"Alright then, let's make it simple: I've got my money on the one on the left side of the arena and you can take the one on the right. Sound good?"
Tendal frowns. "He wasn't at breakfast. At dinner last night, I suppose.... No, wait, he didn't turn up then, either. Sometime before then, apparently. All of us who were in the building had lunch together; I know he was here then. He was concerned about someone sabotaging the dance floor." He gives a subconscious glance toward the open doors leading out to the courtyard."When was the last time you saw Larur?"
"Too long, for such a dependable. Oh, I've the right to alleycat about, Braddon might be gone overnight, you, presumably, might begin some tutelage, and toot 'til dawn. But the man of habits so hardened, they might as well be monk's robes... is such an absence still a right, or does it mean something's wrong?"
Phillip muses, then nods "Fair enough... average out the bouts from now till the bear torture for the win. I've money on Ranef in the last and I'm not yet sure which side of the arena he'll approach from. Poor form to bet against a friend... and I'd prefer to not holistically endorse the animal torture either."
Snake nods, "Works for me." He then turns his attention back to the bouts, grabbing a drink and a bit of food.
"Too long, for such a dependable. Oh, I've the right to alleycat about, Braddon might be gone overnight, you, presumably, might begin some tutelage, and toot 'til dawn. But the man of habits so hardened, they might as well be monk's robes... is such an absence still a right, or does it mean something's wrong?"
Tendal frowns at the speculation about his own activities. "Have you asked Mr. Vankaskerkin? Perhaps Mr. Felden is taking care of some matter of business before tomorrow's event."
The trio in the arena settle in with their snacks and ales to watch the fights. The first fight ends with a victory for the fellow on the right, putting Phillip up a bout; the next match proves to be a win for the gladiator entering from the left, while the third goes to the man on the right and the fourth to the one on the left. The neat alternation might raise some doubts as to whether the outcomes of the afternoon's match-ups may not be decided completely on the merits. When the fifth fight goes to the gladiator entering from the right, the pattern becomes even more suspicious; however, it also means that Phillip has won the bet.
The sliver of shade provided by the unused box has widened imperceptibly over the course of the matches and trickled down a few tiers of seating by the time the sand is cleared and raked for the bear-baiting. Some sort of mechanism in the floor of the arena is cleared by the arena staff and a pole carried in and fixed firmly to it. Some portion of the audience appear to have similar feelings to Phillip about the entertainment, taking the opportunity to enter the concourse to cash in some winnings or to seek out food, drink, or privies. To others, however, this seems to of more interest than the earlier gladiatorial combats; they watch the preparations on the sand eagerly and move down to nearer seats left empty by those leaving the bowl of the arena. The half-orc contingent around Boss Croat's box, in particular, seems to anticipate the bloodsport, baring tusks in enthusiasm.
Tendal frowns at the speculation about his own activities. "Have you asked Mr. Vankaskerkin? Perhaps Mr. Felden is taking care of some matter of business before tomorrow's event.""Too long, for such a dependable. Oh, I've the right to alleycat about, Braddon might be gone overnight, you, presumably, might begin some tutelage, and toot 'til dawn. But the man of habits so hardened, they might as well be monk's robes... is such an absence still a right, or does it mean something's wrong?"
"Eighteen hours? Of what, weaving a basketwork throne?", Gristav snipes. "But I'm sorry, if I've offended. I'm quite worried. Trust me, it's unlike him. Of course, so is this circumstance, so it may all be my fae frailty. But there are other pieces that press me, and I don't entirely trust..." Gristav had meant to be clarifying, but instead had only reasoned aloud. And apparently, resolved himself.
"You're a man of science. Would you come, witness an experiment?"
Frowning, Tendal shoots a distrustful glance toward the dancers out on the floor. "How long will this take? I'm not sure how comfortable I am granting a group of strangers free rein in our building. The last group of Varisian entertainers Mr. Vankaskerkin hired weren't particularly trustworthy."
Phillip leaves the bear baiting to those more blood thirsty, shrugging his shoulders as he turns to Snake "Seems that luck was on my side today..."
Frowning, Tendal shoots a distrustful glance toward the dancers out on the floor. "How long will this take? I'm not sure how comfortable I am granting a group of strangers free rein in our building. The last group of Varisian entertainers Mr. Vankaskerkin hired weren't particularly trustworthy."
Troubled and torn, Gristav says tensely, "When you come to understand, what my meaning was, I hope you will agree, I'm showing considerable restraint. You do remember, my only reason for being here, is the support of my friend? Whose absence is unexplained, following words with his partner. I view it all quite darkly. Perhaps it's just Riddleport, soaking in."
Apparently choosing patience, Gristav sighs a sigh he'd learned in Tien, and then a better one.
"Do you play cribbage? The simple maths, can lighten the mind. Or perhaps you have something you'd like to discuss?"
Watching as he loses on the last fight, a groan escapes as he can only shake his head. "Yep... she was in your corner today, bub. Fair enough. Alright, when you mentioned 'handle' Thuvalia, what does that involve me having to do exactly?"
Showing some humility in victory, Phillip doesn't crow "Simple enough, just volunteer to help her get ready for the night tomorrow... you know, run errands, listen to her complaints so the rest of us don't have to" smiling "Simple"
Braddon gives Snake a friendly slap on the back.
"I'm not prepared to risk my job and kill her. But if you do crack, I'll help you dispose of the body."
Braddon's offer seems disturbingly warm and genuine.
Troubled and torn, Gristav says tensely, "When you come to understand, what my meaning was, I hope you will agree, I'm showing considerable restraint. You do remember, my only reason for being here, is the support of my friend? Whose absence is unexplained, following words with his partner. I view it all quite darkly. Perhaps it's just Riddleport, soaking in."
"I hope you don't mean to imply," Tendal retorts a bit hotly, "that you suspect Mr. Vankaskerkin of ... of anything untoward."
"Hm. Yeah, simple." He then looks to Braddon as he speaks. Shaking his head at the man's creepy sincerity, "Hate to disappoint, bub, but I won't crack. You forget, I have to deal with Gristav every day. And if I haven't tried to kill him by now...," he says, shrugging, with a slight wry grin.
Troubled and torn, Gristav says tensely, "When you come to understand, what my meaning was, I hope you will agree, I'm showing considerable restraint. You do remember, my only reason for being here, is the support of my friend? Whose absence is unexplained, following words with his partner. I view it all quite darkly. Perhaps it's just Riddleport, soaking in.""I hope you don't mean to imply," Tendal retorts a bit hotly, "that you suspect Mr. Vankaskerkin of ... of anything untoward."
"The question is, toward what. I hope you don't mean to imply, that you see him as being above such. If you do, keep it to yourself. Riddleport seems no place for an honest man. A reputation as unable to do dark... would hardly serve. And it needn't be Saul, there's Bojasc, after all."
"I don't mean to insult you, by recognizing the potential, for darkness, in your master, or his situation. I come from a dark place, myself, and I am worried. I'm worried, Tendal, and sick with it. The science I proposed, was a test. We'd mount the stairs, in company of an illusion of Larur, and gauge their surprise. Which would of course prove nothing, but would begin a conversation, or a battle, one way, or the other. A consummation devoutly to be wished." Gris grinned grimly.
"But I also, proposed a game of cribbage. To untwist a mind, full of snakes. But I'll ask this- I'll require it. You may take your portion of my worry, but you may not share it, upstairs. After all, if it's nothing, no reason to share it. And if it's something, well, you'll need to choose, to where your moral high horse rides. Or charges. And how the tale is told, in years to come."
"Would you prefer chess?"
"I'm afraid I do, in fact, consider Mr. Vankaskerkin incapable of murdering a business partner, if that is indeed what you are implying," Tendal answers a little primly. "His methods and accounting might have been, in the past, 'creative,' which led to misunderstandings and, sadly, tragedy, but I should hardly place myself in the employ of someone I believe to be a remorseless criminal. And you must have a fairly low opinion of Mr. Felden's business sense if you believe him to have been so thoroughly deceived by a man you claim to have 'seen through' in the course of a much shorter acquaintance." He waves his hand. "By all means, conduct your little experiment, if you wish. But I hope you've thought through how you'll explain your actions when Mr. Vankaskerkin addresses your illusion, believing it to be Mr. Felden. A complete unburdening of your suspicions, once they have been proved to be unfounded, might be awkward."
Down on the sand, the bear baiting moves forward. A chain is fed through a metal portcullis at one entrance to the arena and dropped down the pole; then the staff quickly clear the sand. After several moments, the portcullis raises to allow the animal itself to stumble, blinking out into the sun. The bulky bear looks disoriented by the brightness of the light reflecting off the sand and the strangeness of the surroundings. At the roar of the crowd, it pauses in confusion, halfway out the gate, then growls a protest as it is apparently prodded with poles to encourage it to continue. Once it is out, the portcullis is swiftly dropped behind it, and, somewhere beneath the arena, the chain is reeled in, half-dragging the animal toward the post and constraining its range of movement.
"Hate to disappoint, bub, but I won't crack. You forget, I have to deal with Gristav every day. And if I haven't tried to kill him by now...," he says, shrugging, with a slight wry grin.
"Gristav says and does things I don't understand. That's nothing new for me. But he ain't gonna stab me in my sleep and take my stuff like the harpy would if given the chance. She hasn't done it yet, 'cause she's low on options, but if she can get enough gold and safe passage south, she'll clear out Saul and do as much damage to us as she can on the way out. It'll take her a while, 'cause her idea of enough is pretty big, but it's only a matter of time."
Braddon turn his attention back to the bear.
Paying only lip attention to what's on the field of play Phillip waxes "Well tomorrow night will either be enlightening or disappointing... depending on whether the other figures in the shadows come t'wards the light... but I think Thuvalia's threat's likely flown."
"I'm afraid I do, in fact, consider Mr. Vankaskerkin incapable of murdering a business partner, if that is indeed what you are implying," Tendal answers a little primly. "His methods and accounting might have been, in the past, 'creative,' which led to misunderstandings and, sadly, tragedy, but I should hardly place myself in the employ of someone I believe to be a remorseless criminal. And you must have a fairly low opinion of Mr. Felden's business sense if you believe him to have been so thoroughly deceived by a man you claim to have 'seen through' in the course of a much shorter acquaintance." He waves his hand. "By all means, conduct your little experiment, if you wish. But I hope you've thought through how you'll explain your actions when Mr. Vankaskerkin addresses your illusion, believing it to be Mr. Felden. A complete unburdening of your suspicions, once they have been proved to be unfounded, might be awkward."
"I would expect awkward, yes. But also expect to be forgiven, since the imprisoned scribe and the four dead men so far haven't brought any censure. As for Larur's sense, well, you're likely questioning it now, aren't you?", Gristav smirked, indicating himself with the most minute of nods. "And for yours; Tell me, Mr. Deverin, if I'm to trust your sense of people, over what I will admit I have not seen, 'through' or otherwise, I should need to calibrate it."
"What is your sense, of me?"
"Which dead men?" Tendal frowns. "Miss Barabbio's friends who tried to rob our customers and put us out of business? I think there's a difference between defending our interests against those who plot against us and accusing our employer of murder."
"From what I have been led to understand," he goes on archly, "you mistook the leader of a murder-cult for a humble cleric of charity. Therefore, I would have to say my sense of you is that you are a poor judge of character. Particularly as I, with whom you are sharing these dark suspicions, am as much Saul's man as you are Mr. Felden's."
At Zincher's Arena, the bear being in place, a gate at the opposite end of the arena opens, and the pack of dogs trots onto the sand. Obviously trained for the purpose, they swarm the bear as a pack, fearlessly braving the teeth and claws, either depending on their fellows to distract the beast or selflessly providing that distraction. A thunder of shouts and encouragement rises from the half-orc section and the aficionados of the bloodsport scattered around the remainder of the bowl.
"Yeah I'm with Raccoon on this one, bub. She doesn't really strike me as hell bent on getting revenge. If anything, I make her out as someone who could care less about anyone or anything. I just don't think we're 'important' enough to her to even bother with. But, seeing how I don't know her as well as you two do and you really can't trust anybody in this town, I'll keep an extra eye on her." He looks over at Luck on his shoulders and scratches him between the ears
As the bear baiting begins, Phillip can't help to see the Goblin's own predicament writ large upon the sand. Shackled and restrained with yipping canines circling... unsure the which of them would prove to have a bite to trump it's bark. Snake's words shake his attention from the sand though and he distances himself from the thoughts "Trust indeed is a commodity I wouldn't deal in bulk... but when one hasn't had the chance to stack the field, you need deal with the hand before you. At any rate she's been cooped up at the Goblin all week... I wouldn't expect she's had opportunity to craft a conspiracy again."
"Zincher and the whoremistress on the other hand..." shrugging "One could say we'll find out if we're important enough for them to worry over us."
The dogs come at the bear relentlessly, darting in and out as its attention turns to the nearest threat. If it weren't chained, the fight would be more dangerous for the pack, but restrained as it is, the bear cannot avoid being surrounded. It roars in fury, slapping its heavy paws in every direction. One dog, reacting too slowly, is caught by a heavy blow and flung over the heads of its fellows to land, motionless, near the base of the stone wall, but the rest of the pack pay its fate no mind, continuing to growl and snap at the larger beast.
The entertainment doesn't last too much longer. One dog manages to dart beneath the bear's belly and latch its teeth into the furry folds of its throat. The bear bellows in pain and anger, rearing up on its hind legs to try to bat the dangling dog loose, but the single-minded animal keeps its jaws firmly clenched. Focused on the pain at its throat, the bear loses focus on its defense, and the remaining dogs swarm it. The bear protests in a deep moan, delivers a few more impotent blows, then collapses onto its side into the sand. The human audience lets loose a grumbling protest at the quickness of the battle, but the half-orcs look pleased.
For a moment, it appears as if the dogs will tear the bear's carcass to pieces where it lies, but then their ears prick up; they look over their shoulders to the gate by which they entered and then leave their fallen foe to trot obediently toward a half-orc who has just stepped out onto the sand. As he makes his appearance, the half-orc section calls out in tribute, and he grins and raises his hand in acknowledgement before leading the dogs back into the depths of the arena.
"Which dead men?" Tendal frowns. "Miss Barabbio's friends who tried to rob our customers and put us out of business? I think there's a difference between defending our interests against those who plot against us and accusing our employer of murder."
"From what I have been led to understand," he goes on archly, "you mistook the leader of a murder-cult for a humble cleric of charity. Therefore, I would have to say my sense of you is that you are a poor judge of character. Particularly as I, with whom you are sharing these dark suspicions, am as much Saul's man as you are Mr. Felden's."
"I didn't mistake him alone. That was I, and a seasoned sailor, and the several desparate persons served succour at his shelter. Which shelter we'd brought a half-drowned survivor of that strange wave back to. I don't make claim to great insight into any particular man, not even myself, but this wasn't some boulevard busker, bartering beans. For all I might be, the youthful yokel."
"But for my judgement of character, I doubt you could be as much employed, to Saul, as I am enfriended, to Larur. Rather, I judge you dutifully devoted, but only dutifully so, and I gauge that, if a darkness were proved true, you'd remain a lightness within it. You're a decent man. Or I'm a fool. Well, I'm a fool, in any case. But you're decent."
"Please imagine a friend to whom you cannot repay a debt. Now imagine them in trouble. And now, missing a day, a dwarf, with debts unpaid, and last known to be worrying on that partnership. Doubt my sense of Saul, but do you doubt Larur's? My suspicions are not a prodigious leap."
"But I'll accept your reasoning, that my suspicions are in error. And strive again, by and against my fae nature, to find patience, in distraction."
"Yeah I'm with Raccoon on this one, bub. She doesn't really strike me as hell bent on getting revenge."
"I don't think the harpy is dangerous unless you can't fight back."
Braddon gestures to the bear being harried below."Give her a spear and that bear would still be safe from her. But she'd love to have her own pack of dogs."
As the fight ends, Braddon shares a look with Phillip.
"Actually, I wouldn't mind one of those whistles myself. Was that magic?"
Back at the Gold Goblin, Tendal sighs. "Look, all you know for certain is that Mr. Felden wasn't at breakfast. It's now early afternoon. I don't think a half day's absence is sufficient to leap to the conclusion of foul play. Have you even inquired of Mr. Vankaskerkin if he knows of any particular business Mr. Felden might be taking care of before Sunday?"
"At any rate, if something does turn out to be the matter, may I ask that you consider that it might be the doings of that Scarlet woman, or of Cleg Zincher, or of any of the other enemies the Gold Goblin has that we know of before accusing one of our own? Last Sunday, a robbery was planned to ruin our grand opening; can you deny that the disappearance of one of the owners might be another ploy to shut us down?"
The demise of the bear having left a relatively acrid taste in his mouth Phillip shrugs to Braddon "I wouldn't think so... they don't seem the sort for arcane enlightenment." musing before continuing "Though was the whistle to call them off... or just attract them elsewhere..."
"A whistle that can only be heard by those you want to. Who wouldn't want one of them."
Braddon stops and thinks a moment.
"Why would they want us to hear it though?"
With softened features Phillip expounds "I don't think it was specifically meant for us Braddon... just that your and my ears are a tad more sensitive than the common man."
Looking over his shoulder as Lucky pokes his head out from his pack, "Yeah, Luck doesn't care for it himself. You have to admit, those are some well trained dogs." He watches them through narrowed eyes as they leave the arena. "A bit too well trained for my liking."
After the dogs have left the sand, some of the arena staff emerge from a different entrance, wearing breastplates and carrying spears. One jogs over to the fallen dog and picks it up; the rest cautiously approach the unmoving bear. After the lead man prods it gingerly with the blunt end of his spear without provoking a response, they move in more confidently. The lead man pokes a small something into the bear's mouth while another staff member detaches the chain; then the lot of them take hold and half-drag, half-lug the ursine figure to the nearest gate, following their fellow who has already carried away the dog.
Once the bear is out of sight, a new squad of arena employees enter to disassemble the pole and rake the surface for the next bout.
Back at the Gold Goblin, Tendal sighs. "Look, all you know for certain is that Mr. Felden wasn't at breakfast. It's now early afternoon. I don't think a half day's absence is sufficient to leap to the conclusion of foul play. Have you even inquired of Mr. Vankaskerkin if he knows of any particular business Mr. Felden might be taking care of before Sunday?"
"At any rate, if something does turn out to be the matter, may I ask that you consider that it might be the doings of that Scarlet woman, or of Cleg Zincher, or of any of the other enemies the Gold Goblin has that we know of before accusing one of our own? Last Sunday, a robbery was planned to ruin our grand opening; can you deny that the disappearance of one of the owners might be another ploy to shut us down?"
"No more than you can deny the 'might be' which I proposed. We can weight probabilities, handicapping seems to fit a casino. I think Scarlet is still well out of town, and Zincher rather too dimly direct for the subtlety of a silent snatching. Are there other hopeful hatefuls, known to you?"
Phillip nods gravely "All the more reason to come to the games... the faces of the handlers and gladiators we now know, and can be wary if we see them upon the cobbles at play."
"No doubt those dogs could deal with people as easily as the tied bear. Still, I'd be wary any time some guy with a flock of dogs cornered me in an alley, not just some trainer I recognised from the arena."
"I think Scarlet is still well out of town, and Zincher rather too dimly direct for the subtlety of a silent snatching. Are there other hopeful hatefuls, known to you?"
He shrugs. "The Scarlet woman attacked through a cat's paw last time; who is to say she does not still have allies undiscovered? As for other possibilities, I must admit I haven't been as active out making new enemies as the rest of you seem to have been. Are you quite certain none of your Norgorberite friends escaped?"
Corner of the mouth curled upwards "Aye... but still, worthwhile knowing as much as we can about who or what could be sent to kill us."
According to Phillip's handbill, Ranef's bout is scheduled next, against "Crusher" Leland, the half-orc who crippled Varg of the North yesterday. Varg isn't listed on today's slate; presumably his leg isn't sturdy enough for him to be at full strength.
The staff regrooming the sand finish up their job, raking under the bloodstains left behind by the animals, and the spectators who abandoned the bowl during the bear-baiting begin to fill the benches again. A few minor skirmishes arise in the first few rows as the returnees try to reclaim their prime seats from those who moved closer in their absence.
For the first time Phillip begins to show some real degree of interest in what is taking place upon the sands, looking to shift further down the stands as to improve his view... but not far enough to risk conflict with any others within the stadium. Putting a coin in his hands to fidget with and ease his anxiety he looks for Ranef's entry unto the arena.
"I think Scarlet is still well out of town, and Zincher rather too dimly direct for the subtlety of a silent snatching. Are there other hopeful hatefuls, known to you?"He shrugs. "The Scarlet woman attacked through a cat's paw last time; who is to say she does not still have allies undiscovered? As for other possibilities, I must admit I haven't been as active out making new enemies as the rest of you seem to have been. Are you quite certain none of your Norgorberite friends escaped?"
"So many questions there... None of my friends, that being the one old man, had any need to escape, being unpursued. The Sarenraeite supplicants there, also were unpursued, although they were later collected by some zergling zealous guard, and later released. Of the hostiles, some were killed in the battle, some left alive to awaken after the battle, and one left in the company of Phillip. So yes, it's possible that house haunts this one. But only Phillip's countrywoman would have our house's name, and she had little means, and Phillip was working on her motive. I wouldn't guess any of that has had time to turn round on us. I'd judge it all righteously, needfully done, in any case, for all I might regret particulars of... execution."
"It's been my experience that unpleasant people with few moral qualms and an axe to grind can be remarkably resourceful when it comes to ferreting out the particulars of who has wronged them and where they may be found," Tendal replies dryly, "although in this case, I'll certainly hope I'm wrong."
He pauses a moment with a worried frown. "Still, I think Mr. Vankaskerkin ought to know about this. If there's even a chance that a secretive murder cult could be plotting against us...." He stands. "Will you stay and keep an eye on the entertainment? Or would you rather go and inform Mr. Vankaskerkin? If you'll promise to be civil and not throw around any wild accusations, that is."
Back at Zincher's Arena, the sand is cleared, and the anticipation builds in the crowd for the next bout. Phillip slips down several tiers of benches in search of a nearer vantage, without allowing the heads of the spectators below him to block his view.
Braddon slides down for a closer look, helpfully pointing out various vantage points for Phillip.
Most of the indicated spots seem more suitable for Braddon than for Phillip, though one or two would suffice.
"It's been my experience that unpleasant people with few moral qualms and an axe to grind can be remarkably resourceful when it comes to ferreting out the particulars of who has wronged them and where they may be found," Tendal replies dryly, "although in this case, I'll certainly hope I'm wrong."
He pauses a moment with a worried frown. "Still, I think Mr. Vankaskerkin ought to know about this. If there's even a chance that a secretive murder cult could be plotting against us...." He stands. "Will you stay and keep an eye on the entertainment? Or would you rather go and inform Mr. Vankaskerkin? If you'll promise to be civil and not throw around any wild accusations, that is."
"It was discussed at a meal, I think? And discuss it with Phillip, first; the queen is the wild card, more than the jokers we gave a trumping. And Phillip knows her deal best."
"I can't keep you, but you might be better overall leaving it to the flying squad, unless you'd ride along over the next ground we're warned is bumpy?"
"And last, if you do go, then do be fair: If I am not to be worried, then Saul is not to be warned."
"I intend to warn him only that some of the Norgorberite faithful may be unaccounted for," Tendal replies impatiently. "Desna knows if there's the least possible danger to our customers, we owe it to them to be as vigilant as possible. Extra guards in the kitchen for one thing, and an examination of any food and drink that will be served. Honestly, man, if you think I'm concerned about stepping on a halfling's toes when there's a possibility of a mass poisoning on our premises! If you're afraid of him, I'll take full responsibility. And no, I've no intention of 'tipping Mr. Vankaskerkin off' about your insane suspicions; I just hope you come to your senses before you say anything you'll regret. You'll keep an eye on Miss Barabbio? You do understand Varisian? I mean, if they start discussing pickpocketing the patrons or burgling the vault, you'll know it?" He departs through the swinging doors of the kitchen, heading upstairs.
While Snake remains in the shade, Braddon and Phillip move down nearer the sand for the next match. They've just settled on seats when Ranef enters from the right. The crowd erupts in cheers; the bloodthirsty Kellid is clearly a favorite. From the other side of the arena, "Crusher" Leland strides onto the sand. He raises a fist in acknowledgement as the half-orcs hoot in recognition.
"Good to see them playing the races off against each other. Wouldn't want Riddleport to become a friendly place, hey?"
Braddon grins and watches the two combatants approach carefully, weighing their styles and abilities.
"We're cheering for the human, right?"