"Has to be phrased in the form of a question, General," Arnando reminds him.
"Fine, then," he snaps. "Can she describe the last person to whom she opened the door?"
"I imagine you want more than yes or no as an answer," he grins, clearly enjoying himself despite the tension.
The general looks on the verge of an angry retort, but he bites his lip and considers a moment, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "'How would you describe,'" he says deliberately, "'the appearance, demeanor, and personal possessions of the person to whom you last opened the door?'"
The cleric nods and asks, "Name of the deceased?"
"Is it necessary?" Mescher asks, his eyebrows lifted.
"It's polite," he replies placidly.
"Zaiome Vishki," the general replies with ill grace.
Arnando nods again, then addresses the corpse. "Zaiome Vishki," he speaks in a strong voice, "how would you describe the appearance, demeanor, and personal possessions of the last person to whom you opened the door?"
There is a pause, not pregnant but desiccant, a moment of silence during which the barely-perceptible scrabbling of rats' claws can be heard from the dark cells; then the dead woman's jaw suddenly gapes open. With no further movement from the corpse, a breathless, tongueless, affectless voice echoes emptily from the open mouth, like the clanging of a mournful bell.
A Varisian woman, maybe thirty years of age, dark-haired and beautiful, draped in traditional scarves though the clothing beneath was a city woman's and she wore delicate shoes instead of practical boots. She was smiling, confident, uncowed by her surroundings. She carried a covered basket. She smelled of perfume, like an expensive whore. The judgmental vocabulary jars incongruously with the complete lack of emotion in the dead woman's voice.
"See. I knew it was Lil. Why does she want the necklace? Where is it now? I mean... can she tell us what happened... I mean umm... How about, describe the events... um... What events took place after you opened the door?"
Braddon looks to the General and Gristav for approval.
"Or what plans did she reveal to you before she... before you... I mean..."
Braddon falls silent and frowns.
"What happened, between your opening the door, and your demise?", Gristav whispers suggestively to Mescher.
The Gendarme answers without much interest. "Any prisoners brought in would just be taken directly to Shoreleave, unless the general has a particular interest in them. That's the building against the ridge to the south," he directs Snake, reading the newcomer's ignorance in his eyes.
"Okay, they're not prisoners. One's a child, the other a woman, and the other is a priest... of a sort. I need to get them released. They're kind of in my custody. How do I do that?"
"In the meantime, why don't you stay for the afternoon's bouts? You and your guest, of course," he raises his chin to include Piccolo loitering in the background.
"Hmph," Swevenforey considers. "I'll need front-row seats, with a bit of shade and enough elbow-room to make some sketches. I won't be crowded or have some drunken sailor spilling ale down the back of my neck."
"I'll get them set up," Akron volunteers. "Come along, Master Swevenforey ... and guest." He eyes Piccolo curiously, as he motions the pair back to the stairs. "Go easy on Zincher," he smiles once they're in the shadowed shell of the arena. "He's grown a little fond of those axebeaks; doesn't want to see them get hurt."
Williplunnet snorts with derision. "They're arena beasts, not lapdogs."
The Shoanti shrugs. "He won't risk them unless it's a lopsided fight. Still, if all you want is to see them go for the kill, a one-sided bout is all you need." He gives the gnome a sly, sidelong grin. "I wouldn't count on getting to dissect one."
Piccolo smiles at the Shoanti, "I thank you for the inclusion, sir. Master Swevenforey allowed me to accompany him so that I might see the games. I am looking forward to some vigorous battles that I might wager on."
"Okay, they're not prisoners. One's a child, the other a woman, and the other is a priest... of a sort. I need to get them released. They're kind of in my custody. How do I do that?"
The Gendarme blinks. "Without a badge or an order from the general? You ... get a badge or an order from the general."
"See. I knew it was Lil."
General Mescher shoots Braddon a warning glance, as Arnando quietly remarks, "Lil's not Varisian, and she's not thirty. I mean, I don't ask ladies their age, but she doesn't look thirty. I wouldn't pick Lil out of a line-up based on that description."
"Conversation ought be with the corpse.", Gristav reminds. "We can debate the meaning later."
Mescher scowls and nods. "What happened between the time you opened the door and your last memory?" he dictates.
The cleric relays the question to the corpse, and after another brief pause, the voice echoes again: I thought she was making a delivery, but she only waved and asked to be invited in. I should have said no; it was against the general's orders to let strangers in the house. I don't know why I agreed. Once the door was closed behind her, she said something I didn't understand and pulled a vial out of her pocket to give to me. I took it and drank it; I don't know why. It was oily; tasted of nutmeg. I was alarmed and asked what it was, but she only laughed and said it was a gift and wouldn't do me any harm. She said she had wares to sell in the basket and wouldn't I take a look at them. I told her it was against my employer's orders, but she laughed again and said he would never know, would he, and would I brew a pot of tea for us to share while she unpacked her goods. I knew I should have sent her away, but she was that pleasant, I thought now she's in, what harm would it do to see what she had in the basket. I showed her into my sitting room to settle herself and went to the kitchen to make the tea. Just after I stoked the fire, I started to feel faint and queasy. I turned to go back down the hall to tell the woman I was sick and she'd have to leave.
Zaiome Vishki's jaw snaps shut with an air of finality.
Once the door was closed behind her, she said something I didn't understand and pulled a vial out of her pocket to give to me. I took it and drank it; I don't know why.
This sounds like the spell beguiling gift.
"That's it; that's as long as I could command her," Arnando reports, slumping against the table a little, beads of sweat visible on his brow from the effort. He frowns as he looks to Mescher. "Oily and tasting of nutmeg: That's oil of taggit, that is."
"And it appears spells were used for compliance, which begs the question...", Gristav pauses, then asks with eyes circling the room, but landing on Mescher, "May we all discuss freely? Or are any or all of us unpreferred for discussing the facts of the case?"
The Gendarme blinks. "Without a badge or an order from the general? You ... get a badge or an order from the general."
Sighing, "Okay, now how do I go about getting a badge or an order?"
"You'd have to talk to the general."
Snake simply shakes his head, grinning slightly. "You know, bub, you've been loads of help," he says sarcastically, "Thanks." He lowers the tip of his hat a bit and continues to wait, walking away from the guard. I wonder if they're all as worthless as that one. It wouldn't surprise me.
"And it appears spells were used for compliance, which begs the question...", Gristav pauses, then asks with eyes circling the room, but landing on Mescher, "May we all discuss freely? Or are any or all of us unpreferred for discussing the facts of the case?"
Mescher glances over at Cooke, whose quill has been scratching away. "Did you get all that, Cooke? Good. Escort Mr. Rolf upstairs and settle accounts for his services. I believe the rest of us will reconvene somewhere with a more pleasant ambiance for said discussion. My office, gentlemen?"
"And it appears spells were used for compliance, which begs the question...", Gristav pauses, then asks with eyes circling the room, but landing on Mescher, "May we all discuss freely? Or are any or all of us unpreferred for discussing the facts of the case?"Mescher glances over at Cooke, whose quill has been scratching away. "Did you get all that, Cooke? Good. Escort Mr. Rolf upstairs and settle accounts for his services. I believe the rest of us will reconvene somewhere with a more pleasant ambiance for said discussion. My office, gentlemen?"
"General, if I might suggest? From the start, this has appeared to go in a single direction, and while I've managed to keep myself out of either school of thought, I don't think others have. Mr. Rolf's presence, as a balancing perspective, might cause us to check our sums, and do our maths more accurately. I wouldn't want him to leave here, with any impression that any injustice was to be done. When I persuaded him to assist, it was by my sincere presentation, that Justice and Mercy were to be done. Toward those ends, he might agree to remain, and add his insights, to our discussion. If he were welcome."
"He is not welcome," Mescher says decidedly, "and how you chose to represent the service requested of him is irrelevant. He'll be paid fairly for his expertise, and that will be the end of his involvement in the matter."
"I only meant that he might be willing, speaking to his motivation, as evidenced, by the terms that drew him here.", Gristav explains. Grisav mused sourly, that the Calistrian might have been more accustomed than Arnando, to being used, then dismissed.
Piccolo smiles at the Shoanti, "I thank you for the inclusion, sir. Master Swevenforey allowed me to accompany him so that I might see the games. I am looking forward to some vigorous battles that I might wager on."
Akron cocks an eyebrow. "Aye, well, there'll be wagering to be done, but I don't know how vigorous the battles will be this afternoon. Most of the men will treat this as skirmishing before the main event tomorrow; no one wants to go into Starday already gimpy from Fireday afternoon."
He leads the pair of gnomes down the switchbacking stairs and through an iron gate he unlocks with a key, then down another set of stairs and through a narrow corridor with a roof so low he has to stoop his shoulders, although it's still more than spacious for the Small folk. The hallway ends in a door which he opens to reveal a room just large enough for four chairs; it is open to the air above a half-wall though which Piccolo can see the bright sun and the ascending tiers of the opposite side of the arena, the view slightly marred by a thin wire netting with a hexagonal mesh. Climbing up onto one of the chairs, he can see that the box opens almost directly onto the sand of the arena; he can make out the grooves left behind by the rake. The box appears to be built into the arena below the first row of seats, which must be directly above their heads; he presumes the wire barrier is for the safety of the onlookers in the box and wonders exactly how strong the mesh is.
The cleric salutes Gristav with a wry grin as he accompanies Cooke up the stairs, as if to communicate that his feelings are not hurt by the general's dismissal.
Back on the ground floor, Snake sees the proprietor of the Publican House emerge from the basement stairs, accompanied by a Gendarme. He drops his pomander back in the bowl and gives Snake a friendly nod as the soldier leads him to an office at the opposite end of the building.
Piccolo inspects the mesh as he walks about the room. "Well, Will, I see you have an excellent view of the games. I like authenticity in art." He pokes at the mesh. "You can see each and every blow delivered and wound received. You could probably paint with blood from the sand from this vantage point."
Piccolo smiles at the Shoanti, "I thank you for the inclusion, sir. Master Swevenforey allowed me to accompany him so that I might see the games. I am looking forward to some vigorous battles that I might wager on."Akron cocks an eyebrow. "Aye, well, there'll be wagering to be done, but I don't know how vigorous the battles will be this afternoon. Most of the men will treat this as skirmishing before the main event tomorrow; no one wants to go into Starday already gimpy from Fireday afternoon."
He leads the pair of gnomes down the switchbacking stairs and through an iron gate he unlocks with a key, then down another set of stairs and through a narrow corridor with a roof so low he has to stoop his shoulders, although it's still more than spacious for the Small folk. The hallway ends in a door which he opens to reveal a room just large enough for four chairs; it is open to the air above a half-wall though which Piccolo can see the bright sun and the ascending tiers of the opposite side of the arena, the view slightly marred by a thin wire netting with a hexagonal mesh. Climbing up onto one of the chairs, he can see that the box opens almost directly onto the sand of the arena; he can make out the grooves left behind by the rake. The box appears to be built into the arena below the first row of seats, which must be directly above their heads; he presumes the wire barrier is for the safety of the onlookers in the box and wonders exactly how strong the mesh is.
Mescher picks up the transcript of the brief interview and invites Gristav and Braddon to follow him with a querying eyebrow.
On the ground floor, shortly after being passed by Cooke and Arnando Rolfe, Snake sees General Mescher arriving at the top of the stairs with a piece of parchment folded loosely in his hand. He tosses his pomander back in the bowl and heads for the main staircase up to his office.
"If you follow the corridor to the left," Akron points out to Piccolo, "you'll find the betting windows and food vendors. They'll open when the gates do," he peers out at the length of the shadows on the sand, "which should be fairly soon now."
Braddon nods to Arnando as he departs and follows General Mescher back up the stairs, thinking over all they've heard.
His contribution ends around the words, "That was creepy."
Gristav nods, but corrects, "It was not her, Arnando said. Her voice read from a text written by her memories, but she, herself, was not there. A record, not a revenant. I'm sorry, if you were hoping, to see her? Again?"
Snake nods back to the cleric as he passes by, assuming he's finished with the task at hand.
Catching sight of the general, "General!" he calls out. "You got a moment? I'm in need of a badge or an order."
"Thank you, sir. Left corridor. I will remember. You have been a most polite host. I appreciate your welcome."
"If you follow the corridor to the left," Akron points out to Piccolo, "you'll find the betting windows and food vendors. They'll open when the gates do," he peers out at the length of the shadows on the sand, "which should be fairly soon now."
"General!" he calls out. "You got a moment? I'm in need of a badge or an order."
Mescher pauses dubiously. "Indeed? For what purpose?"
"Thank you, sir. Left corridor. I will remember. You have been a most polite host. I appreciate your welcome."
Akron gives the pair of gnomes a nod and withdraws. Williplunnet pays his departure no mind; instead, he is positioning a chair for the widest view of the arena and pulling a large sketchpad and several sticks of charcoal from the bag slung over his shoulder.
"General!" he calls out. "You got a moment? I'm in need of a badge or an order."Mescher pauses dubiously. "Indeed? For what purpose?"
"The same, as my trip to Rag End. Where I failed to spare the innocents from shackles. I told him they were bound, and, I guessed, bound here. He wants their freedom, which is just. And he's... not practiced at pensive patience."
Gristav nods, but corrects, "It was not her, Arnando said. Her voice read from a text written by her memories, but she, herself, was not there. A record, not a revenant. I'm sorry, if you were hoping, to see her? Again?"
Braddon nods. "I wanted to... I don't know. I feel like I've known her for years, not known of her for a few days. I wanted to say... sorry, I guess. I wanted a happy ending. Well, if I can't give her a happy ending, I'll just have to make sure Lil doesn't get one."
When Snake returns, Braddon shrinks back and watches carefully.
"Will, you need any help setting up?"
"Thank you, sir. Left corridor. I will remember. You have been a most polite host. I appreciate your welcome."Akron gives the pair of gnomes a nod and withdraws. Williplunnet pays his departure no mind; instead, he is positioning a chair for the widest view of the arena and pulling a large sketchpad and several sticks of charcoal from the bag slung over his shoulder.
Swevenforey seems surprised to note that Piccolo is still there, having focused so intently on his preparations. "Hm? No, no, just stay out of my light." He adjusts the position of the chair slightly, and a thought seems to occur to him. "You could bring me an ale and maybe some of those glazed nuts they sell."
"Of course, Will. I will return in a bit." Piccolo will exit through the door they entered and traverse the left corridor.
Swevenforey seems surprised to note that Piccolo is still there, having focused so intently on his preparations. "Hm? No, no, just stay out of my light." He adjusts the position of the chair slightly, and a thought seems to occur to him. "You could bring me an ale and maybe some of those glazed nuts they sell."
Looking to Gristav through narrowed eyes, "Not interested in your help, bub. You keep this up, you might find a way of getting us locked up before the night is through." Turning back to the general, "But he's right. He did manage to do a fine job of getting three people put in chains that shouldn't be in chains. They're kind of in my care and I just need some way to take them back, or claim them, or whatever I can do to keep them from being locked up."
Mescher stares at Snake for a long moment. "If you're willing to sign an affidavit stating that the persons in question are innocent of illegal cultic activity and that you take responsibility for any future disturbance of the public order they might incite, I suppose they could be released into your custody."