"Three, aye...." The dwarf glances a little nervously at Phillip.
Ignoring Daynadrian almost as well as Daynadrian is ignoring him, Tendal turns to Larur. "Are you certain that this is coffee, it certainly smells like it, but I am wondering if it isn't actually some sort of machine lubricant distilate?"
"Bah, it'll put hair on your chest, lad," Larur replies. "Maybe even some on your half-elven friend over here, despite his heritage," he grins at Braddon. "A dozen years in the Gas Forges I brewed the coffee for the night shift and never heard any complaints."
Phillip notices the glance of the dwarf, but pays it no mind. Having breakfasted already, Phillip takes a moment to brush out his mustache and then settles back to his sedentary observation.
"The banshee is part of our team? Is that wise?"
"Well, I was keeping an eye out for trouble, and finding out where all the workers came from did warn us about the Sczarni. The girls were just looking for extra coin, like the others. Business must be slow lately. Couldn't we just ask some of the other prostitutes where to find the girls? Maybe even just visit Shorafa and have a look around while telling her we didn't take kindly to her tiefling doing that girl in Tendal's bedroom."
"What?!" Samaritha says, with a quick glance at Tendal, this being the first she's heard of Oliver Bott's activities. "I-- I'd rather not go to the House of the Silken Veil," she goes on, looking down at the table and blushing a little. "Why don't you guys take care of that while I track down the kitchen girls and servers in Leeward?"
A small spray of tea erupts from his mouth as he nearly chokes on his beverage. After wiping his mouth, he looks back and forth between Daynadrian and Saul, "Wha-?" His gazes jumps to Bojasc for a brief moment. "Why in the Nine Hells isn't that harpy in prison?!
"You're going to trust that woman? After she took part in the plot to ruin you? Then she bolted out the back door at the first chance she got. Don't either of you two think she won't turn on us again at the first opportunity?" Malkith looks about the room, trying to gauge if anyone else recognizes the idiocy what is happening, "She may not have a vested interest in seeing the Golden Goblin vacant again, but we did attack the Sczarni and kill her lover. If her loyalties are flexible enough to switch sides like this, then that makes her even more dangerous."
He sets his tea cup back down on the table and heads for the door. As he takes his leave, he gives Samaritha a look to ask if she still wishes to accompany him.
If anyone asks to his destination, Malkith responds, "To get whatever information from them I can before that harpy can tip off the rest of the Sczarni about what's been happening here. If she hasn't already..."
Seizing her opportunity to be extricated from the discussion about Shorafa and her followers, Samaritha quickly follows after Malkith. "You see about the girls from the temple, Braddon, since you know them. After we're done in Lubbertown, I'll swing through Leeward and get the other horns and tails, Mr. Vankaskerkin."
Braddon is taken aback at the swift departure of Samaritha and Malkith and barely stumbles out, "Sam...? Be careful."
Braddon sighs and turns to Daynadrian.
"Looks like some urgency may be required. The rest of us should stick with Malkith's idea and stay together. Let's collect those belongings and follow your leads. Maybe visit some whores on the way back. Or is the banshee taking us there?"
Looking more nervous as the minutes go by, and at Malkith's outburst, Dayn swallows the last of his mouthful and starts heading towards the door "The girl! In all the excitement last night I forgot all about her. I'll, ah, I'll just go check and make sure she's still there, I mean ok. The drunk girl I mean! Ah, Braddon, I'll meet you downstairs."
And unless anyone stops him, he makes a hasty departure.
He is going to check on the drunk girl, but first he makes a bee-line for Thuvalia's room.
Braddon looks at the remaining people in the room.
"I'll look after him and ah... minimise the damage. We'll report back before dinner. Anything else you'd like done? Otherwise, I'll be downstairs armouring up."
Afterwards, Braddon makes his way downstairs to his room. He puts on his own chain shirt, feeling its dependable bulk distribute itself comfortingly across his strong shoulders. He covers it with his cream shirt and his brown vest. He hangs his bastard sword prominently from one hip and hides a dagger in his boot. He looks over the newly acquired short sword and gives it a couple of test swings, admiring its balance and heft. "Useful for speed over strength..." thinks Braddon and hangs it from his other hip. He tries drawing both weapons at once and almost cuts his own arm off. "I may have to work at that..."
He shovels daggers, manacles and whetstone into his backpack and wraps a sack around them to keep them from clinking. He then heads out to the courtyard to wait, sharpening his weapons with the whetstone.
"Keep your eyes open and your wits about you," Saul calls after Braddon. "And remember: We don't want trouble with Shorafa if we can avoid it. Be polite! Tendal, my boy, looks like breakfast is over. Bring your cup and plate into my office." With a nod to Larur and Phillip, he stands and leads the way through the waiting room and into his office, Bojasc waiting for Tendal to follow and shutting the door behind them.
Having returned the bottle to its place, he goes on, "Now, here's what I want to talk to you about, lad, a delicate matter, as you'll appreciate." He steps behind his oversized desk chair and expertly presses a stone in the wall; a concealed door silently swings open, revealing a small, dark closet. Saul walks in and returns momentarily with a velvet pouch. "In here," he explains, tossing it across the desk toward you, "is the jewelry our Hellknights lifted from a the wives of our most prestigious guests last night. What do you suggest we do with it?"
You kept the key for security reasons last night. Fumbling for it in your pocket, you nearly drop it in your haste to turn it in the lock. The room within is dark, but the open door allows in enough light for your elven vision to pick out the bed and a shape in it. A head covered with tousled black hair turns toward the door with a bleary-eyed glare. " Oh. Dayn?" She squints at you sleepily, pushing herself up on her elbows. "Is it morning already? It's so dark in here...." Both her fancy dress and the armor she wore last night are draped across the chairs next to the bed. From what you can see of her shoulders and arms, she appears to be wearing nothing at all beneath the sheets.
Samaritha jogs after Malkith and catches up to him at the stairs. Exiting the back door of the Gold Goblin, the two turn north and begin to retrace the same journey Malkith made south from Lubbertown the previous day. The difference in the town is palpable; yesterday morning, most of the city seemed abandoned, but today, especially in Leeward, multiple little shops and storefronts are opening for business. Respectable-looking people are moving about on the streets with a purpose; a few of these give Malkith and his Varisian wardrobe a wide berth, but most seem to pay the pair little mind. "What's the plan once we get to Lubbertown?" Samaritha asks curiously.
Phillip gives Saul a nod of acknowledgement as he and Bojasc leave. Making a mental note I must talk with Bojasc when Saul is not around... see if he has any friends who are interested in freelancing. Making some note of the others, though not going out of his way to bid them farewell unless some sign is proffered first Phillip catches up with Larur.
Phillip then sets out into the wakening city... making first for a shop between the Mystery of the Gate and the Arena... called Something Bazaar Something... or the like.
Tendal accepts the tot into his coffee gratefully.
As Saul produces the small fortune of jewelry, his eyes narrow.
"I think that I am a bit too new to Riddleport to be making those sorts of value judgments."
"First, are they paste? Or are they real? If paste, we return them, quietly to the owners. By not making a fuss, the individuals will be able to continue to use the jewelry and will be happy about being able to continue to hide their fiduciary woes." Tendal takes a drink of his coffee, and smiles for a moment, pleased that the alcohol mulls the concoction.
"If they are real...well I certainly don't want to be walking all over town with a pile of stolen jewelry, and I think the right thing for your new, respectable image will be to ensure the return of the jewelry. Can we put them in the vault and contact the owners to let them know that they have gone missing? I think we might be able to figure out who each piece belongs to."
Armed with general directions from the dwarf, Phillip sets out into the morning looking for Something Bazaar Something. He takes the road north and turns right, squinting a little against the morning sun in his face. Like Malkith, he is immediately struck by the difference in activity from twenty-four hours ago, when the city was still sleeping off its Starday night.
He passes the grandiose circular structure that is the Mystery of the Gate on the north and up ahead can see a massive oval stone structure to the south which must be Zincher's arena; the flat walls between the multiple entrances are pasted with man-sized broadsides joyfully depicting various imaginative beasts and gladiators graphically maiming each other in lurid colors.
Before he gets any closer to the arena, however, he spies Something Bazaar Something on the north side of the road. Its actual name, according to the painted wooden placard hanging above the door, is Bazaar of the Seafaring Peddlar; impossibly blue waves lap at the bottom corner of the words, and a brightly-colored ship peeks over the horizon of the oversized 'B' of Bazaar. Freshly-washed windows of multiple hand-sized panes of glass on either side of the door display eclectic wares: glass and wooden windchimes, brightly-enameled pottery, necklaces of knotted cord and hand-painted beads, hammered copper bracelets and earrings, tiny stone idols, small carved chests, and gewgaws and knick-knacks of all kinds.
Taking a few moments to look over Zinchers arena Phillip purses his lips in thought as he slicks back his hair. Later he confirms to none but himself before casting his eyes unto the Bazaar. Taking note of the eclectic objects he considers his purchase before moving within. Any cursory greeting is met in kind, but Phillip takes a minute to scan the wares first.
Malkith walks briskly through the streets of Riddleport, anxious to get to Lubbertown. He takes the surge of pedestrians in stride, although the inability to escape it leaves him on edge. He thinks for a moment before replying to Samaritha's inquiry, "Once we're in Lubbertown, we'll ask about for Volo. If anyone asks, we've acquired some things that he had intended on delivering to his latest employer, but we haven't been able to track him down."
He reflects for a moment on his plan, something he quite literally just threw together. He glances at Samaritha to gauge her opinion and then suddenly stops. "Also," Malkith adds as he unwinds a scarf from about his person, "we were going to do something about those." He reaches up to touch her ear, caressing it with his finger tips for the length of half a breath. Clearing his throat, he reaches with the scarf, a mustard yellow with brown and black swirls, and gently ties it about her head, careful to cover just enough of her ears to hide their elongation.
Malkith steps back to admire his handiwork. "I suppose that should be enough to fool most people."
She blushes a little self-consciously as he wraps the scarf around her head and tucks away some stray curls. "All right, but I have to warn you: I'm not a very good liar," she smiles.
The two continue northward toward where the river widens. A high rocky ridge blocks their view, and the road circles around to the west to skirt between it and the river. As they come around the corner, a large and forbidding citadel is visible on an island in the middle of the river; on the east side of the road, nestled up against the far side of the ridge is a complex of military buildings, including a stable, a barracks, and a guardhouse with a uniformed Gendarme on post. He gives Malkith a stern look; then his gaze slides to Samaritha and turns into a leer, which she ignores. "That's Shoreleave," she murmurs to Malkith, nodding to a barefaced box of a building, seemingly built right into the ridge itself. It has an iron door, a few small barred windows high on the second floor, and a dirt prison yard which shows no signs of activity save on the beaten path leading from the gate to the front door.
Once past the Gendarmes' headquarters, all that remains of Riddleport is the city gate, little more than a stone arch over the road into town. Outside Lubbertown awaits, a conglomeration of idle caravans, horse paddocks, tents, shanties, lean-tos, ramshackle stables, and simple wooden buildings that couldn't have been more than a week in the raising.
"I'm always afraid I'll see someone I know," Samaritha whispers, anxiously tugging her scarf down a little lower over her ears.
As Phillip pushes open the door of the Bazaar of the Seafaring Peddlar, he hears a cheerful little chime; looking up for the source of the sound, he sees that the jamb is rigged to jostle a silver bell when the door is opened. The interior of the store is not large -- it appears that only the front half of the building is used as a showroom, while the remainder presumably serves as a residence for the shopkeep -- but not an inch of it is wasted. Shelves, stands, and display cabinets delineate a circuit of open floor space designed to take the browser past a multitude of wares and a counter in the back corner.
To examine every item in the store would take hours, so Phillip quickly looks around for flashes of color. A barrel filled with sawdust-stuffed toy animals fashioned of bright patchwork fabric sits against a wall; in the back of the shop, a rainbow of scarves and shawls hangs through rings high on the wall; opposite this, near the sales counter, is a display of beaded jewelry.
Phil has just had time to locate areas of interest when the door behind the counter opens, and a man enters the room in answer to the chiming bell; the Magnimarian halfling immediately recognizes him as being of Keleshite descent. "Greetings and good morning to you," the shopkeep welcomes him with a wide smile and a faint accent. "I am Hassan ali-Haqim. What treasure may I assist you in procuring this fine day?"
"And greetings to you too Hassan... though whether my day may be made good depends upon the ability and service that you are able to provide. Phillip" extending a hand to be shaken by way of greeting "I am recently acquainted with a lady friend and am in search of a gift that would fully convey my sense of feeling." allowing the man a few moments of blissful exhultation and inference that money might not be an object before crushing said expectation with sledgehammer force.
"I have but met her one night and while her demeanor at play enticed me to commit to a second meeting... I am not yet sold upon wishing to cement our acquaintance into a more enduring partnership. Thus I am wishing for a gift that informs her to my genuine feeling of warmth, while not basking her in radiance. Shows true the attention that might be forthcoming should the relationship bud and grow, but leaves neither party with any feeling of obligation or investment beyond the now. And most importantly makes me not resent the expense if I am not blessed by a caress... but a slapped cheek as said lady discovers my nature abhorrent upon reflection." running a hand through his hair as he pauses "Now if a man such as Hassan ali-Haqim could procure for me such an item of most balanced enrichment... well our own acquaintance may well blossom into an enduring friendship." smiling widely with hands to each side.
"Now I was thinking by way of scarf or bracelet, though am not expert in such matters by all means enlighten me to my faulty perception of the issue. I have but one requirement, the color must be predominate and yellow... as to the rest..." shrugging his shoulders and awaiting his response.
Having armed and armored himself, Braddon exits his room to find Daynadrian in the hallway hesitating outside the next door, the one behind which they had discovered Oliver Bott and his intended the previous night. The elf knocks a little tentatively but harvests no response. With a shrug at Braddon, he quietly turns the handle and opens the door.
The candle that had been left on the bedside table has long burned itself down to a stub and gone out, but there is enough sunlight coming through the high, grimy window to see. The occupant of the room has rolled onto her back and thrown an arm up over her head since the night before, but nothing else in the room seems to have changed. She looks very young by daylight, not past her mid-teens. The dress she is wearing is crumpled and smeared with dust from the coverlet on the bed but seems to be of rather elaborate and expensive design. One shoe is on top of the bed with her, the other on the floor next to a lace petticoat; they appear to be of similar expense, fashioned of supple cream-colored leather with carved bone buttons.
The girl seems to sense the presence of the two men by her bedside. Just after they have entered and are standing wondering what to do next, she frowns in her sleep, rolls her head drowsily from side to side, sighs deep in her throat, and flutters open heavy eyelids to gaze up at them blearily. The next second, her eyes snap wide open, and she screams in terror, rolling off the far side of the bed and landing with a thud on the floor.
"Good morning. I'm Braddon and this here is Dayn. Who are you? What were you doing with Oliver Bott last night? What are your links to him and Shorafa? Why should we believe you and why should we be nice to you?"
Braddon pulls his dagger and starts cleaning his fingernails.
"We could also see if a local jeweler can identify the settings and tell us whom they belong to. Either way works."
"Good morning. I'm Braddon and this here is Dayn. Who are you? What were you doing with Oliver Bott last night? What are your links to him and Shorafa? Why should we believe you and why should we be nice to you?"
"Who am I?" the girl repeats, affronted. "Who are you? What is this place? Where have you taken me? What do you want? If my father finds out what you've done...!"
In spite of Braddon's attempt to be menacing, the overnight guest appears to be doing her best to turn the tables and take control of the interrogation.
The eponymous seafaring peddlar listens to Phillip's list of provisos and conditions with equanimity. "You have come to the right man, my friend," he replies. "I have gifts and treasures from all over the Inner Sea and beyond; somewhere in this shop is the exact item that will say you are interested but not besotted, prosperous but not profligate, a man worthy of the effort if the lady plays her cards right but not one to be trifled with." He unobtrusively rolls a short stepladder from behind the counter and situates it so that Phil can climb the steps and examine goods placed on the counter.
"Yellow, let me see...." He casts a practiced eye around the crowded room. "Some gentlemen purchase whimsical toy animals for their sweethearts ... but no! not you. You are a practical and sophisticated man; you are pursuing a woman and not a child. This charm," he selects a pendant of yellow glass hanging high in the front window and sets it on the counter, "comes all the way from the Song-Wind City in the jungles of the Mwangi Expanse; hang it in a sunny window, and it throws a splash of color into your room. It is a thing of great beauty but ... cold, aloof, not very personal; not something she will wear next to her skin."
He turns his attention to the jewelry display and removes two bracelets, one made of yellow beads on a leather cord, the other a thick wooden bangle painted with yellow flowers. "A bracelet says you would like to be the one holding her hand. The one with the beads is more exotic and more intimate; it hugs the wrist, while the bangle hangs freely." He grins as he lays the on the counter. "Also, slightly more expensive."
Moving to the display of scarves on the back wall, he carefully lifts down two. "This is almost more a shawl than a scarf," he says, laying a fluffy butter-colored mantle across the end of the counter. "It is warm, like an embrace, but in this weather," he shrugs, "it may suggest you intend still to be as amorous when the fall winds blow in. This other one," he unfurls a diaphanous veil the color of lemonade and lets it slowly flutter back down onto the surface of the counter, "stays in the moment. It is light, airy, insubstantial. She can wear it around her shoulders or even tied up in her hair: intimacy without thinking too far ahead."
Clapping hands together as his advances are met in kind with both a detailed and reasoned response to his request, Phillip nods and climbs atop the stepladder provided and awaits the presentation of articles for his perusal.
The charm is met with an immediate refusal "No sir, it must be something that can be worn or draped upon her. After all as you say there is no intimacy in such ornaments..."
Regarding the bracelets he looks doubtful upon the bangle, preferring the leather and beads "I think not the wood... flowers should be in bouquet or tied into hair... the leather is of interest... but let us not be limiting."
On the scarves he is similarly skeptical of the heavier mantle "Nay, I would not see her covered by heavy fabric... the translucence gives a hint and rumor of what lies beneath while the shawl blocks it entire."
Pursing his lips as he holds bracelet in one hand and veil in the other Phillip gauges their worth...
Appraise: and
...before half opening his mouth... pausing a moment and then completing the query "So as to place some metric upon my mind... what is the worth that you place upon these?"
Waiting until he has heard the worth first... Phillip then inquires of another desire "I noted as I regarded your wares from outside that you dabble in means of storage? - chests and boxes and the like?" pausing for confirmation before following up "I have recently moved into a residence where while I needs appear trusting they have not yet earnt it from me... so I need a means of securing items of worth in plain view. Not a large compartment is needed - merely enough to fit say a few apples within... would that be within your purview?"
"Who am I?" the girl repeats, affronted. "Who are you? What is this place? Where have you taken me? What do you want? If my father finds out what you've done...!"
In spite of Braddon's attempt to be menacing, the overnight guest appears to be doing her best to turn the tables and take control of the interrogation.
Braddon sighs. "I already said, I'm Braddon and this is Dayn. Pay attention. Why should we care about your father? What's he going to say about you cavorting all night with that tiefling lackey? What's your father going to say when he finds out you're turning tricks for Shorafa? And what would he pay for your safe return?"
Braddon stays unmoving in the doorway.
"You can let me do the talking. Just stay alert and let me know if you notice something suspicious," Malkith reassures Samaritha.
The Varisian ignores the Gendarme as they pass Shoreleave, but takes note of the building's exterior. A sense of emptiness strikes him and he can't help but feel that the place isn't short one prisoner. As they pass over the unseen malleable threshold of Lubbertown, Malkith reflexively scans the area for signs of Thuvalia, then glances at Samaritha to make sure she hasn't detected anything problematic.
Once he's satisfied that no one is taking exception to their arrival, he guides them towards some of the more densely populated areas. With Samaritha's help, he makes some general inquires about Volo and who he may have been working for.
Tendal stands up and firmly shakes Saul's hand.
"Out a bit, I think sir. I have an assignation with a young lady that I am loathe to break.", Tendal says with a small smile.
"I should return by the afternoon or early evening at the latest to take care of any tasks that you have for me Mr. Vankaskerkin."
"If there is nothing else, I will take my leave for the moment."
Tendal turns and leaves Saul, closing the office door behind him as he makes his way back to his room. With two quick cantrips he cleans and mends his traveling clothes then dresses. Taking his cane and purse, Tendal leaves the casino and goes out to the street to wait for Liry.
Braddon sighs. "I already said, I'm Braddon and this is Dayn. Pay attention. Why should we care about your father? What's he going to say about you cavorting all night with that tiefling lackey? What's your father going to say when he finds out you're turning tricks for Shorafa? And what would he pay for your safe return?"
"'Tiefling?' 'Tricks?' 'Shorafa?'" she asks in bewilderment then seizes on his last statement. "Aha! Then you admit that this is a kidnapping! Rest assured, he won't give in to your demands. If you're smart, you'll just let me go and get out of town before he finds you." Grabbing her shoe and petticoat, she tries to get to her feet, wobbles, and grabs onto the bed for support. "Eugh," she moans. "Did you poison me?"
"So as to place some metric upon my mind... what is the worth that you place upon these?"
"These bracelets are handstrung by Bonuwat women on the west coast of Garund. The beads are actually fragments of seashell worn smooth by the tides. Not precious, but quite unusual in Varisia. For the bracelet: 9 silver coins."
"The scarf is made of silk that traveled the Golden Path from the Padishash Empire of Kelesh. For the scarf: 7 silver coins."
Waiting until he has heard the worth first... Phillip then inquires of another desire "I noted as I regarded your wares from outside that you dabble in means of storage? - chests and boxes and the like?" pausing for confirmation before following up "I have recently moved into a residence where while I needs appear trusting they have not yet earnt it from me... so I need a means of securing items of worth in plain view. Not a large compartment is needed - merely enough to fit say a few apples within... would that be within your purview?"
"If you wish a false-bottomed chest, I would have to advise you to visit a carpenter," ali-Haqim replies regretfully. "My shop is not large enough to house such items. I have some small chests with locks, but if I understand you correctly, a locked box is precisely what you wish to appear not to possess? I have a few puzzle boxes from Minkai on the far side of the world. Perhaps you could pass it off as an ornament or an entertainment for your idle hours?" He retrieves a painted block of wood from a high shelf and demonstrates the series of manipulations required to pop open a secret door, imperceptible when the box is closed. Within is enough room for at least one apple. "It has traveled far and that alone, apart from its intrinsic worth, adds to the price: 13 gold coins."
While Malkith is quite certain that the Sczarni have a presence in Lubbertown, neither his nor Samaritha's caravans ever had friendly dealings with them so he has knowledge of neither names nor passphrases that might open doors or loosen tongues.
The pair have more luck, however, asking for Volo. They are a bit hamstrung by not knowing his patronym, but many casual business dealings are handled on a first-name basis in Lubbertown; with a general description of the man, they eventually come across a paunchy horsetrader who frowns and replies, "Volo? If you've business with him, I'll wager it's bad news for one of you. Either he's cheated you and you're here to settle accounts, or he's about to cheat you and you won't find him. Lazy, shiftless lad, thinks he can get by on charm and swindle. I gave him a job when his caravan left him behind six weeks ago, felt sorry for him; he told me quite a story of mistreatment and woe. Then I found him mixing sawdust in the horse troughs and selling the feed he skimmed on the side."
"'Tiefling?' 'Tricks?' 'Shorafa?'" she asks in bewilderment then seizes on his last statement. "Aha! Then you admit that this is a kidnapping! Rest assured, he won't give in to your demands. If you're smart, you'll just let me go and get out of town before he finds you." Grabbing her shoe and petticoat, she tries to get to her feet, wobbles, and grabs onto the bed for support. "Eugh," she moans. "Did you poison me?"
"Yes. Yes we did. And unless you cooperate, you'll never get the antidote. Now what were you up to last night?"
The girl looks up at Braddon in horror, seeming to take him at his word. "Well, I was being kidnapped apparently!" she snaps in indignation. "Last night, I ... oh, my head hurts ... Mistress Vishki brought up my tea as usual and then," she frowns, "she suggested we go out ... which is odd. She never does that. And I don't know why I agreed. It sounded like fun at the time. We walked down the hill and we met a bunch of girls, and she told them it was my birthday, and they should take me for a night on the town. And everyone was so nice. And funny! And then Mistress Vishki must have left because it was just me and the girls, and they said there was only one place open for a night out, and there was a red carpet and lights and lots of people and laughter and wine and, oh!" She stares up at Braddon and Daynadrian in alarm. "Tieflings and... and Shorafa? Is this a brothel?" she hisses, wide eyed, and then looks around. "It's kind of dusty," she says dubiously. "I always heard it was elegant."
Tendal strolls across the courtyard of the Gold Goblin, already feeling a pleasant sense of near-proprietorship toward the property. He has had time to make only a few turns back and forth in the street when he sees Liry heading down the road toward him, giving him a wave when she notices his gaze upon her. Her dress is not very different from her professional attire at the casino last night, minus the horns and tail, of course: a trim blouse and trousers rather than a woman's more customary skirts. "Good morning, Mr. Deverin," she smiles brightly. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting."
Phillip mulls the prices of the scarf and bracelet... An expense at first, but one would hope an investment also... But when Hassan gives the price of the puzzle box, he looks visibly stunned "13 coins of gold... that is a mighty sum" frowning as he shows real interest in the box, but a tacit reticence at the level of expense. Bazaars are often not fixed of price... let us see if Hassan wishes to dance...
The gears start to spin in Malkith's mind. "Aye, ez zen fidagarriak mota beldur nintzen, baina nire fiance," gesturing to Samaritha, "eta txanpon zin egin zuen etsi izan dut. Esan zuen lana hirugarren izenean izan. Upheld dugu gure aurre erdian, baina gero Volo pista galdu. Suposatzen dut, ez da oso harrigarria."
The corner of Malkith's mouth curls upward, "Jakina, zer Volo itxuraz kontratatu zen berreskuratu behar dugu. Zion zerbitzatzeko litzateke eskubidea izanez gero, bere tokia saria jaso izan dugu suposatzen dut. Ez litzateke gertatuko duten Volo izan liteke joan lana ezagutu ondoren?"
"Of course, we have what Volo was apparently hired to retrieve. I suppose it would serve him right if we were to collect the reward in his place. You wouldn't happen to know who Volo might have given him work after you?"
Samaritha, hearing Malkith's characterization of their relationship, dutifully moves a half-step closer and slips her arm through his to back him up.
The Varisian horsetrader frowns. "Aldendu egin ohartarazi eta ez zion ikus geroztik. Zure aukera onenak izango dira bertan ostatu aurkitu zuen.Lekuak galdetu errentan gela. Ez litzateke harritu zor zuen gero baita."
Appraise:
"Good morning, Mr. Deverin," she smiles brightly. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting."
Tendal smiles brightly as he walks over to Liry, takes her hand and makes a short bow over it before releasing it.
"Good morning to you as well, Miss Parmenter, you are looking quite lovely this morning." he says, admiring her simple style.
"No, it hasn't been a wait at all. I had just barely left the Gold Goblin a few moments earlier." he says as he turns and offers his arm to Liry.
"Now, I believe that we have some time before lunch. As this is my second day, and you know everything that I know about the city already from when you guided me yesterday, I would be greatly obliged if you fill me in on what is going on in the city. Who are the important people? Where do they live?"
"And while we walk and talk, you can show me around, or off, whichever suits your fancy." he finishes with a wink.
Just judging from the materials used in the beaded bracelet, it's hard to imagine it could cost more than 5 silver pieces in Garund, although some amount of mark-up to cover the costs of shipping the goods so far is surely justified. You judge the scarf to be of similar value. While the puzzle box is too exotic for you to gauge its worth with any degree of precision, you imagine from the prices of the other items that the shopkeep has accounted for a reasonable amount of profit in his valuations and would probably be open to negotiation. Perhaps he might even throw in the gift for Ethel for free, if you made an acceptable offer on the box....
She stares up at Braddon and Daynadrian in alarm. "Tieflings and... and Shorafa? Is this a brothel?" she hisses, wide eyed, and then looks around. "It's kind of dusty," she says dubiously. "I always heard it was elegant."
"Yes. This is a brothel. You're very clever." Braddon tries not to smirk.
"You were brought to us by the tiefling Oliver Bott to be used as one of Shorafa's slave girls, but we like you so we're going to sneak you out of here. I'm curious to know if Mistress Vishki is also working for Shorafa, or if that was an impostor last night. When did she start acting strange? Did you recognise any of the girls she gave you to? What's your name again? Will your father reward us for saving you? Oh, is it really your birthday?"
Mentally doing some sums within his head and coming to terms Phillip begins his part of the dance "To be truthful the value of the puzzled box is beyond what I had intended to pay for such an item... after all to place such gold in this would leave me with nothing of value to conceal within it no?"
Putting the box upon the counter and tapping his chin thoughtfully "And yet it is intriguing isn't it. If we were better acquainted through trade then I might lean upon our long and storied relationship... but there has not been time for that... yet." placing again the prospect of building a rapport. At that point a thought flickers through his head... playful, challenging and yet perhaps of interest to the man... but not yet... later, when he had a better lay of the land.
"I will propose this - I will give you a gold piece today for you to hold as proof of my intent towards the box, and I will also give you a second for the bracelet so that I may walk away from your establishment leaving you both healthy profit on the table and the gift that I desire. Would you then safeguard the box against another purchasing it until I return and am able to speak to you of it again?"
"Yes. This is a brothel. You're very clever." Braddon tries not to smirk.
"You were brought to us by the tiefling Oliver Bott to be used as one of Shorafa's slave girls, but we like you so we're going to sneak you out of here. I'm curious to know if Mistress Vishki is also working for Shorafa, or if that was an impostor last night. When did she start acting strange? Did you recognise any of the girls she gave you to? What's your name again? Will your father reward us for saving you? Oh, is it really your birthday?"
"Last week," she replies absently, wandering her way through his questions in no particular order, "and slavery's illegal in Riddleport. A tiefling? I think I remember a man; the girls knew him. But I didn't know them; don't know any of their names. Last night, they felt like my best friends. Mistress Vishki? She didn't seem odd until after my tea; then everything was odd, but it didn't seem like it at the time. She smelled odd. Or the tea smelled odd. Something smelled different when she brought up the tea. I'm Ananda. This isn't a very well-researched kidnapping if you didn't even bother to find out my name. And you ought to be more worried about what my father will do if you don't take me home. If he finds you holding me, it'll mean Shoreleave for sure. He could shut this whole place down."
"I will propose this - I will give you a gold piece today for you to hold as proof of my intent towards the box, and I will also give you a second for the bracelet so that I may walk away from your establishment leaving you both healthy profit on the table and the gift that I desire. Would you then safeguard the box against another purchasing it until I return and am able to speak to you of it again?"
"One gold coin for the bracelet and another as a deposit on the puzzle box?" he repeats, to reiterate the proposal. "Done, provided you return within one week to confirm you are still interested in the box. People come and go quickly in Riddleport; I would not have it collecting dust behind my counter when you are in Magnimar or Kalsgard and have forgotten about it."
"Now, I believe that we have some time before lunch. As this is my second day, and you know everything that I know about the city already from when you guided me yesterday, I would be greatly obliged if you fill me in on what is going on in the city. Who are the important people? Where do they live?"
"And while we walk and talk, you can show me around, or off, whichever suits your fancy." he finishes with a wink.
"Well," she replies, slipping her hand over his arm with satisfaction and leading him back up the street to the north, "there's the important people, and there's the rich people. The important people are mostly rich, but the rich people aren't all important. The rich people who aren't important mostly live up in Windward." She points with her free hand to the homes high on the western ridge of the city on the other side of the river, visible above the roofs of the rest of the town. "Elias Tammerhawk lives up there too in the Cypherlodge; he's head of the Cyphermages. He doesn't get too involved with the rest of Riddleport down here on the riverbanks, except for the Mystery of the Gate." She nods to the round building as they approach from the south. "You saw that yesterday. It's the best inn in town, not that there's a lot of competition for the title, and the Cypherlodge owns it. Probably where most of Tammerhawk's money comes from."
"Then there's the Overlord, of course, Gaston Cromarcky. He and his capp Avery Slyeg live on Maskyr's Island in the middle of the Velashu. He's an old pirate captain, and Slyeg was his first mate. They mostly deal with the ships and the harbor."
"Everyone else who's anybody lives here in Leeward," she goes on, turning east into the mercantile district, "and I can show you around it this morning."
"I'm Ananda. This isn't a very well-researched kidnapping if you didn't even bother to find out my name. And you ought to be more worried about what my father will do if you don't take me home. If he finds you holding me, it'll mean Shoreleave for sure. He could shut this whole place down."
"Happy Birthday. How old are you?" asks Braddon eyeing the girl appreciatively. The small voice inside his head pipes up gently, "HAVE YOU GONE MAD?!!"
Braddon clears his throat. "Look, Oliver Bott brought you in here and we discovered him taking advantage of you and chased him off. Because it's your birthday, we're going to let you go. But it has to be done secretly, or we'll get in even more trouble with Oliver. We'll get a carriage to take you home."
Braddon turns to Daynadrian and tosses him 2 gold coins. "Dayn, fetch a carriage and a mask and a blindfold from upstairs."
Braddon turn back to Ananda. "Now, where's your home, and who's your father? Whoever he is, Oliver isn't scared of him. Oliver is under Shorafa's protection."