she cried out at first, then scrambled to roll onto her back and yell, "Doctor---" NOOO, OOOH NOOO! Shit! She froze up in that. There was a chance for a hand to go over her mouth in that space of time when her brain farted, if only to smother the pending, "Wells!"

Tristan was a light sleeper. He had to be as a doctor. Back in the asylum there had been breakdowns in the middle of the night, and he had often been woken up to calm a patient down. So when there was a thud from the floor above, his eyes shot open. There was a shout. Had Pippa fallen out of bed and hurt herself?

But the next shout had him jump out of bed (more gracefully than his servant had). He wasn't very familiar with his room in the dark yet, and so he did bump his leg into the corner of his nightstand on his way to the door, but though it hurt like hell, he didn't stop. He had heard from the tone of that shout that something serious was going on. Tristan hurried up the steep and uneven stairs in the dark, stumbled, slid down a few steps and hurt himself more, found his balance, and hurried on. He burst into the room.

As Pippa stumbled and screamed, she did nothing to stop her from calling the doctor. Saved her the trouble. Vigdis normally would have pounced to try to help Pippa up and to reassure her that her intentions were not nefarious. But her mind was elsewhere, stuck in a fog. Her entire life was being turned upside down and she had nowhere to go. She didn't know a single soul in this godforsaken city. It took almost a day to track down one of the few faces that might recognize her, might listen to her plight.

Vigga pulled herself down from the sill and tucked the dagger back into it's sheath on her hip. This was a mistaken. She hadn't left Tristan on good terms, to say the least. He would be furious to see her again. Turning around slowly, she closed the window with care and latched it again. Reaching into a pocket, she fished out two coins. She turned back around to face Pippa just as Tristan burst into the room.

"Dr. Wells," Vigdis greeted him. "Your money." With open palm, she held the two pound out toward him. The gaiety that had been in her voice before was now missing, her mood as dark as her eyes.

Pippa was laying on the floor in complete horror at what had just happened and was exceedingly thankful that the woman who had just broken into her bedroom was talking to Tristan and not making a big deal out of her being a complete wreck. She didn't want to move or draw attention to herself, but she ended up pushing herself up on the balls of her hands. She squinted through the darkness and confusion set in. What on earth was going on?!

It took a moment for Tristan's eyes to adjust to the darkened room. He heard her, before he spotted her. Her shape was a shadow against the little bit of streetlight that slipped in from behind the blinds. What the hell? He wasn't going to get near her. For all he knew she was armed and ready to strike. He had read about people who had been stabbed to death when they confronted a burglar. Or perhaps she was part of a group, only here to distract them, while her comrades were downstairs, taking everything of value.

Pippa was on the floor, crawling up to her knees. She was in a vulnerable position there. Tristan stretched his arm in her direction. "Pippa, come behind me!" he ordered. And turning to the other woman he ordered: "Leave!"

Their reactions were understandable. Of course, they thought she was there to steal from them. She did sneak in through the window. But they didn't understand that her offering his money back was an offering for a truce? Maybe because it was too dark. Fetching a match set from inside her jacket, she moved toward a set of candles. Vigdis' steps were nearly silent, given the soft leather shoes she wore. Once there was some light in the room, she set the coins and her Captain's dagger next to them and moved away.

"Please, Dr. Wells," she pleaded. "I… I need yer… help." The sound of her voice was foreign to her. She hadn't pleaded for anything since she was a child, and learned that pirates didn't do such a thing. They didn't beg, or even ask half of the time. "No harm will come to ye or… Pippa, I swear." She repeated the name he mentioned just a moment ago. Perhaps with some light in the room now, he could see she wasn't the homeless person he once thought of her.

Unbuttoning a few buttons on one side of her gambeson, and removed the large envelope. She hadn't broken seal on it yet. Part of her was afraid to do it. Part of her didn't want to believe that they had marooned her. "Ye said ye can read." Her dark eyes moved from the envelope back to Tristan. The playfulness that had been in them at their last meeting was completely gone.

Pippa was obedient, nevertheless, not knowing if she should do otherwise. She didn't want her job to be taken away or something because she disobeyed her employer. The young miss jerked to her feet hurried to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder through the darkness at the blonde woman. She seemed like she wasn't there for trouble, so Pippa blurted out, "So can I... Pardon me."

Tristan stood nailed to the ground, utterly confused. She was here because... she wanted him to read a letter? ... She didn't look that old. Surely, she had fallen under compulsory education, though Tristan knew there were still children who slipped through the net. Perhaps she was just mentally ill. He had wondered that before.

"Shush," he automatically responded to Pippa. He looked at the two pounds. So the little fiend had taken them after all. Then he looked back at Vigdis. "You're asking me to believe that you broke into a home to have a letter read? You'll have to do better than that." He slowly moved in the direction of the table.

"Took me all day to learn yer name and where ye lived," Vigga replied.  "I reckoned ye'd just slam the door in me face, given our last interaction.  At which point, I'd still have to break in to have this conversation wit ye." She still felt like she was in a fog.  This was a dream.  A horrible dream and she had to figure out how to wake herself up. 

When Tristan moved toward the table, Vigga took the opportunity to quickly close the gap between her and Pippa.  Tristan obviously didn't believe her nor seemed willing to help.  But Pippa said she could read.  The blonde held the envelope out to the other girl.  Big letters scrawled across the outer envelope: Vigdis Dahl, Welcome Home. 

Inside the large envelope were two smaller ones.  One was thin, weighted heavier with a round object, and instructions to open that one first.  Inside it contained the letter she need read: