"From the elaborateness of her story, I'm quite sure she wasn't brought here by accident."Braddon's voice becomes low and urgent. "No, she wasn't brought here by accident. Oliver drugged her, and brought her here to set us up. We return her to her father now, but if she learns where we are or who we're really working for, her father has someone concrete to blame for her abduction. We send her back, blindfolded and drunk, and all she has are our names and Oliver's. And Daddy doesn't know our names yet, so he'll go after Oliver. I doubt she was chosen for her father's ability to be reasonable about the sudden absence of his teenage daughter." Braddon drags a finger quickly across his throat.
"As for telling Saul, I'm against the idea. We'd essentially be delivering Oliver's threat for him, which is what this is. A threat to all of us, that we can be messed with. I was figuring on just telling him we recognised a bunch of girls from last night when we visited Shorafa's."
"Got a better plan?"
Dyan's frown grows deeper as he considers what the half-elf has said, not liking any of the situation the Tiefling, Bott, has put them in. As he considers, he hears Thuvalia exit her room and call for him and he comes to a quick decision "Ok, you go ahead and take her back, as I can't think of a better way to deal with her either. But, I am going to tell Saul about it. Both you and I are still too new in this town, and don't know enough about all the dirty politics that clearly are the norm here, to make any kind of informed decision about what this move, her abduction and being brought to us, all means." he replies in a quick, low voice. "Oh and here, you'll probably need this. Good luck." as he deposits Braddon's coins back in his palm and leaves the room to pick up the Varasian singer.
Thuvalia emerges from her room, wearing the chain shirt she wore for her performance last night but with the painted-on eye of Aroden removed from its surface. She yawns, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "Come on," she urges, "let's go retrieve my things before some of those thieves up in Lubbertown notice no one's been back for them yet."
Nodding, a frown still on his face Dayn answers "Yes, we will, but I have a quick bit of business with Saul first. Wait here or come, it's up to you, but I'll just be a minute."
Dashing upstairs to find his employers, Dayn quickly relates all he knows about the girl, Bott and up until a few seconds ago, finishing with "Braddon's already on the way to taking her home, and didn't want to bother you with the details, but I figured we're too new here to fully appreciate all the subtleties of this additional ploy against you. Who is this Anton Mescher and why would someone want to pit him against you? Also, do you think Shorafa was behind this? Or could Bott been working on his own? Or perhaps for someone else?"
Once finished his quick meeting with Saul (and Laur?) Dayn finally leaves the Goblin, heading out into the morning air with the woman he'd kept from the prisons last night.
She leads the elf out of the Gold Goblin and north, the same direction you chased her down last night. As they pass through Devil's Fork and by the stark prison known as Shoreleave, she shies away from the forbidding facade and nearer to Dayn walking beside her; her fingers brush his hand and then tangle into his without her saying a word or looking up to meet his eyes.Arriving outside the city gate in the ramshackle collection of caravans and cabins, she gives him a half-smile. "Let me do the talking, eh? You be the strong, silent type." Keeping her hand in his, she navigates through the camp to a set of caravan wagons set up on blocks rather than wheels and arranged in a rough semi-circle; one wagon in the middle bears a sign lettered in Varisian: "Alokairua gelak."
As she heads toward one of the wagons on the periphery, a middle-aged woman peers her head out of a window in the central wagon and squawks, "Oi! Dama dotorea! Non da nire dirua?"
"Galdetu Volo! Ko duten konpromisoa ordaindu behar da," Thuvalia shouts back, without stopping.
"Zure etzanda mutil-laguna da me ezkutatzen! Ez dut uste, ez dakit bere jokoa. Bidaltzen zituen, eta ez dut, beraz, aurkitu zion. Duzun batetik, nire dirua izan dut edo lokatzetan gaur gauean lo egin ahal izango duzu," the woman screeches back.
"Lasaitzeko zeure buruari, emakume zaharra," she replies contemptuously. "Dut zure bagoi zaharretan lo egiten. Gizon berri bat, aberatsagoa Volo baino me mantentzeko daukat. Nire zati bat ordaindu behar dut, eta zure dirua hartu ahal izango duzu Volo bere haragia neurrian naiz dagokionez." Thuvalia hops up onto the running board of the wagon and puts a key in the door. "I told her you were rich," she murmurs to Daynadrian. "Should keep her busy trying to get Volo's debts out of you while I'm retrieving our things." She ducks into the wagon while the landlady boils out of her own door toward Daynadrian, jabbering in excited Varisian.
Dayn feels a warmth flow up his arm from his fingers being unexpectedly intertwined with Thuvalia's. As the warmth continues to spread throughout his body he can't help the slow, slightly bedazzled smile that grows upon his face. As they maneuver through the city though his smile fades as he concentrates on looking about, keeping an eye on everyone and everything and most importantly, memorizing their route. When the arrive at the collection of caravans and cabins and she instructs him to let her do all the talking he simply nods his head in agreement.
Not understanding a word of the heated exchange between Thuvalia and the woman the Elf turns his head back and forth between them. When Thuvalia ducks into the wagon Dayn spies the harridan making a bee-line for him, still shouting, but now at him. He looks to the closed door, back at the woman, back at the door and then quickly pops in as well, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. Grinning to Thuvalia he quips "Well, you did tell me to be the strong, silent type, so I'll just let you keep doing all the talking with that...woman. Besides, you might need my help carrying things I figure."
As he speaks with a genuine smile on his face, the urban ranger nevertheless keeps a very close eye on the Varisian, for despite his desire to, he does yet fully trust her, not by a longshot.
Perception:
As Malkith and Samaritha size up the situation, they see Daynadrian suddenly hop inside the wagon and shut the door behind him. Outraged, the landlady steps up and begins to pound on it with a walking stick. "Non da nire dirua? Ezin duzu! Itxaron dut hemen egun osoan daukat nahi izanez gero!"
"Damn!" Saul swears, when you broach the subject to him. "With all the excitement, I'd forgotten about Oliver Bott. And now there's a girl involved, too?" He listens as you lay out what happened last night and what you heard from the girl this morning. "Anton Mescher," he explains wryly. "Captain of the Gendarmes, answers directly to the Overlord himself. He does have a daughter, but he keeps her locked up tighter than a copper coin in an Abadarian vault. Don't believe I've ever seen her, and I've seen a lot of Riddleport women." He grins without a great deal of conviction to back it up, getting up from behind his desk and walking to the window to look down on the street. "You say she's already gone?" He pauses, ruminating for a few seconds. "My instinct says she's lying. It's some kind of con, like our Varisian Chelish actress. When the half-elf comes back, see if she's lifted his purse and his new pair of boots. If it really is Mescher's daughter... well, it took someone cleverer than Oliver Bott to lure her out of her gilded cage. Shorafa could have arranged it. If Mescher were to find a teifling tupping his fair ewe in the Gold Goblin, he could maneuver a way to shut us down pretty easily," he concludes grimly. "If you see Braddon, tell him to come talk to me when he gets back." His gaze includes Bojasc in that request.
The interior of the wagon is divided into three cramped sections with thin curtains: the "common area" you're presently standing in and two sleeping quarters on either side. One has bunks built into the wall like shelves, while the other is merely a straw tick mattress on the floor; Thuvalia presently has her hands buried in the stuffing of this mattress. The roof is uncomfortably low for your elven height, the tips of your ears almost sweeping the ceiling.
Apparently finding what she is looking for, Thuvalia draws a small, clinking pouch out of the interior of the mattress with satisfaction and tosses it into one of two leather satchels on the floor near her. "Here," she says, getting to her feet and pressing the two packs into your hands. "That's mine and Volo's; let me find the others' moneybags. They won't need them anymore, eh?" She moves to the other end of the wagon and starts quickly to search the bunks.
Braddon helps Ananda off of the ferry on the west side of the Velashu. The aftereffects of the previous night, combined with the "antidote," the blind carriage ride, and the smell off the river, already ripening in the morning sun, have left her quite content to leave the talking to others. With a quaking finger, she just manages to point down the road to the south; Braddon supports her as the pair pass by the dilapidated buildings of River District and then the Publican House where he had his first meal in Riddleport little more twenty-four hours ago.
Past the Publican House, the road begins to climb up toward the buildings atop the rocky ridge of Windward District. As the elevation rises, so does the breeze; before long, the scent of the 'Reek District' is forgotten, as is the muggy heat of the river valley. The fresher air seems to clear Ananda's head and settle her stomach; she shows more of an interest in things around her and steps more quickly as the pair progress.
"Here are my rooms," she tells Braddon, nodding to a long building of separate apartments overlooking the harbor. A freshly-painted wooden placard set discreetly on the side of the road offers rooms to let by the month or season. Approaching one of several doors at the end of flower-lined footpaths, she hesitates as she notices that it is slightly ajar. "Do you think," she asks nervously, "someone could be in there? Besides Madame Vishki, I mean?"
"Do you have guards? I thought you lived with your father? Could he be here? What does he look like? What does Madame Vishki look like?" asks Braddon. He listens briefly watching the door.
"Wait here," Braddon whispers. He slowly approaches the room, listens carefully for the occupants and peers through the door into the half light, using his elven vision to make out the interior.
"Father doesn't live here. He just visits really,"" Ananda whispers back anxiously. "Madame Vishki? She's Varisian, kind of ... old, I guess? She has gray hair."
Braddon creeps up to the door and listens. Hearing nothing, he cautiously inches it open with his fingertips until he can peer inside. He is looking into a narrow entryway with a staircase leading up. There is a door to his right and another in the back behind the staircase.
Liry returns Tendal's smile and leads him south out of the common. "Well, that's Zincher's arena," she tells him, pointing out a massive stone oval placarded with larger-than-life paintings of gladiators and wild beasts in various states of evisceration. "You can catch a fight every Fireday afternoon and Starday morning. Firedays are usually professional gladiators; a lot of coin changes hands in wagers. Stardays are bloodier: animals or monsters or prisoners from Shoreleave. Over there," she nods to a large awkwardly-shaped building which takes up the block just east of the arena, "is where Zincher's gladiators live and train. He keeps his menagerie in there too: all the animals and monsters for the games."
"Then down there," she stops in the street between the arena and the training complex, "is the Gas Forges." South of the gladiatorial housing is an immense windowless structure of brick and iron belching a thick, poisonous-looking smoke into the air over the harbor from a dozen chimneys. "Pretty much every dwarf in town is here to work at that place. Apparently, there's something about Riddleport that makes it one of the only places in the Inner Sea where adamantine and other skymetals can be forged." She shrugs. "I don't really understand the reasons why, but the dwarves do good business there."
"I was neither on the blood-letting or blood-giving end of the festivities... though I was there. It seems that some people tried to rob the place... and their attempt was put down with force." pausing to allow for the realization that indeed it could have happened to Phil... and potentially her by extension given the reason that he was at the Gold Goblin the night earlier.
Taking her hand and giving a formal little bow he kisses her knuckles as though she were a lady before adding "But my manners escape me, good afternoon Miss Braum." smirking as he tucks her hand back into the crook of his arm so that he might escort her onwards "Might I suggest we retire to our luncheon? - after all the time that I am blessed with your presence is but painfully short."
Ethel seems to relax a little, whether due to getting away from her place of employ or to hearing that Phillip wasn't directly involved in the Gold Goblin fracas or to some combination of the two. "And here I've been worried all morning," she scolds him with mock severity, using her free hand to undo a few buttons at her throat as they walk through the muggy streets. "What did you have in mind for lunch?"
When Braddon returns he addresses Ananda.
"Well, the good news is there's no one there. The bad news is the place has been looted. Not much damage. They were looking for something specific, and probably got it, since downstairs seems fine."
Braddon follows Ananda into the house if she looks around.
"Look, I'm not too happy about just dumping you here. Why don't I take you to your father. He'll see you're safe. If he's as scary as you say, he'll make Oliver return whatever it is they stole. What are you missing?"
"Somewhere quiet if we might... I'd like to talk to you mi'lady..." his face genuine and interested "You've a better lay of the land, so I'll leave selection to your tastes." before putting a mock severe expression and regarding her staid style of dress and adding "And until I saw this outfit I would have trusted your taste without question, though now you give me pause... how much does the crone pay you to stifle your spirit so?"
Malkith turns his head to look at Samaritha, "I think we know where she got off to." With a gentle pull on her arm, he leads Samaritha towards the wagon.
As the couple approaches, Malkith calls out to the old woman, "Barkatu, baina hau da izeneko Volo gizon baten egoitza?" When the woman confirms this fact, he continues, "Nire fiance eder eta I ziren gutxi duten lokatza-dweller swindled. Da? Edo, agian, esango Herr Volo izan enplegatzaile batek ahal izango duzu agian, norbait Gaia konpontzeko gai izango dut agian?"
"My lovely fiance and I were recently swindled by that mud-dweller. Is he in? Or perhaps you might be able to tell me if Herr Volo had an employer, someone who I might be able to settle the matter with?"
When Braddon returns he addresses Ananda.
"Well, the good news is there's no one there. The bad news is the place has been looted. Not much damage. They were looking for something specific, and probably got it, since downstairs seems fine."
"Oh!" Her relief that the coast is clear is swallowed up in alarm at the news that her home has been ransacked. She rushes through the door and up the stairs, and Braddon follows. "Oh," she moans sadly as she arrives on the upper floor and surveys the mess. "Oh!" she has a sudden thought. "My birthday present!" She rushes to a dressing table, pulls out a drawer, and turns it over sadly, demonstrating that it is empty. "I hadn't even worn it anywhere yet."
"Look, I'm not too happy about just dumping you here. Why don't I take you to your father. He'll see you're safe. If he's as scary as you say, he'll make Oliver return whatever it is they stole. What are you missing?"
"It was a necklace. Father gave it to me for my birthday; he said I could wear it next time I went to one of the Cyphermages' lectures. What do you think happened to Madame Vishki? Where is she?" She picks up a a few scarves and articles of clothing, looks around for something to do with them, and then sets them down on the bed. She seems prepared to go with Braddon to find her father but pats at her skirt pockets helplessly. "I don't have my key ... or my coinpurse."
"Madame Vishki is probably dead," mutters Braddon absently. "If it was her that poisoned you last night, she may have fled afterwards. But if it was an imposter, she's no doubt been dealt with already."
Braddon realises what he's said and tries to distract the girl.
"Did she know where you hid the necklace? I'll look through her things and see if I can find any clues. You gather what you need, then we'll lock up as best we can and head to your father's. Is he nearby? What does he do?"
Braddon then works his way from Madame Vishki's quarters to outside. He searches her stuff to see if she's packed or not, checks for notes or instructions, and looks through the kitchen for containers that may have held poison. He checks the lock to see if the door was forced. He checks outside the door for boot and scuff marks, especially around where may have been a good position for a look out. He'll also go over Ananda's quarters on the offchance anything out of place can be found there.
"Right. We'll close it up best we can then get you to your father. Maybe I should risk meeting him to tell him what we've found."
"Somewhere quiet if we might... I'd like to talk to you mi'lady..." his face genuine and interested "You've a better lay of the land, so I'll leave selection to your tastes." before putting a mock severe expression and regarding her staid style of dress and adding "And until I saw this outfit I would have trusted your taste without question, though now you give me pause... how much does the crone pay you to stifle your spirit so?"
She flushes a little with embarrassment. "Well, it's a respectable job," she defends herself. "Not pushing a mop or washing dishes. Pays enough to cover the rent split three ways, with some left over for going out at night. The Three-Billed Duck?" she suggests. "It's a bit of a walk, but it's a nice little sit-down café with tables, not a storefront or a tavern where you have to sit up at the bar with everyone."
As the couple approaches, Malkith calls out to the old woman, "Barkatu, baina hau da izeneko Volo gizon baten egoitza?" When the woman confirms this fact, he continues, "Nire fiance eder eta I ziren gutxi duten lokatza-dweller swindled. Da? Edo, agian, esango Herr Volo izan enplegatzaile batek ahal izango duzu agian, norbait Gaia konpontzeko gai izango dut agian?"
Rewarded with a new arrival on whom to vent her ire, the woman turns and shakes her cudgel under Malkith's nose. "Volo! Etzanda lapurra! Berarekin nahi duzun dirua bada, lerro me atzean izango duzu! Zati horiek ez du bere aurpegia erakutsi; bidaliko du bere puta bere gauzak lapurtzen nire sudurra pean. Du ez bada ordaindu txanpon, hartu zer zor zuen pikorrik egingo dut! Enpresariaren? Bere enpresariak jokoa etxea da. Txanpon casino gauero ordaindu behar zuen nirekin!"
Dayn accepts the bags and opens his mouth to reply, but then hears a familiar voice coming closer. Not understanding the words but realizing who the speaking them is he whispers urgently to Thuvalia "Shhh! Quiet! I think some allies have arrived! I think that's Malkith outside with that harpy! Quickly, what are they saying?"
Thuvalia frowns at your importunity but moves back over to press her ear against the door as the woman begins to reply. After a second, she gasps in outrage. "She calls me a whore! Hideous old witch. If there were a man who would pay two coppers for her body, she would sell it instead of these drafty old wagons!" With an effort, at your insistent gesturing, she holds her tongue and continues to listen at the door. "She intends to beat me with that stick of hers if I do not pay her what she claims the five of us owe," she reports grimly. "And she complains of Volo going to the casinos every night."
Striving mightily to suppress his laughter, and not quite succeeding at stopping his grin, Dayn wild mild curiosity, still paying more attention to the voices beyond the door "Just how much do you owe her anyway? Wouldn't it be easier to just pay her? I mean, you did live here in her wagons, right? However...simple they may be. While I might not agree with her methods, seems to me she does have a right to her rent money, and to be mad about not getting it."
As he finishes his whispered speech Dayn flicks his eyes sideways at the singer, to gauge her reaction to his implications.
Turning numbers over in his head, Phillip tries to gauge how much it would cost to live as Ethel does...
...dropping his pretence of playfulness for a moment and speaking sincerely "I meant you no disrespect Ethel... just that I would see you live to work; rather than work to live." squeezing her hand before dropping back into his impersonation of a rakish raconteur "The Three-Billed Duck it is then Miss Braum, and the walk shall not be a chore with your hand to warm my elbow and words to warm my ears. Would you like to hear more of the night just passed? Not of the blood and the death... but of the sharper who thought himself caught with hand in the cookie jar... but managed to escape from suspicion?" the sparkle dancing in his eye as he puts left hand over Ethel's hooked hand in the crook of his elbow.
Sleight of Hand:
"Madame Vishki is probably dead," mutters Braddon absently. "If it was her that poisoned you last night, she may have fled afterwards. But if it was an imposter, she's no doubt been dealt with already."
Braddon realises what he's said and tries to distract the girl.
"Did she know where you hid the necklace? I'll look through her things and see if I can find any clues. You gather what you need, then we'll lock up as best we can and head to your father's. Is he nearby? What does he do?"
Ananda's eyes widen at Braddon's intemperate speech. "Of... of course she knew. She did the laundry, tidied up the rooms. She knew where everything was."
A quick pass through Madame Vishki's rooms shows that her clothing and mundane belongings are still in their places; Braddon finds nothing of value, although whether that means that things have been removed or simply that the woman didn't own anything expensive in the first place he doesn't know. He notices a faint fragrance of perfume in the room but does not find a bottle of the scent in the house.
The door shows no sign of forced entry, nor can he find any unusual tracks outside the door. The dirt of the footpath is packed rather firmly; but the grass and flowerbeds should have been more receptive of footprints, and they seem undisturbed.
The half-elf finds nothing suspicious in the kitchen. Upstairs in Ananda's sitting room, the dishes from yesterday's refreshment are still set out on the table near the hearth, the dregs of the tea in the cup and a crust of stale toast on a saucer.
Ananda has packed a small bag by the time Braddon has finished his inspection of the premises. "Father works in Devil's Fork. It's on the other side of the river and way up north, just across from Maskyr's Island." The pair will apparently be retracing their steps back down to the ferry.
Ethel allows her mood to be turned by Phil's storytelling gambit, and she eagerly acquiesces to hear his tale of adventure. As he speaks, she leads them past the well in the common and then on a road meandering to the northeast to a pleasant little public house with latticed windows and well-tended flower boxes. A worked-iron railing fences off part of the street, and tables and chairs are set outside on the cobblestones for those who want to enjoy the pleasant summer air as they lunch. A weathered sign hangs from the corner of the building designating it as the Three-Billed Duck.
Upon the walk Phillip retells the night that passed... though truth is often altered by the recollection and the tone placed upon the tale. Phillip does not hide his enjoyment of the game and the success of his pickpocketing... but downplays the size of the prize he was able to recover - stating instead that he had lifted a single gold instead of ten. He speaks of the attempted kidnap of Thuvalia... but not of the diva's being party somehow to the bandits that sought to rob.
The riot is told with honesty, and that he sought to take refuge away from those that would not notice him so far below their eyeline... but the aftermath is re-told to remove the fact that Phillip has taken up work with Saul. Instead he tells that he thought himself undone when challenged at the end of the night by Bojasc. In his words his heart leapt into his through at the thought of capture... but that when Saul spoke to him "Old Stumpy was amazed that I was the only patron that did not flee, and asked why that was. To which I replied Why would I leave good sir, before I have cashed in my chips? - which was met with laughter thankfully and my gains both honest and less-than were honored by the house." by this time having arrived at the cafe and moving to help Ethel into a seat outside - bidding her sit where she had view of the street.
He then holds his arms wide and adds "And there you have it Miss Braum. A night well spent, and still in possession of all ten fingers." waggling each hand in turn to show evidence, before taking his own seat and resting languidly. He holds his gaze upon her for a few moments with a smile before sitting upright and leaning forward unto the table and addressing Ethel "So what is good here?"
"Pretty much every dwarf in town is here to work at that place. Apparently, there's something about Riddleport that makes it one of the only places in the Inner Sea where adamantine and other skymetals can be forged." She shrugs. "I don't really understand the reasons why, but the dwarves do good business there."
"You know...I am really glad that I met you Liry. You certainly know your way around this town. I am certain that without your advice, I might have run afoul of any of those thugs that you mentioned earlier, and ended up face down in a gutter somewhere."
Tendal walks a bit further, quietly thinking and watching the crowds.
"It sounds like there are plenty of opportunities in Riddleport for someone of vision and daring. You are a clever person Liry...if you had a thousand gold for a business venture, where would you put it?"
Ananda has packed a small bag by the time Braddon has finished his inspection of the premises. "Father works in Devil's Fork. It's on the other side of the river and way up north, just across from Maskyr's Island." The pair will apparently be retracing their steps back down to the ferry.
"Is it?" Braddon sighs.
Braddon thinks aloud as they wander off."Okay, we now know that wasn't Mistress Vishki that poisoned you last night. Some evil smelling creature disguised itself as her and attempted to cover the smell with perfume. We know that because you said she smelled funny and I smelled some perfume, but Mistress Vishki has none in her quarters. Also, if Mistress Vishki had been forced to work with Oliver, she would have delivered your necklace without ransacking the place. Obviously the imposter drugged you, handed you over to accomplices, then went back and stole your necklace. There's no sign anyone else broke in or was involved. So, where did Mistress Vishki go yesterday before she came back and brought up your tea?"
"Ikusten dut," Malkith says, sounding disheartened, "Badakizu ez luke eta jokoa dens zuen nahiago duzu? Edo, agian, norbaitek lotutako sarritan zuen?"
"Tell you what, how about this. Just to stave off any further trouble from this old bag you offer to pay your share of the back rent, we tell her Volo got killed trying to rob the Gold Goblin, and we throw in a little bit extra for her, just to keep her off our backs. Sound fair to you? After all, the coins we're taking now that Volo and them won't need any more should more than cover it, yes?"
"And there you have it Miss Braum. A night well spent, and still in possession of all ten fingers." waggling each hand in turn to show evidence, before taking his own seat and resting languidly. He holds his gaze upon her for a few moments with a smile before sitting upright and leaning forward unto the table and addressing Ethel "So what is good here?"
Ethel makes an appreciative audience for Phil's taleweaving, gasping and giggling at all the right parts. By the time they've reached their destination, he has painted such an alluring picture of his life of crime that she looks a little disappointed that she didn't stick around at the Goblin until all the excitement started.
As Phillip relinquishes her hand to help his companion into her chair, the heretofore-unnoticed bracelet slides down her wrist. She is startled, then pleased, slipping Phil a sly smile as she admires the way the yellow beads gleam in the sun. "The oyster stew is good," she replies, "and the seared mackerel with dumplings. There's a crazy little gnome who swears by Quinta's griddlecakes." She shrugs.
"It sounds like there are plenty of opportunities in Riddleport for someone of vision and daring. You are a clever person Liry...if you had a thousand gold for a business venture, where would you put it?"
Liry is a fairly worldly young woman, but still she stumbles a bit on the uneven cobblestones at the mention of such a princely sum. "A thousand gold," she breathes, glancing around to see if anyone overheard Tendal bandying about such exorbitant amounts. "Well, for starters, I'd buy a girl lunch, give her time to think about how to spend that kind of money," she teases.
Assuming Tendal agrees, she leads him back north from the Gas Forges and arena into a more genteel part of town, arriving at a respectable little tavern with the odd moniker of the Three-Billed Duck. Tendal spies Saul's new halfling hire at a table on the cobblestones with a female of his own stature, but Liry heads inside to a corner table without glancing in their direction.
"Ikusten dut," Malkith says, sounding disheartened, "Badakizu ez luke eta jokoa dens zuen nahiago duzu? Edo, agian, norbaitek lotutako sarritan zuen?"
"Bere puta gain? Eta bere aliatuak? Inork ez errespetagarria. Nahiz eta Sczarni ez zion lotu. Karabana utzi zuen Sczarni izan zen. Ez inoren ona da." She pauses, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. "Ez dago beste bat," she admits. "Agure bat ikusi dut berarekin. Zikin Aingeru txanpon eta edariak eskatuko dio zuen."
Samaritha touches Malkith on the arm. "I've heard of that," she whispers. ""A tavern of sorts, here in Lubbertown. Gizon zahar honek," she asks the woman, "bere izena ezagutzen duzu?"
The Varisian woman looks at Malkith and Samaritha appraisingly. "Posible da bere izena gogoratuko nuke, nire memoria animatu ziren." She holds out her hand expectantly, jiggling it as if already feeling the coins in it.
"Okay, we now know that wasn't Mistress Vishki that poisoned you last night. Some evil smelling creature disguised itself as her and attempted to cover the smell with perfume. We know that because you said she smelled funny and I smelled some perfume, but Mistress Vishki has none in her quarters. Also, if Mistress Vishki had been forced to work with Oliver, she would have delivered your necklace without ransacking the place. Obviously the imposter drugged you, handed you over to accomplices, then went back and stole your necklace. There's no sign anyone else broke in or was involved. So, where did Mistress Vishki go yesterday before she came back and brought up your tea?"
"I-- I don't know," Ananda admits as the two return down the hill, back into the muggy heat and the smell of the harbor. "I hadn't seen her since lunch, and everything seemed normal then. I heard the bell ring a few times during the afternoon, but she answered the door and took care of it, whoever it was. It wasn't unusual; we get deliveries of groceries and things regularly, and she always handled it."
As they arrive back at the western dock of the Velashu ferry, Grimas Oldtedler spies them and punts over to them to take them back across. "I thought you were taking her home," he asks Braddon warily.
"Hmm, answering doors," murmurs Braddon. "Sounds like the impostor knocked, grabbed her and replaced her. With no body hidden there, they must have had accomplices cart her off somewhere. That kind of effort implies she may still be alive as a captive. Perhaps drugged like you were."
Braddon heads down to the ferry and pulls out more coins as the boatman speaks up again.
"I did. Now I'm takin' her to her father's. Since you keep track of everyone that comes past, or at least me, when have you seen the girls she was travelling with before? And did you get a client yesterday, with a strong smell. Sickly like. Maybe they tried covering it with perfume. About mid afternoon yesterday."
As Phillip relinquishes her hand to help his companion into her chair, the heretofore-unnoticed bracelet slides down her wrist. She is startled, then pleased, slipping Phil a sly smile as she admires the way the yellow beads gleam in the sun. "The oyster stew is good," she replies, "and the seared mackerel with dumplings. There's a crazy little gnome who swears by Quinta's griddlecakes." She shrugs.
Phillip makes a point of acknowledging the sly smile with a wink of his own, but does not directly speak of it. Instead he mulls the menu for a few moments before nodding "Mackerel and dumplings it shall be then... are you able to chance a glass of wine? - or would that arouse the mistress' disapproving eyebrow when our luncheon was completed?"
Once their order is made Phil makes smalltalk of a relatively banal nature, inquiring as to her interests, the best places around town for skiffs and drinks during the week and after the others of the party of six from last night. He gives up a relatively truthful account of himself... though he does filter some of the tale. Vague on the reason for fleeing Magnimar, implies that he has no blood kin there and remaining indistinct on his deity of worship.
Malkith slips a hand into his robes an extracts five silver coins. Placing them in the crone's open palm he says, "Hori guztia ordaindu ahal izango dugu. Duzun bezala, gure aberastasuna Volo promesas hutsik Itzuli zen." He lowers his voice and leans forward as if to avoid catching Samaritha's ear, "Ordaindu ezin dut ezta nire betrothed berri bat jantzi, bere edertasun merezi erosi gure ezkontza egunean."
"I can not even afford to buy my betrothed a new outfit worthy of her beauty for our wedding day."
Phillip makes a point of acknowledging the sly smile with a wink of his own, but does not directly speak of it. Instead he mulls the menu for a few moments before nodding "Mackerel and dumplings it shall be then... are you able to chance a glass of wine? - or would that arouse the mistress' disapproving eyebrow when our luncheon was completed?"
"Hm," Ethel sniffs dismissively, keeping her bracelet-adorned arm lying on the surface of the table to show off her new bauble. "As long as I don't bathe in the stuff, she oughtn't to have anything to complain about. I haven't given her reason to check my breath in the afternoons."
A waitress arrives first with bolsters for their chairs to make their meal more comfortable, then to take their order and deliver their wine. Phil learns that Ethel's family works an orchard south of Galduria; her father owns a small plot of land himself that keeps the family prosperous enough when it's not fruit-picking season, but Ethel had no interest in field work or marrying a farmer and raising a family. Instead, she struck out on her own for the more glamorous city life. Arriving in Riddleport a little more than a year ago, she met Marce, who introduced her to Almah and Maddy, who were looking for a new girl with whom to split the rent after their previous roommate moved out.
Almah and Maddy both work in what Ethel would term 'less than respectable' careers, as maids and housekeepers; she obviously considers her shop job as a step above. The men work at the shipyard; their small size combined with their craftmanship makes them valuable for making repairs in tight quarters. Olin and Ewart are on salary, but Marce is a day laborer, despite being offered a steady position; he'll work at the jobs given him the days he shows up but tends to disappear with no notice for days or weeks at a time.
The skiffs operators who worked the Gold Goblin last night regularly ply their trade at the Watercress, a casino in the Free-Coin District, which is where Ethel and the girls tend to spend their evenings. Due to the presence of the skiffs game, the Watercress tends to get the most halfling traffic of the three casinos in Free-Coin, and the bar there even offers tables and chairs appropriately sized for the Small clientele.
Malkith slips a hand into his robes and extracts five silver coins. Placing them in the crone's open palm he says, "Hori guztia ordaindu ahal izango dugu. Duzun bezala, gure aberastasuna Volo promesas hutsik Itzuli zen." He lowers his voice and leans forward as if to avoid catching Samaritha's ear, "Ordaindu ezin dut ezta nire betrothed berri bat jantzi, bere edertasun merezi erosi gure ezkontza egunean."
Samaritha tries to look penurious, not much of a stretch considering her recent experience.
The woman jingles the coins in her palm a moment, then gives a nod as she tucks them away in a pocketed scarf. "Filsha Peschki," she answers, her memory sufficiently jogged. "Jubilatuak Sczarni. Berri txarrak da. Ez da harritzekoa, Volo zion lotu behar duen."
"Since you keep track of everyone that comes past, or at least me, when have you seen the girls she was travelling with before? And did you get a client yesterday, with a strong smell. Sickly like. Maybe they tried covering it with perfume. About mid afternoon yesterday."
"The girls? Domestic help up in Windward, I believe. They like to hit the Publican House once they're off work, and then last night they were headed to Old Stumpy's new casino. Hear it was an exciting time."
"A smell?" He grins wryly. "Working on the river, I can't say as I can stand to be picky about smells. Most of the wives and mistresses about town wear perfume and pretty hefty doses of it to counteract the summer funk off the harbor, as do Shorafa's girls. Yesterday afternoon?" He thinks and then shakes his head. "No one that sticks out. Desy ... that is, Mistress Krump, the tanner's wife. She always wears enough perfume that I can smell it over the river, as it's her husband's business responsible for half the reek in the Reek District," he chuckles.
Showing off his gentlemanly skills, Tendal helps Liry with her chair before sitting down.
"Liry, I think I need to let you in on a little secret. When I asked you about what you would do, it was both in jest and in earnest. Jest, because a thousand gold is usually a start, barely seed money for a real venture. It is however just fine for a mental exercise."
"Earnest because, while I don't have said thousand gold, I do know where to get it. You showed me on the walk, and while I would like to explain it, that topic is much to heavy a repast for this moment. I think now, you and I can watch the people go by, and we can brainstorm how to spend a thousand gold."
"I guess you're right," Liry laughs. "It sounds like a lot of money, but it's not even enough to buy your own ship, free and clear, let alone hire a crew." She orders mussels with white wine and waits for the waitress to leave the table before going on in a low tone so as not to carry to other patrons. "The real problem in Riddleport isn't finding something to do with your money; it's avoiding competition with one of the bosses already in whatever business you're going into. Look at Old Stumpy ... I mean, Mr. Vankaskerkin: He's trying the casino business, but he has to open only one night a week so as not to step on Cromarcky's toes. Riddleport could use a real inn, one where you're not going to get drugged and wake up at sea, but then you could stir up Tammerhawk who's used to charging what he likes at the Mystery of the Gate. Anything having to do with shipping, well, you're going to have to deal with Avery Slyeg who oversees everything coming through the harbor. You want to hire people to work for you, you're going to have to come to terms with Cleg Zincher who organizes the laborers in town. Riddleport's divided up very carefully so everyone who's anyone has their own slice. Any new venture that could rock the boat, you're going to have to step very carefully or end up in the drink."
"Maiatzaren Desna haren irribarre," Malkith replies. He glances at the wagon in which he had seen Daynadrian enter. "Eta txanpon Volo en Banshee zor duzu."
With a glance at Samaritha and nod of his head, he heads back the way from which they had come. After weaving their way out of sight between some wagons and temporary shacks, he inquires, "Zer Dirty Angel buruz jakin nahi duzu? Non aurkitu duzu??"
"What do you know about the Dirty Angel? Do you know where to find it?"
"Out on the road near the hill where the dead are buried," Samaritha responds. "I've heard the men talk about it, a place where they distill and sell hard liquor. My mother used to say it was so close the burial ground so those that were poisoned wouldn't have to be carried far to be disposed of." She smiles. "She was joking. I think. I've seen it driving past, but I've never gone there."
Phillip takes note of much during the conversation storing it within the corner of his o'eractive mind that he has reserved for all things associated with Miss Braum. Moving from his forward and intense pose to a more languid and relaxed one when furnished with a glass of wine set to swirling in one hand. As were his thoughts So she sits within their circle... and yet seeks to stand apart. Thankfully a woman of her own heart and mind... but yet constrained by circumstance. Ah but it would be a pleasure to set this rock dove to soar and watch her fly... knowing that she would return to the dovecot to roost.
The words of Marce lend more questions to Phillip and also to the matter he intended to discuss with Saul when his luncheon with Ethel was ended. The Lord Mayor grows more curious... but not yet beyond the point where I would beg avoidance yet. An arrangement could still be made... though his disappearances would complicate it. Surely he has other means as well.. to afford to not work so.
Placing his glass upon the table and reaching forward to take her hand Phillip inquires "In honesty Ethel... if the travails of needing to earn a wage were removed from your mind... what would you do?"
Thuvalia frowns up at you, clearly at war with herself. In her own mind, the money of Volo and the rest of his gang is already hers by right, as she was the only one clever enough to evade both death and prison; letting go of any of it seems a great injustice. "She will not be satisfied with my part. She is a grasping old shrew and will demand we pay for all of them," she warns. "I will pay my share," she gives in rather grudgingly, "but not everything!" She looks up to see if her compromise is acceptable to you.
Dayn smiles, coming to understand this young woman more and more. "Well, that certainly sounds fair to me. I guess we'll have to see how the old witch takes it though. From the sounds of it, Malkieth has just left, so let's hurry up in here and get this situation over with."
Still holding the door, he tucks away the two coin bags he currently holds and continues to watch Thuvalia as she finishes going through therest of the apartment.