Gristav grimaces, and growls, "Ez zara Caravari! Edo zinen? Hain ergelak, vardo jaitsi? Badakit Caravari, horietako behin nago. Hil beharko nuke bere izena bustitzen da. Hitz egiten duzu prezioen, zorren hitz egingo dut. Nire zorrak Caravari jarraituta, adiskidetasuna irabazi zukeen, baina horien desohoratzen duzu, nire zorra mina bakarrik ekartzen duzu."
Gristav says to his companions, "He says he's working for no man. He claims a right to empty our pockets, and he claims to be of a clan more noble than his knife-throwing self. If he is so noble, where are his thoughts for his fellows?" Gristav spits, trusting it to translate easily. "He's earned whatever darkness he finds himself in."
Braddon hauls out his manacles and applies them to the captive as roughly as possible.
"Good. We've wasted enough time. Let's go."
He drags the prisoner to his feet and heads off towards Shoreleave.
The three men prod their captive south along the path toward Shoreleave. The guardhouse at the gate to the barracks is manned by a Gendarme with a lantern. He squints at the travelers suspiciously as they approach.
"Evening, watchman. Three to meet with General Mescher. The fourth, attacked us on our way here. Part of a gang. The others have fled, but this one..."
"We expect the General will know some of us, though I'd rather not explain in detail with the prisoner at hand, and ears open. Can you advise, how best to proceed, with charging this man, and then alerting the General to our presence?"
"Oh, aye, three for late drinks with the General," the man replies skeptically. "And four for tea and cakes with the Overlord, I don't doubt? Run along before I give you a night in lock-up for impudence."
With a glance at Braddon, and a faint elven "...ŝajnas heroa", Gristav sidles closer to the guard, beckoning him conspiratorially. "I can see your point, really I can.", Gristav says softly, hoping he'd chosen a volume level and positioning to allow Braddon's elven hearing, and deny the prisoner's. "A man'd have to be a fool to push his luck like that. Or follow the guy, pushing his luck. A real fool. Or a hero. Hero would work, too. Like, if a man had saved a girl, a daughter, say... that sort of hero, or that sort of fool... They might try their luck, hoping not to have to talk the General's business in front of a Sczarni alley-basher. That could happen, too."
Snake looks narrowed eyed at Gristav as he finds himself able to understand what Gristav said to Braddon. When Gristav finally finishes speaking, he just stares blankly at the half-elf, as he happens to do so often, before turning to the guard. "You know, I don't really know what he says half the time either. I swear he starts at one point, moves well enough along and then somehow winds his way back up at the beginning. I wouldn't try it if I were you," he warns. "Anyway, this punk's nothing more than a common street thug who needs to be locked up. And this fellow here," he nods to Braddon, "needs to see the General. It's quite important. The General knows something about his grandmother, and he's needing to find out where she is. If he doesn't, it won't be pretty. It wouldn't be wise to make him angry, you wouldn't like him when he's angry. I barely know him but he nearly crushed one of the other punks hand by stepping on it until he nearly cried. And he didn't even do anything but fall to the ground. All were askin' is just to talk to the General, that's it."
Braddon pushes his way forward, scowling at everyone but addressing the guards.
"How about one of you stays here and the other informs the General that Braddon Heart is here to see him. If he says, 'Who?' you come back and beat me up for a laugh. But if he says, 'Braddon Heart who saved my daughter from being raped and is currently collecting important information for me?' you let us in and I don't tell him his late report tomorrow is your fault!"
Braddon folds his arms and glares at the smaller of the two guards.
"This is getting out of hand...", Gristav growls, turning to the guardsman. "I've done my best, to get the audience, make our report, and not air the dirty laundry before the future population of the prison. But no, you've your scrap of authority, the light of your office, and you'll be sure all see it shine, eh? If you want to do your job well, you'll get someone to get this man into a private cell, and some other to check the Braddon Hart name and purple-haired description, and you'll do both right smartly! You'll do it, and now, or you'll have done your job badly, and I'll make certain that all see that."
"Best do as they say, bub," Snake says as he moves to where he's now standing in between Gristav and Braddon. He then crosses his own arms to where his staff is in his right hand while his left hand is quite near Braddon's arm. Subtly extending a finger to touch Braddon as he continues, "Because you don't want the devil coming after you," he finishes, that bluish white glow immediately returning to his eyes. As the healing flows through the ranger, Snake just stares directly at the guards, his eye twitching, a sadistic grin upon him.
Gristav and Snake's attempts to be reasonable gain no ground with the Gendarme, but as they switch to more strong-arm tactics, his sneer subtly shifts to a sullen expression. "Fine," he mutters unsurely. "You want an audience with the general, it's your funeral. " He jerks his head in the direction of the other guard. " Come along in." He gestures for the four men to enter the yard and turns his lantern to illuminate them. "I won't have you running away now. You'll be looking at a lot worse than a night in lock-up for wasting the general's time, I'll tell you that, boys."
--------------------
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Velashu, Phillip and Ethel enter the Watercress and look around for their acquaintances. It's a busy night in the casino, but they quickly catch sight of Win, Almah, Marce, and Ewart at a table on the halfling-sized side of the bar.
"You want an audience with the general, it's your funeral. " He jerks his head in the direction of the other guard. " Come along in."
Braddon strides forward confidently into the yard and turns to face the man.
"Better a half-breed than a half-wit."
"I won't have you running away now. You'll be looking at a lot worse than a night in lock-up for wasting the general's time, I'll tell you that, boys."
"I notice you're inside the gate, also. What is your name? And this fourth, is not with us, he was against us. You really don't care overmuch for details, do you? I suppose, when a detail is assigned, more needn't be gathered."
To Braddon, Gristav reflects, "You really ought to ask for a password, or to be put on a list, or some such. To spare gate guards the burden of thinking."
"Never you mind my name," the man growls back. "I'm just the armed man keeping an eye you until word comes back from the general what to do with you."
They haven't long to wait. From across the yard to the northeast, a dancing light becomes visible, revealed as it approaches to be a lantern in the hand of the trotting Tobias. "General says he's to see them right away," he gasps. "If you'll come with me, Mr. Heart? Step lively, if you don't mind; the general doesn't like to be kept waiting."
He leads the four men to a tall brick residence set in the cranny of the rocky ridge and ushers them through the front door and up a flight of stairs in the entryway. From what they can see of the dark ground floor, it appears to be an officer's headquarters with meeting rooms, but there is clearly no business going on there at this late hour.
The second floor is only slightly less spartan in decor. On one side of the hallway, a dining room is visible with plates and silver still on the table; another flight of stairs leads further up, but Tobias ushers the men into what must be the general's personal office. Anton Mescher himself stands impatiently behind the desk, a half-drunk glass of wine on its surface.
The general frowns as he searches the faces of the men entering the room, but his brow clears as he recognizes Braddon. "Ah, Mr. Heart," he greets him. "Your Varisian friend is not with you?" He glances at Gristav, Snake, and Fane in turn, before looking at the empty doorway for the absent Malkith.
"Malkith? No, sorry. We split up. I mean separated. I mean, we're working together, apart. Twice the work. And these two are helping us too. The mouthy one is Gristav. The quiet one Snake. The other is just scum who attacked us at the gate with some dumb story about paying to avoid a curfew. We didn't want to leave him to die in the street and didn't want to let him go and since we were on our way here figured your lackeys may want a piece of him."
Braddon waves a hand dismissively.
"But I've come with news about Lil. We know where she is. But we still don't know where Gramma is. I mean, we know she's here. And we'd like to talk to her. We know about her son. And that she'd never willingly cross you or let anything happen to Ananda. We'd just like to ask her a few questions about what happened that night. You know, the last few pieces of the puzzle."
Braddon nods and smiles emphatically as if that will add to his coherency.
Gristav managed not to stop Braddon, though he'd later wonder why. Something about the peredhel's earnestness, and his casual, almost sidelong reference to his grandmother, and his matter-of-record revelation before Fane of so much of the details...
"So little of the puzzle remains.", Gristav regrets aloud as Braddon finishes.
"I recommend Fane, here, be put in a single cell, while we review what he's heard as we negotiated the gatelord's ego, and this introduction, and while the General considers whether that is to affect his sentence. Or ours."
The general quirks an eyebrow at Braddon's introductions, but his eyes flash with interest when the half-elf reveals that Lil's whereabouts have been discovered. His expression grows more puzzled over the remainder of Braddon's discourse, however.
He nods perfunctorily at Gristav's suggestion. "Fine, yes, take the Varisian away, Tobias." As the Gendarme roughly yanks Fane out of the room, Mescher crosses the floor and closes the door behind them, giving the latch an extra rattle to make sure it is secure. "I am ... impressed by your organization's access to information I believed to be as yet undisclosed. But I suppose this saves me the possible publicity of sending for you. Yes, Mistress Vishki is here. But as to asking questions.... Do you have the means to get answers from her?" He looks at Gristav and Snake inquisitively.
"I... believe I have some capacity. We expect her to be cooperative; she can only resent Lil's exposure of her family to the risk of your wrath. Being forthright with us serves her own vengeance, her best interest through your good grace, her grandson's, similarly, Mr. Heart's, similarly, and justice, if that's a motivation for her. If you'll trade one prisoner for another, Fane's assault on us was fortuitous, even fated, and the prospect of her grandson's parole might open floodgates of tears and truth, all at once. If I know women. But I overspeak my station, and I am, on some points, grossly underinformed. What crime cages this Adalo? How nearly has he served his term?"
"Yes," the general replies thoughtfully, "I perceive that you are uninformed on certain points. But I believe I can illuminate you, if you gentlemen will come with me." He takes a final sip of his wine before setting it down on the desk and pulling on a pair of gloves. "Adalo ... that's the grandson? It was a case not unlike your complaint: assault on a citizen with intent to rob. But as we go...," he opens the door and checks the hallway before exiting and gesturing for the others to follow him down the stairs, "tell me, where is Lil Scarlet?"
At the 'Cress, Phil and Ethel wend their way through the crowd toward their associates. Almah is seated, her hand in Winthrop's, a fixed smile on her face. Marce and Win get to their feet as they see Ethel approaching; Ewart is already standing so is spared the effort.
"Win!" Ethel greets him with an excess of cheerfulness. "I hear you're leaving us again in the morning. Not for long, I hope."
Phillip remains flanked by Ethel as they approach the table of halflings. Each is proferred a nod of his head, though that's added by a slight smirk when he gives greeting to Marce also... remembering their conversation of earlier. He doesn't add to Ethel's words said at first, instead waiting to see what says the table before adding his own pearls of wisdom.
"Yes," the general replies thoughtfully, "I perceive that you are uninformed on certain points. But I believe I can illuminate you, if you gentlemen will come with me." He takes a final sip of his wine before setting it down on the desk and pulling on a pair of gloves. "Adalo ... that's the grandson? It was a case not unlike your complaint: assault on a citizen with intent to rob. But as we go...," he opens the door and checks the hallway before exiting and gesturing for the others to follow him down the stairs, "tell me, where is Lil Scarlet?"
"We've only some cause for supposition. A letter intended for her, addressed to an alias, sent to a ship. So she may be aboard, or along the ship's ports of call. The letter directs her to Roderick's Cove, but there's little there to interest such a lady as has been described to me. Or little known to be there. I would not say... would not have said, we know where she is. Only, perhaps, where next to look."
"We have, at least to ourselves, proven her role in your household's... your daughter's household?... in that disruption. We found empty vials with traces of the will-wounding poison that had been used on Ananda, and perhaps on Mistress Vishki, as well, concealed, behind lead, in an apartment redolent of the rare and elegant scent worn by the scheming teifling."
"What level of detail, do you wish? The view from the tower we've built, or the color of every brick? Darkness is coming; we could retrace in your company, all of the steps taken, in your service."
The general seems unperturbed by the disputable nature of Gristav's evidence. "That is unnecessary. I employ subordinates so that I needn't waste my time going over ground that's already been gone over; it's a poor use of resources. The ship -- its name, please? If I don't know it, I can have the information brought to me by breakfast. If the ship owner or the crew have any known associations, it could direct me which way to put pressure. Roderic's Cove...," he muses. "If she were to be found there, it would be ideal. Shorafa's influence does not extend so far, but my authority under the Overlord does."
Narrowing his eyes at the event that's just transpired, Snake looks to the general, wondering if he's noticed. Appearing as if he hasn't, Snake immediately steps past Braddon into the forefront, so as to be standing in front of him, hoping to block the general's view. "Why would it be ideal for her to be found in this Roderic's Cove place you mention? If this place is far enough away, appears to me it'd be a bit more difficult to catch her than not." Roderic's Cove. That sounds familiar. But why?
"It's only difficult if you aren't assigning it to a subordinate.", Gristav chuckles in reply to Snake, before answering the General's questions. "The vessel, Teeth of Araska, under command of a captain, Treeg, I think the name was. The letter deposited in the harbormaster's office, for delivery by whatever channels, I admit to a lack of understanding of such. The letter is no longer in those channels, in any case."
"Arguably, Lil is an embodiment of Shorafa's influence, one I'm repeatedly cautioned against confrontation with, as though she were some sort of gregarious gorgon. Still, if you mean to send agents against Lil, Shorafa's influence is at least contestable."
Answering Snake's musings on Roderick's Cove, Gristav offers, "Roderick's Cove is two days away by horse. Less by ship."
"Win! I hear you're leaving us again in the morning. Not for long, I hope."
Rather than seat himself again, Marce steps aside to allow Ethel to take his chair, returning Phil's greeting with a nod and a proffered hand.
"Aye, Miss Ethel," Win responds with a bit of embarrassment at being the center of attention, "I hope not for long as well. With fair weather and even luck, the Deceitful Mermaid ought to be back in Riddleport Harbor in a month's time." He politely waits for Ethel to sit before retaking his own seat.
Snake looks to Gristav, "Two days? Hm." Snake wanders off mentally, going over the information within his mind.
Braddon slides the paper into his pocket before speaking.
"Yeah, Lil is with Captain Treeg on the ship the Teeth of Araska. We intercepted a letter from one of her patsies telling her to flee to Roderic's Cove. All we need to do to get her there is put the letter back. Or we could have a new one written. We've got the patsy locked away if you'd like her sent somewhere else. We still dunno why she wanted the necklace. Maybe Gramma heard something. That's why we wanna see her. Where'd you get it from?"
"I would have to caution, for any plan to direct her by his... 'the patsy' I mean... by his word, that we have only his estimate of his importance to her, of his control of her. And we've already been cautioned of love-philtre magics and such, at her command. I would not be surprised if his letters, words, and person were wholly unimportant to her. Still, they would be read. And 'oft the fool be trusted, o'er even wisdom's wiles'. I mean, of course, that while she might not obey him, or trust his judgement, she would believe that he believed, whatever he sent."
Phillip shakes the hand that is offered and takes position at Ethel's shoulder after she's seated. Conversation being offered of Win's voyage is of little interest to him but he endures regardless "Aye a month isn't much of a stretch afloat."
When a beverage server of some kind comes near he sees himself furnished with port and Ethel with whatever takes her fancy of the moment.
Win seems to take Phil's off-hand comment as a slight. "Aye," he says, flushing, "it's no grand voyage I'll be taking. The Mermaid does only short cargo runs in the Gulf, no further than Magnimar and back. I mean ... she's a fine ship and I get an honest day's pay for an honest day's work; there's no one can deny that."
Almah cringes miserably at the turn of conversation.
Ewart clears his throat. "Will you take a turn at the lake, Phil? I'm in the mind to try my luck at Skiffs."
Sensing Phillip's boredom, Ethel shoots him an apologetic glance. "Why don't you, Phil? I know you've still work to do before morning, so you'll have to head back to the ferry before long. Go ahead and enjoy yourself for a while."
"Why would it be ideal for her to be found in this Roderic's Cove place you mention? If this place is far enough away, appears to me it'd be a bit more difficult to catch her than not."
The general gifts Snake with a thin smile, devoid of warmth. "Riddleport is (you'll forgive the pun) riddled with factions, various players who all feel they have the right to have an oar in every man's boat. Getting things done requires negotiation, if not consensus. Roderic's Cove is a simpler place. A word from the Overlord to Gildersleeve is all it would take to have her detained and waiting for us to collect."
As Braddon reappears from behind Snake's back, the scrap of paper secreted in his pocket, Mescher nods. "If you still have the letter, I would very much like to return it to Depuy for delivery. Drawing Lil away from Shorafa's protection to someplace I can have men waiting for her would be ideal."
He leads the men down to the ground floor and through a dark room, at the other end of which is a small office where a lamp shines. A Gendarme at a small desk within leaps to his feet as the general enters. "Cooke," Mescher tells him, "make a note: a ship -- Teeth of Araska -- captain possibly of the name of Treeg. I want a request on Slyeg's desk first thing in the morning for all the information he has on it."
As Cooke busies himself with copying down the general's orders, Mescher opens a door that leads into a small stone room with another set of steps leading down into a subterranean level. On the wall are hung manacles, batons, pliers, and other uncomfortable-looking implements. On a table in the corner is a bowl containing several cloth-wrapped spheres from which an aromatic scent wafts. General Mescher takes one. "Pomander?" he offers the others. "I recommend it. The atmosphere below can be ... unpleasant."
Tell Father you need to take me back to retrace my steps from Sunday night, to see if it jogs my memory. It's here. I haven't been outside since you brought me to Devil's Fork. Ananda.
The i's are dotted with little flowers.
Snake looks to the others and simply shrugs as he takes one, not really sure what to do with it.
"Why would it be ideal for her to be found in this Roderic's Cove place you mention? If this place is far enough away, appears to me it'd be a bit more difficult to catch her than not."The general gifts Snake with a thin smile, devoid of warmth. "Riddleport is (you'll forgive the pun) riddled with factions, various players who all feel they have the right to have an oar in every man's boat. Getting things done requires negotiation, if not consensus. Roderic's Cove is a simpler place. A word from the Overlord to Gildersleeve is all it would take to have her detained and waiting for us to collect."
"That word should include the caution of her persuasive powers. A squad strength to arrest, guards by the hour, in threes. Not to meet with any man with the power to release her..."
As Braddon reappears from behind Snake's back, the scrap of paper secreted in his pocket, Mescher nods. "If you still have the letter, I would very much like to return it to Depuy for delivery. Drawing Lil away from Shorafa's protection to someplace I can have men waiting for her would be ideal."
He leads the men down to the ground floor and through a dark room, at the other end of which is a small office where a lamp shines. A Gendarme at a small desk within leaps to his feet as the general enters. "Cooke," Mescher tells him, "make a note: a ship -- Teeth of Araska -- captain possibly of the name of Treeg. I want a request on Slyeg's desk first thing in the morning for all the information he has on it."
"General, may I suggest two others, as well? Devil's Grail, and Flying Cloud. The first, a frivolous folly of mercy. The second, a current interest, that may come to bear upon this. And the three, to mask the importance of the one."
As Cooke busies himself with copying down the general's orders, Mescher opens a door that leads into a small stone room with another set of steps leading down into a subterranean level. On the wall are hung manacles, batons, pliers, and other uncomfortable-looking implements. On a table in the corner is a bowl containing several cloth-wrapped spheres from which an aromatic scent wafts. General Mescher takes one. "Pomander?" he offers the others. "I recommend it. The atmosphere below can be ... unpleasant."
Gristav takes up a pomander, demonstrating for Snake its usage. "Is it toward Adalo, then, we travel? Surely not the grand-dame?"
As Braddon reappears from behind Snake's back, the scrap of paper secreted in his pocket, Mescher nods. "If you still have the letter, I would very much like to return it to Depuy for delivery. Drawing Lil away from Shorafa's protection to someplace I can have men waiting for her would be ideal."
"I don't have it with me."
On the wall are hung manacles, batons, pliers, and other uncomfortable-looking implements. On a table in the corner is a bowl containing several cloth-wrapped spheres from which an aromatic scent wafts. General Mescher takes one. "Pomander?" he offers the others. "I recommend it. The atmosphere below can be ... unpleasant."
Braddon picks the thing up, sniffs it and is about to taste it when Gristav demonstrates. Braddon nods once and follows suit.
"We can probably get you the original letter and the rest of the evidence tomorrow. There's empty vials of poison and the Varisian shawl seen going inside. We'll need our boss's permission of course. He's has plans that we don't know about, but since he's been framed too he's probably happy to see Lil put of the picture."
"There's also the... 'patsy', who knew something of her plans and location, or thinks he does. Some of us would be rid of him, but his part in this seems innocent enough. Still, to return him to his life would bring us risks. Still, when his usefulness has ended, his information spoiled or staled, I'd like to think the most of us would prefer to see him released. Might we expect, General, that we would have your blessing to suggest to him that his taking and holding, and release, were all with your sanction?"
Phillip didn't necessarily intend for the words to be taken aback, though hindsight sees the potential. He hopes that a well meaning nod at the assertion that honest work is deserving of honest pay somewhat alleviates any hurt or harm inflicted.
He nods at Ewart's invitation and gives a slight bow to Ethel's words "With such an invitation and approval of a fair lady also I believe I shall." taking Ethel's hand and delivering a kiss to it's knuckles and sneaking a wink at her also in the doing of it. He looks around the group to see if any others are willing to sail before heading over with Ewart.
"Bit of a sore subject," Ewart explains quietly after they've left the table. "No reason you should have known. Win took the berth on the Mermaid for Almah, so they wouldn't be apart for as long, but he feels like it's a step down for him from longer voyages into the Steaming Sea. Like I'd feel, I guess, if I took a job carving toy ships for children after working on the real things. Don't worry about it. They're both unhappy tonight, saying goodbye again tomorrow. Here, I'll change some chips for you, if you like, so you needn't queue up. I've still a full pocket; haven't played the tables yet tonight."
The pair arrive at one of the skiffs tables, where Maddy and Olin are already playing. Maddy looks up to smile at Phil as he arrives but is too focused on her game to do anything more. Olin grins. "Well met, Phil. Wasn't sure we'd see you tonight."
"Might we expect, General, that we would have your blessing to suggest to him that his taking and holding, and release, were all with your sanction?"
He smirks. "That will undoubtedly depend on the fruits of your labor. If I successfully apprehend the person behind the plot against my daughter's virtue, I'll be happy to identify you as model citizens working with the Gendarmes to keep the peace and protect the innocent. If the outcome is less felicitous, I'll undoubtedly denounce you as vigilantes who interfered with the course of justice." He waits for all to equip themselves with a pomander while he lights a lantern from the oil lamp on the desk; then he leads the way down the stairs.
The basement is damp and muggy in the summer heat, despite being below the ground. The unhealthy feeling in the air is multiplied by a thick funk of rot and decay, as the four men make immediate use of the aromatic pomanders to counteract the stomach-turning stench. The lantern's halo reveals stone steps, stone floor, rough wooden tables, what look like cell doors set in stone walls at the very edge of the light. The general turns the lantern to illuminate a dark heap on top of one of the tables. The source of the fetor, these are undoubtedly the mortal remains of Zaiome Vishki. Bloated and discolored, its limbs stiff and awkward in death, the corpse bears copious signs of blunt trauma and seems to have multiple broken bones. A rat, drawn by the odor, leaps down to the floor when the light hits it and dashes away into the shadows.
"Following up on your suggestion," Mescher says casually, "we persuaded a Cyphermage to levitate a searcher around the cliffs below the Harbor View. A difficult matter to arrange, they seemed preoccupied by some phenomenon out to sea, but as you see, you were correct about her disposition. Still, you showed up here believing her still alive; you'll be pleased to know that all but clears you of suspicion in the affair. It would appear she was unconscious when she went over the cliff; the first impact which might have woken her simultaneously killed her. Nevertheless, if we could question the corpse, it ought to be able to tell us the last things she saw and experienced. And yet the only cleric we could call in to speak with the dead is known to be biased in the favor of the prime suspect." He shrugs. "You see my dilemma."
"I... I'd always hoped I'd been wrong about that. We've been searching hard for an alternative... and couldn't find one. Understandably."
Braddon makes a choking noise in the back of his throat.
"Does Ananda know?"
"No," the general replies succinctly. "And I prefer to keep it that way. She has had enough of an ordeal already. I am ready to tell her some pleasant fiction about her companion's departure from my employ."
Braddon takes the piece of paper from his pocket and passes it to the General.
"You need to tell her the truth. She doesn't know how dangerous it is here and that could get her hurt. Train her to look after herself or send her away. She may not be so lucky next time."
Gristav is crestfallen at sight of the mouldering Mistress Vishki, nearly losing his composure at Braddon's throat-catch. Sheltering in the logic of the puzzle, he only just hears the General and Braddon's discussion of Ananda.
"Still, either as cake of a sweet fiction, or the frosting of the bitter truth, consider Adalo's parole. His grand-dame has purchased such, you may decide. And whatever cause against you, you may fear from him, it was not your hand drugged her, or your voice enspelled, and not you who cast her from the cliffs. I would expect a Varisi to seek blood. Perhaps your blue, eventually, but surely a more scarlet hue, at first."
"You'll likely want someone beside yourself to present the facts to Adalo. We might enlist him, if his health has held out. He might be present, next of kin, for the spell. And as for the spell, the corpse speaks aloud. And the questions might be agreed beforehand, a script of sorts. There is no clear reason why your biased caster need be told the identity of the corpse. They can hear the dead's testimony along with us all. If we are to remain in the scene."
"Which point, I think, ought be seen as uncertain. I see the world unclearly, while swinging from hero to villain. In assisting a man with the honor of his house, a boy with the fate of his grand-dame, my mind and vision are clear. In flight from vengeful law... well, I've no practice, but the very intimation of it calls my gall and clouds my reason."
"We are both best served, General, if you allow me the illusion of my moral high ground, being in pursuit of the killer of a grand-mother, and the imp imperiled your girl. We have already brought you beyond where you'd have come alone, while operating on those precepts. Changing our motivations now seems imprudent. I'd say, unfair, but I doubt that bears."
Phil takes Ewart up on his kind offer, foisting a couple of gold towards him to be turned into chips. Once arriving at the table, he returns Olin's grin, setting a chip to dance across his fingers as he answers "And here I am standing now offended that you'd thought I'd miss it." winking and settling in for the next flight.
He works a fairly benign strategy, aiming to enrich himself on good lays and minimize his losses when the seas are against him... except perhaps for a concealed petulant turn towards Maddy when he might be able to limit any winnings she makes.
Braddon takes the piece of paper from his pocket and passes it to the General.
"You need to tell her the truth. She doesn't know how dangerous it is here and that could get her hurt. Train her to look after herself or send her away. She may not be so lucky next time."
The general frowns as he takes the paper and unfolds it in the light from the lantern. He is visibly staggered by what he reads there and takes a moment to gather himself. "Mr. Heart," he says, slipping the paper into his pocket, "you are a man of honor, and I am in your debt." He offers his hand to the half-elf to shake.
He redirects his attention to Gristav's petition with effort. "Aye," he agrees, in a tone more accommodating than any of the party have heard from him heretofore, "she kept her end of our agreement as far as she was capable. I'll release the young man ... with the understanding," he puts in advisingly, "that I'll not turn a blind eye to any further criminal behavior. Mistress Vishki bought a pardon for his past crimes, not impunity for subsequent infractions."
At the suggestion of employing Shorafa to ask questions of the corpse, he scowls. "I don't trust that woman," he growls. "She has no respect for the law. And she'd assuredly know which investigation we're pursuing; she knows everything that goes on in town from her network of whores. Half my off-duty force is probably in her temple right now." He sighs. "I'll consider it. I don't suppose any of you know of any disinterested clergy who might be in town? There's divination, but Tammerhawk would empty my coffers for the privilege; we had to pay a pretty penny to the Cypherlodge just to recover the body."